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Triton's use of the lighthouse as a meeting point has resulted in Medusa loitering in it far more than she otherwise would. As men are expected to remain at station for all odd hours, there's something of a cobbled together kitchen that she's taken advantage of. One of the many survival skills she's learned since joining the throngs of humanity in the world outside Attilan? How to make soup from a can. She's standing at a little rickety gas stove, stirring a well beaten pot with an absent air, only half paying attention to what she's cooking as she focuses on listening for any approaches.
Kamala was mad. Was being the operative word. She wasn't used to being talked down to by anyone. Well, okay. She is. But it's not her fault. "Bow to this person, call that person your highness. I'm not even one of them! Am I?" she's having a very animated conversation with herself. In her hand she carries a peace token. A box of chicken and biscuits. "What if he doesn't eat chicken. I mean, he's a fish, I should have gotten fish food. Gosh." She sighs to herself as she opens the door to the lighthouse. "Triton!" she calls out.
"I'm sorry, okay? I mean. You have all these rules and I don't understand them, but I didn't exactly grow up with you all and I still don't know anything about it all. Can I get a primer or something? I brought some fried chicken. I mean, it's halal for me, so it should be okay with you. And if not, there's rolls?" she asks. "If you're.. here?"
Medusa lifts her brows in bemusement, pausing to turn down the heat on the little pot. Her hair floats out of her way as she turns, waiting for the entrant to come upon her. "Triton is not here, I'm afraid." Medusa laces her fingers together in front of her. "I'm afraid that I am going to have to do."
Blinking as she sees Medusa, Kamala looks briefly confused, the young woman taking a step back. "How do you know Triton? And about here? And who does your hair??" she asks, staring in awe at the locks that float so openly around her. Reaching up to her own mid-back chocolate colored locks, she feels even more inadequate for a moment before she ohs. "Have you seen Lockjaw? I was gonna ask to take him for a walk. I'm Kamala.. Kamala Khan." Maybe she's heard of her?
Medusa studies the young woman, a small grin curving her mouth. "Triton is my cousin. And not about, as far as I know, at the moment. And I do, actually. It doesn't take much maintenance. The hair sweeps back a touch more from her face, twining together and curling around her torso. "I haven't seen Lockjaw of late, I'm afraid, nor his mistress. I'm Medusa. Kamala Khan. You're new to me. Are you a recent Teragenesis? I've been…away. For some time."
Medusa studies the young woman, a small grin curving her mouth. "Triton is my cousin. And not about, as far as I know, at the moment. And I do, actually. It doesn't take much maintenance." The hair sweeps back a touch more from her face, twining together and curling around her torso. "I haven't seen Lockjaw of late, I'm afraid, nor his mistress. I'm Medusa. Kamala Khan. You're new to me. Are you a recent Teragenesis? I've been…away. For some time."
"Cousin. Right. Everyone is everyone's cousin. Except for me, cause I'm just the girl from Jersey exposed to the weird mists stuff and ended up in a coccoon and now I can do this." Kamala makes her fist really big for a moment, then shrinks it back down. "Do you like chicken?" she asks, holding the bucket up for a moment. "I was coming to apologize to Triton. Not that he was right, but I kinda stormed off."
"Even if you're not related by blood, you're an Inhuman, which means you're one of us. Which means we have an obligation to help you." She considers the chicken a moment and admits, "I do. I've spent time acclimating to Terran ingredients, though I haven't seen chicken like this before." Her hair extends as she talks, opening the cabinet behind he and fetching a pair of plates, then pulling flatware from drawers. "Join me, Kamala Khan. Tell me about your powers, and why you feel the need to apologize to Triton. Did you offend him?" Medusa doesn't seem particularly offended by the prospect but she's definitely curious.
"More like he offended me. But I was a brat." Kamala says as she goes to set out the chicken. "Oh, you're in for a treat. It's fried chicken. This place just recently opened that uses 11 different herbs and spices." she explains as she sets it out. "My ami would have my hide if she knew I was eating this stuff." she admits with a little giggle as she sets out the biscuits as well.
"He told me that I should know when to speak and when to be quiet. And that it's all a heiarchy with Queens and Kings and stuff and I need to know my place. I .. I don't even know if I have a place. I know there's a statue of me down there. In Vietnam." she says quietly. "But it's an older me." The young woman looks confused, though she's completely in awe of the hair abilities. "I can stretch and change shape.. and stuff. It's pretty cool sometimes. But really square compared to some people I've met. If your hair bulletproof??"
"That's a considerably versatile ability." Gingerly, Medusa picks up a thigh with her fingers, a bit bemused at the grease, and then takes a small bite. There's a lift of her brows in surprise - it's quite good! "Answering the question, she inclines her hair. "It is. I can wrap it around my body, or shield others with it, if necessary. Amongst other things." Plucking off a bit of the fried skin, Medusa points out, "He's right, however. The Inhumans are lead in a monarchy, under which there has been a strict caste system. It has served us very well, but there's also a danger in it too. I imagine if you were born in Earth, in the United States, such a government would seem quite archaic."
"Totally. I wrote a story about it once. Captain Marvel was a Princess in it." Kamala frowns. "It didn't go over well when she saved the knight in the tower." she shrugs her shoulders a little as she picks up a drum stick to start on. The grease is just bonus! "I just.." she sighs. "My parents grew up in a monarchy - back in Pakistan, when it was a British colony. We came to America for freedom. And.. I just don't know if I can go back to that. It's one thing to respect your elders.. but to put blind faith in someone.."
"Pakistan. Bordered by India to the south, Iraq and Afghanistan to the north and northwest. Considered part of the Middle East." Medusa recites the information as if she's pulling up the reference in an encyclopedia and then nods. "Attilan is changing, Kamala Khan. It has to, or it will die. And it is a home for all Inhumans."
"I have a home, Miss Medusa." That's the easy response. "I have my parents, my brother, my school." Kamala lifts her gaze to the Inhuman queen. "That is not to say that I don't want to help. Ever since I could remember.. I wanted to be a super hero. I wanted to make a difference. I wanted to not just be good. I wanted to do good. And I lost sight of that when I got these powers. I was just so excited to adventure and do things, that I forgot. Family first. And yes. You.. the Inhumans, are my family. But I also have another family. One that's known me since I was in Ami's stomach."
Medusa takes another nibble of her chicken. "There seem to be many who have been raised human, unaware of their gift from the Mists, who will wind up eventually joining their ranks. But they were not born into our society, and to demand that they adapt completely is unrealistic. You may have to change a little, but so will Attilan. It doesn't hurt to know the customs, however. Knowledge, it is said, is power."
"I know that." Kamala glances down at her plate. "I just.. you know, there's things that Triton needs to learn as well. All of you." she glances up. "This isn't just going to be 'hey, we're here, love us'. Humanity.. for the most part.. wants to do good. But there are those that hate anything different. Color of your skin, your religion. And especially those that are mutants.. or are powered. They love Captain America, because he looks like them. Captain Marvel, Iron Man.. they can all just be another person. But those that cannot hide what they are? Those are the ones that are feared. And hated."
"I'm aware." Medusa says. "I've been out and about in the world for some time. Longer than Triton, though I don't see a need to remind him of that. I've actually been apart from my fellow Inhumans for some time. We will all most likely be mistaken for mutants, and as a result, many will indeed fear and hate us." A bit more nibbling, "You are young, Kamala Khan, but I can also see you are very clever. I will not try to change your opinion, but I will ask you to consider, when next you speak to Triton, that he is does what he does, and says what he says, in the interest of welcoming you, and keeping you safe. Remember that his motivation is not to make an enemy of you, and allow it to temper your approach. You may find that it will give him cause to relent a little as well. Two opposing positions cannot meet in the middle without both being willing to surrender something. The mistake is the belief that such surrender is cowardice, when it is actually strength."
Kamala busies herself for a moment with the chicken before she licks her fingers. Because that's what you're supposed to do! "I know you all are millions of years old or something. I mean, that's what I was told. But I'm only nineteen. And the last few weeks? I've had some pretty heavy stuff laid at my feet as the curtain of the world I once looked at from the outside in was exposed to me. I'm overwhelmed. And when someone tries to put a little more on my plate.. well.. the plates tip. Crash. Which is why I was aplogizing to him."
Medusa looks faintly amused. "i assure you, I'm not a day over a thousand." Ha ha. But at this point, she seems content to let Kamala talk. Sometimes the best thing is just to listen.
"Fine. A thousand. I'm still only nineteen. You know. Relatively speaking." Kamala shrugs her shoulders with a sigh. "And less than a couple of months ago, I was more worried about my grades than you know.. invasion of the blue people from another world."
"Yes, that is quite the adjustment." Medusa's tone carries sympathy, though not precisely empathy - she doesn't have a relatable experience. "I need to return to my home. But you can find me here again, if you have questions." She rises to her feet. "Thank you for the chicken. Be well, Kamala Khan." With that, Medusa is on her way.