OOC: set pre DM for obvious reasons~

Her children were growing with each passing day, each one beautiful and annoying, but hers nonetheless. Moonlight-colored eyes would observe them from afar. Medusa was far from an exemplary mother, watching from the distance, living in the shadows of observation, but she couldn?t deny the itching of maternal instinct in her chest. She would save them if they needed saving, but for now, she would sit in the shadows and watch as they grew. They would all be beautiful one day beyond doubt, the sort who would bring the world to its knees. There was something akin to pride in her chest, and yet she did not let it flourish.
No, she did not let herself grow close, because they did not need to know her. They didn?t need to learn from her, to emulate her mistakes. Instead she summoned their father, their more involved parent, calling for him and hoping to get a report of their children. She cared, perhaps not as much as a mother ought, but enough to seek inquiry.

The children were taking an evening nap after an abrupt, but warranted, bicker between the three of them. Their personalities were so pronounced and so singular from one another that such bursts were not uncommon in the family. Deteste was skilled at defusing such situations but he realized that when the children were grown, that role would be taken from him. So he distanced himself from them a bit more each time, allowing them to settle the dispute according to their own terms for he had already for he had already set a pattern for them to follow. The man was tired yet his body ached for movement and upon hearing Medusa's call he would stand and turn tail to the sleeping children knowing it was unlikely for them to wake before night claimed the mangroves.



The man would eye her in the distance. Her obsidian pelt shining in a dull red light with the angle of the low, evening sun. The strange reflection would juxtapose the woman's eyes, which so often stole away the man's attention. His gait would break a mere stride away from Medusa and his maw would extend towards hers, sharing warmth and smell but lacking touch. It was gesture that had become common between them since they had left Amenti. Medusa the depth of his voice would leave him, the name spoken the way a knight may address their sovereign. A reverent nod would complete his greeting but his eyes would never leave her own. They stirred strange contemplation in the man's mind, dredging memories that he preferred to set aside yet he lingered at the edge of such thought, daring to dip into such dangerous territory to understand what the woman was to him.

He arrived as she knew he would, approaching. They shared a moment of affection, a brief gesture that Medusa had come to expect. They were close, sharing a bond of children after all, and a bond of having lead a pack together. Moonlight colored eyes gazed upon them; there was no deception about her ,no game she wished to play. Rather, the harlot was interested in a simple conversation. It was so rare she engaged in one of those, so rare that she let down her walls. Something about the black warrior pulled that from her. ?Deteste,? she greeted. There was a twinge of memory, but she would not let it pass. No, the serpent dared not to remember her painful past, which could very well come back to harm her one day.

She would not hesitate with her question, wanting to hear him speak of their offspring. ?How are they?? she inquired, the they being obvious. It was a strange question to come from her lips, but Medusa had been unable to predict the ties that maternal instinct would place upon her, the chains that would bind her to the tiny lives she?d brought into the world.

The man's rump would fall to the earth, the rest of his bulk relaxing and following it's path downward as he laid himself in a sphinx-like position. Crown erect but body relaxed as he considered Medusa's inquiry. "Quite well I would say. They may not be closest of siblings but our children are independent and capable, even at their current age. This is an uncommon trait for youth to have. They are who they will be once they are grown without the need for trial and error. But most of all, I would say they are happy. And happiness, trivial as it may seem in adulthood, can be important even to the most mature pup." a pause would follow the end of his report as he awaited any additional inquiries the woman may have. The report was, of course, concise and analytical. Yet from the woman's expression and the softening of her gaze the man understood that there was more she sought.



Serverus is a sharp boy. He is not only unforgivingly witty, he would start, tinging the sentence with a playful tone of sarcasm, he is intelligent and strategic. Callisto has developed an interest in medicine and has found a small den for herself in which to stockpile herbs. They are all wanderers but I would say Circes has the greatest wanderlust. he would pause abruptly after speaking the last sentence, his jowls clenching at the slight difference in pronunciation in which he had spoken his daughter's name. Xerxes would be the name he had spoken. The reaction was minute, but it would take all that the man had to quell the emotion that desired to overcome him in the memory of his slave master. His gaze would break from Medusa's, pupils sharpening as the master's image haunted him in the distance. Hallucinations had plagued Deteste for most of his life. He had learned the discipline to ignore them. She enjoys meeting new people. he would speak again, closing his report with unnoticeable strain.

"speech"

She listened closely to Deteste describe her children, interested. She wondered which genes had come from where, which characteristics had come from which chromosome. They were happy, at least, and the woman supposed she was doing her job well enough then. ?They don?t want for anything, do they?? she enquired. Medusa?s maternal instinct was certainly limited, but she did feel the urge to provide, to give her children the best she could without being too involved. They were annoying and needy, but if they had been hurt, she would protect them, and if they desired food or an ear to whine into, she would do her best.
She listened to the description of each child, deciding Severus most definitely took after his mother, Callisto more so after her father, and Circe?s personality origin having yet to be determined. Her gaze looked upon Deteste, transfixed, observing each movement and noting how familiar he was. Obviously she knew him, but she felt she knew him from elsewhere, from a world away. And yet she said nothing, for it wasn?t certain, and she didn?t deny her mind was often unstable. ?We make pretty children. They?ll be strong without a doubt,? she noted, although there was something absent about the tone of her voice as she stared at the scarred man, trying to determine what was off about him.

Medusa the vision would croon as it closed the distance between himself and the woman. That voice deafening Deteste to any words truly spoken by her. There's my pretty girl. Now where's your prey? Those golden eyes would become wickedly transfixed upon the man, as would Medusa's questioning gaze. The persecution would be real enough to the man that his hair upon his nape would begin to stand, his facade cracking with the initial wrinkles of an ugly snarl. Then in the very moment that such intensity had possessed him the vision would be gone. Yet the woman was real and her questioning gaze remained. The man would stand suddenly and stumble leftward as his breath left him in the realization of his memory.



Do you remember me? his voice would pierce the air like a whip, his sharp gaze focused on the face that was now too much familiar and now somewhat unwanted. He had traveled and struggled for long years to leave behind his past and yet here was one of Xerxes' roots tapping away at him without his knowing. The man was furious and confused by his muddled revelation. He was unsure what his next action would be. In the past he had killed any followers of Xerxes he had come across. But it mattered not in this moment for emotion possessed the man beyond the control of contemplation. Knowing that the woman would either be confused by his conviction or feign confusion the same question would boom once again through his jowls, DO YOU KNOW ME?! the winter air shook with the amplitude of his voice. Sharp and stained incisors would be bared to the temptress at the close of his inquisition and he would approach in preparation of a chase should the woman attempt to flee.