Chapter Text
The waves made their calming, swishing sounds, rolling back and forth as Medusa watched the shore, just as she had done countless times before. She had survived on this island for centuries in absolute isolation; it was the only place left in the world where she was permitted to exist. The warm sun kissed her olive skin as she gazed out at the blue horizon. Her mind drifted into dissociation—the only escape her lonely existence allowed. Eventually, she stood up and turned away from the water.
Leaving the beach, the sand shifted into soft dirt and grass. Trees loomed ahead, creating a dense canopy that felt like a void with no clear beginning or end. She walked into the cascade of trees to gather food, picking figs, grapes, and a few bitter, rotten olives. Over the centuries, the rancid taste had become familiar, almost comforting, to her palate. She looked down at the bugs crawling beneath her feet; the beetles had become her only source of companionship as she munched on her meager meal.
Above her, the clouds began to bruise into patches of dark gray. Low streaks through the sky indicated an impending downpour—a stark contrast to the morning’s bright beauty. She enjoyed the final moments of calm, though she knew a storm would not change much. She always had tomorrow. Walking back to the shore, she bathed in the sea, finding the water cold and numbing against her bare skin. She did not bother to cover herself. This island was as isolated as Scylla’s lair, not that she had ever been there. She had only heard tales of such terrifying places when she was a young girl, long before she was transformed into a Gorgon.
Soon, just as she predicted, the rain began to fall. She quickly left the sea and dressed in her chiton. Seeking shelter under the heavy cover of the trees, she watched the storm turn truly violent. A sudden sound pierced the distance. To her right, she heard something familiar, yet foggy, like a half-forgotten memory. Then it clicked. It was not an animal, but a person. Someone was choking.
She hurried toward the source of the sound and found a young woman. The mortal looked to be in her late twenties or early thirties, with pale skin and sodden blonde hair. She was clinging to life; she was a ghostly pale, and her hair was starting to freeze in the sudden chill. Medusa’s first instinct was to put the poor girl out of her misery. After all, the girl would inevitably be petrified by her gaze soon anyway. But a second thought quickly interrupted the first: that would be unnecessarily cruel.
Medusa gathered the young woman into her arms and carried her back to the cave. She had made this cavern her home centuries ago to protect herself from the elements, and she was suddenly glad she did. She placed the stranger on a makeshift bed of leaves and started a fire. However, the girl's soaked clothes made the warmth futile. Resolute, Medusa respectfully removed the woman's freezing garments and hung them up to dry. She returned quickly to wrap a warm sheet tightly around her guest.
Sitting across the crackling fire, Medusa finally got a clear look at the stranger's face. The woman had a dusting of freckles across a rounded jawline, which sharpened at the cheekbones. She possessed a slender, slight frame that suggested she was not well-fed. Combined with the simple quality of her wet clothes, Medusa knew this girl was no aristocrat.
As Medusa took in the details, a pang of recognition hit her; the girl's features uniquely reminded her of her own mother. She could not even remember her mother’s name anymore; it had been too long. The woman's breathing eventually stabilized, though she still coughed up seawater every few minutes. Medusa watched over her steadily until she fell asleep without realizing it, her own breathing evening out as her face went slack.
When the sun rose, Medusa woke to find the bed of leaves empty. She hurried to her feet and searched the island, fearing the worst. Finally, she spotted the woman guiding herself through the thick trees, holding the sheet tight around her body with one hand while using the other to feel her way forward.
Medusa approached, calling out in a steady but concerned voice, “Hello? Ma’am?”
The mysterious woman flinches and looks around, her voice panicked and shaky. “Who are you? Where are you? Stay back!”
Medusa steps closer, confused. “Can you not see me?”
The woman backs away and stumbles. “N-no... I’m blind. Who are you? Where am I?”
Medusa’s eyes light up with recognition, then dim to something darker. This is her chance. She can finally have a friend. She can finally not be seen as a monster.
This makes her hesitate, she didn’t think about this ahead of time. After a moment Medusa responds with the last female name she remembers. “I’m Penelope,” She lies, taking advantage of the opportunity. “And you’re on Ustica, my island. You washed up here.”
The woman takes a moment to process the shocking information. “I.. washed up here? Where are my clothes? Why am I in this sheet?”
Medusa pauses at the question, but tries to remain calm. “Your clothes were soaked in water. You were experiencing hypothermia, and I had to take them off to save you. What’s your name?”
The woman seems to physically calm down at the explanation; she speaks with more composure. “I’m Calypso. Why did you save me? I almost died.”
Medusa repeats her name on the tip of her tongue, testing it out. “Calypso.. That’s an interesting name. But why I saved you is a mystery to me as well; maybe I couldn’t allow myself to ignore you, or maybe I simply was lonely.”
Calypso thinks about what she said; she’d like to believe Penelope’s reason was the former, but then again the latter is always a possibility.
Medusa watches her in silence but eventually breaks the silence. “So.. You must be starving. We have some figs and grapes if you’d like some.”
Penelope’s offer snaps her out of her thoughts, and she responds with gratefulness. “Yes, I’m famished. Thank you.”
Medusa leads her to the beach, guiding her to sit. “I’ll be right back after I pick us some food.”
Calypso nods with a grateful smile playing on her lips, the gentle action emphasising her smile lines. “Thank you, I’ll wait for you to return. Take your time, Penelope.”
Medusa dismissed her praise, finding little weight in her own actions. “You’re welcome, but don’t thank me. I’m not trying to be a hero, just fair.”
With that, Medusa walks off to find berries. She picks a variety of different fruits, such as grapes, figs, peaches, and rotten olives. She rinses them with water then returns to Calypso, the sound of her walking alerting Calypso of a presence.
Calypso looks towards the sound, caution on her face. “Penelope? Is that you?”
Penelope quickly responds to her. “Yes, don’t worry. It’s me and brought back some food. Here.”
Medusa hands her the bowl and sits down next to her and sneaks a few every now and then. However, her mind is conflicted. On one hand, she finally has another presence, on the other, is it really fair that she’s lying to Calypso. She quickly shakes the thoughts away and just tries to relish the moment, on what’s happening now.