It took effort but Celeste was actually beginning to get used to being in the mansion. It’s opulence still reminded her of the palace that was both her home and cage for so long. But there was something that was different about the high walls and the rich decor. It was the people. They didn’t ignore her. They didn’t shove her aside. And they certainly didn’t cast her any leering, gross looks. And as time went on, the more and more comfortable she was getting.

That was a dangerous state to be in. Not only was she beginning to get comfortable, she was actually starting to like it here. But life had a cruel streak when it came to her. What if this was all taken away? What if something happened? These were the thoughts that kept her up at night.

But not always. In those moments where Celeste found joy, she had one thing she could thank for that -- her “pho-nee”. When first presented with it, the staff said it was something that would help her speak. Sure enough, tap a few keys and another button and an automated voice from the slate would repeat it. Amazing. But there were other uses that Celeste was quickly finding use for with this object.

One of her favorite things to do was listen to music. She had heard music in the palace all the time but nothing like what she was listening to now. All the genres, the variations, the singers, there were just so many choices and it made her feel so absolutely pleased to listen to it.

There was something about the music these humans had. The way it could make her feel: ecstatic, happy, a balm on her sadness, it had a wonderfully cathartic effect. The other effect, well, was far more physical.

It was still early evening but Celeste hadn’t found many of the other students around. Exams, a field trip, still away for the holiday, she wasn’t sure. But she found herself in one of the one of the communal rooms by herself.

This evening she was dressed in her greek chiton of a very light purple. She had yet to really transfer to surface world clothing...save for one article. Around her waist was a belt of black with a pouch that sat against her stomach. ‘Fanny Pack’ wasn’t a dignified name, she felt, but she had no other name for it. Instead she just marveled at its many, many uses: such as protecting and holding her phone!

After she unzipped the pouch and pulled her phone from the confines, she moved over to a nearby stereo and plugged it in. The first time she saw one the kids do it here, she was astonished and knew that when the perfect opportunity arose, she had to try it for herself. That time came. So, plugging it in, tapping the music app, she scrolled to the song she wanted and smiled one of her rare smiles.

With the repeated announcement that ”This song is gonna get stuck inside your head”, she nodded in agreement as music filled the room. Standing in the middle of the room, eyes closed, she let the music fill her head. Immediately she began to glow, the swirl of galaxies and stars in her body pulsating and glowing with the beat. But there was more to it than just that. First her shoulder, then her hip, and as she felt herself be carried away, she just let you go.

Celeste danced. Not like the chaste dancing she saw in Atlantis, but something that was far brighter and energetic! She danced freely and openly and she enjoyed every last second of it.

Eupraxia was in a mood. A big mood, as one of the other students kept saying. Knowing a demigod was living at the Mansion made her exceptionally grumpy this week. A royal, no less! Who even authorized that? Was it Mr. Cervantes? It was Ms. Grey, wasn’t it? She was awfully chummy with the new queen.

Throwing slime at teachers would not end well, though, so everyone else would get to suffer her. She ate the last of the ice cream, and the rest of the kids be damned! Two kids were playing catch in the hall—which had to be against the rules—and the ball sank into Eupraxia’s body when passing by. They asked for the ball back but she turned her metaphorical nose in the air. Her ball now! Not that she was good at throwing…

Maybe she was not being fair. A lot of people at the Mansion were surprisingly nice to her. Eupraxia made some friends in her time in America, so she was not just a total jerk. Right now, people were going to get the wrong impression, because she clearly wanted to be frustrated, and friendly people were an obstacle to that.

Slithering through the hall, Eupraxia heard sound in the distance. Music! Music on the surface was so different, with augmented sounds and editing to create unnatural songs seemingly designed to evoke feelings. Whatever song this was, it was energetic and the beat of it had Eupraxia’s form swaying slightly to the percussions as they hit each beat.

Peeking in through the edge of the door, Eupraxia saw a dancer moving to the music with less inhibition. She was clearly enjoying herself, her chiffon swishing along. Atlantean? Did one move in without Eupraxia being informed? She knew most of the Gorgons who lived on the streets, at least in passing. That skin was definitely Gorgon skin.

”Oy!” She called out, annoyed that this chipper girl slipped into her home without checking in. ”You! What is that dance?”

Dancing (well, dancing like this) was a new discovery of hers and something that she was eager to let her body just...do. Her entire time in the palace had been that of a statue or a willing toy. She had to stand there as she was observed, often whispered dark things to, or leered at like some object. She knew the people who wanted her as a decoration in their homes, and those that wanted more nefarious things. But most of all, she knew the importance of standing absolutely still.

When she came to this place, early on in her wanderings through the halls, she witnessed a few kids who had set up music like this and danced their little hearts out. It seemed so carefree and innocent, something that she wanted to experience. And so she did.

She started her journey into dancing in small ways. In the privacy of her room, following the tiny people on the magic box of her television, she moved and copied as best she could. Soon she began to get more energetic, losing her breath, spinning as her planetoids circled endlessly around her head. There were times where she could swear the planets were also bopping to the music.

It was to the point that she was growing more steadily comfortable but she wanted a bigger place to dance. Her room was nice but it was small and she didn’t have an additional magic box to make the sound louder. That was why she was here tonight and that was why she was dancing to her heart’s content.

She smiled wide, grinning as she danced and moved to the beat of the music, twisting her hips, mixing up the variety of dances she had been trying to teach herself into some twisted amalgamation that she seemed to rather enjoy. It was probably the freest and most innocent that she had felt in many, many years.

And then that peace was shattered by the sudden shout of another. Gasping she immediately stopped, spun around, and found someone (or thing) was in the room with her. The throbbing she felt in her throat could only mean that her heart was trying to crawl out to throw itself out a nearby window and save herself further embarrassment. The song still filling the air, she quickly reached over, snatching it from the dock. The music immediately stopped and she held the phone behind her back.

Gulping she looked at the slime creature and then back down to the ground, the stars and galaxies that swirled in her body turning a deep shade of pink in embarrassment. She kept her mouth shut though, refusing to look at the other person. Next time she was just going to stay in her room.

Dancing seemed like the kind of thing people did when they had bodies but did not want to be constrained by a body. Some people were very rigid and contained because they only knew how to have a body. Some people danced in a way where they were fluid and natural. They would never reach Eupraxia’s level of freedom, but it was still impressive.

To her credit, this girl knew what she was doing. The moves were smooth and unpredictable, which felt right. Dancing was the kind of thing a gorgon like her never got to think about with the life she led. Who had time to have fun and dance on the streets? Certainly not the kids fighting for scraps and avoiding the attention of the guards.

This girl seemed like she danced like it was all she cared about. What was her deal? ”Hey! I didn’t say turn it off. It was annoying, but like… catchy annoying.”

Eupraxia slid closer, inspecting the girl. Her skin was a beautiful color, and she even had little… things floating around her lazily. She seemed nervous, but Praxi ignored any queues, up to and including the color-changing orbs. She extended her body to check around the girl, analyzing her. ”You got a name? I was guessing you were Atlantean, but I’ve never seen you.”

A thought occurred and Praxi returned to her body and puffed up her shape. ”You better not have taken that chiffon from a gorgon kid. That’s cultural appropriation and I will kick your butt.”

Celeste was quite honestly unsure of what to do right now. She had grown to love dancing, the freedom of movement, to feeling that she was unrestrained, but it was different when you were alone versus when you were caught by someone you weren’t expecting. The slime mutant slithered into the room and suddenly Celeste was finding herself feeling more and more self-conscious. She shouldn’t have done this. It was a secret that she should have kept to herself.

But it was too late for that now. Holding her hands behind her back and looked down shyly, she had hoped the slimy creature would have lost interest and moved on, but it seemed that was wishful thinking. She gulped as the other came closer, inspecting her in a way that was rather too close for comfort. It was only for an instant but she felt like she was under inspection by royal matchmakers again and she felt her heart quicken.

The other asked for her name, something to which Celeste meekly nodded her head but said nothing. Talking was still difficult for her. She knew that the word “speech therapy” had been thrown about but she was still not fully trusting of the good charity this place provided. At least they said she could begin whenever she was ready, but that wasn’t just yet.

The slime took on a more palatable, feminine form, but the snark that was coming off of her was enough to keep Celeste from meeting her gaze. Such language was usually reserved for the royals in court, those lewd comments and sly remarks that gave them all the appearance of foxes on a hunt. It was doubt that this gorgon was a royal, but she knew better than to argue. Keeping your head down, that was what kept you safe in the palace.

The conversation turned as the gorgon inspected her clothing and immediately puffed up like a threatened blowfish. She demanded to know where the dress came from and if she had taken it off an Atlantean kid that her physical safety would be jeopardized.

Immediately Celeste shook her head and backed away, trying to show that that wasn’t the case. She opened her mouth to protest but all that came out was a struggling, wheezing croak. Thinking better of herself, she held up a figure, pulled her phone from behind her back and went to the “app” that the kind Mr. Cervantes had pointed out. After tapping it and dialing in a few words, she raised the volume and held it up to the gorgon.

The phone spoke in a feminine, but robotic voice, that plainly said: ”My dress. From Atlantis. CELESTE.”

This new girl, whoever she was, was very timid around Eupraxia. That made sense, since the slime girl walked in with all the friendly disposition of vinegar. If she had looked at Praxi in disgust, she would have been treated to a face full of slime, but Praxi did not notice distaste through her emerald-tinted vision.

Maybe she was used to the American students or certain snarky royal gemstone-spitters, but Praxi expected retorts of some kind. She was waiting for this girl to take issue with how Eupraxia was treating her, but she just stood there demurely, taking it.

It was very gorgon, which was good and bad. It was easier to believe this girl might be one of her people with the way she seemed to hesitate when questioned or judged. On the other side of the coin, it was always disappointing to see how meek gorgons ended up after their experiences in Atlantis.

This girl tried to speak, but nothing came out. Eupraxia eyed her inquisitively as she fiddled with one of those phones. Overrated devices, certainly having nothing to do with Praxi’s struggle to handle one.

Much to her surprise, the phone spoke for the girl. She was from Atlantis and her name was Celeste. As frustrated as Eupraxia was with the world, she took that new and tried to soften. ”Oh. Okay, I guess it’s something you can have then. But… well, I knew a lot of the kids on the streets. I don’t remember you. Were you good at hiding, or did they have you working in the pits or something?” There was a nervousness to Praxi’s voice, because everyone knew the pits were a place you did not want to end up.

Celeste was trained to not confront. Life in the palace, though it seemed to be full of wonder and fulfillment, was often very harsh. Palace gorgons had many expectations placed upon them. Those that couldn’t keep up were cast out into darker, more malevolent places in Atlantis. Those that managed to survive and stay in the palace often wished that they hadn’t. Were there some who thrived? Of course, the most arrogant and cruel, but the rest, they were just kids.

Kids who endured to breathe another day, did so without really asking why they wanted to. Celeste was like that. She lived. She endured. She suffered. She went through all of it without really wondering why she was doing so. Hope was a rare thing for palace gorgons (often confused for demigods just because they were beautiful), so why she continued to endure, she never knew.

One thing she was aware of was that confrontation was bad. So she was meek, she was quiet, and she never kicked up a fuss. It seemed that those harsh lessons continued to follow her ever after her emancipation as she tried to keep her gaze neutral upon the slimy creature.

She affirmed that her clothes were her own and that she was from Atlantis. That seemed to appease the other, causing only a slight softening of her features. Celeste stared at her, holding her phone in her hand as she readied to reply further to any interrogation. But the other didn’t seem as aggressive, instead inquiring from where in Atlantis she hailed? If it were the streets, she wasn’t recognized, unless she had been in the Necropolis.

Celeste sighed. Her sapphire eyes twinkled with distant nebulae as she thought for a moment and then typed in a new response. Her fingers flew, tapping the keys with precision, then tapping the “Delete” button in annoyance, and then retyping things in better context. Several seconds went by before she finally hit the “Speak” option.

”No pits. No streets. From Capital.” She stopped, she eyed the slime-mutant closely and then typed in two final words before hitting send. ”Palace slave.”

Eupraxia needed to know how this girl avoided her radar for so long. For years, Praxi was constantly on the move patrolling the streets. There was no side-road or alley that did not have her slime coating it once upon a time. She kept tabs on the kids to know when someone went missing. It was an awful life filled with perils, and she always thought they needed to work together to survive it. If someone with these pretty patterns were on the streets with them, would she not have noticed?

Apparently, while she could not talk, Celeste could sigh. Eupraxia waited as she typed, curious what was flying out of her fingers.

A visible shudder ran through her when the device spoke. She was not a street gorgon. Eupraxia’s expression dripped (almost literally) of judgment. ”Oh, that’s why. You weren’t out on the streets with us. A palace pet. I guess fending for food and avoiding patrols isn’t as glam as parties and dances with our oppressors,” Eupraxia quipped.

Celeste was somewhat aware of what happened to the Gorgons in the rest of the city. King Atlan was not known for having a soft touch with the populace. He upheld the old laws with extreme prejudice and all the Gorgons suffered for it. Those that weren’t beautiful, that were better off not being looked at, were cast out. The streets were unkind to them, especially the patrolling guards. She knew the stories though she had only witnessed such things a few times first hand.

There was a Gorgon was. A little boy who looked like a crustacean with a hard outer shell, pincers for hands, and tendrils hanging over his mouth. He was the sweetest little gorgon. The son of the one of the palace royals, he should have had a life of leisure thrust upon him. But King Atlan hated him. He wouldn’t allow such imperfection in his home.

The royal begged. She pleaded. Celeste and a couple others who were standing along the walls, holding trays and looking beautiful, observed the violence that Atlan inflicted upon her. And Celeste whimpered in silence as the child was ripped from her hands before being handed off to his closest guard.

Celeste could still hear the screams if things were silent enough. It wasn’t a sound she easily forgot.

However, for as much as she and her fellow palace Gorgons suffered, it seemed paled in comparison to the slime girl’s. The look she gave her, the utter contempt forced Celeste to turn her eyes away and down to the ground. The galaxies that swirled in the far away distance in her cheeks seemingly changed into a shade of deep, embarrassed pink. Her words hurt. Probably more than she wanted them to.

She frowned, her eyes bleary as she held up her phone and started to type a response. Memories of her time there, the subtle sickness that she felt hanging over her like a blanket replayed in her head, over and over again as she sought a response.

”Yes. Palace pet. Bad place. Bad things.” She gulped. At first glance, it would seem like the darkness in her was growing. The stars softened and began to dim the sadder she grew. ”Bad people.”

Living in this new world where news and communication were everywhere, it was insane to reflect on how disconnected life was in Atlantis. Of course, this may have tied to her standing in society. For the demigods, maybe they had their own methods of passing news and gossip from person to person. She doubted they had telephones and internet, but their world was so foreign, she could not say for sure.

What she knew was how disconnected gorgons were. It must have made them easier to oppress. The street gorgons only knew vaguely of the lives of gorgons in the pit. They were far more ignorant about palace gorgons, but after knowing some of the horrors of the pit, stacked atop lives of misery and scavenging, imprisonment in the palace sounded like luxury. Well, the closest thing to luxury a slave class could enjoy.

Meeting one of her own deemed worthy to court with the mighty demigods, Praxi thought about the Princess. Was this girl just another product of privilege? Plenty of people assumed palace slaves were just the pampered pets of the nobles.

The look on Celeste’s face and the reactions of her… orbit things gave Praxi pause. Enough pause to stay shut up as the phone lady clarified the truth. She was a palace pet, but her time there was bad. Bad things were done by bad people.

Eupraxia shivered. She wanted to say Celeste’s life could not have been as bad as her own, but she stopped herself. She remembered the social studies professor explaining how victimhood was not a competition and did not help victims. Stopping herself, she eventually reformed her mouth to cautiously ask, ”But… people are supposed to take care of pets aren’t they? They fed you, right?” That was what Miss Grey said she would have to do if she really wanted a pet turtle. ”Did they… did they hurt you there, Celeste?”

The stars dimmed and the air within a few inches around Celeste all began to dim. Her head lowered as she began to shake. She hated to think about her time in the palace. She hated the misconception that just because she was a palace slave that she was treated better than everyone. But that wasn’t the truth. It was far from it. She had been just as poorly treated as many of the gorgons that lived in the streets or down in the necropolis. It was just a different way of hurting.

She shivered as she looked down at the phone in her hand. A thin layer of frost began to over take it. Quickly she set it aside on a nearby table, not wanting to damage the device that allowed her speech. Chunks of the carpet began to freeze over from her feet so she tried to slink back but the coldness in the air only continued to grow. She was sad. She needed to take control.

Celeste moved to the wall, far from the slime gorgon and curled herself inward. She clenched her fist, closed her eyes, and tried to push out any of the bad thoughts that wanted to invade. But the gorgon, she kept talking, she mused that pets were supposed to be cared for. They were supposed to be fed. They weren’t supposed to be hurt because pets were a responsibility.

Hurt. She was hurt. All the palace slaves were hurt.

She turned to the gorgon. From around her eyes there floated small, crystalline chunks, tears that had been turned to ice and were now floating away from her, joining the orbit of planetoids that circled her body. Her pose denoted that of an injured animal, trying to curl itself away from further harm, protecting vital organs and being terrified. Celeste gulped as she stared at slime girl, as if trying to judge if she could trust her, before she very softly and very meekly nodded her head.

And from the dead silence of the void, there came a sound. A choking, struggling sound of atrophied vocal cords struggling to find use. A wheezing, shaky breath came out, and then in, and then out again. It sounded like Celeste was struggling to breath but if one listened closely enough, they could just barely make out that the sounds had pattern; it wasn’t breathing -- it was words.

”H-Hur...t...us...” she pointed to her throat. ”...Tra...in...us...”, a sniffle, ”...T-T-Tra...de…us...” she began to struggle more. ”...Use...u-u-us.”.

She stopped, holding her her throat as the pain to talk began to overwhelm her. She hated talking about it. But up here, people needed to know the truth.

Eupaxia was surprised by the sudden shift of temperature in the room. Was ice forming? This girl’s mutation was unpredictable, but the slime girl held firm, not wanting to be like some demigod freaking out about a mutation just because it was unexpected.

Instead of continuing to speak, Praxi finally noticed how scared this girl looked. What she went through… it was still something she was going through. Something she had not stopped dealing with.

The words Celeste managed, when Praxi realized they were words, were tragic. Praxi had to do better; she could not divide herself from another gorgon. Who was she to act like she knew Celeste’s life? She wanted to comfort Celeste in some way, but with the words she used… Praxi worried touching the galaxy girl right now would make things worse. Or freeze Praxi.

”Hey, hey. Celeste, it’s okay; you don’t need to talk more,” Praxi cautioned softly. ”We’re not there anymore. The demigods aren’t here now. The X-Men here are good; they will keep bad people away, so we’re safe now.” Whether she had bought into that yet, Praxi still was not sure.

The slime girl looked back at the music device. Maybe they needed the subject change. ”So. Dancing. Your dancing was… unique. Good unique. I don’t know much about dancing, honestly.”

She could hear them. She could feel them. The scars ran deep and they poked at her whenever she thought about them too hard. They were bad people who did bad things. They expected you to behave, to keep order, to never step out of line. Those who did were immediately punished, banished, or traded to the lowest and most dastardly in the court. Those who did as they were told, were able to live another day in fear. It wasn’t a life of luxury that the palace gorgons had -- it was a life of dread.

Celeste closed her eyes, trying to force out those memories. When she first arrived here in the mansion, surrounded by what would normally be referred to as “demigods”, she disliked all of them. She hid herself away, rarely staying in her own room but rather looking for hidden away nooks and crannies to stuff herself into. They always found her, but they didn’t yank her away. Instead they were kind, they were patient, and they allowed her the space that she needed.

Mr. Cervantes had been the first that she opened up to. He didn’t stifle her. He didn’t even offer advice. He just sat with her, on a rooftop, watching the evening sky and introducing her to a new favorite snack -- cookies. That didn’t mean she trusted all of them, however. But she wasn’t as adverse to the idea as she originally was.

But the slime gorgon brought those memories back. The sickening smile, the lewd eyes, she cringed and curled into herself. She wanted to hide. As her sadness grew, the room grew colder, ice forming wherever she stepped and whatever she touched. Finding a corner, she curled herself into it, trying to shake the feelings away but the scar ran deep. It was hard to ignore it.

But a voice broke through. Peeking over the fingers that cupped her face, she found the gorgon there, speaking in a much more soothing, reassuring tone. She reminded her that they weren’t down there anymore. They weren’t “gorgons”. The palace and the king of Atlantis were gone. They could be safe. To hear from that a street gorgon, one who spent their entire lives running, it obviously meant a lot. Even Celeste felt her resolve to push her away weaken.

She took deep breaths. DocProf, the kindly old healer, taught her this technique. To breathe deep, to focus on good things, and to let the bad things go. Celeste tried and it often took time, but it helped to have someone else near her with reassuring words. With a big, final breath, she felt the tightness in her chest loosen. The other tried to change the subject, asking about her dancing. The stars that flowed across her cheeks flared a deep red of embarrassment.

Looking at her, she offered a soft, genuine smile. Her lips opened but, rather than struggle to talk, she just mouthed the words “Thank You.”

She then sniffled, her eyes moving to the table where she left her phone. Picking it up she pulled it close, typing up a response. Again, the electronic voice spoke for her.

”Dancing. Fun with right music. I teach?” she asked, looking at her. She then blinked as she quickly typed up another question. ”Name?”

“Praxi, don’t make things worse,” was a phrase Eupraxia was familiar with. She could be accused of being combative and pushing situations where empathy was important. For the most part, that was true. Here though, realizing she was dealing with another Gorgon who dealt with the kind of oppression and suffering? Eupraxia could do this.

But she absolutely did make things worse, and now she had to do better. She watched quietly and let the girl breathe. She heard this was something calming. It almost made her wish she had lungs, because boy, life could be freaking stressful some days.

When they finally came back to the moment and Praxi could ask about the dancing, she noticed the color on Celeste’s cheeks change. Blushing; she recognized it as a galaxy blushing at the compliment. That realization made her smile.

Things were no longer as cold and Celeste was not forcing herself to speak. She was ready to get things back to the way they were, and evidently that involved inviting Praxi to learn to dance. ”Well, okay, but you may have noticed I don’t really have a body-body. So will it still work?” She did not have real limbs that could just spin and kick around. ”And I’m Eupraxia. But Praxi is fine, really.”

The breathing helped. DocProf was the only one who really knew what she went through. Really knew. He was the first one she felt comfortable opening up to and the look on his face when she told him, she would never forget it. After that, he seemed to take extra care of her, stating that if she needed anything to come to him and just ask. She felt safe with him. He was the standard by which she graded everyone else. So when he offered her tips on how to handle her traumas, she accepted them, gratefully.

Now it really seemed to work. She knew that when her emotions became too much to handle that she could change. She could affect things in ways that she didn’t want to. If she became really sad, the stars dimmed and everything around her got extremely cold. If she got angry, the stars would flare and everything would burn. She needed to be careful. She spent so long swallowing her emotions that now she was allowed to feel them, it became difficult to control.

But she was managing. She didn’t want to hurt anyone and so she was trying to take every precaution to not.

She sniffled and watched the slime gorgon. The mound of slime introduced herself as Eupraxia -- or she could call her Praxi. She seemed a little unsure about Celeste’s offer to teach her dance but she was willing. It was just that she didn’t have movement in the usual sense. Her body was slime so no limbs, no curves, except for whatever she wanted them to be. Praxi did make herself bigger a few moments ago, didn’t she? There should then be some control over certain things.

Her phone chimed in again. ”Yes. Will work. Praxi. Pretty name.”

She smiled. The tears had gone and she started to feel just a little more comfortable. So she stood and started to type into her phone. A few quick words and search later and a new song came up. Praxi said that her earlier dancing had been unique. Though that was more just uncontained enjoyment, she looked for a song that would be more appropriate. After a few taps, a new song began to play on her phone.

Celeste turned to Praxi and made a gesture that signaled for Praxi to follow her movements. She then offered her an encouraging smile as she waited for the beat. She started to bop her head to it, starting high and slowly moving lower to her shoulders, her chest, and then her hips. In turn they all started to move to the beat. She would keep her more energetic movements to a minimum until Praxi got the swing of things this was just to teach her beat.