He smiles and gives a nod of appreciation. Not many refer to his pantheon. Forgotten is a good term to describe them, now. Even the Olympians are better off than the gods from his side.
“It is something many struggle with. Most just call me Adra. You are welcome to do the same."
He steps back very slightly as she moves to touch him. "I wouldn’t recommend it, miss. The shadow is hungry.” He can actually make himself more solid, but that means he won’t be able to look at her at all, he’ll be inside the human whose eyes are closed. He doesn’t trust her that much. “How’s the new millennium treating you?”
“Adra? How cute.”
She continued to reach out to the shadow anyway, sliding close to him on the bench. “Hungry shadows? Don’t change the subject on me, darling. I’ll tell you all about my adventures in Wonderland as soon as the Cheshire Cat talks about his interesting shadowy act. How’s that?"
Medusa never understood why concrete felt so confining–not until she saw her loved one entrapped between five slabs of it. The sixth? Iron bars with runes warding against the dov’s magic. The armored guards assigned to his confinement toppled over upon sight of the gorgon, shattering into large chunks of marble. She got him out before anyone had seen them, before they could even realize what had occurred.
Snake and Dragon enjoyed hours of safety before they came again. She fought tooth and nail, but it was to little use. They must have known what she was. They fought without looking at her. Only three fell to her mercy. It was not enough. There was a burst of light and her world was blanketed in darkness, but not before seeing Alduin dragged out, a name on his lips. Hers.
**
Time ticked. Her vision was hazy. She rose groggily just as her snakes began to shift about. “What–?” Her hand reached up to cradle her face. There was blood. Hers. She winced. Her world was seen through a kaleidoscope of broken glass. The sunglasses came off.
Around her was a home in ruins. Ripped tapestries. Broken statues. Flipped tables. Shattered glass. Their home. Hers and–
It returned like her sudden gasp, mouth parted. Her snakes hissed and went into turmoil. Tangling and attacking each other. Much like her conflicting emotions. Her hands ran through the green appendages, grabbing them, strangling them. No. Nonono.
They took HIM. He warned her. They found him. They took him away from her.
Her teeth drew blood from her lip and she stormed to the door, fumbling with a crimson-soaked doorknob. “Alduin,” she breathed. “Alduin?!” She tore through the door, wood splintering. A shrill cry erupted from her lungs and made her throat raw. Irises bled, salt streaming down her face. It dripped red.
The elevator’s soft music dulled her senses. A total of forty five floors to the bottom. No interruption. Her reddened hands clutched metal railing. Grief melded to anger. Her face twisted in contempt, and a cool washed over her despite the storm in her heart.
How dare he leave her? It ached as much as Poseidon’s tidal aggressions. As suffocating as his hands. Who foretold that a dragon would weaken the great gorgon after years of hardening it into stone.
To think she could assimilate to some human semblance. To live. To love. She could never have that luxury, she understood that now. The doors opened to the lobby and she stared straight ahead, striding with her head held high. There was only the wrath of a predator. Her prey? Humanity. No one could have what she could not.
Men convulsed all around her, blueing in the face down to their bodies. Women wailed, clutching loved ones who fell to Medusa’s mercy. They now knew her pain. Her warpath reigned over half of Chicago. Her snakes lunged at any passerby who dared come near her, their venom boiling hot with her rage. The streets filled with the sound of mourning. With the setting sun, she was already walking out of the city. Cars crashed as drivers were immobilized. Even then, the gorgon did not stop. Tears welled in her eyes. More blood. Her wail soon joined the hundreds of women, car horns, and police sirens.
❝ — I think you need to take five minutes to calm down. Your vibes are totally killing my mood. ❞
She stormed towards him. “Do you think I’m here to mess around, Mister Testosterone?” The wig came off then, revealing her mane of green tendrils with beady red eyes. They all hissed in unison, glowering at the god. “Your sister decided to fuck up my looks after Poseidon ruined me. She didn’t do it ‘cause she thought I deserved it. She did it so that if a pig like Barnacle Boy tried to touch me again, he’d be a beautiful little plaything in my collection. Now unless you want to share his fate, you’ll help out a poor gal, are we clear?"
❝No, Em. Luaan. Question, in your tongue.❞ He paused, eyeing her momentarily, swallowing some strange static air captured in his throat. Her hand was small in his. ❝I am Alduin. I will spare you the translation.❞
Humble was not the word. Kings of Skyrim did not live so luxuriously. He should have assumed from the grandeur entrance. As he crossed the threshold his unique eyes trailed across the marble etchings and banisters, through the bright colors so well placed it seemed nature had a play with its craft. He had stepped several times away, pivoting about only to find more fine furnishings and art.
❝… Are you a queen, Em?❞
Her eyes wander to his curious ones, his slightly parted lips, and her hand in his massive one. He had the ideal body for a sculpture: toned, massive, and poised, much like the gods. She was so entranced by him, she nearly missed the question.
“Am I a…queen? No. Thought I was going to be one. That didn’t work out so well.” Memories of drowning in pain. Of boiling heat and iron grip. Fuck that. “I do make a lot of money, though.” Her hand slipped out of his, reconsidering her mercy. Dragon or not, he was a man, just like the filth that tainted her, leading her to become the legendary beast she was. Whirling around to face him, she stepped away subtly. “I think it’s time you live up to your name, Mushu.”
"Last I remember, you need an able-body to go to war, Ares. So unless you want me to sell you to the Musée du Louvre, you listen to me very carefully. Catch my drift?“
Mic’s shoulders moved nonchalantly as her eyes slowly pooled black.
“Curiosity? That’s my reason, at least. And now you know what I am.”
Eyebrow raised in intrigue. Black eyes were new. “My, that’s charming.” In turn, she lifted up part of her wig, allowing a snakeling to slither out between two fingertips. “I’m sure you’ve heard of me."
From across the room, behind dark shades and a wig, the gorgon tips the glass to her target. Brother of her abuser. He would not recognize her, not unless the god, slippery as the water he reigns over, mentioned his ill-deeds.
