Aleysia could feel the warmth engulfing her body as they stepped into Medusa's house. However, the woman who had cradled her in her arms had an amazingly cold body. Yet, the soft fur lining of Medusa's jacket felt pleasantly cosy against Aleysia's skin.
He can feel the woman's step is careful, and they walk into the stairs. Aleysia said shyly, "I can walk by myself."
"It's faster with me holding you," Medusa replied, her melodious voice sending a curious sensation through Aleysia.
Aleysia could hear another set of footsteps approaching, slow and careful. She recognised the familiar steps of the old man who often greeted her and gave her candies whenever she came to listen to the whales.
"Madam, let me hold her," the old man's voice said, tinged with anxiety.
"Nonsense, you're old," Medusa dismissed him. "Get the servant to bathe her and prepare warm clothes."
"Right away, madam," he responded quickly. "Your room?"
"Yes, my room," Medusa replied.
Aleysia turned her face towards Medusa, her sightless eyes trying to focus on the woman she now knew as Ariadne. "Madam? Are you the owner of this house? The beautiful house on the northernmost part of town, the mysterious rich man?"
Medusa let out a hearty laugh at Aleysia's series of questions. "Yes, I'm that rich man."
"Wow," Aleysia breathed, her curiosity piqued.
Aleysia can hear a doorknob twist open and a door open in front of her. She can smell a crisp, herbal scent—a mix of olive leaves, sage, and myrrh. The aroma begins with the earthy, slightly peppery notes of freshly crushed olive leaves, their green, vibrant essence filling the air.
As Aleysia breathes in further, the fragrance blends with the aromatic, slightly balsamic tones of sage. The herbaceous scent of the sage leaves tingles the nose, evoking a sense of clarity and focus. There's a hint of camphor-like freshness that adds a cooling, almost mentholated quality to the blend.
Underlying this verdant, verdant bouquet is the warm, resinous fragrance of myrrh. The rich, amber-like notes of the myrrh resin add a touch of depth and ancient mysticism to the scent, like the lingering incense from a sacred temple.
"I like the scent of your room," Aleysia said, her senses delighted by the aroma.
"Yeah?" Medusa gently placed Aleysia on the floor of her room. "What's it like?"
"It's like a sense of timeless wisdom and mysticism. I feel like I was thrown into another dimension," Aleysia replied, quickly bending down to remove her wet shoes.
As her pale, long toes touched the wood floor, Aleysia smiled. "Even your floor feels nice."
Medusa's smile widened as she observed Aleysia's reaction. "How so?"
Aleysia let her bare feet gently glide across the sturdy, dark-hued oak floorboards beneath her. With each step, she can feel the distinct grain of the wood beneath the soles of her feet, the lines and ridges creating a subtly uneven surface.
The oak is solid and unyielding, with a satisfying heft that absorbs the impact of Aleysia's light steps. The wood has a slight chill to it, having been exposed to the cooler air of Medusa's room, but as Aleysia continues walking, a gentle warmth begins to radiate upwards, transferring the heat from her skin into the floor.
"It makes me feel centred and present, like a primal connection between my toes and this hard wood floor. It's also grounding, not just physically but emotionally and spiritually as well. It roots me to the earth, to the history and traditions that came before me," Aleysia explained, savouring the sensation.
"That sounds beautiful," Medusa remarked, captivated by the young woman's perceptive observations.
"I bet you're beautiful too," Aleysia smiled, her lifeless pale eyes staring towards Medusa. "Everything about your room is beautiful and perfect."
"Go take a bath; my servants will help you," Medusa said, cutting the conversation short, not wanting to dwell further with the human female.
"I can bathe myself," Aleysia protested.
"You're blind and in a strange place. Let them help you," Medusa takes a step back outside her own room. Aleysia can hear two more light steps get inside the room, and the woman's step retreated.
-
Whenever the servants were around Medusa, they always wore blindfolds. Bernard paid them high salaries and enforced a strict rule that they must always wear the blindfolds whenever they were in the presence of the mistress of the house.
He only allowed them to see the floor or Medusa's feet, never permitting the servants to look directly at their mistress unless she was prepared to leave the house and wear her fancy turban. Then, and only then, would Bernard allow them to see Medusa directly, enabling them to admire the undying beauty that had even enraptured the god Poseidon, leading him to commit the heinous act of raping her—an offence that, in turn, led to Medusa's curse from the goddess Athena.
Because Athena was such a jealous ex of Medusa, and the misunderstanding between them only made it harder for Medusa to explain herself that she wasn't enjoying any of that, instead despising it.
The servants understood that a mere mortal could easily become enthralled by Medusa's exceptional beauty, and that's when the issue of her being too beautiful—that's why they can't see her's face for too long—is becoming the reason they need to use a blindfold.
"Her beauty is blinding," one of the servants would often whisper to the others.
"Once you see her, you can't forget her for the rest of your life," another would murmur in awe.
"She's so beautiful it hurts your eyes," a third servant would remark reverently.
Bernard never bothered to correct them, for it was more convenient for him to maintain this policy. He also carefully selected and trained his successor, Timothy, to become Medusa's next lifelong servant.
Because he knew that one mistake or act of defiance in ignoring this sacred rule could transform them into stone—a fate akin to becoming a marble statue—it's an honour actually to be turned into a marble statue, but Medusa has no power to return all the humans or gods from stone to their original form. This threat loomed large, keeping them ever vigilant and obedient.
The family's rise from humble slaves to a royal and billionaire dynasty in the modern world was all thanks to Medusa's knowledge and wisdom. Each successive head of the household kept a portrait of Medusa, for she had never changed, never aged, and only grown more beautiful and youthful over time.
The truth of Medusa's origins was only kept secret within the inner circle of the Johnson family, the direct lineage of Anthony Johnson, the enslaved man who had obtained freedom and established himself as a successful planter on Virginia's eastern shore. Or the person Medusa chooses to be her next servant for life.
"Your tea, madam," Bernard said, walking up to Medusa, who was sitting in the living room in front of the fireplace, awaiting Aleysia's return from bathing.
"Thank you, Bernard," Medusa replied with a smile, inhaling the scent of the ironwort.
Ironwort had long been her favourite tea. It was a genus of flowering plants known for their use as herbal medicine, commonly consumed as a herbal tea. They were abundant in Mediterranean regions, the Balkans, the Iberian Peninsula, and Macaronesia, but could also be found in Central Europe and temperate Asia.
However, Medusa preferred the ironwort grown in the Mediterranean regions. The aroma was distinctly different from those of other regions, and it was always perfect when combined with lemon and honey.
"Should I prepare one for the lady as well?" Bernard asked.
"Give her an English tea instead," Medusa said. "She might find this tea too strong for her taste." Bernard smiled, for in all his life, this was the first time he had seen his mistress display such consideration for someone else.
"Certainly, madam," he replied, and swiftly left to carry out her instructions.