(Untitled)

[mend_and_defend]

So Bob got a bunch of video game strategy guides for Christmas. From multiple sources, even. He's got them stacked up on the couch cushion next to him, and he's sipping at a cup of Java as he browses through a guide to the original Grand Theft Auto.

Know thine enemy.

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[mycursedface]

Another day, still the same wedding, and in any case henna lasts for weeks so Medusa's hands and feet are still patterned. The dress is different from yesterday, though; covered in coloured glass beads that swing as she walks.

Combined with the wings and her bangles, it's really not a silent person who walks up to Bob.

(there are old scars on her cheeks, from her nails, but the scars from her death are hidden by a choker. And instead of her purely snakey-haired self that he saw as her ghost, she has black braids tumbled through the black snakes)

"Bob! Um, hello?"

[mend_and_defend]

"Medusa? Is that you? You look..." Better? Healthier? Less dead? "...different," he settles on finally.

[mycursedface]

She beams at him.

"I'm alive again, and it's been some years..."

[mend_and_defend]

"You're--oh!" Bob brightens immediately. "Congratulations?"