Barefoot, the rocks along the forest path did her no favors and her lungs burned but she didn’t care. She’d abandoned her heels immediately after disappearing through the garden and off of the grounds and she knew she was a decent distance away, was in the forest, but she wasn’t about to stop. She didn’t think she’d been followed, she’d gotten away just in time, but she almost didn’t believe it. The river gave her a moment's pause, had her wheezing and clutching at her chest doubled over and then she was emptying her stomach of all the wine and delicacies she’d eaten at the party. Her eyes felt wet, crying, she was crying? She hadn’t really even been aware until the silent sobs wracked her body as she knelt by the river, the ground dirtying her pure white dress.
It was oddly fitting and the realization had her letting out a choked laugh. Catching a glimpse of herself in the river’s surface, Medusa cast off her mask, allowed the current to wipe it away and then Medusa was left looking at her own face. Mascara tears and gold leaf flakes didn’t hide the rage there, the disappointment in herself.
“I did it.” Her voice is surprisingly even for the amount of rage coursing through her at the appearance of Ophelia behind her in her reflection. “I had to. I didn’t want it to be her.” She turns her head and she’s looking up at the fury from her knees. If this is who is going to end her, it’s fitting. @opheliancano