There was a sense of foreboding the barely there shadow of foretelling that danced around the edge of her senses. Gods were not free. They were slaves to their stories, their pasts inescapable even as the world around them moved on and forgot. Was the choice she would make now hers? Probably not. Medusa could not say no to him.
That was not her story.
"I will stay for as long as I want to."
She had taken a step back and now two steps forward. When they had last met in New York she had not returned his kiss. This moment seemed like a fine time to do just that.