...
Truly, she's a lady with a schedule to keep.
Nothing she does is out of a time slot. Her fingers rack against the desk, an audible way for her to confirm her suspicions of time. Right again. Angry footsteps make themselves well known, even for her mostly isolated little office room. The only way that the space is illuminated is by a dim lamp at the corner of her desk, enough to give her an imposing figure. Some would call it silly and say that she's "trying too hard".
Arachne knows better.
Sure, her job isn't really easy, but it's plenty fun. They said she didn't have the "necessary experience", but she doesn't see them managing anything anymore. A silver tongue and plenty of business sense; that's all it took. Plenty of blood, sweat, and tears, too. Maybe she ruined a few lives on her way here, but hey; that's just business. She casts a wide web, and it's truly great fun to see everyone dance for her. After all, it's her signature going on their checks.
Her eyes are starting to droop; a lack of sleep is starting to catch up with her. Turning on the lights might help, but that ruins the mood she works hard to cultivate. She twirls a pale finger through her pitch black hair, all she needs to do now is wait. Just another minute. She lifts a metal pen off her desk in anticipation.
The door clicks open. Not much to throw her visage into disarray, but enough to let in a bit of that obnoxious white light into the room. Arachne closes her eyes, a smile is growing on her face. She racks the end of the pen against the desk, the click that follows reverberating throughout it. Her hands move to hover the ballpoint over a small square on an open planner.
The door shuts, the light is dashed.
Click. Click. Click.
She opens her eyes, they're fixated on a clock hanging opposite her. A smile dots her lips. She marks the square until it's wholly black.
Right on time.
She doesn't even move her head from where it's staring, she doesn't need to, after all.
"Arachne."
Amber slits peer back at her, they communicatnicates what she wants it to, and most of the people she hires are airheaded enough to fall for it.
Medusa is most certainly not one of those people; Arachne is more than aware of this of course. Medusa is a prideful lady, maybe a bit hot headed at times. A bit too cold and emotionless at other points. That's all water under the bridge now, of course.
"What are you doing, Arachne?"
The blonde has her arms crossed, her face giving off no real emotion, except the scorn Arachne noted earlier. It's almost cute, in a sense. Many people are threatened by Medusa, that serpentine menace. Arachne, of course, has spent far too long in this business to be intimidated by that nonsense.
"Sweet joy! We'll be seeing each other a lot more now, isn't that grand? I must say, you're being a bit... standoffish though."
Medusa's scowl is slowly growing. "Arachn-"
"It's just bad conduct, that's all!" Arachne chirps, a faux look of concern washing across her pale face.
Medusa has to stop and calm down for a moment. She truly despises the way Arachne talks, she always has; it's so saccharine and fake, yet so smug and threatening. All she can do is sigh.
"Please, why are you doing this?"
Arachne's eyes are almost hidden by the poor lighting, but there's an unmistakable softness to them that betrays her image. They communicate concern where there is absolutely none. "Doing what, dear?"
"Hire me. You know this isn't what I even remotely want to do, what are you getting at?" Medusa inquires, her hand planted into her hip.
Arachne smiles. "Getting at? I'm not 'getting at' anything, dear. I needed someone competent for the job, and you happened to be out of work so..." She explains, clasping her hands together.
"But-"
"But nothing, sweetie! I'm sorry to disappoint, but I'm not doing any dumb little schemes anymore, if that's what you wanted."
Medusa grumbles to herself. She's almost... disappointed, in a way. This should be more satisfying than it is. "It's really just business?"
Arachne smiles, again. "Just business."
Both of them have lived lives long enough to know that they don't really trust each other. They didn't when they were children, and they certainly don't now. Circumstances change, of course, and why would either of them fight each other now? What could they even do?
"I've moved beyond that!" Arachne suddenly declares, sliding a bottle of amber liquid across the desk. She gestures gently towards a chair that sits across from her, much less elegant than the one she uses, of course.
"Sit."
"No."
Arachne rolls her eyes. "I'm not asking for much, just sit down, we'll share a drink. Think of it as a celebration of sorts. Dearest little sister is getting a new job, isn't that wonderful?"
"Don't play coy with me." Medusa retorts, her eye twitching. "I don't know why you brought me here, but it can be for good."
Arachne is disappointed. She expected Medusa to have a more varied reaction. Medusa was so unpredictable back in the day, and she attempted to account for that. Arachne hates to repeat herself, but she makes an exception.
"Medusa, I'll say it once more: I want you to work for me, and I think you're capable. That's what you agreed to do, this is your job now. Let's make it pleasant, please."
Medusa has already move towards the door, almost foreboding in the artificially dark room. Her hand runs over the cold steel of the handle, and she grumbles quietly to herself. Is this really it? She thinks. She shoots back a quick glance.
"I... I don't drink."
Click. Click. Click.
Arachne is swiftly left alone, a truly useless conservation now behind her. She sighs, makes a few more marks on her planner, and grabs the bottle, the particular liquid that inhabits it being some sort of brandy.
It's whatever, really. She muses to herself. Medusa will do just fine. Really, it would've been more efficient to just take on someone a bit more "normal", but Arachne can't help but think she made a good choice. She doubts herself very little, it's quite necessary in her line of work. She's only just remembered that Medusa barred Shaula from entering the room, too. A sigh escapes her lips; that's another person she'll have to calm later.
...
Medusa taps a pen against her desk, it's about all she can do to keep her mind occupied other than staring at the clock on the wall.
The past few days have been truly dull. Ravenously so. She almost wishes this was just another one of Arachne's dumb little plans, one of the cons she thought up in her youth. Reality crushes her so. All she does is preform dull calculations and enter numerals into a spreadsheet for ten hours a day. She invents and creates nothing of value, and this fact sits constantly on her shoulders. So, she stares off into space to daydream about much nicer things. Research, whatever she last worked on. Something about the application of-
"Gorgon...?"
Her eye widen, her train of thought broken. More than once, that name gets thrown around this accursed place, and it never confuses her any less who says it, and who they direct it to. There's three of us in this goddamn place, be specific... She internally grumbles.
"What?" Medusa hisses.
She moves her head to the thin little woman standing next to her, and she relents in her attitude in a bit when she sees straight locks of silver hair.
"Oh... Eruka. What did you want?"
The disturbed look on Eruka's face worries Medusa, try as she might to be gentle with her. Eruka is a bit of a cowardly pushover, but nice enough and useful as an assistant. Neither of them are exactly swimming in friends at this place, so they've decided that talking to each other isn't so bad.
Sure, Eruka is incredibly terrified of Medusa, but she's trying. She does her best to swallow the lump in her throat as she nervously slides a stack of papers across the desk.
"I-uh... some more... stuff." She sputters, her hands still a bit shaky from Medusa's snarl. The papers she's given to Medusa are mostly numerals, a bunch of useless and uninteresting mixture of garbage that Medusa is supposed to copy.
"Thank you. Is there anything else?" Medusa inquires, her tired hands already starting to sort the mass of papers that now sits before her. Eruka simply shakes her head, and trots away to attend to some other nonsense on the other side of the room. Medusa admires her in a way, the abnormally high amount of patience she demonstrates. It's almost calming, in a sense.
The work, of course, isn't calming.
She can't bring herself to hate it as much as she thought she would. It doesn't inspire that much emotion. It isn't bad enough for her to hate it, at least with any real force behind it. All she can do is roll her eyes, and go back to recording and typing for another few hours. She's barely been at this for a week, and she's already started dissociating. Maybe getting a more menial job would have suited her, at least then it would inspire some more vigor within herself. Until then, she wagers that she basically sold her soul for some weirdly dull office job.
There's always that bit of dread within the back of her mind, the concept of her being in this place for the rest of her career. Is this really it? She wonders, her brow starting to sweat. The concept is so terrifying to her, and she can't really place why. Most people would kill to have a job like her, a nice air conditioned office and simple, if insanely dull, work. Still, she never feels content with the idea. Medusa just keeps rubbing her temple trying to find an answer; she ends up reckoning that she should talk to more people.
She had plenty of friends, back then. Her old job, that was her people, the sort she tried her best to build a comradery with. They understood each other, on a certain level that none of her current coworkers ever will. They all knew about the pull that science had for them, their research was powerful. She had a chance to change the world, then, and she was going to find a way to do it again. There's a smile growing on her lips, as she rummages through the ideas she's had stored for so long.
Just a bit longer... I'll save up some cash and start again. Maybe move somewhere new...
Her daydreams are swiftly interrupted by more footsteps, a familiar tone accompanies them this time around. She doesn't even need to stop staring at her screen.
"Eruka? What's wrong?"
Eruka isn't the sort of person to ask too much of anyone, and she's learned in her sort of career to mostly just keep quiet. Therefore, it's a bit strange of her to ask things of others, especially the weird lady she's heard so many disturbing things about. Still, she feels compelled to do so anyways.
"Uh... would you mind coming to lunch with me later? It's fine if you can't..."
Medusa's eyes widen, as Eruka is just left to nervously rub her hands together. Really, Medusa isn't one to engage in weird bonding experiences, and she finds Eruka a bit strange and cowardly. She is the only person here she doesn't entirely dislike in some form or another though.
"Sure. Just text me where and when, okay?" Medusa offers, hastily jotting her number down onto a torn slip of paper. Eruka smiles, a bit too much to seem natural, but she graciously seems to accept it before hastily running off. Medusa is just left to stare back at her laptop screen, wondering what the real point of all of that was.
Oh well, it could always be worse. She figures. She's been taking what she can get lately, and she supposes this is just another part of that period of her life.
...