Medusa let out her breath in a soft hiss. Of course, it had always been about what he wanted and for a moment that made her angry. Yes, yes, yes she would fling the mirrored shades that kept the world safe from her gaze aside and make him part of her gallery.
No, she wouldn't.
It had been easy, even wonderful to be swept up in what Poseidon had been. To be wanted by a god had meant everything and that was why in the end it had cost everything. Athena had thrown the curse but it was Poseidon who had been the catalyst. His actions had made her story, made her infamous, had turned her into a symbol widely recognized even as half the Olympians faded into the background.
No, she would not show him her eyes.
"Home, yes, go back home Poseidon. There is no fair-haired priestess here. Only a woman as cold as the stone she surrounds herself with."