(Untitled)

[naiad_burial]

It doesn't look like the bar in Nibelheim. The lights are dim, but the diffused golden glow ebbs against her warm hazel eyes, reflecting from polished mahogany table tops. They are frequently used, wiped down, worn and care for, unlike the others. Lashes half-lidded from sleep and squinting, the woman only imagines how a child might appear, waking

Comments

[mycursedface]

Medusa had been spinning wool. Red, as it happens, from her seat on the table. She's wearing jeans, and bare feet, with her black hair in slender braids. A backless blouse, red and gold, and bangles on her wrists and ankles.

Nothing matches the wire-framed glasses she's wearing.

Also, tumbled through that amazing hair of hers are living snakes. Black and slender, matching her braids.

The wings, though, large and gold, are the most noticable thing about her, even when she glances over and says in a voice a little too clear and haunting to be human,

"Not exactly."

[naiad_burial]

The voice turns her towards the speaker, and inevitably, she stares. Not long enough to gawk-- the gaze softens to some semblance of polite eye contact had the other not been otherwise preoccupied with her work.

"Excuse me," Lucrecia can't help but to inquire, even if she shouldn't, or should have, known. "Are you an angel?"

[mycursedface]

"No, I am not."

[naiad_burial]

"Oh." At a loss, Lucrecia touches her lips, trying to refrain from bothering the being that was neither human nor angel anymore than necessary.

[mycursedface]

"I'm a Gorgon, actually. You are...new?"

[naiad_burial]

Her hand lowers to her chest before it falls back to her side, and she nods.

"Yes. My name is Lucrecia." She offers, quite willingly. There wasn't really a need for surnames or titles anymore. She feels like a child in awe, wanting to step closer and see, touch, but with an adult's tact. Staring and touching at wary beings, Gorgons as it were, hardly seemed ceremonious.

"What's your name? Where do you come from?" She inquires with significantly less restraint.

[mycursedface]

"My name is Medusa, and I come from Libya."

[naiad_burial]

"Medusa.." The reiteration is a quiet one, more to commit to memory than link with a prior recollection. She knew neither the name or place, but she had still been worth meeting and asking.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Medusa." She smiles pleasantly. Maybe there were others. Other creatures, other worlds. The thought has never occurred to her mind, practical and pragmatic as she has always been.

"If I can stay here a while, I hope I can see what comes from your red thread. I'm sorry to have troubled you," She says by way of a returning goodbye. She had distracted her work enough, and was suddenly encouraged to explore a bit.

[mycursedface]

"A rug, maybe." Beat. "Wait, before you go...welcome to Milliways."

[naiad_burial]

She had nodded with a passing smile, both acknowledging and contemplating the idea of the creation before turning to her way. She thinks she has done something wrong, or forgotten something, when she is called to pause.

"Oh! I... Thank you very much." She bows her head slightly, knowing it is always nice to be welcomed, and can more confidently go on.

[mycursedface]

"Not problem." If she wants to go, Medusa will let her. Someone else will give her the rules, she is sure.