⟫»—> For the duration in which he had been so acquainted with the gorgon, he’d hardly had a glimpse into how exactly she procured the subjects for her twisted version of sculpture. Needless to say, the questions were answering themselves, presented before him in some sort of odd display. Her movements were poised and defined; an embodiment of the pride and satisfaction she took in her work. Visionaries wandered briefly towards the blubbering goblin though there was no mercy in the heart of the Destroyer.
Securing their own time tonight when she had finished with whatever possible tortures she had in store for the goblin bid the dovah to nod his head ⎛ no one received such respect from him before ⎠with the slightest of bows forward from his shoulders. Rolling his shoulders the World Eater returned to his upright posture, staring at the goblin. The salt of his tears sank into the nearly unnoticable scent of the stone, and head tilted a moment. Pity that the briefest signs of magic in this concrete forest had fallen victim to the potent magia.
On his heels he turned away silently, without further comment nor word. Long strides carried him away towards the gallery’s high double doors. Breaching their seal, he allowed one last peak over his shoulder before his dark form was hidden behind the veil.
Poor fool. If he hadn’t stank so bad, perhaps I would have felt bad…
… No. Not he would not.
The only thing saving him from a certain, petrifying death was a pair of black lenses no more than a tenth of an inch thick. Tears rolled down his cheeks. The last time he had written to Pig was no more than two weeks ago. He had mention in her letter that he had promised to save up enough money to fly back and visit her again. The fact that he would ultimately die here made his heart sink, appropriately like stone.
“I-I don’t want to be pretty,” he blubbered on. “I’m not supposed to be.” His eyes looked back to where her lover once was. He didn’t see him leave, though he didn’t care. He was much more worried about the gorgon in front of himself than the beast that had left. Toad continued to sniffle. He shook his body back and forth, rocking the chair over. He fell sideways, making a loud, hard, clank against the marble floor. He gasped.
“I have family!” He shouted. “I have a sister! I have a life! You can’t j-just take that away from someone for the sake of art!” He bared his teeth at her, though it was of no use; He looked less intimidating in the light, and his tears didn’t help him much either. He was just a goblin. A cobylnau. In comparison to a gorgon, he was nothing more than a pale, earthen worm.
Medusa clucked her tongue and cupped her hands on the sides of his face. “Hush, don’t cry,” she cooed, brushing the tears away from his cheeks with her thumbs. “It will only hurt a little, I promise.” She ruffled his hair and turned to go through the supplies she’d brought in, choosing to bring the bucket forward first with a few sponges and washcloths. She needed him to look well-polished after all. Dragging the bucket back, she watched him rock over, smacking against the marble floor.
“Be careful, now. I don’t want you getting hurt.” Strong arms gripped the chair and pulled him back upright. The goblin’s outcry only earned him the raising of her brow. “Listen–look–are you watching? Do you see this man? His name is Ramsay. He’s forty-two, has two daughters. His oldest, Beatrice, is a star basketball player. His other, twenty-year-old Lacie, is really great at math and is pursuing engineering at Loyola.” She went to another statue, and listed off family members, hobbies, professions, even allergies. “The point is, I don’t care, Cabbage Patch. If your family wants to buy you back from me, they are more than welcome to. I’ll even give them a discount."
She dragged her chair closer and closed the distance between them, then sat with a sponge in her hand. Plunging it into the soapy water, she soaked it nicely before hovering it on top of Toad’s head, wringing out the lukewarm water on his shock of red hair.
⟫»—> ❝ I have been around much longer than your kind. ❞
He offered simply, eyes transfixed upon the shivering creature. It was all the explanation the mer would need for now, if her were to procure further information. It wasn’t necessarily up to him, now was it? Though shaken words dripped from his lips of Em, trying to replace the focus upon the goblin to the gorgon, and pin her for the trespassing. Hands clasped behind his back and facial muscles twitched as to speak once more, but the clicking of heels snapped his gaze towards the double entry doors, where no later a figure of beauty came waltzing.
A small grin the Destroyer attempted to stifle which he succeeded only part way so, and returned the act of affection swiftly. Hand lingered on her hip only a moment, before he dipped his head in release and stepped around her and back towards the portion of the gallery the goblin saw most clearly, only briefly glancing with a furrowed brow towards the items Em had brought with her. He stood as a barrier between the goblin and the exit, a tense sentry. Darkness across his face allowed viewers only a single eye as to deduce where the man focused himself. It was the poor soul confined to the chair.
❝ The question was why is he here, dear one. ❞
Toad would have inquired further about how old the man was if it were not for the sound of heels clicking down against the marble floor behind him. He turned his head towards the way she was coming. It was her. It was her and the bramble of convulsing snakes snakes upon her head, carrying supplies along with her.
Toad hopped upon his chair in fright. Gorgon. The sunglasses. The statues. The headscarf. He would have realized it sooner, had he known that they were real still. Or even real at all.
Toad then began to cry, right as the the snake-haired woman kissed the man across the lips.
“I’m going to die as a gargoyle,” he said through his wailing. “I-Is that what the brushes n’ scissors are for? Are you preening me up before you turn me to stone and sell me for a few grand? Oh great, j-just great. Perfect.” He lowered his head, then sobbed.
She pulled away from Alduin with a rather large smile as he went to inspect her things. This would be the first time he would see her in action. She would be able to show him her powers for a change–but also it a warning. Something to keep him in check. Dragons-turned-human weren’t the only creatures capable of having some…unconventional recreation.
The goblin went particularly unnoticed, even when his crying echoed off the high ceiling of the gallery. It wasn’t until the question was posed that she looked over at him, scrunching her nose at his state. “Well in the industry, people enjoy seeing something new out of an artist every now and again, and with this one–I mean look at him. With a bit of work, he might be my most unique piece yet. Just be a dear and leave me to it, alright? We’ll have plenty of time to ourselves when I’m done here.” She would peck his cheek and walk to her special guest, her voice sharper than it was when speaking to Al.
“You are going to die as a gargoyle,” she said matter-of-factly, “But you know what?” Her hand nestled in his bush of hair and nudged it up so that his eyes met her veiled ones. “You’re going to be the prettiest gargoyle ever created.”
⟫»—> A hand trailed along the back of the chair, his eyes transfixed to the goblin’s form. It was obviously a goblin; he could smell the stench underneath the bile mask, though this goblin was hardly as despicable as those of Skryim. Hoards of them were almost intimidating, at least to the mortals and their keeps. Never to a dragon.
Hand swept from the chair, flicking forward and his fingers rolling. He could feel the magic eager at his finger tips, the veins of his body pulsing obsidian in a tantalizing array that begged him to unleash the Thu’um. He’d had no reason. Technically, he still had no reason. This poor fool hadn’t done anything. That he knew of.
There was no mercy for the being’s state. Naked or not, the territorial instinct had bubbled to the surface. Someone had just already beaten him to the punch at reprimanding. Alduin examined the quarter view of the creature’s face, watching it contort into panic. Aaaah, he missed that expression, the aura it created in the air. He didn’t hold back his smirk.
❝ Aaaaah, so you know her… Perhaps she has put you here then. A woman of exceptional beauty, though fierce? ❞
The dovah had come up upon the other side of the chair, standing abreast with the man, brow pinched though pleasure cracked his lips into a fiendish smirk.
❝ Is that why you’re here in my home? ❞
The goblin watched the man circle and circle him like great hulking beast just biding its time before a fresh kill. Amidst his own internal panic, Toad realized that the man was something of an animal. Not in his size, no; He gave off an air too brutish even for a human,and he smelled of brimstone and fire.
Toad bit into his tongue. “You speak goblin?” He asked, surprised. “I-I… yes, I know her. I t-think s-she was the one who put me here. I m-must have passed out, then she stripped me and tied me to t-this chair.”
He could barely look into the beast-man’s eyes.
“If you’re mad I’m here, bring it up with her.”
The steady click clack of shoes on marble signaled Medusa’s approach. She took her time, not only because there was absolutely no rush, but because she carried a large sloshing bucket of soapy water in one hand and another bucket of odd things in the other. Even her snakes carried a few additional items; a hairbrush, a curling iron, a pair of scissors. Her nails were painted to match her royal green shoes, which in turn matched her glasses, mane of snakes and her guest.
She arrived at the gallery just as the goblin finished blubbering on to someone, and only then did she know Alduin was there. “Bring what up with me? Hii, Sweets,” she greeted with a broad grin as she set the stuff down and picked out the additional stuff from her girls. She then swiftly closed the distance between her and the dragon, rested her hands on his shoulders and sealed her lips with his.
He froze in place as the serpent rubbed up against his cold, pale cheek. In truth he did not mind snakes; They were charming and cunning, and they made a nice meal every once in a while. However, one attached to a woman’s head was another matter entirely, and it made him feel like a cornered, wounded shrew.
“M-m-m-” He tried to speak. His lungs then strangled the air out from his soul, and his stomach empty itself onto the gorgon’s shoes. Toad brought himself onto his knees, his eyes looked at the rotten bile, if only for a second that lasted more than a thousandth of what it was.
Then, the world then caved in on him, and he passed out onto the cement, his face landing in a pool of sewage water, plashing the gorgon’s feet yet again. If he had to die now, at least he would not be awake to go through it.
“They always s–" say that. She had meant to comment on his stuttering, but with a sudden downpour of warm and chunky liquid had her choked up on her words. It was as if her own powers turned against her. The smell was revolting but it was not that which unleashed her rage.
"These are my favorite stilettos, you pestilent piece of shit!” She kicked his head with the now sodden stilettos and her snakes all hissed and shuffled against each other, her skin had turned very mildly green. With a firm hand, she grabbed him from his shirt collar and dragged him through the streets. It was very soon that she realized two things; one, dragging a body through Chicago wasn’t particularly ideal, and two, pulling a body along in heels was rather awkward. So she slipped them off, slung the pair on one hand, and dragged the filthy creature in the other. Keeping him away from the street’s view, she hailed a cab.
“Where you headed, Ma'am?” The cabbie asked.
She flashed him a look with her eyes and the man turned ashen and froze altogether. “One thousand bucks, easy,” she murmured, tugging him out of the driver’s seat and placing him in the back. She then laid the goblin with his head on the stone lap of Em’s latest masterpiece. With everything in order, she drove off to her penthouse apartment.
The son of the landlord, a mid-20s gentleman, was the only one who knew her capabilities. She sworn him to secrecy with a bit of extra cash and a threat that should he cross her, he would be her prize piece, what with a jawline like his. “Kyle,” she called as she entered the lavish lobby of her apartment.
“It’s…Kyce, Madam Em,” he answered, placing his uniform hat on the counter. He eyed her lack of footwear once before his eyes shot back up to her shaded eyes. He knew better not to ask questions. “Is there anything I can assist you with tonight?"
"I have a new art piece and a… special guest in the cab. Would you mind using the service elevator and be discreet as always?"
"Of course, Madam."
"Be warned. He’s rather filthy. I would hate to get any of that on my floors. There are instructions in the cab for you as well.” That’s all she said as she made the rest of the way into the lobby and to the elevators in the back.
Within ten minutes, Medusa had the cabbie sitting on a marble block and her guest tied to a chair sans his clothing. She hummed Lana Del Ray as she picked out nail polish from her vanity. She was now wearing a white chiffon dress and royal green heels. Of course, she didn’t care if the creature had come to, she had more important things to attend to. Plus she wanted him to simmer in that horrid smell he was covered in for just a little while longer.
Toad threw the shoulder her hand was on up and up to get her off of him.
“Do not touch me,” he pleaded. “I do not care if your expression is true or not, but please do not touch me again.” His breathing was quick and erratic; He needed space.
“If you want m-me to answer that question, I suggest that you back up immediately.” He choked, closed his eyes, and faced his head downward.
“P-please, let me be…”
She moved her hand, though her gaze was locked on his face. He hadn’t for a second fallen for her and she started to think it was a goblin thing. It had been a while since someone begged for their lives, since she had intimidated someone who may have a hint that she wasn’t what she seemed to be.
“You poor thing, are you alright?” she cooed, edging ever closer, a hand leaning agains the brick wall, her body angled to make the space even tighter. A grin eased on her face. There was no reason to hide anymore. They were in an alley in the outskirts of Chicago late in the day. No one was going to come by for a while. “The girls are getting restless over the smell of your fear, darling.” As if on cue, the bundle beneath her wig rustled and she tipped his head up with her other hand. This time, a snake slithered out and rubbed against his cheek.
By the sultry way she walked towards him, he became convinced that she really was looking for her next meal. The small goblin staggers backwards. So much for him trying to be intimidating; At least he tried.
“I did not think I was anyone’s ‘type. I-I’m not very interested in women, or men for that matter,’” he replies, his brassy voice faltering even more. His eyes look at the woman’s wig.
That can’t be the wind, can it?
“A-and you’re wrong. I taste quite bad. Very bitter.” His hand was up against a wall now. “Toad. My name is Toadback. Goblin. N-not a good source of vitamins."
"Now who said anything about eating you?” She had him against the wall now, which was ideal considering he was a jumpy one, making assumptions. Kid had good instincts, though, and maybe he didn’t talk to many humans. Her hand moved to rest on his shoulder and she softened her voice. “Relax, Bunny. Delicious is another way of saying attractive. Something…pretty. You’re pretty in your own way."
She needed him to get comfortable, which was hard considering her charms were only scaring him. Another approach, then. "Do you like art?"
“Whfhat?” Dumbfounded, his cheeks turned a muddy salmon color.
“No, you may not.” His voice’s tremble was half of what it once was. “And I am not cabbage.”
Her smirk was neither sinister nor sweet, but a mixture of both as she sauntered over to him in her eight-inch, black heels. “Such a shame. You’re exactly my type.” Cocking her head to the side, her wig rustled impatiently–or more accurately, something rustled beneath her wig–and she gazed at him through her Prada sunglasses. “And you’re right. You’re far too delicious to be cabbage. What’s your name, darling?"
His voice is deep and melodic, yet it vibrates with enough tension to make mountains crack, and caverns cave.
"Easy there, Cabbage Patch. Can’t a gal talk to a pretty green thing?“ There’s a coy smile on her face. She is unfazed by the thundering chords aimed at her.
