medusamyra-blog

[medusamyra-blog]

narcissus.

LOCATION: The Metropolitan Museum of Art. TIME: Beginning of the wedding reception. AVAILABILITY: Open to all.

❝ A Valentine’s Day wedding, huh? Never would’ve taken either of them to be particularly… romantic. ❞ Cliché and trite were actually the first two words that came to mind, but Rhys wasn’t looking to start a fight with anyone. Yet. ❝ Thank Cupid for the free bar. ❞

      “They’re not.”        Myra threw back a shot of vodka like she meant it, and made a puckering face. It was smoother going down than she was used to, but she’d never get used to the burn.       “--Well, unless you’re stupid enough to think them getting married is romantic. They can put on a show, but at the end of the day, everything’s about money and power. That’s all it is.”

[medusamyra-blog]

cerberus:

“I’ve been informed that I got shot.”

       ”You’ve...been...informed?”       Myra’s eyes opened so wide, Felicia might as well have had three heads. The reception was nothing short of chaos: people screaming, broken ceramic plates littering the floor, bullet holes lining the century-old walls. Normally, Myra prepared herself for the impossible when it came to Olympus assignments, but she’d been naive to think nothing of the sort would happen here, and thus she was caught completely off-guard.       “What? Fel, are you kidding me? You got shot? We weren’t even supposed to be here today!” She rushed to hre friend’s side and knelt down, scanning her body quickly for any signs of blood. “Okay, let’s just calm down--”  Felicia was, in fact, a pillar of calm, “--you’re probably just in shock. No biggie. Now lemme see. Does it hurt anywhere? I wonder if Matthew’s still around ...”

[medusamyra-blog]

Helloooo! I’ve (finally) filled out the talk tag post to give you guys some info on my version of Medusa! Please let me know if you have any questions about her, or if you’d like to plot! I’m definitely looking for a roommate or two, as well as any other connection under the sun (especially for fellow New Olympians). Let’s get this party started! (Well...it’s been started...for awhile now...I am very late...but for ME it’s a very new party, okay?)

Also I might have made some assumptions here as far as our characters go, so if you see something wonky please tell me

BASICS

full name: Myra Shirin Bahl

The name is commonly associated with the Latin word, myyrh: a bitter resin extracted from a small, thorny plant. Though many bitter things might make you pucker when they first touch your tongue, they are often proven to be very useful, such as in medicinal herbs, or flavoring fine wine. And as they say, many beautiful, wonderful things are known to be protected by thorns. 

any nicknames?: As a child she went by Mimi. She doesn’t use that name anymore. Though she hears some of the folk at Old Olympus call her Medusa behind her back.

age: 25. a quarter of a century, oh no!

birthday/zodiac sign: August 19th, 1992. Leo. A fiery lioness filled with passion. 

height: 5′-6:

any tattoos, piercings?: Though she has done a lot of breaking boundaries and exploring new options for herself, piercings and tattoos have been a little too permanent for her to take the plunge on. Besides a single piercing in each of her ears, her skin remains undecorated for the time being. Though she considers it from time to time, she still wonders if she’ll ever be able to reconnect with her family and her old self, and something like a tattoo is just a little too much of a commitment for the time being. 

FAVORITES

sound: Ocean waves softly kissing the shore ( she sleeps with a soft noise machine when the other apartment tenants are particularly loud )

color: Dusty lilacs and calming blue hues. The color of a clear, cloudless sky. And deep, royal purple ( not just for the matriarchal implications )

person: A multitude of faces rush through her head--her mother, her father, her brother, her ex-lover, her ex-best-friend--before she reminds herself they can’t be her favorite anymore. She has to be her own favorite person now.

memory: It’s hard to pick a favorite memory when so many of the people she shared them with no longer see her in the same light. Every good moment becomes a cherished memory in hindsight. They appear in flashes: peeling carrots with her mother, sharing lighthearted conversation about how men were helpless in the kitchen. Walking down the street as a young girl, holding her father’s hand and feeling so safe, like nothing in the world could touch her with her impenetrable father there to protect her. 

place: Gritty, warm sand beneath her toes, the hot sun on her back, the cool water at her feet. Specifically, the beaches home in Los Angeles (especially Malibu). New York beaches just can’t compare, though when she’s desperate for some sun she’ll use them as a placeholder.

vice: Warm lips on her neck, rough hands on her skin. She never expected to be the type to fall for such carnal pleasures, but once she got a taste, it was an urge that always came back to haunt her. Though it has never been as fulfilling as the first time, with the woman she’d loved, she loved the feeling of another person on top of her. 

HAVE THEY EVER…

…been in love?

Luli had been the most beautiful woman she’d ever seen. At first, Myra wasn’t sure if she wanted to be with her or simply wanted to be her. Soon, the question answered itself. She never thought she would want a woman in such a primitive way, nor a romantic way, but Luli changed Myra’s perspective on just about everything. It was passionate and warm and enlightening and thriving and everything Myra had never thought she’d wanted, or needed. It was the most wonderful and thrilling feeling she’d ever experienced--

even if it didn’t last. 

…done drugs?

When she’d first gotten involved with Olympus, still new to the big city. There were so many new opportunities for her here that hadn’t existed back home, and she wanted to try everything. Nothing too dangerous, but she’ll never forget the bubbling excitement of her first joint. There had been a naive air about her that both made people protective of her, and also made people want to push things on her, but she stood her ground. She wanted to enjoy her newfound freedom, but within reason, and she certainly wasn’t about to ruin her new life by getting hooked on something bad.  

…killed someone?

Not by choice. Everything that night had gone wrong. It was her first year on transportation and things weren’t going as smoothly as everyone expected them to. It was her or them and she panicked. She did what she had to do, but the first time she took someone else’s life was the hardest, even if it was for her own safety.

…betrayed someone’s trust?

Despite the age difference, Victoria had been her best friend. She’d been the first person Myra had connected with in New York, and Myra had crawled under her wing and adopted her as her mentor, whether she’d initially wanted it or not. Victoria was her secret keeper, the first person she’d told about her life back in California, what she had fled from and what she had fled to become. 

At first, it hadn’t felt like cheating. But then it did. And she knew it was wrong. And she didn’t put a stop to it until it was too late. In the end, she isn’t sure which loss was worst: her lover or her best friend.

…had their heart broken?

If love was the best feeling in the world, heartbreak was the worst. It had teared her to shreds, ripped her apart after every attempt at glueing herself back together again. What it also did, however, was harden her: make her strong, impervious, impenetrable. Just like the myth of a broken bone healing stronger than before, her broken heart and broken soul came back ten times stronger after that, and she swore she would never let it break again.

…lost someone?

Never by death, but unattainable by the weight of her own actions. Not lost, but simply impossible to find as they once were..

DO THEY…

have any pets?: This is technically TBD since I don’t know who her roommates are yet, but in my head she has two small pet (land) turtles, named after women’s rights activists Susan B. Anthony and Lucretia Mott (“Susie and Lucy”)

have a family they still talk to?: No. Sometimes she wishes she could, but she feels it’s just too late. Even if she were to contact them, she would probably have to change back into who she was--into Mimi--and she’s just not willing to do that.

have a best friend?: It used to be Victoria, back when she first touched down in NYC.  Someone she could tell anything to, confess her deepest fears and biggest secrets. Well, she left out one particularly large secret, and their best-friendship was broken forever. (Who is it now? Only time will tell)

want to get married and/or have kids?: It used to be a given that as a woman, she would settle down with a husband and pop out a few kids. Now that she’s breached so far past the Bahl Family Norm, she’s not so sure she could ever go back to that. Sure, after a stressful, dangerous day, she might think a normal, quiet life in a suburb with a family might be nice, but as far as she’s concerned, she’s too far gone to ever get that old little girl dream. 

want to leave?: Sometimes, but she’s already run away once before, and reinventing yourself certainly takes its toll on your identity. Everyone has hard days, where they want to leave their life behind and start somewhere new, but she doesn’t feel she’s been in New York long enough yet to call it quits. Not to mention, she would be letting down the other members of New Olympus, the people who took her in when she was still new to the city and had no place to go, and she wouldn’t let her own flight risk tendencies harm them in anyway..

THIS OR THAT?

phone call or text? T E X T. They’re straight-forward, to the point, and leave interpretation out of the equation. “Meet at 11:05 in the alley?” There’s nothing else to it. It’s quick and it’s efficient., and there’s no way for it to be construed 

wealth or loyalty? L O Y A L T Y. All the money in the world can’t buy you trust or friendship. Though she could really use the money, everyone needs at least one person they can trust in above all else. 

love or lust? L U S T. Love gets you nothing but heartbreak. It tears down your walls and pillages your heart like an invading army and it leaves nothing but ruin in its wake. Lust allows you “all the same perks” without the emotional investment and vulnerability. It is clearly the superior choice. 

5 Friends or 100 Acquaintances? 5 FRIENDS. True loyalty is hard to come by these days, and the less you know a person, the more dangerous to you they can be to you. 

summer or winter? S U M M E R! Having grown up in California, the New York winters are pretty bracing to her. Even if summer weather reminds her of home, she will never not love the sun.  

[medusamyra-blog]

bunchofrpmemes:

Broken a bone | Gotten stitches | Had a near-death experience | Killed someone | Tried and failed to kill someone | Invented something | Been hungover | Kissed someone | Slow danced | Been in a long-term relationship affair | Had sex | Had sex and regretted it | Had a one-night stand | Had a threesome (it’s probably on her wishlist though) | Experimented with their sexuality | Had a kid | Gotten married | Self-harmed | Traveled to another country | Been in a play | Received an inheritance | Been in a car wreck (the struggles of being Head of Transportation) | Lost a loved one | Been dumped (!!) | Dumped someone | Smoked | Gotten high | Been slipped something in their food/drink | Won a contest | Won an election | Joined a sports team | Gone skydiving | Gone hunting | Been in a band | Had a job | Been fired | Been in a wedding party | Owned a pet | Seen a ghost | Skipped class/work (her parents would have killed her my god) | Learned an instrument | Gotten a noticeable scar | Sued someone | Been robbed | Been mugged (homegirl was definitely walking down the streets of Manhattan all starry-eyed, not paying attention at ALL) | Been kidnapped | Been sexually assaulted | Been brainwashed/hypnotized | Gone more than one day without eating | Had a recurring nightmare | Been bullied | Bullied someone | Seen someone die | Attempted suicide | Been tied/chained up | Shot someone | Stabbed someone | Saved someone’s life | Cheated on someone | Been cheated on !! | Had a stalker | Been betrayed !! | Been in a fight | Been arrested (so many close calls, though) | Been to a funeral | Had surgery | Broken the trust (of someone you considered your closest friend) !! | Gotten a piercing (take that Mom and Dad!) | Gotten a tattoo (that that, too!!) | Used a fake name | Been tortured | Been abused | Been blackmailed | Had an attempt on their life | Gotten away with a crime (only every day) | Gone on a road trip | Been in love (!!)

Bold everything your muse has done. (caution: contains multiple common triggers)

[medusamyra-blog]

ICARUS.

12:30 am Location: Club Nyra Open Starter

Kit was known to trip and fall right into trouble.  He didn’t find it, it found him.  He was good at getting out of it too, so all was usually well.  But tonight was different.  Tonight, Kit was looking for trouble.  

He’s dressed up, he looks expensive because he figures that selling himself short helps absolutely no one.  It’s simple, a black shirt, rolled up to show his forearms but unbuttoned just enough to tease what is underneath.  His jeans are tailored to fit, and they show off his ass, which really, was the main reason he decided on them tonight.  His hands are freshly manicured, he hasn’t shaved so he’s got a nice sort of stubble going on that seems to be all the rage recently, he’s got everything he needs in his front pocket, and he’s ready to go.  

Once he arrives at Nyra, nodding to the bar tender who recognizes him, knows not to put anything strong in his drinks, Kit relaxes, finds a seat where he can watch, just until he finds someone he thinks looks willing to pay for a good time.  

     Oh, how she’s missed this place. The booming pop music, the flashes of blue and purple strobe lights--it’s nothing like her hometown, and it’s everything that she’s grown to love about New York. Myra craves the excitement, the spontaneity, the justification of the excuse it’s only one night. Club Nyra has become her second home since the Split, and it’s one she feels comfortable enough to be herself in, and to dance like nobody’s watching.     It’s during said dance break that she goes to get a drink, skin just barely glistening with sweat. As she makes her way over to the bar, her gaze settles on a familiar face.      “Well, look what the KitKat dragged in.”      A small, amused smirk stretches her lip-glossed mouth as she saunters up to him. She can’t quite call him an old friend, but she recognizes him as a former cohort, so old acquaintance seems to suffice.      Sliding onto the stool beside him, she orders a Sex on the Beach from the bartender and turns to Kit.      “Long time no see.” A pause; a tilt of the head. “You look  ... “ Myra searches for the word and realizes she can’t find it.  He looks put-together, well-groomed and ready for a night out--( AKA, like he’s looking like he’s trying to get lucky )--but after the night at the dock, she can’t help but wonder if he’s trying to cover something up. Or if he’s trying to forget. ( But maybe she’s just projecting. ) “--Good. You look good.”     She reaches to the back of her head to feel the bump that now resided there, and wants to know if he has one to match.      “Heard you got nosy the other night and came out to the dock.” It’s too loud in here for their conversation to really be overheard, but just in case, she leans in a little closer and lowers her voice. “Wanna tell me why?”

[medusamyra-blog]

APOLLO.

He’d lost track of what time it was by now. All he had known when he left the apartment was that he was in need of something to keep his mind occupied. Too long without those distractions, and he’d find himself lingering back on the memories of prison - or worse, the temptation that laid around every corner. Perhaps it’d be easier to try and sleep it off, blissful ignorance to everything - but insomnia seemed to come easier to him instead. As he passed the dimly lit bodega on the corner for the fourth time, he tossed his cold cup of coffee out, before taking a deep breath and standing under the streetlight. He wasn’t sure where to go now, if he should keep walking or just back - and what an ironic metaphor to how he felt in life.

Avi was debating on whether it was worth it to get another cup of coffee as he noticed a figure coming towards the shop as well. Avi tilted his head as he saw them approaching, hands fishing around in his back pocket for his cigarettes and lighter. Even as he spoke to the other person, he still felt the prickliness of anxiety under his skin, trembling and bubbling underneath. Realizing that his lighter was in his other coat, he groaned. “You wouldn’t happen to have a lighter, would you?” he started, fingering through the open carton of cigarettes, trying to pull one out - before noticing that he was completely out of those as well. He swore under his breath, raking his hand through his hair, before laughing hollowly. “Fuck. Cigarette and a lighter, by chance? I’ll owe you one next time I see you, whenever that might be.” 

Oh, Allah, her head. 

It had been about two hours since she’d cut herself free at the dock with Leto’s pocketknife, two hours of wandering around aimlessly in an effort to keep herself from falling asleep. Her internal clock was telling her, it’s late, Myra, it’s time to go to bed, but the incessant pulsing in her head was telling her otherwise. ( And the vomit in the trashcan a few blocks back was also telling her otherwise. ) So, she wandered--stumbled was more like it. 

When she spotted fluorescent light illuminating a small storefront window down the block, she used that as her bug zapper and made her way towards it like a delirious fly. Anything bright, anything to keep her awake.

What she didn’t expect to see was a cloaked figure standing outside. She had dealt with too much bullshit tonight to not be on her guard, but her pure exhaustion cancelled out her watchful gaze, leaving her muscles tense and alert but her legs on autopilot moving towards the bodega. 

Thankfully, it wasn’t a threat: it was just an old co-worker. 

“Avi!” Her sigh of relief almost seemed to echo in the silence of the night. She crossed the street with a newfound purpose and made her way towards him. The next lucky contender to keep her awake. “You scared the shit out of me. Don’t you know it’s almost four? What are you doing out so late?” 

She shook her head with a smirk, fighting the urge to roll her eyes. Transporting, even off the clock. “Yeah, yeah.” Digging into the pouch of her--totally-hip, totally-stylin’--self-decorated black fanny pack, she pulled out a box of Newports and a purple lighter and held them out to him with a teasing grin. “But it’ll cost ya.”

[medusamyra-blog]

cerberus.

“You can say that. Feel like I just got hit by a truck, but that’s normal.” Felicia felt as if, after hearing about everyone else, she was like the sacrificial lamb from the entire attack. Then Syrus went ahead and assigned her a new partner, albeit she was still working with someone she trusted. She knew that this was why you weren’t supposed to sleep with your boss and all that crap, because when they finally had to discipline you, it was a bit more personal than she liked to admit it. He may not have seen it that way, but Felicia, as much of a train wreck as she was, was a bit more in tune with her emotions. But she already knew she fucked up, she just couldn’t put into words how badly caught off guard she was. So it was Felicia who wanted to prove herself-again. Thinking about it now pissed her off-her years dedicated to this gang should’ve been proof enough. But she knew how to kiss ass while kicking it, she supposed. 

Felicia’s lips curved into a half smirk at Myra’s jests. Babysitting duty, as if she really needed to be looked after. If it was up to Felicia, she’d have ran off and done her own shit, Syrus be damned. But she knew she needed to stay in his good graces for now, so she was compliant-as much as she could be. “I think my days of jumping on the bed are over, but cookies and liquor? Reminds me of college.” She chuckled softly before taking the bottle. She poured herself a shot and threw it back, liking the burn that went down as she sighed. “I fucked up. How am I gonna get brownie points this time?”

     "Yeah,” she murmured. College. The reason Myra had ultimately left home in the first place--not that she’d ever been able to attend. She went from working to save up for tuition to working for the gang. Even as she started to save up money, she’d never be able to find the time. It was almost funny, how she had come to New York to become her own woman, but instead the  ownership of her merely switched over to someone else.      But now wasn’t the time to think about that.      “Hey, don’t toss that back! That’s good stuff. At least savor it in your pity party.”       With a soft sigh, Myra pulled her knees up to her chest, resting her fuzzy-socked feet on the cushion in front of her. It wasn’t often that she could let her guard down like this anymore, to tame the so-called snakes that hissed in her hair, but it was all too easy to fall back into that old habit with Felicia. Out of all of the New Olympians, she feared the girl with the bruised knuckles the least. After all, most fears simply lie in misunderstanding, and the bruiser beside her was someone she thought she had a grasp on.      “I think we’re both far past brownie points, Felicia.”      She eyed the clean glass on the table in contemplation before resting her cheek on the top of her knee. She was still a little sore from the night before, and she was exhausted, but she didn’t want Felicia to know. It certainly wouldn’t be very useful to have two injured girls watching each other.      “Yeah, you fucked up, but so did I. I’m the reason you fucked up. So, maybe we both should have been paying more attention, but it's too late for that now.” She scoffed at the thought. "I say give it a few days, let everything die down, and then see where you’re at. Sy can smell ass-kissing a mile away--at least he can with me--so don’t say something unless you mean it. Just lay low until things go back to normal. That’s my plan, anyway.”

[medusamyra-blog]

     “Hey, how are you feeling? Heard you took one for the team last night.”      Myra entered the living room as she tried to wipe the sympathy from her features. Taking one for the team was putting it lightly. Losing the container was only one of the many major fuck-ups that had happened the night before, and she couldn’t get away from it if she tried. Syrus was this close to digging everyone’s fucking grave, and though she had a lot of respect for him, she thought he was being a little harsh. But it wasn’t her place to have sympathy; it was her place to help Felicia get back on her feet so she could be useful again, and that was what she planned to do.      “It’s my turn for babysitting duty,” she said. “Yeah, yeah, I know. Doctor’s’ orders. Gotta make sure you don’t have a concussion and all that." She placed two glasses and a bottle of Tennessee Honey down on the coffee table before plopping herself down on the couch beside Felicia.  “So, you’re stuck with me today. I promise not to be a hard-ass about it. You can even eat cookies and jump on the bed if you want to--as long as you don’t hit your head.” The brunette nudged the bottle towards her friend as a sign of encouragement. Myra wasn’t a health expert, but she knew alcohol could cure just about anything. “You look like you could use a stiff one.”

for @cerberusfelicia​

[medusamyra-blog]

     Myra is certainly “over-dressed” for the dive bar--an oversized denim jacket, large hoop earrings, and her favorite black booties--but even Down Under, it’s important to look your best.     It’s bumpin’ on this particular Friday night: some intoxicated white man is arguing with his friend about the good ol’ days, while another is poorly waling Journey into the microphone on the makeshift stage. Not the hippest joint in the city, but it’s a place under neutral territory, and it comes with a deep fryer.      “Hey, get a look at Fabio.”      She looks back at Bastian and nods her head towards the bar, where the man with too much gel in his hair has proceeded to try and pick up yet another woman.       “He’s at it again. Can you believe that? What a glutton for punishment.”      The woman at the bar shakes her head and the man walks away; another rejection.     “I don’t know why people bother. You’re better off with your hand. Plus, he looks like a total loser.”     Myra swipes a french fry into some ketchup, before popping it into her mouth with a teasing smirk.      “Think we should kill ‘em?”

for @bvstiens​

[medusamyra-blog]

STARTER CALL ! 

LIKE this post for a personalized, closed starter from Myra! Let’s get thing this goin’!

Feel free to comment here or shoot me a message if you have any preferences (length, plot, etc). Thanks! :)

[medusamyra-blog]

Howdy! I’m Sam (she/her). I’ll be playing Myra Bahl, or as you might know her: Medusa. Her bio is still very much a work-in-progress right now, but I hope to expand it after we all start writing together and plotting! I’m super excited to get to know all of you and your characters, so I can’t wait to get started!

In the meantime, I’ll include a tl;dr of her backstory under the cut. I’ve also included some additional connection ideas just for fun, just to get the juices flowin’. But, okay, I’ll stop rambling now. Here’s Myra!

BULLET POINT BIO

MYRA: THE DAUGHTER

Myra was born to conservative, religious couple Yasmin and Omid Bahl on August 19, 1992

She’s a first generation American (her parents immigrated to the U.S. from Iran to achieve the American Dream)

Yasmin and Omid were really excited about becoming parents but they ... kind of wanted a boy

Still, Myra grew up a happy and loved child. She loved to spend her days lounging out by the pool, laying out in the sun. Living in the suburbs outside Los Angeles gave her this luxury that she took full advantage of. 

When her little brother, Hiran, was born, he was not allowed to spend lazy days out by the pool like she was. It took her a few years to realize why that was strange. 

Hiran was pushed. He had to get good grades, had to work hard so he could go to a good college, had to follow in their father’s footsteps as a surgeon. Why wasn’t she pushed the way he was? 

So, she pushed herself. She worked hard to match--and sometimes even surpass-her brother’s test scores. Days by the pool were replaced by days at the library. She poured through books of all kinds: fiction, non-fiction, fantasy, biographies. She would prove to them that women could be just as smart as men, and just as worth investing in. 

In her senior year of high school, she begged her parents to let her go to university, and they told her it would be a waste of money. She would just get married after high school anyway. That alone would be enough of an expense; they didn’t need to waste money on a useless college degree for her, too  

When she graduated from high school, she left. She would be free, to make her own choices, to live to be something more than somebody’s wife. She fled to New York City, the city of dreams, where she would achieve her own American Dream. 

MYRA: THE FREE

New York was a culture shock. Though her California town had been liberal, her strict family had not. Here, she was fully exposed to the world. Girls walked around in clothes her parents would never let her leave the house in: crop tops, short shorts, tattoos stained into their skin, their flesh pierced in the oddest of places. They wore bold, crude sayings on their clothes and talked like sailors. They used alcohol and drugs. It was a whole new world out here, without the suffocating grasp of her family. She took this as an opportunity to change herself, to be whoever she wanted to be, whoever she was now allowed to be. And who she wanted to be a modern New York Woman. Wild, free, promiscuous, independent. So, she changed.

However, refusing to abide by her parents’ rules meant she was no longer a part of their family (at least until she saw the error of her ways). Therefore, she was on her own, including financially. And living in the city was hard. Rent was high and bills weren’t cheap, and her adrenaline was starting to wear off. She needed help.

That’s when she met Hera. For the first time, she felt like someone understood her. She felt like she could truly be herself, and be appreciated for that fact. It was an indescribable experience, as close to nirvana an she would probably ever get. 

Another benefit of her new friendship with Hera: joining Olympus. She had been struggling to find suitable-paying work (especially without a college degree), so the invitation had seemed like a blessing. And the work invigorated her. The excitement of the taboo gave her an adrenaline rush that she didn’t know she was seeking, and everything seemed to be going her way. This was the new her, the new Myra, wild and free.

It was here she met Zeus, and immediately she felt something for him she never thought she would ever feel for a man. She had never wanted to be someone’s lover, but his soft whispered promises to her under the covers formed stars in her eyes. It wasn’t the path she had planned for herself, but she was happy, and she was in love

--until the night everything changed. His love had been a mirage; it was for Hera and Hera alone, and Myra had just been his sweet young plaything. 

The rush of the taboo from her gang and her lover that had one given her energy now only drained her, and she didn’t know where to turn. 

MYRA: THE JADED

It felt like she had been removed from her own body. For the first time, something had truly broken her, thrown her determination down onto the ground and stomped all over it. And for the first time, she considered going home. Maybe her parents had been right. Maybe she was just a stupid little girl. 

But something inside her told her that she couldn’t give up. Even if everything was taking its physical and emotional toll on her--the gang, the heartbreak, the loneliness--something inside her told her that she had to persevere. (this would possibly be a really cool flashback moment between her and another character if they motivated her to stay!)

When the Split happened and Hades left to form New Olympus, she knew immediately what she had to do: she followed him. Zeus was dead to her now, her friendship with Hera now (probably) irreparably broken, and she was eager to turn over a new leaf. Again. Only this time, she wouldn’t be so naive. She would never let someone hurt her like that again. She would be a force to be reckoned with.  

MYRA: PRESENT DAY

It took years to undo the damage done to her fragile heart. She learned not to give it to just anyone--better yet, it was safer not to give it to anyone at all. The naivete that she had arrived in New York with had run dry. She was older now: smarter, wiser. She knew how to protect herself now, both in a fight and in a relationship. Sometimes she even might overcompensate at times, throwing up walls in defense where there isn’t a threat present, but it’s always better to be sure. It’s better than leaving herself vulnerable.

New York City lost its sense of magic and wonder over the years. It was still the city of her dreams, but sometimes her dreams were nightmares, and sometimes all she wanted to do was wake up.

These days, they call her Medusa. Her friends call her fierce. Her enemies call her repulsive. They say she has snakes where her hair should be. They say her gaze can turn a man to stone in her fury. She says, “Let them find out first-hand what I can do.”

QUICK STATS

+ Ambitious, Bold, Loyal -  Impatient, Rebellious, Stubborn

Likes: shopping for new clothes, dipping french fries in chocolate milkshakes, any chotchkies a NYC tourist might enjoy, quirky pin-on buttons to put on her jackets, the hunt for the most authentic tacos in the city, reading (currently: catching up on all of the books she wasn’t allowed to read as a kid due to “inappropriate content.” Right now she’s probably angry-reading Twilight)

Dislikes: Walking home alone at night (even if she won’t admit it), anything that reminds her of home or her culture (or so she says), those big roaches you see in the subway, snakes (ha-ha)

New NY Style: Hoop earrings, black chokers, red lipstick, cat-eye sunglasses, crop tops

WANTED CONNECTIONS

So I had originally started going through and listing some headcanons for all of the characters that were here, before I realized that was... hella Extra. So, instead, here are some base ideas for plots and connections that I think would be fun, and then we can build upon those and more personalized circumstances in PMs if you’re interested! 

Phew! That’s Myra so far! If you’d like to plot, start a thread, or even just chit-chat, don’t hesitate to shoot me a message! (Or, if you’re the shyer type, feel free to give this post a Like and I’ll come to you). I still have to make a discord, but once I get that all settled I’ll be open to that, too! Thanks! :)