Betrayal. Murder. Punishment…
I am Medusa, and these were the words that burned through me at the moment of the birth of my reptilian skin, my restless crown of serpents.
My isle, often ringed in fog, lies lost within the southern sea, where the sun burns hot. It is upon this strange sand that I found an abandoned temple of silver-veined, white marble and made it my home. And now I sit upon a nearby precipice, sunning my coils as I watch the sea glitter with diamonds painted by the summer sun’s rays. It is within this sea where my gaze lands on a solitary lonely sail, one that has emerged from the fog and slowly makes its way towards my shores, driven by the same soft breeze that caresses my skin. How strange it is that murderously violent moments are always preceded by such peaceful ones.
In truth, I almost long more for the violence than the quiet. For it is within the quiet where the visions visit me. Waking dreams of what I once was. Of what I lost. Things that I once loved are now the cruelest of torments. Soon that sail, which brings one who once might have loved me, shall flutter quiet as its ship slides to a stop on my shore. Soon a battle shall be joined which has ever only had one inevitable end, one where the world will be bathed in the green glow of my gaze, the air filled with my song. And once both end, another statue will grace my courtyard. I can now see the ship’s pennant, a blue affair with the motif of an owl on it, done in silver. Its dance upon the sea breeze is a happy thing, and it once again raises within me the dread spectre of my past. Tears well in my eyes, the ship now lost to my sight, for my gaze has fallen into the dreams of memories, and I can’t help but think one thought that always twists my heart to ruin.
Father. . . please forgive me.