|
|
Post by ƤαƖƖαѕ ✧ on Sept 3, 2022 14:49:08 GMT -5
Chapter 2: We visit a cafe with terrible customer service
LUCIEN Note: this fic uses settings and characters from the Percy Jackson series, which is trademarked by Rick Riordan
This girl was different. I couldn’t understand how she’d managed the way she had out there.
She was about my age, but shorter. Just a petite, almost pixie-like thing. She was all curly dark hair and these intense eyes. But she was tough, I could tell, and not just because of how ready she’d been to completely end us with that baseball bat of hers. I had been struck by the look in her eyes, though, when she’d first run out to meet us. They’d looked wild, like a hunted animal. And I was sure she had been hunted.
I wondered if I’d looked that way three years ago.
Regardless, I was pulling her out of the alleyway and saying we needed to get her to camp without having had any actual thought of how to get her there. I was usually a year-round camper, I’d just taken a short visit home, but when I did travel between Chicago and the camp I usually took a plane or the train. But that was just me, on my own. With Luka with us, we’d be doubling the half-blood scent. Still, a plane could be quicker, if Dillon had some money and if I could get some things from my place. I knew my mom already had my return ticket to New York back at home. I’d been stupid not to pack a bag, but Dillon had said it was urgent and I hadn’t realised he’d meant a new half-blood.
I’d made up my mind where we needed to go, immediately leading the three of us down a different street.
But Luka was struggling, and we’d only maybe gone down a few streets when she wrenched her hand out of my grip.
We’d stopped in the middle of a relatively busy street, which wasn’t exactly ideal. The mortals wouldn’t be able to see my bow or anything, the Mist would take care of that, but I still didn’t like the idea of staying too long anywhere crowded.
“I’m not going anywhere with you until you explain.” Luka was protesting, and she was so firm I didn’t think we had a lot of choice.
I shared a glance with Dillon, who looked nervous but nodded. It would be an unplanned detour, but if it meant Luka wouldn’t fight us the whole way to New York it seemed worth it to me.
So I gestured toward a nearby cafe. It was a small place, and looked pretty empty. I thought that was weird, but I figured that it was almost closing time for the place. The sign on the door said it would only be open half an hour more. That had to explain why there was nobody in the place.
I couldn’t make out the sign above the door clearly, but I could see advertisements claiming the place served the richest meat pastries in Chicago.
We pushed the door open, a little bell tinkling musically as we did so, and Dillon led us to a little table in the corner. Away from everyone, but still with a good view of the door and the windows. Perfect; we could see anyone coming in or out if we needed to and we could hopefully make a quick exit if necessary. I appreciated Dillon’s forethought on that, but in fairness he’d been doing this longer than I had.
The restaurant was actually completely empty apart from us. We could hear bustle from the kitchen but there were no patrons in any of the seats. The place has weirdly high ceilings. My stomach twisted in warning, but I told myself it was probably nothing. It had to be.
We all sat down, Luka grabbing one of the menus on the table and starting to look it over. I didn’t know why she needed to, it was typical cafe stuff. Coffee, tea, cake. But I realised maybe she was doing it to gather her thoughts for a moment, because she didn’t seem to be taking in anything on the menu.
“I want to know what you meant when you were tallking about people like Lucien and I.” Luka finally said, eyes lifting from the menu to settle on Dillon.
He shifted in his seat, but I spoke up in his stead. He seemed a little nervous, a little unsettled.
“He means half-bloods.” I answered quietly - our voices seemed too loud in this empty place.
Those sharp eyes shifted to me then. It felt like she was cutting me open with a laser.
“Half-bloods?” she repeated, as if I were speaking another language. Or as if she was suddenly wondering if I was a danger.
“Half mortal and half…” I explained “not.”
She raised an eyebrow at that, and suddenly it felt like she was in control. Like suddenly she wasn’t asking for answers anymore, but simply judging my responses to her questions.
“Half not?” she questioned, almost like she was amused now, “what the hell does that mean? What are you talking about? If the two of you don’t start making sense I-”
I didn’t like talking about this stuff in public, but she wasn’t going to let this go.
“Half Greek god.”
Her eyes widened, and I thought for a second she was actually going to laugh. She wouldn’t be the first one to laugh at being told that, in fairness to her.
She looked me up and down. I drummed my fingers against the table, a habit I had when I was tense or nervous.
“I’m sorry,” she chuckled as if unconvinced “you’re telling me you’re some kind of demigod or something?”
She’d spoken too loud, so I shushed her. Even though the place was empty, something told me we needed to be low-key.
“Lower your voice,” I warned “but yes. I am, you are. Haven’t you ever wondered why weird stuff happens around you? The monster attacks.”
Luka seemed to think on it for a moment, as if weighing up the concept in her mind. I knew she had to be realising she was more willing to believe this than that she’d been seeing things her whole life or something. Half-bloods never had normal lives - strange things happened to them and around them.
“Let me guess,” I added “you most likely have ADHD or dyslexia. Maybe both. You’ve been thrown out of a few schools in your time. You keep seeing strange things that nobody else seems to see.”
Luka looked at me and I could tell I’d hit the nail on the head. She looked at me as if I’d just somehow reached into her mind. Like I’d invaded her privacy. I could see recognition in her gaze. But she was still guarded, and the fact that I’d clearly hit on the truth had unsettled her a little and probably made her feel a little unsafe.
“You too?” she asked cautiously.
I nodded, “It’s kind of part of the deal. Your brain is hardwired for Ancient Greek, which is why so many of us have dyslexia. And a lot of us have ADHD; it’s kind of like our battle reflexes. They keep us alive.”
Luka sat back in her chair and examined me thoughtfully. I’d never felt so much like someone could see right through me. Her gaze was so sharp and incisive. Was she a daughter of Athena? I’d seen that kind of intensity about their eyes before. Maybe.
“Okay, so if you’re really a half blood or whatever you call it, which one is your parent?” she questioned.
“You didn’t guess from the bow?” I questioned, though I still kept my voice as low as I could “My dad’s the god of archery, prophecy, healing and music.”
I was careful not to say his name. I didn’t want to draw too much attention. But Luka clearly didn’t have such scruples.
“Apollo?” she responded, way too loud. Dillon almost jumped out of his seat.
“Not so loud!” I hissed “Names have power. The last thing we need is a monster’s attention.”
“Sorry,” Luka apologised, though she didn’t sound sorry at all “I just… you’re Apollo’s kid?”
I got a bit more defensive than was probably warranted, given the fact that she had a lot to deal with in that moment. It wasn’t exactly an easy thing to process.
“There something funny about that?”
Dillon looked a little nervous then, and I thought he was about a moment away from intervening. I didn’t do very well at the whole getting-along-with-people thing. Dillon was much better in that area, I knew, though the two of us weren’t especially close.
“I don’t know, I just guess I thought a son of Apollo would be a little less…”
”A little less what?”
She smirked “Surfer dude in an edgy boyband.”
Luckily for Luka, we were interrupted by someone coming from the kitchen. It was a large, bulky, oily-looking man. And when I say large, I mean large. The man had to be heading for seven foot tall. He wiped his hands on an already rather disgusting apron as he approached the table. All I knew, I didn’t fancy getting served food by this dude.
“What to drink?” he asked, smacking oily lips.
Drinks we could do. I ordered a Coke, Luka a lemonade, and Dillon ordered a coffee strong enough to kill ten men.
The waiter (apparently) went off with our order with a slick smile. He paused in front of the doorway, seemingly only to refill some leaflets which lay by the entrance, before heading back to the kitchens and leaving the three of us alone again.
Dillon gave me a look which told me he was uncomfortable.
“I don’t like it here, Lucien,” he muttered, eyes flying around the room as if expecting an attack at any moment.
“Monsters?” I asked, leaning closer.
Dillon nodded, “Yeah. I don’t know how close, though. The city is messing me up a little.”
There had to be a dozen monsters within a mile radius in a city this busy, I figured. Besides, Luka wasn’t moving anytime soon and Dillon and I were armed.
“We’ll leave as soon as we’ve had our drinks,” I said “promise.”
Luka hadn’t heard any of that quiet exchange, thank god, because she’d been distracted once again by the menu. But now she lifted her eyes and looked at Dillon this time.
“You only said people like Lucien and I. What are you, then?” she questioned, rather bluntly in my opinion. But I supposed having been told all this stuff we’d been telling her, she had some right to be blunt.
Dillon smiled in that slightly shy way he sometimes did; he didn’t usually like being put in the spotlight if he didn’t need to be, and in fairness Luka could be quite intense even for me
“I’m a satyr,” he explained “it’s my job to find half-bloods like you and help you get to camp.”
To offer something more in the way of explanation, I watched as Dillon extended his leg under the table so Luka could see it before removing one of his shoes. I say shoe, it was mainly stuffed with styrofoam. There was just a shape cut out of the styrofoam which was the perfect shape for Dillon’s feet. Feet which were actually goat hooves.
Luka’s eyes widened in astonishment as Dillon withdrew his foot and put his fake shoe back on, the hooves slipping into the shape cut into the styrofoam.
“So you guys aren’t talking shit?” she asked as if the realisation of everything we’d told her and what it meant was only just sinking in. Like she’d thought this was just a game before.
“Not on this particular occasion, no,” I responded dryly.
“You’re like… part goat?”
“Uh… yeah.” Dillon replied with a light chuckle “I usually try to make it sound a little more noble than that but yeah, part goat is technically what I am.”
The doors to the kitchen slipped open, and the same huge guy headed back outside with a tray carrying our drinks. The tray looked absolutely tiny in his huge meaty hands.
He laid the drinks down in front of us, Dillon teaching for the coffee almost the moment it touched the tabletop.
“And what for food?” questioned the man now, and I could swear there was something predatory in the way he looked at us; my stomach twisted in a knot.
“Some of our famous meat pastries?” he smiled, and his teeth seemed kind of sharp, I noticed, “You three are so skinny. Need fattening up.”
Was something wrong? Was Dillon right about having a bad feeling about this place? I should’ve listened; satyrs were excellent at smelling monsters. I was so stupid, of course something was wrong.
I made a quick mental note by kicking my foot out gently; my bow was just by my feet.
“I’m vegetarian,” Dillon said hurriedly “so no thank you.”
He met my eyes, and now I could see a glint of panic in them. I’d well and truly messed up, not telling him we could leave sooner. Now I was going to get all three of us killed, including this poor new kid Luka.
“Is okay.” the man answered with that menacing smile “Goat meat is tough. Not good eating.”
Dillon understood instantly and all but bleated in panic at that point, rising to his feet so quickly the chair scraped across the floor. I rose to my feet too, because the man seemed to be growing. I suddenly realised why the ceilings were so high, because he rose to somewhere about eight feet tall. He was a big, muscular tank of a man before, but now he was truly a monster.
And when two more similarly terrifying men came rushing out of the kitchen brandishing clubs - one of which was carrying one extra which he handed off to our ‘waiter’ - I knew exactly what they were.
“Laistrygonians.” I muttered, bending to grab my bow.
“Laistry-what?” Luka questioned sharply as she moved to stand beside me, brandishing the knife in her hand, “You don’t mean those giants from the myths.”
“Oh, yeah,” Dillon replied, fingers closing around his pipes “the flesh-eating ones.”
The giant in the front of the trio, the one who’d posed as our waiter, beat his club against his palm. They’d removed their aprons to reveal what looked like leather armour beneath.
“Half-blood meat just what our pastries need.” the giant grinned happily “good flavour.”
I knew exactly what he’d been doing at the door without needing to go and check. He’d locked us in.
We didn’t have time to talk. I grabbed an arrow from the quiver at my back, which I’d previously slung on the back on my chair but had had enough presence of mind to grab when I got my bow. The tip was celestial bronze - hopefully enough to take these things down.
I drew back the bowstring, and loosed an arrow straight for the front giant. He growled, hoisting a chair in front of him just in time for my arrow to stick in it. All I’d done is piss him off, apparently, because he roared in rage and launched the chair in my direction. I had to duck as it slammed into the wall behind me.
“Stay still!” the monster yelled in frustration
No, I thought, I don’t think I will.
The thing ran toward me, but I realised Dillon was playing a song on his panpipes. Some fast, almost panicked song. Whatever it was, it was working because plants began to rise from the ground and wrap around the legs of the three giants.
I could see Luka facing the third giant, taking the opportunity while the thing was slowed to slide past it and get a good slice on its leg with her dagger. The girl seemed to be able to handle herself.
The giant nearest me was stuck for the moment, but the one nearest Dillon was able to wrench its foot from the vines before they got too tight and rushed toward Dillon. One swing from the bat sent Dillon flying backwards, the boy hitting the wall with a grunt and sliding to the floor. He fell motionless.
I panicked at that point, I’ll admit, and grabbed a bow to knock in my arrow as I rushed to put myself between my unconscious friend and the giant. Luckily the thing was big and lumbering so I was able to get between them in plenty of time.
I let the arrow loose, this time toward its head. I was dismayed, though, to see that the arrow stuck in the skull without seeming to penetrate the bone. I guessed the giant must have some pretty thick bones.
The thing lifted its bat for another swing but I managed to slide past it, dodging aside as I put some distance between the two of us. When I turned to face it again, I thought for a horrible second that it was about to ignore me and just eat Dillon. The thing was even reaching down, lifting him by the ankle. I knew what it’d do next; slam his head against the ground to make sure he was properly dead. I couldn’t let that happen.
“Hey, ugly!” I yelled to catch the giant’s attention.
It worked, because the Laistrygonian whirled around to face me, dropping Dillon a little harder than I would’ve liked against the ground. But at least I had his attention.
“I’ll look forward to eating you, Son of Apollo.” the monster growled. I had absolutely no doubt that if he did manage to kill me, he’d enjoy every second of eating me.
The thing started to run toward me, feet pounding so hard I was pretty sure the ground shook, but I launched one more arrow. This time at the creature’s throat. It hit, and just like that it turned to the golden dust that all monsters turned to when they’d been killed.
Well, killed was the wrong word.
I looked past the giant I’d originally faced, which was probably about ten seconds away from getting its feet prised from Dillon’s vines, and cast a glance at Luka. She seemed to be holding her own even though hers had already escaped its vine bindings, rushing past the thing like some kind of blur, landing little slashes as she did. The thing was still swinging its club at her, cracking the floor as it hit the ground where Luka had been only a moment earlier. But I was just in time to see her get behind the thing, jump up on a table and launch herself at it. It almost seemed like I was watching in slow motion as she flew toward it, dagger brandished, and dug the weapon into a soft fleshy spot near the base of its neck. Her feet were dug into the small of its back, but she dropped as the thing turned to dust.
She hit the ground pretty hard, it seemed like, but she managed somehow to still land on her feet. She stumbled, her ankles evidently having taken a little bit too much strain from the fall. She planted a hand on the nearby table to steady herself. I’d have gone to help, but suddenly the three of us had a different problem.
Dillon was stirring, though I thought he looked more than a little concussed. He seemed to have laid eyes on his panpipes, where he’d dropped them during the fall. I could see him making a wobbly move to crawl toward them.
But our biggest concern was the last Laistrygonian. He’d broken free of the bonds and had picked up an entire table in one hand, which he launched at me as if it were light as a feather. Like it was a game of dodgeball or something. I dodged again, but that was obviously just to distract me, because as soon as the table had left his hands another chair was flying toward me at speeds I couldn’t quite believe. I wasn’t fast enough for that one, and it painfully clipped me, pushing my shoulder back unnaturally. A burst of pain hit me there, blinding, and I stumbled back. But somehow I knew my shoulder wasn’t dislocated. Maybe a strain, a torn ligament?
Either way, it badly hurt and I knew I wouldn’t be firing any more arrows for a minute. I blinked, my vision clouded by flashes of blinding light from the pain.
The giant wasn’t coming toward me, though, and I realised Dillon was playing another song, somehow. A halting, jolting and slightly weaker version of the song he’d been playing before. I didn’t know how he was doing it, given the hit he’d taken just before. Maybe he was tougher than I’d given him credit for.
I could see through my pain-blotted vision that the vibes were growing again, if a bit more hesitantly than before. It wasn’t enough to hold it, but it seemed to have been enough to have given Luka the opportunity she needed. The giant was distracted enough that it didn’t even notice her jabbing the dagger in its thigh from behind. The giant howled, dropping to one knee, but not without twisting to aim a swipe at Luka. She managed to dodge that, but didn’t have any problem getting the last knife into the side of the giant’s neck. The giant’s leather armour obscured many other areas that might otherwise have been vulnerable, like its chest.
As soon as the thing had turned to dust, I stumbled over to the injured Dillon. He had pushed himself up to sit against the wall, panpipes in hand, but he looked kind of woozy and spacey. He was awake, which was at least a good sign, but I didn’t trust that to mean he was okay.
“Well,” Luka sighed with satisfaction as she slipped the knife away as if this were just an ordinary Tuesday (which for her, given it seemed like she’d been trying to survive out here alone, it might be), “I like this knife.” |
|
|
|
Post by ƤαƖƖαѕ ✧ on Sept 4, 2022 12:40:05 GMT -5
Chapter 3: Everybody has secrets and nobody will tell me anything
LUKA
Note: this fic uses settings and characters from the Percy Jackson series, which is trademarked by Rick Riordan
I didn’t get a lot of time to be proud of the fact that I’d just killed two massive goddamn giants - an achievement that I really thought deserved at least a minute to bask in - because the boys wanted out of the café as quickly as they could.
But first, there was Dillon to deal with. Lucien was at his side, and then he started to do something I didn’t exactly expect.
He held a hand out over the woozy Dillon, and began to sing. Quietly, but I was sure that was what he was doing. It was a low, rhythmic song in a language I couldn’t quite understand but could tell was Ancient Greek. I didn’t know all of it, but somehow I could pick up enough to realise it was a hymn to Apollo.
Lucien’s speaking voice was pleasant, so I shouldn’t have been surprised that his singing voice was nice too. Surprisingly warm is the only way I could describe it. There was something comforting about it.
“You’re… singing?” I asked as I approached, snorting in amusement “Come on, even you can’t pretend that looks cool.”
“Shut up,” Lucien shot back, breaking off the song for a moment “I need to concentrate.”
That seemed genuine, not defensive, so I did shut up. And what I saw was amazing. Dillon suddenly looked healthier; his eyes got their focus back, he seemed alert again. He blinked a little, almost uncertainly. As if he was testing everything.
“You okay there, goat boy?” Lucien asked, and he sounded just a little tired. As if using an ability had taken some strength; that and probably the adrenaline was wearing off and the battle was finally hitting him like it was me. My muscles were already starting to ache.
“Yeah, I’m good.” Dillon began “You okay? I know you don’t like calling on-”
“I’m okay,” Lucien said firmly, as if to prevent any further discussion.
He offered the hand from his uninjured arm to help Dillon up, which the satyr took, shaking himself off a little as he took to his feet. Then Lucien looked over at me appraisingly, as if seeing me for the first time.
“You handled yourself pretty well there, newbie.” Lucien noted “You okay? You hit the floor pretty hard there.”
That was when I realised that he was right. My ankle was aching, protesting at how hard I’d dropped from the giant. But it didn’t feel injured per se, just a little jarred. I wouldn’t walk or run great for a little bit, but I wasn’t in need of his weird little healing chant.
“Just dandy,” I responded
Lucien nodded, but I didn’t know if he believed me. I could see his eye flick down to my ankle for a second. Still, he didn’t say anything. Dillon led the way towards the door, Lucien and I following. Lucien stopped only to search the pockets of the giant who’d been our waiter before, coming out with a key which he tossed over to Dillon. The satyr, walking backwards as he approached the door, jumped a little and snatched it out of the air. He could jump so easily, springing up with little effort. The brunet twisted the key in the lock, and moments later the three of us spilled back out into the streets.
“We still need to make that stop I wanted to make,” Lucien explained, though he didn’t sound thrilled about it, “then we’ll be on our way out of this city.”
He led the way down the street, the way he’d been taking us before our little cafe detour.
“We just killed three giants,” I said, the fact hitting me properly for the first time “I mean, I’ve faced monsters before, but…”
“They’re not dead.” Dillon answered, falling into step next to me.
“Not dead?”
“Monsters don’t die. They don’t have mortal souls.” the satyr explained “We just sent them back to Tartarus. They’ll reform there eventually; could take weeks, months, years. Some monsters take centuries. But they’ll be back.”
I didn’t like that idea; I could only hope that those ones weren’t fast reformers. I didn’t fancy ever having to face them again. Had the monsters I’d faced before come back already? Had I fought them for nothing?
We were quiet from the rest of the walk, all of us still just reeling from the fight I think. My muscles felt heavy and tired, and I knew I’d be a little drained for a bit. Fights and adrenaline could sap one’s energy, that much I’d found long before today.
When we stopped, we were outside an apartment building. It wasn’t the prettiest building; a little old. Chipped stonework, graffiti on the wall next to the doorway. A smashed window on one of the ground-floor buildings boarded up.
“Stay out here.” Lucien told the two of us, voice tight, “I won’t be long.”
He disappeared inside. I didn’t need a lot of guesses to conclude that this was probably where Lucien lived. It clearly wasn’t something he wanted to talk about, given his tone before he walked in, so I wouldn’t ask. I wouldn’t like anyone prying into my life, so I’d afford him the same courtesy.
Well okay, maybe I could pry a little bit.
Dillon and I stood side by side outside the apartment building. It was somewhat awkward, of course. I didn’t even know this dude, this was my first time alone with him. But I supposed I might as well make the best of it.
“Earlier, when he healed you,” I started at last, after a very uncomfortable silence, “you said he didn’t like to call on… Did you mean his father?”
Dillon shifted a little, looking evasive.
“He was right to stop me. I never should have mentioned it in front of you.”
“Well you did,” I pressed “what did you mean?”
Dillon sighed, “It’s not for me to say. But no, he doesn’t like to call on his father.”
He looked straight ahead, at the door, and I knew we both expected Lucien to appear at any moment. We couldn’t dwell on this topic, and certainly Dillon didn’t want to. But something passed over his eyes that I couldn’t quite place. Pity? A painful memory?
“The gods aren’t always there for their children.” he said.
And that was how we left it. I sensed I’d gotten into a dangerous and painful topic, something too personal, and I didn’t want to force answers out of Dillon. Especially if he didn’t feel they were his to give.
“What about my godly parent?” I ventured, wanting to move onto a less difficult or risky topic, “Do you know who it is?”
Dillon hummed thoughtfully as his eyes flicked around my face, as if taking me in.
“I’m not sure.” he began “Maybe Athena, possibly Hermes, it’s hard to tell. Which of your parents was the mortal?”
“My mother.” I answered quickly, hoping he wasn’t about to start digging too much into my family. I was sure I wasn’t the only half-blood who didn’t like talking about their family, especially after what we’d just seen from Lucien.
“So not Athena,” Dillon mused “I don’t know. You’re undetermined for the moment. But maybe once you get to camp your parent will claim you, acknowledge you as their own. It’s really safer for you that you weren’t claimed before now; once a demigod is claimed their scent becomes stronger.”
“And that attracts more monsters?”
Dillon nodded. I tried not to be disappointed that he didn’t know who my father might be, but at least I had an answer for why I had been a demigod all this time and had heard nothing from my father. Why he’d never contacted me in any way.
Maybe it was for my safety, rather than the fact he didn’t care.
Lucien emerged again not long later, this time carrying a travel bag. He unzipped it once he joined us, pulling out a little bag with some cubes in it. It looked kind of like astronaut food, or at least that was the best way I could describe it.
He broke off part of a piece, passing it to me before taking some himself. I looked between him and the piece of whatever it was he’d just given me, and he looked at me expectantly.
“Go on, eat it,” he encouraged.
I looked at him with reservation - I hadn’t survived this long by eating strange things I didn’t know - and Lucien just rolled his eyes. He popped his piece in his mouth, looking at me pointedly. He was clearly trying to prove to me it was fine.
“We didn’t drag your ass all this way to poison you,” he said, nodding toward the food.
I ate the piece he’d given me, and instantly felt better. A warm, comforting flavour burst over my tongue. It was familiar, like the freshly baked brownies from the bakery down the road from the home where I’d grown up. Suddenly, energy flowed through my body on a warm wave, and my fatigue was gone. My ankle even felt better.
When I looked at Lucien, he was doing that stupid knowing smile he’d done when he’d given me the celestial bronze dagger.
“Feel better?” he asked “What did it taste like?”
I nodded to the first question, but to the second just mumbled something about brownies. I wasn’t going to give him my life story.
“It’s ambrosia,” he explained
“Like the food of the gods?” I interrupted, and Lucien seemed almost impressed that I knew that. I don’t know why, I wasn’t stupid. I knew what ambrosia was. Mythology had always kind of interested me, I guess.
He nodded “Yeah, and your proof that you’re a demigod. It heals a demigod but can make you burn up if you eat too much. But if a mortal eats any at all they just burn away.”
“Gee, thanks for taking that gamble,” I grumbled
“Please,” Lucien scoffed, and I noticed he was no longer holding his painful shoulder gingerly “we’re not so incompetent that we can’t spot a half-blood when we see one.”
Healing done, Lucien produced a return plane ticket for himself (obviously from the journey he’d flown out here on) and I noticed it said that he’d be flying to New York. Is that where this camp was? But then I realised he had not one, but two. Why two?
He passed one to me and I took it; it was a return flight just like his, for the same flight. But I noticed that the passenger name at the top was for some girl whose name I didn’t recognise.
Lucien had also apparently pilfered his piggy bank or whatever, because he presented a wallet with enough cash to buy a ticket for Dillon.
“Where did you get that?” Dillon questioned in astonishment, because that was quite a lot of money in fairness.
“‘Not everyone spends money as soon as they get it, Dillon,” Lucien answered, but I sensed he was avoiding something, “Do you have the fake ID?”
I was surprised at that, looking at Dillon then. He didn’t seem like the kind of guy to carry around a fake ID. He seemed too goody-two-shoes (hooves?) for that.
“Fake ID?”
Dillon shrugged “Satyrs age about half as fast as humans, but nobody would exactly believe me if I told them I was 33.”
Okay, so he was 33. Sure, why not? Normal went out the window a while back.
Regardless, Dillon nodded his assent to Lucien that he did have this fake ID, and that was it. It was off to the airport.
Thank god, getting onto the plane went off without a hitch. Nobody wanted us to prove that I was this other girl, nobody questioned Dillon’s fake ID, and nobody questioned Lucien’s bow in his carry-on bag. Lucien already had a form with permission from his mom for our travelling as minors on our own.
The plane ride wasn’t so bad either. Dillon got the aisle seat, Lucien the middle seat, and I had the window seat. Dillon drifted off almost immediately, apparently sleepy after eating - eating - the empty cans from the drinks Lucien and I had bought in the airport. Apparently he really wasn’t kidding about the goat thing.
“Satyrs won’t eat meat but metal they’ll have,” Lucien murmured in amusement as we waited to take off, shooting a glance as his dozing friend.
“How come nobody’s questioned your bow or anything?” I asked “How come the fight in the cafe didn’t attract any attention?”
It was a question I’d wanted to ask for quite some time, and now seemed as good a time as any.
“The same way nobody else seems to know about monsters,” Lucien explained “The Mist. It stops mortals from seeing things as they really are, helps them to understand things in a way they can process. They’ll bend over backwards not to see reality as it really is.”
I supposed that answered my question. But that wasn’t the only one I had, and I got the feeling that if I asked Lucien the things I really wanted to ask he might not be so willing to answer.
We sat in silence for a little, but I noticed he kept over at me. Eventually I got annoyed - I’m not the most patient - and I shot him a glare.
“What?” I asked.
“Nothing,” Lucien answered thoughtfully “Just trying to figure out how you survived out there on your own for so long.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” I muttered sarcastically “Just a couple hours ago I ‘handled myself pretty well’”
Lucien sighed, apparently exasperated that he’d managed to accidentally offend me
“That’s not what I mean. It’s just… half-bloods don’t tend to survive to the age you have on their own. Not without finding Camp Half-Blood. It’s not impossible, but it’s rare. It explains why Dillon said that you were powerful; you were older than the half-bloods we find usually are.”
“Guess I’m a special snowflake,” I answered simply, and Lucien seemed to decide it wasn’t worth pushing my anymore. I was grateful for that.
I hesitated for a moment, before finally plucking up the courage to ask.
“Who’s Elara?”
Lucien looked like I’d physically hit him. As if the very name was a slap in the face. He swallowed, suddenly became very interested in making sure his seatbelt was on right so he didn’t have to look at me.
“My sister.” he replied shortly.
“She’s not going to want this ticket?”
He shook his head mutely, and I figured that for now that was all I was going to get on that particular topic. I didn’t want to push him too much, especially when we were stuck sitting next to eachother for the whole flight.
He just turned away from me, facing out toward the aisle. I wasn’t sure if he fell asleep or if he just didn’t want to chance another conversation with me.
The flight itself didn’t have any monster attacks, but Lucien was quiet for the rest of the flight. And I could swear that the moment we lifted off the ground the weather seemed to change. The sky started to grumble and storm around us, and the turbulence was so strong at some points that I’m not too proud to say I almost lost my dinner.
Eventually we landed at LaGuardia Airport, and after bustling our way out of the airport we burst onto the streets of Queens into the crisp night air. And crisp was certainly the word. It was cloudy and stormy, despite the lovely summer weather we’d been having recently.
By Lucien’s reckoning we were a long drive from the camp, but he had packed drachmae into his bag for the very purpose of summoning what he said was the very fastest method of transport to Camp Half-Blood operating in the New York area.
He produced the coin from his bag, and I’d never seen anything like it. A large, heavy gold coin with the Empire State Building stamped on one side - for some reason. Lucien then said something in Ancient Greek which I understood to mean “Stop, Chariot of Damnation” and flipped the golden drachma from his hands into the street. I watched in shock as the solid gold coin disappeared as if melting into the tarmac.
Almost immediately, the strangest taxi I’ve ever seen appeared. It seemed to be woven out of smoke, for one thing. The window rolled down slowly, only for me to notice that the car had not one driver, but three. Three old ladies crammed into the front seats who looked so ancient I was surprised they didn’t turn to dust. Their skin was withered, gray and saggy and their hair like a dirty grey thatch on their sunken-featured heads. They wore grey rags.
“Where to?” asked the woman closest to the window. She spoke as if her mouth had been numbed, slurring and mumbly.
“Camp Half-Blood.” Dillon answered helpfully, though the slight shake in his voice told me that these ladies were freaking him out. I couldn’t blame him.
“Get in.”
|
|
|
|
Post by ƤαƖƖαѕ ✧ on Sept 5, 2022 17:40:09 GMT -5
Chapter 4: I arrive at a… strawberry farm?
LUKA Note: this fic uses settings and characters from the Percy Jackson series, which is trademarked by Rick Riordan
The Grey Sisters’ Taxi service was the most chaotic ride I’d ever been on.
We all clambered inside, me sandwiched between Lucien and Dillon. Dillon, now that we were in private, slipped off his beanie, and it didn’t take me long to notice the little horns growing from his wavy dark hair.
I couldn’t tell whether it felt more like I was losing my grip on reality or whether everything was feeling like it made more sense. I supposed both. Everything was so strange and so far-fetched, but something felt right about it. It almost felt more real than the ‘real’ world.
One of the old women turned around, and I had to keep myself from gasping. She had no eyes, just closed, sunken eyelids. She smiled, showing a single yellowed incisor that I could swear had plant life growing on it.
“Seatbelts!” she reminded us.
I looked down to discover that the seatbelts in question were actually black chains. The only normal thing about this taxi was the lumpy seats.
“Who are they?” I murmured quietly to Lucien as I obeyed the woman.
“The Grey Sisters,” Lucien was applying his own seatbelt “Hold on. This cab doesn’t exactly respect curbs or red lights.”
Once all three of us had put on our seatbelts, the woman seemed satisfied. The taxi took off at a ridiculous speed and continued to accelerate, streets zooming past us in a blur.
Lucien was right about the thing not respecting curbs or red lights. The cab drove up onto curbs, through stop signs and red lights. One sister would shriek a warning whenever we almost hit something, which was often.
It was at that point I realised that the Grey Ladies possessed only one tooth and one eyeball between them. And more concerning, the sister who was driving was not the one in possession of the eye.
“Anger, give me the eye!” the driving sister shrieked
“No, give me the eye!” protested the sister who’d told us to put on our seatbelts.
She reached over toward Anger to grab the eye, but Anger fought her off. Anger threw her sister back onto her seat, knocking the driving sister and almost sending the car careening off-course. Streetlights flashed past in a kaleidoscope of colours.
I clutched the seat until my knuckles went white. Normally I couldn’t stop my hands, I was always fidgeting with something. But this was not that kind of situation.
“You have the tooth, Wasp!” the driving sister protested
“But you had the eye last time!” Wasp shot back
“And I’m driving!”
“Not very well!”
Wasp reached over to grab the wheel, turning it to avoid us hitting something or other and sending the three of us sliding into one another in the backseat. The driving sister slapped Wasp’s hands away.
“I want the eye!”
“You’re not getting it, Tempest!”
The sisters squabbled like this in the front for quite some time, and I really became genuinely concerned that we were going to crash if Tempest couldn’t see.
“A taxi with a blind driver? What a smart idea, Lucien,” I bit out sarcastically to the blond.
“The Gray Sisters are wise. Prophets.” Lucien said through gritted teeth as he gripped the door handle. I could hear the warning in his tone that I needed to watch my tongue even through the difficulty Lucien himself was having keeling himself upright.
“That’s right!” Anger turned to grin an unsettling grin on my direction “We know all. You’ll see.”
I didn’t like what that might mean, but Anger soon turned and the sisters resumed their fighting.
Dillon was looking a little green at this point, and even Lucien was a bit pale. I don’t think any of us wanted to talk - or rather, could talk. This was worse than the plane turbulence.
There was a lot of fighting and squabbling and the car lurching. But one of the sisters said something about us being close and Lucien seemed to recognise something out the window as we passed through what now seemed to be wooded scenery.
“We need to slow down!” he called out
But the problem was precisely that we were still accelerating. Were we going to crash?
Wasp hit Anger and the eye flew out, actually flying into the backseat and landing in Dillon’s lap. All three sisters began scrabbling for it, reaching under car seats and panicking.
The thing was bloodshot and seemed to look around as if drinking in everything around it hungrily. And it was about as green as Dillon was at that point.
From the look of him, I really thought he was about to faint when he saw it.
But our destination was approaching rapidly - too rapidly. I dug my hands harder into the seats and braced myself and Lucien screamed at Dillon.
“Do something! Give her the eye before this thing blasts to pieces!”
Dillon had the presence of mind to pick the eye up from his lap - groaning as he did so and, I’m sure, thoroughly reconsidering all of his life choices - and throw it in Tempest’s direction. She fumbled, found it, and put it in.
Thankfully for all of us, she could see now as she drove and immediately hit the brake. The bad news for us was it was not exactly the smoothest stop.
We got out of the car woozy, very carsick and dishevelled. Not to mention probably having some form of whiplash. The wheels of the cab were smoking, more than the smoke it seemed to be made of.
“You know the rules; can’t go any further. We’ll see you again, half-bloods!” Wasp smiled out of the window “Very soon!”
With that ominous promise of another near-death experience of a car ride, the taxi sped off and disappeared into the darkness.
“I wonder what that meant,” Lucien mused “but seeing them always means information if you know how to get it. Nothing tonight but, if we do end up seeing them again, they’ll be useful”
I hoped he was right, because for prophets they hadn’t seemed very prophetic. Perhaps next time they’d be of some used to us.
But now I turned to see where we’d been dropped, and took in an unexpected sight.
Picket fences with signs that I could just about read in the dark. My dyslexia wasn’t making it easier, but I made out that they were saying ‘pick your own strawberries, please’ and indicating that we were at a place called ‘Delphi Strawberry Service’.
“A strawberry farm?” I asked, rather unimpressed, looking between the boys “I know you didn’t drag me all this way to a strawberry farm.”
“Calm down, Babe Ruth,” he smirked, obviously a reference to my baseball bat, (which I now realised with a pang was lying abandoned in Chicago) “it’s just the cover name for the camp. For the mortals’ benefit.”
I guessed that made sense, but still. Was a strawberry farm really the best they could come up with? Surely there were better cover stories around.
We were at the base of a hill, beneath a sky which was beginning to lighten to morning, the sky tinged with the greys and lavenders heralding the coming of dawn. The sky seemed still to threaten storm, though it didn’t seem as bad as it had on the plane ride. Dillon pointed up to the top of the hill, where I could see a single pine tree standing silhouetted against the sky.
Dillon pointed toward it; I could catch the moonlight reflecting in his eyes.
“That’s where we need to get to,” he explained to me “that tree marks the magical border protecting the camp. Mortals and monsters can’t cross it without permission.”
Lucien hoisted his bag higher on his shoulder and stepped forward into the grass, beginning the journey up to the hill. He wasn’t wasting time, so neither was I. I followed on, and so did Dillon. He was far more light-footed than the two of us, and I could see his shape bounding up ahead of us almost immediately.
I felt like we were being watched the whole walk up the hill, like there were things outside the camp that would very much like to have us for a midnight snack. It made me wary, eyes darting and breath becoming fast and quiet. I felt as if I needed to be ready to run at any moment. Lucien kept looking around too, head turning to look behind us every few seconds. But whatever instinct had us so tense clearly proved to be mistaken, because nothing happened.
I didn’t know if that were more disquieting or less.
As we approached the tree, my heart began to thud against my chest, like a caged animal in my ribs. I still almost couldn’t quite believe I was a half-blood. It didn’t feel real; there was no way. Just because I didn’t know my dad didn’t mean he was a god. Did I really think that much of myself? It seemed stupidly, wildly arrogant. The delusion of a narcissist.
Did I deserve that power? Me, just a random kid with nothing that made her special?
And if I was a demigod, what did that actually mean for me? From what I’d seen, nothing good. The monsters were one thing, but I’d seen Lucien. There was something in his eyes I didn’t like. A maturity that shouldn’t be there, as if he’d seen too much for a boy his age. Like he was the one who was 33, not Dillon.
What kind of stuff happened in a half-blood’s life to give them that kind of youth-lost look?
We reached the cool dark beneath the tree’s branches, and I watched Lucien and Dillon step past it as if it were nothing. They stopped, turned when they realised I hadn’t followed.
I hesitated. Crossing this barrier felt like making a decision I couldn’t take back. It felt like laying a claim I didn’t think I had a right to. Acknowledging a part of myself it might be dangerous to nurture. Whether for better or worse, I couldn’t go back to what was familiar, what I felt sure in. I was leaving any sense of identity behind and stepping blindly into a world I knew nothing about.
“It’s okay!” Dillon assured me “I know you’re scared, but it’s okay.”
It was like he could… read my emotions. I’d noticed before that he seemed empathetic, but more than that. Like he knew what Lucien and I were thinking or feeling somehow. Normally it was unsettling, but in that moment it was kind of comforting.
Not that it took a mind-reader to tell I was afraid.
“I’ve been there,” Lucien added on, “you’ll be alright, I promise.”
The boys’ encouragement settled it. I took a deep breath, and stepped through the barrier.
On the other side, the sky seemed clearer of cloud. The stars more numerous as the first colours of dawn beginning to bleed into the horizon, which would soon signal the stars’ fade.
I couldn’t see much in this low light, but from the top of the hill I could make out below us strawberry fields (apparently they really did grow them), a lake, what looked like an amphitheatre, a huddle of Greek-style buildings, and some various other buildings and structures I couldn’t identify in the low light. There was a large house which seemed to have a bright blue paint job, if what a light from one of the windows on the ground floor seemed to illuminate was right.
It was this building which Dillon and Lucien made towards, and I followed. After all, it was the only place in the whole camp where there was a sign of someone being awake.
The lavender horizon of the sky was just starting to show the very first signs of pink by the time we got to the bottom of the hill and had made our way to the house. The place had a massive porch wrapping around the entire building, which had lawn chairs and tables. A gentle musical sound was coming from what I guessed was a wind chime, though it wasn’t bright enough for me to quite make out where the wind chime was.
Lucien stepped up and knocked on the door of the building, and Dillon drew a hissing breath through his teeth.
“Lucien, what if it’s Mr D?” he worried “He doesn’t like being disturbed this late.”
“The light wasn’t coming from Mr D’s room,” Lucien answered, though a slight defensiveness in his tone told me he was more worried about Mr D than he was letting on, “Don’t be a baby, Fillery.”
Fillery? Was that Dillon’s surname? I guessed it must be. Dillon Fillery was not the best name I’d ever heard, but then I’d heard stupider.
The door pulled open and a middle-aged man was on the other side. He was in a wheelchair and had thinning brown hair, but his eyebrows were bushy and his beard scruffy. He had lines in his forehead, some from laughter and some from worry. But I noticed dark circles beneath his eyes.
His eyes alighted first on Dillon and Lucien, and he broke out into a warm smile I instantly felt comforted by. He looked like everyone’s favourite teacher at school, or a particularly friendly librarian.
“Dillon, my dear satyr! And Lucien my boy, back from your visit home so soon? What-“
But then his eyes landed on me. They were warm and brown, but their gaze was intense. Like they held too much wisdom, knowledge or memory for one being.
“Who is this?” the older man questioned.
“Why I cut my visit short,” Lucien explained “Dillon contacted me when he found Luka here in Chicago.”
The man looked at me and his eyebrows furrowed. He seemed to be thinking five steps ahead, like a man constantly playing chess.
“In the school?” he asked, gaze oh so briefly moving to Dillon before immediately shifting back to me as if he were afraid to let me out of his sight.
“No, on the streets. She was alone,” Dillon answered “No other demigods with her.”
I didn’t know why that was important, but I guessed it had something to do with what Lucien had said about half-bloods not surviving on their own up to my age. Maybe some of them survived by sticking together. Today had proven that working as a team was far better when it came to monsters, even if you took the risk of having a stronger scent and drawing monsters to you by hanging around together.
“Unusual, a new camper her age.” the man mused, but he suddenly seemed to remember himself and gave me that same warm smile “Welcome, my dear. You must have had a tiring journey. Come in, come in out of the cold. All of you.”
It was only then I seemed to remember that it was actually pretty cold, and I followed the man inside with Lucien and Dillon. He led us to the room that had been the source of the light I’d seen before - an office.
It was warm and cosy, and had all the usual features of an office. A desk, a computer. It also had a record-player, a boom-box and a screen for videos. It seemed like the man had just been working when we knocked, if the papers in the desk were anything to go by. The walls were covered with pictures - some old, some relatively new - of the man with people I guessed were demigods. Many of them were wearing the same orange shirts Dillon wore, and I could read them now. They had a black logo with a pegasus and read ‘CAMP HALF-BLOOD’. Some of the demigods I recognised as famous faces.
But the weirdest thing was that the man didn’t seem to look any older or younger in any of the photos. Actually no, that wasn’t the weirdest thing. Because if I wasn’t imagining it, in some of the photos it looked like the man was a horse from the waist down. Like, a full on white stallion.
The man was behind the desk by the time I’d stopped looking around the room.
“Ah, I should introduce myself. My name is Chiron, the activities director. Welcome to Camp Half-Blood, Luka.” he said, and even his voice seemed kind of fatherly.
“Chiron? As in the centaur? The hero-trainer?”
So my mind hadn’t been playing tricks on my with the pictures. I mean at this point, sure. We had half-goats, why not half-horses as well?
Chiron chuckled, and I sensed he was proud that his name had preceded him, “The very same. I trust your journey here was not too… eventful?”
Lucien snorted “Apart from a Laistrygonian attack,”
“And being told my dad is apparently a god,” I muttered
“It can be a difficult revelation,” Chiron conceded “but each hero forges their own path and undertakes their own journey. There is no rush. But eventually I am sure you will find that this new knowledge will help you will grow into a stronger understanding of yourself.”
I supposed he was right. I already kind of sensed it. Something felt right about this, like there was a part of me who belonged in this world.
“But I suggest for tonight that I show you our orientation video to answer any burning questions, and then we shall set up a bed for you in the infirmary. You can be shown to your new cabin in the morning; I’m sure Lucien will be willing to give you the camp tour before breakfast.”
Lucien nodded without hesitation; I got the feeling he didn’t tend to refuse Chiron.
“Good. You will meet the rest of the campers in the morning - and Mr D, whenever he decides to wake up, will be interested to make your acquaintance. Lucien, head back to Cabin 7 and get some rest. Dillon, you should head to bed too. You have both done well, but Luka here is in safe hands now.”
The boys bid me a tired goodnight - it hadn’t even crossed my mind before now that we should all be exhausted. In all the excitement I hadn’t even realised how drained I was.
“Oh, and sorry in advance about the video,” Lucien had winced on the way out, “my dad directed it.”
He wasn’t kidding about the video, which I watched on Chiron’s screen. I don’t want to go too much into it, but suffice it to say that Lucien’s father rather fancied himself a showman. I could see the resemblance between the two, though Lucien’s father was like if you took Lucien and made him into an overexaggerated action figure. Like a caricature. He looked like a reality TV star or something. Apollo was tall, muscular and bronzed. His hair was a more golden tone than Lucien’s slightly cooler variety of blond, and was tied back in a man bun. His smile was dazzling white, like the kind of white I didn’t think was achievable without some kind of intense dental treatment. And where Lucien’s eyes were blue, Apollo’s shone like molten gold. Handsome in a way-too-intense kind of way, the kind of handsome that had nothing casual or natural-feeling about it.
Anyway, Apollo had put together what I can only describe as a variety show for the orientation film. We’re talking musical numbers, haikus, poems, cheesy comedy sketches - all performed by Apollo and some campers. Judging by their hairstyles, this was a old video. Apollo had the starring role, of course, and was centre stage for the entire thing. I don’t want to talk about some of the stuff in that video, at least not unless it was to a therapist.
I’m pretty sure it was meant to give me information about camp, but if I’m honest I took in very little of any use. And for my first time seeing a god, it wasn’t what I expected. Less awe-inspiring, more school talent show vibes.
Anyway, after that I was pretty sure I’d have nightmares involving Apollo doing another dramatic reading of one of his poems. But nevertheless, it was time to sleep.
The infirmary was, blessedly, empty and it was pleasant enough. It was filled with neat little cots with tables next to them and cots at their foot. It smelled medical, but more in an old-timey apothecary kind of way than a hospital kind of way. Like herbs and plants. Surely enough, there were cart shelves stocked with jars I was pretty sure contained medical supplies.
I put the bronze dagger Lucien gave me - the only possession I had with me - on the table next to the cot, and laid down for the few hours rest I might still get before morning.
Questions still whirled in my head; who was my father? What was Lucien so cagey about? Who was Mr D? What was going to happen to me now?
What would my new life as a half-blood look like?
|
|
|
|
Post by ƤαƖƖαѕ ✧ on Sept 7, 2022 11:14:39 GMT -5
Chapter 5: I almost get vaporised
LUKA Note: this fic uses settings and characters from the Percy Jackson series, which is trademarked by Rick Riordan “Come on, Babe Ruth. Get up!”
I was awoken by a rather rude pounding on the door, and Lucien’s voice shouting from the other side. I supposed it was better than him just bursting into the infirmary, but it wasn’t exactly the most ideal wake-up call. Especially after only a few hours’ sleep.
This Apollo kid, I thought, was pretty annoying.
Regardless, I soon opened to door to admit him into the room, pulling my shoes on as I did so. It must have been about 7 AM. I hadn’t gotten much sleep at all, and I suspected Lucien and Dillon hadn’t either. Not that Lucien seemed too bothered about it - well, not more bothered than he usually was by literally everything all of the time.
“Hurry up,” Lucien said, leaning against the doorway as he watched me scrambling to grab my dagger from my bedside table, “Time for the camp tour.”
I didn’t know whether to be irritated at being woken up after only a few hours sleep or excited about getting to see this camp in the daylight. Probably both.
We stepped outside of the building, which Lucien told me was called the Big House. It was indeed painted blue, with a white trim. There was a bronze eagle weather vane on top of the house with wind chimes that turned into female figures as they spun - dryads, Lucien said.
He showed me around some of the places around camp, which weren’t very busy this time in the morning. There was a volleyball court, where a couple of kids Lucien said were from the Apollo cabin were playing against a couple of Aphrodite kids. The Aphrodite kids were beautiful in a high-school popular-kid kind of way; I could almost smell the designer perfume from here. The Apollo kids all seemed to have that casually athletic look to them. Like beachy, surfer-types.
“My cabin were almost done preparing for inspection when I left,” Lucien put in by way of explanation as to why the Apollo kids were already out and about “we always wake up earliest in the summer.”
There was a huge forge, which I could see blazing even though I couldn’t see anyone in there yet. It had huge white marble columns covered with soot-stains, and bronze gears caught the light as they were spun by water wheels. I was attracted to that place - the sound of the machinery, metal clanging - I wanted to know what was being made there. Sadly, we had to keep moving, so I reluctantly followed Lucien.
He pointed out the armoury, said I could choose my own weapon to replace my dagger there later on. Then there was the amphitheatre, where Lucien said everybody gathered for campfire on an evening - which sounded absolutely terrible if you asked me. There was a canoe lake, with boats for people to take out if they wanted to. A huge climbing wall, which spewed lava and threw rocks down at climbers for a little extra challenge. Lucien said it was good training, I wasn’t so convinced.
As we walked through the camp, I could see various figures bustling to and fro. Pretty, elfish young women that Lucien said were dryads, and satyrs. They didn’t need to wear jeans here to cover the goat legs like Dillon had done out in Chicago, so they weren’t hard to spot. A few campers, as well.
There was the combat arena, where I could already see a few early risers obliterating some combat dummies or even having a friendly early-morning spar with one another. The archery range, a spot Lucien said was a favourite of himself and a lot of other Apollo children. Sure enough, I could see a boy with almost white-blond hair with an arrow aimed at the target. The bronze tip glinted in the sun.
All the buildings around this place were Greek-style, the kinds of buildings I’d only ever seen in ruins but was seeing here in their polished white marble glory. An archaeologist would probably lose their mind to see stuff like this so complete, even though it was obvious they were new and not anywhere near the age of actual Ancient Greek ruins.
Strawberry fields bordered the camp, and music rose from them as satyrs played songs on their panpipes. Apparently the nature magic in the music helped the plants grow and thrive. The camp did actually supply strawberries to restaurants and other places nearby, according to Lucien.
But there was one part I was particularly eager to see, and Lucien left that part to last. The cabins were twelve large buildings built in a u-shape around a green with a big campfire in the centre. The goddesses on one side, Lucien explained, the gods on the other. All the cabins were in a bustle as people prepared for the morning inspection, apparently. Campers rushing to clean, passing in and out of doorways.
Two were particularly large and imposing; the two making up the base of the u shape. One was a big, heavy marble building with polished bronze doors. It looked like a bank, or maybe a mausoleum. Something suitably intimidating and business-y, anyway. Cabin 1.
“That’s Zeus’ cabin,” Lucien explained when he caught me looking at it
“Zeus has children?” I questioned with interest, but noticed that it was one of only a few cabins which had completely closed doors.
“No. The Big Three - Zeus, Poseidon and Hades - made a deal after World War Two that they wouldn’t have any more half-blood children. They’re too powerful, tend to cause trouble. Zeus and Poseidon’s cabins are empty - and Hades doesn’t have one. He’s technically an Olympian, but he’s more of an underworld god.”
The cabin next to Zeus’ looked similar to his but was smaller and more graceful, with slender columns with pomegranates and flowers around them. The doors had peacocks carved on them, which tipped me off as to who the cabin belonged to. I could sense the power emanating off it, and I knew which cabin I was more intimidated by. The sight of it made my stomach flip, like I was falling. Cabin 2.
“Hera?” I guessed
“Right,” Lucien said, sounding a little impressed “it’s honorary, though. Hera isn’t exactly the type to be running off with mortals - wouldn’t be a good look for the goddess of marriage.”
I supposed so, though being married to the goddess of marriage didn’t seem to have ever stopped Zeus. As far as I was concerned, I didn’t think anyone would judge Hera if she wanted to have a bit of fun.
On the goddess’ side of the u, there was a cabin (Cabin 4) with a real grass roof - Demeter’s cabin, Lucien said. Some half-bloods were tending the wildflowers and roses which grew on the porch; I noticed with astonishment that they could make them bloom with just their touch.
Next to that one, Cabin 6. This one was a neat, plain grey building with clean white curtains and an owl design over the door. Simple, elegant, well-built. A girl maybe sixteen with fair beige skin and intense eyes was heading inside, blonde ponytail swinging behind her, just as another figure was stepping out. Someone holding a clip-board - they had short dark hair, pale skin, a slight build, and the same sharp eyes as the blond. They looked about seventeen, if I were to guess.
“Oh great, Lester’s on inspection.” Lucien muttered “That’s Cleo Lester, head counsellor for Athena’s cabin. They’re always super strict on inspection. Rumour is they want to go to college next year and the blonde girl, Chiara, is planning on challenging for the head counsellorship. She’s been here a long time, and she’s a year-round camper, so it makes sense.”
Then there was Cabin 8, which Lucien said was for Artemis. It was decorated with paintings of animals but otherwise looked like a normal cabin - at least during the day. Last night I’m pretty sure I’d noticed this one glowing silver as if reflecting moonlight when I saw the camp from the top of the hill.
“Artemis is a virgin goddess, she doesn’t have kids, so this one is honorary. Her band of huntresses do use it when they visit, but it isn’t often.”
“She has huntresses?” I asked, intrigued - that didn’t sound like a bad gig “They like… go around hunting stuff with Artemis?”
“Yeah,” he said but he didn’t seem extremely thrilled to be on the topic, “I don’t know much about it because they don’t like boys much. But they’re all young girls - Artemis makes them immortal, so they can’t die unless they fall in battle or Artemis makes them mortal for breaking their oath. But they have to follow her rules, like swearing off love.”
That sounded pretty cool if you asked me, but I wasn’t sold. Immortality sounded like the kind of thing you might regret after a while.
Cabin 10 was next, Aphrodite’s cabin. The scent of designer perfume became heavier. It was a wooden cabin with grey walls, a pink door, a blue roof and a checkerboard deck which a girl was currently sweeping. The girl was stunning, like some kind of supermodel. She was maybe about sixteen. She was tall, with cool-toned brown skin with a soft reddish undertone, almost like a gentle rose light glowed from within her skin, and she had vitiligo in some areas. The girl had this stunning curly black hair and shining dark brown eyes. She wasn’t beautiful in a mean popular kid kind of way, just this very genuine and entrancing kind of beauty. She even managed to make the bright orange shirts for the camp look worthy of the front page of a fashion magazine.
“Guinevere Sharpe, head counsellor for Aphrodite’s Cabin,” Lucien said in passing “she’s been after a quest for years. It’s every demigod’s dream, but I’ve never seen an Aphrodite kid care about it as much as she does.”
The final cabin was Cabin 12; Dionysus’ cabin. Lucien said it was on the goddess’ side because it would have been Hestia’s, but she gave up her position for Dionysus. Its roof and walls were lined with grapevines, but Lucien told me it was empty.
On the gods’ side there was Cabin 3, which was a low building made from rough sea stone. There was coral embedded in the walls, and a trident above the door. It didn’t take a genius to figure out it was Poseidon’s cabin. Empty just like Zeus’, apparently.
Cabin 5 had a messy blood-red paint job and barbed wire on the roof. There was a huge, ugly boar’s head over the door and rock music was constantly blaring from it. There was only one god I could think of who’d have a cabin like this one.
A bunch of brawny girls and guys that looked like they were made for battle were rushing around the cabin. A lot of the Ares kids seemed big, broad and strong - each a force to be reckoned with. I couldn’t imagine what they’d be like to face if they all fought together.
Among them, I could see a young redhead maybe college age, around eighteen or nineteen, coordinating some sort of operation to try and clean the place up for inspection. He had warm ivory skin dusted with freckles and was athletic in build, but more muscular than Lucien - this was a melee fighter, no ranged-weapons user. He had a lot of scars, like something very large had used him as a scratching post. He looked like a gritty antihero from a comic, or maybe like a protagonist from an apocalypse movie. Like the cool bad-boy type. The task didn’t seem to be going too well even with Teenage Action Man’s military planning.
A boy around seventeen and taller than the other boy but just as muscular, with short light brown or maybe dirty blond hair, was helping to clean up. He seemed to have a pendant or something of some sort along with the beads on his camp necklace, because I caught a flash of something white that I couldn’t quite identify but I was certain wasn’t one of the beads on his necklace. I didn’t have time to wonder what it was, though, because I noticed another Ares kid approaching to help. This next boy was probably one of the tallest people I’ve ever seen in my life.
He was closer to seven feet than six, that much I was certain of, but he looked maybe sixteen, so the idea he might have even more growing to do was a bit scary. He had long blond hair, the kind of sharp jaw I’d only seen in movies, and with his build I didn’t doubt he could crush me with one hand like a tin can if the mood struck him. But any feeling I had of being afraid of him melted away almost instantly, because he had this massive smile on his face. Not like the serious, tough-guy expressions of his siblings.
“The redhead’s River Gellis, head counsellor for the Ares cabin.” Lucien said the name with disdain “He’s been on more quests than anyone in his cabin - maybe the whole camp.”
“You don’t seem to like him,” I observed
“We don’t tend to see eye-to-eye.” Lucien answered matter-of-factly “so we keep a distance from each other to keep the peace between our cabins.”
Did Lucien have some sort of authority in his cabin? That was news to me. I mean, sure, he wasn’t a bad fighter but I couldn’t for the life of me see why anyone would see him as an authority figure. He didn’t seem to exactly have gravitas.
Then Lucien led me to stop outside a cabin which seemed made of solid gold. It reflected daylight - or was it generating the light? I couldn’t tell but the thing was blinding to look at anyway - my burning retinas were the main thing I was focusing on.
After seeing Lucien’s father and his style, I had no doubt this was exactly the kind of place he’d want. It had to be Apollo’s cabin.
“Hold on a second,” Lucien told me, stepping aside toward the doorway just in time to catch what I guessed had to be one of his brothers, who was heading inside.
I recognised him as the same boy I’d seen at the archery range; he even still had the bow at his back. I guessed him to be around seventeen, but definitely older than Lucien. He was tall, had this pale porcelain skin with cool undertones, and was of a slender build. It almost made him look ethereal-looking, like he’d stepped out of some painting or something.
Lucien exchanged some words with him; the boy looked surprised to see Lucien, probably because it sounded like he’d cut his trip short. But the surprise turned to relief and the boy hugged him, the half-brothers sharing a rapid conversation. A few moments later Lucien returned to my side and the white-haired figure headed back inside.
“Who was that?” I asked
“Enzo”, Lucien explained “he was temporary head counsellor last year, but he stepped down. He’s our best healer, he wants to spend every spare minute in the infirmary or learning from Chiron. He never wanted to be leader.”
“So why did they make him?”
“It’s usually the oldest, but someone who has been there longer or been on more quests can challenge if they want to. Or they can step down like Enzo did.”
I guessed that made sense. If you didn’t want to be that person everybody looked up to, you shouldn’t have to. Being a demigod already had to be enough pressure just on its own without everything else to think about.
“So you’re the head counsellor?” I asked as we continued walking, the busy noise from the golden cabin fading in the background.
“Yeah. I’m in charge of my cabin and I go to meetings with Mr D and Chiron and the other head counsellors and stuff. It’s not as exciting as it sounds.”
“I don’t know, sounds pretty riveting,” I replied sarcastically, unable to resist teasing Lucien a little.
“Shut up,” Lucien replied, but he was laughing.
The next cabin was Cabin 9, which looked like a mini factory, with brick walls and chimneys. The entrance was surrounded by a lot of gears. I stopped for a moment to look at that cabin, observing a girl polishing one of the gears outside the door.
She was taller even than Guinevere, and both girls had to be past six foot tall. I guessed her to be about sixteen or seventeen. Her bouncy curls, which were a caramel sort of blond, were kept away from her face with a colourful bandanna while she worked. The green and corals in the bandanna set off her skin really nicely, which was a tawny brown with golden undertones. She had a strong, sturdy physique, or at least I certainly wouldn’t want to face her in a fight. Her hands looked strong and calloused - traits it seemed a lot of her fellow cabin-mates shared. But much like the boy from the Ares cabin, I wasn’t intimidated by her physical strength. Her eyes had this friendly sparkle, and as she laughed with one of her cabin-mates her smile was wide and genuine and so radiant that I could instantly feel that she was a caring presence. She felt like someone you’d want as a friend, or a big sister.
“Ariella Jackson,” Lucien put in when he caught me looking in the direction of the cabin “Head counsellor for the Hephaestus cabin. If you ever need anything, even if you’re not in her cabin, she’ll always help you.”
That was comforting; it was always good to know that there were kind people willing to help. I didn’t think I would be able to manage all of this on my own, something I didn’t like to admit because I generally liked to consider myself pretty damn tough if I did say so myself.
Then there was the final cabin, which Lucien actually led me towards. Cabin 11. It was a simple cabin, with peeling brown paint. The caduceus above the door told me instantly whose cabin this one was without me needing to make any guesses.
“This is going to be your new home for now,” Lucien explained as we approached the doorway “Hermes is the god of wayfarers and travellers, so his cabin has an acceptance policy. They house all our undetermined campers and the campers of minor gods who don’t have their own cabins.”
He led the way inside, and instantly I was met with a hubbub. People running around preparing for inspection - shoving dirty clothes under bunkbeds, looking for their lost things and accusing others of stealing them. I supposed Hermes was the god of thieves, after all.
It was the busiest of the cabins I’d seen, certainly the most heavily occupied. Given Hermes’ acceptance policy, I supposed that made sense. But it seemed as if there wasn’t anywhere near enough space in there for the number of people who lived in it.
It was so chaotic in there I didn’t think anybody even noticed us coming in, which in a way was a little more comforting to me. There was nothing worse than being the new kid and being the centre of attention.
“Lane!” I heard Lucien shout, and that caught most of the kids’ attention in the vicinity. So much for not being the centre of attention, I thought as everyone went quiet.
Moments later, a girl appeared from among the hubbub. I would’ve said maybe a little taller than average, and she was toned. Her skin had warm undertones, and was a sandy, tanned colour. She looked kind of pixie-like or elfish, with a soft upturned nose and a dimple in her cheek when she smiled in greeting. Her hair was what caught my attention the most though; it was dyed a bright, turquoise kind of blue, apart from a lock of bright yellow at her temple. Her eyes were hazel, and glinted with energy. She wore tiny hoop earrings with a little charm hanging from them - shoes with little wings on them. I would’ve put her at about seventeen.
“Hey, Lucien,” she greeted as she practically bounced over to us, “and who’s this?”
“New arrival,” Lucien answered “Luka, this is Lane, the head counsellor for the Hermes cabin. Lane, I hoped you could get Luka settled in and then drop her to the Big House so she can meet Mr D before breakfast.”
“No problem!” she agreed readily, “Do we know her godly parent?”
“Undetermined,” was his reply, and when he said that everybody seemed to lose interest and went back to the loud activity of moments before.
The word felt a little harsh, as if I was just nobody. As if I was waiting for something - my claiming - before my life could even begin. I didn’t like it.
“That’s cool,” Lane was looking at me now “we have lots of undetermined kids here. Why not meet the rest of the cabin and we’ll set you up with a bunk?”
“Lucien! You’re back!”
Suddenly a little girl appeared out of the crowd at astonishing speeds, all but tackling Lucien. If she were an older, bigger kid, I’m sure she’d have knocked him off balance. She was delicate, bird-like, with short red hair and soft grey-blue eyes. I thought maybe about twelve or thirteen? Or maybe she was older and just looked young for her age.
“Hey, kid,” Lucien greeted as he ruffled her hair. I never thought I’d heard his voice sound that gentle. I got the immediate feeling he was protective of this kid.
Lane was insisting I get to know the cabin and I was almost immediately pulled into a long series of greetings, during which Lucien choose to take the opportunity to slip away and get back to whatever it was he needed to do. The kids within the cabin, as I’d observed with the rest of the camp, seemed to range mostly between the ages of about twelve and seventeen. Around camp I’d seen some slightly younger kids, maybe 10, and a few college-aged kids around nineteen, but the majority seemed to fit within this bracket.
The young girl who’d greeted Lucien was named Echo, and was apparently a daughter of Iris. She seemed a big favourite within the cabin, too - everybody seemed to have a shared but silent agreement to take care of her. Somebody was even helping her tidy her bunk in time for inspection.
Then there was Pascal, who I would’ve put as one of the college-aged kids, about nineteen, and possibly the oldest occupant of the cabin. He had thick dark hair, green eyes, an olive undertone to his skin, and a kind of gloomy feel about him. He seemed tired and sad and I couldn’t help but wonder what might have happened to make him that way. He was nice enough, though, but he was rather too shy to get a chance to properly talk with him or even find out who his godly parent was.
Jason was a studious boy of about fourteen or fifteen with a lithe frame, deep brown skin, and intelligent eyes. He had an elegant look about him; he examined a book, sitting in his nook (which was probably the only tidy spot in the cabin) and ignoring the maelstrom of activity around him as he turned a page with long, slender fingers. He also had probably the most relaxing vibe of any of the campers I’d met so far. He had a calming feeling about him, somehow. He seemed very centered, wise and not too intense. Probably more mature than most people I’d met who had five years on him in age. Somehow I felt like he would be high on my list of people to go to if I ever needed advice. But still, I didn’t get a chance to grab the name of his godly parent - he might have been undetermined too, for all I knew.
I did remember meeting another undetermined half-blood in the Hermes cabin though. A boy named Laurie. I would’ve said Laurie was eighteen, maybe just a little younger than Pascal. He was lanky with curly dark hair, olive skin, and these warm eyes. I couldn’t quite decide on the colour for some reason, whether they were hazel or more just brown. He was great fun and genuinely quite sweet but I quickly found he was better in small doses, being rather a lot to deal with. He was very loud and rambunctious, and I was just feeling fragile after such little sleep. Judging by the beads around his necklace, he’d been at the camp about five years, and he was still unclaimed. That revelation was more than a bit concerning - if that had happened to Laurie, could the same thing happen to me? If his parent could care so little, could mine? Could I be unclaimed for years?
We were interrupted, though, by a new entrant into the cabin; I recognised him as the boy with the short hair from the Ares cabin. Up close, I could see what was on his camp necklace; it looked like a fang or a tooth from a snake or some kind of reptile. But whatever kind of creature it was, I didn’t want to meet it. If the size of the fang was anything to go by, the creature it had come from had to be huge. Not to mention the fact that given fighting monsters didn’t seem to be a big deal to these kids, I could only imagine what might have made this one impressive enough to be worthy of being commemorated on this kid’s necklace.
Everybody in the cabin looked up at the new arrival as if ready to protest if somebody from another cabin had come in to invade the already cramped Cabin 11, but when they saw who it was everybody just went back to what they were doing. Or at least, made it look like they did. I could tell they were watching, stealing glances as they worked.
Apparently if people from different cabins weren’t encouraged to go into a cabin that wasn’t theirs, this boy was something of an exception.
Lane stepped forward to meet him, all smiley and throwing a rag she’d been using to dust over her shoulder. It was only when she was next to him that I noticed that she also had one of those sharp teeth on her necklace, just like the one this boy had.
“You’re not supposed to be in here,” Lane chided, but I could tell she had no intention of enforcing whatever rule she was referencing.
“Just came to tell you to hurry up,” the boy answered, “they just finished inspecting us and it won’t be long before they’re done with 7 and 9. Can’t have you doing kitchen duty again.”
Apparently, from what I’d heard, every day two of the senior counsellors inspected each cabin to make sure it was tidy. The best cabin got first shower privileges and the worst got some unpleasant chore after dinner. Sounded fair to me, but after one glance at the Hermes cabin I’d realised that they weren’t exactly the cleanest bunch. I got the feeling I shouldn’t have high expectations when it came to getting first shower privileges with this lot.
Lane sighed “Ugh, who’s inspecting?”
“Lester and Sharpe,”
The blue-haired girl groaned, “No, they’re both so strict!”
Lucien had told me Cleo Lester didn’t let you get away with anything when it came to inspection, but he hadn’t said anything about Guinevere. But the Aphrodite cabin had probably looked the neatest when we’d walked past it, so I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised.
“Can’t stay,” the boy said as he brushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear, “I don’t think them catching me here would earn you points. See you after breakfast.”
Nobody said anything yet, but I could see some eyebrows raising at the couple. Even more so when the boy gave Lane a quick goodbye kiss before he disappeared back outside - presumably to rejoin his siblings in Cabin 5.
It was only when he left that one of the younger kids finally could no longer contain that universal younger-sibling desire to tease their half-sister.
“‘See you after breakfast,’” they snickered in what I had to admit was a pretty passable impression of the Ares boy’s voice.
Lane smacked them lightly with the dusting rag, but she was smiling.
I’d been standing next to Laurie, Jason sitting reading next to us. He had barely looked up from the book during the whole exchange, despite how much of a frenzy of teasing it seemed to have whipped the Hermes cabin into.
Laurie leaned over to me, speaking lowly as the cabin roared around us. Lane would have a difficult time calming them down, I thought.
“That’s Daniel Morgan. He and Lane were on a quest together one time and ended up a couple. Everybody in camp knows they’re a thing, even the other cabins. They’re nowhere near as subtle as they apparently think they are.” Laurie explained.
“But aren’t they, like… cousins or something?” I asked “Isn’t that kind of gross?”
And I was putting that lightly.
Jason finally lifted his eyes from his book, “No, the gods don’t have DNA like that. It’s only your godly parent that matters. So you’d never date somebody in your own cabin, but you’re not genetically related to anyone outside your cabin - at least on the godly side. Somebody in another cabin is okay.”
That was a relief. Just because the gods were cool with that kind of thing didn’t mean we needed to be. Thank the gods for the living encyclopaedia that was Jason because I didn’t need another weird thing playing on my mind on top of everything else.
Lane came back over at that point and helped me get settled in. I picked a bunk, laid my dagger on my bedside table, and that was pretty much me unpacked. Then it was time to meet the mysterious Mr. D before breakfast.
She set the rest of the cabin on finishing cleaning before inspection - I don’t think either of us had high hopes - before leading me back outside onto the green.
Mr D, apparently, was back at the Big House. It was a shorter walk than I’d remembered back to the place, but I could see three figures on the porch. Chiron and a man I didn’t recognise were at one of the tables playing a card game I didn’t know, while Dillon hovered around in the background behind the strange man.
As I approached, I got a better look at him. He was middle-aged, or so I figured, though it was hard to tell. He had a red nose, which told me he was pretty well acquainted with alcohol, and a round face. His eyes were watery blue and bloodshot, and he had curly hair so black the light seemed to make it shine almost purplish. He looked like a cherub from a Renaissance painting that had gotten old and discovered wine. Or maybe a washed-up child star that had been an adorable kid forty years ago. He wore a leopard-spotted Hawaiian shirt and purple running shoes. I couldn’t help but think he didn’t look like much. He hadn’t noticed us yet, too busy with the game.
Chiron looked up as Lane and I approached, giving us both a welcoming smile and gesturing us over.
“Ah, our new arrival!” he exclaimed “I trust you are now all settled in Cabin 11.”
I barely even had time to nod in answer before he turned immediately to Lane, who flashed him her best innocent Hermes kid smile.
“Thank you for bringing her here, my dear.” Chiron said warmly “But you don’t want your cabin to be late for breakfast. Why not head back? Dillon will bring young Luka here back in time to join you all at the dining hall. And do please pass on a message to the Ares cabin for me that I need their team for capture the flag by this evening, thank you.”
When he mentioned Dillon’s name, Chiron’s gaze flicked briefly up to him. The satyr inclined his head in assent, but I don’t think Chiron was giving him much of a choice anyway. When Chiron’s attention was back on Lane, she nodded and before I knew it she’d disappeared. She was a fast runner; I could see the flash of her coloured hair and her bright orange camp t-shirt as she ran toward the cabins.
Something about the twinkle in Chiron’s eye and the knowing smile to himself as Lane disappeared told me that the campers weren’t the only ones who knew about her and Daniel Morgan. I knew it was no accident that he’d sent her to the Ares cabin.
“You really should not encourage them so,” the dark-haired man grumbled as he made his move in their card game “it is never pleasant dealing with the inevitable upset afterward.”
“You do not deal with it,” Chiron replied dryly “it is always I. Let the young ones live a little.”
“Yes, well unlike you I am quite above dealing with petty mortal emotions.” he replied “Most undignified. I might have to be a glorified babysitter but I do not have to be a therapist.”
“Enough,” Chiron replied as he responded with his own move, “our newest camper is here to meet you.”
The man huffed, but did break his gaze away from the cards to look up at me.
“We didn’t have this one already?”
Well, this was a real warm welcome so far.
“Luka, this is Mr D, our camp director here at Camp Half Blood. Mr D, Luka arrived last night.” Chiron explained, nodding between the two of us as he made his introductions.
“Ah, yes, the giant-slayer,” Mr D commented boredly, looking at me as if he were somewhat underwhelmed before returning to his cards. When he said it the accomplishment felt far less impressive than it had yesterday.
That annoyed me more than a little bit. It was amazing that I managed to get back to Camp Half-Blood safely last night, and this guy was being all snide about it.
“I guess,” I answered, still hesitant and a little irritated by this guy’s attitude.
“You guess? A beacon of confidence.” was the sarcastic comment “I’m beginning to think Chiron was right to wonder how you managed to survive on your own for so long.”
Okay, so maybe I’m not known for thinking things through all the time. Maybe sometimes I don’t think about the consequences of my actions.
But in my defence, he totally deserved what I said next.
“You know, I don’t appreciate you making it sound like some kind of game, like this stupid thing you’re playing. I almost died just getting here!”
I saw Dillon’s eyes widen in panic, and he shook his head at me behind Mr D. I ignored it; just because he was scared of this dude didn’t mean I had to be.
Mr D’s eyes hardened then, but his expression didn’t change.
“And unfortunately for all of us, you didn’t. But you’ll soon realise ‘almost dying’ doesn’t make you special here, Luka.” was his answer “And I’ll have you know that pinochle is one of the finest games invented by humans.”
I frowned, confused. Dillon had gone so pale behind Mr D that I really thought he might faint. Mr D had been talking about ‘mortal emotions’ and about games being made by ‘humans’, and Dillon seemed absolutely terrified that I’d gotten off on such a bad foot with him. What on earth was going on?
“Why do you keep talking like you’re not a human?” I asked warily.
Mr D rolled his eyes, looking over to Chiron, “I thought you said this one was smart. You had me thinking there might actually be an intelligent half-blood in this camp for the first time since my father condemned me to this torturous job.”
He sighed, waving his hand. Out of thin air, a goblet appeared as if woven from sunlight, and filled with red wine. I gasped and blinked as if I’d imagined it, but nobody else looked even remotely surprised. Chiron didn’t even look up from his cards.
“Mr D,” he warned
Thunder rumbled ahead, and Mr D grumbled along with it.
“Alright, alright!” he said as if speaking to the sky itself “I know, my restrictions, I know.”
He waved his hand once more, and the goblet almost immediately turned into a Diet Coke. Mr D curled his lip but took the drink unhappily, popping the tab on the top to open it.
“Mr D took a fancy to an off-limits wood nymph a while ago,” Chiron supplied, shooting a look to Mr D, who simply sighed as if remembering the nymph in question, “and his father was none too pleased. Sent him here for a while.”
Suddenly it all made sense. The wine glass, the weird way he talked about humans, the thunder when he broke the rules. The leopard-spotted shirt. The way Dillon seemed so nervous around him, like he was his boss or something. Mr D… D…
“You’re Dionysus?” I asked in astonishment, because this guy? A god? Just sitting on a porch playing dumb card games and sniping at everybody? There was no way.
“Now she catches on.” he muttered sarcastically
“You’re a god?” I questioned disbelievingly “You?”
“I can show you if you’d like,” Mr D replied coolly
“Please don’t, sir!” Dillon piped up a little shakily from behind “She doesn’t mean it. She’s new and she’s confused.”
Dionysus considered me for a moment, but did not make any move against me.
“And your father is Zeus?” I asked, unable to keep the words from spilling out of my mouth because all of this felt insane. Sure, I’d seen Apollo in a video last night. But watching something on a screen didn’t make it feel real. I guess a part of me didn’t want to believe that what I’d seen and heard last night and today was real. And a part of me didn’t really want to believe that this whiny, snarky man was a god.
“You should take care with names, Luna.” Mr D answered sharply, “I thought you’d told her about that, Dillon.”
“I did, sir.” Dillon piped up “She’s still learning-“
“That’s not my name,” I protested, because I was sure he’d gotten it wrong on purpose. He’d said it correctly only a minute ago. And sure, I could see in Dillon’s frightened face how stupid I was being, but I couldn’t stop myself.
Dionysus looked at me, and suddenly those eyes seemed to blaze. Not outwardly, but I could see some sparks of purple fire in there. Dangerous depths I didn’t want to see more of. This man might not look like much, but he was hinting to me just a fraction of how much more powerful he was than I’d assumed. I knew instantly that if he wanted to, he could tear my mind to shreds. I only had to push him a little further.
“I could make you forget your name entirely,” Dionysus answered, so calm it was scary “and maybe make you think you’re a housefly while I’m at it. Would you like to test me, girl?”
I figured I didn’t want to get vaporised on the spot, or worse, so I back-pedalled pretty quick.
“No,” I said quickly, before meeting Dillon’s eyes and hastily correcting, “No, sir.”
Dionysus’ eyes returned to normal, and he returned to his game as if nothing had happened, waving me off.
“Go,” he said shortly “and learn some manners sharpish. Not all gods are as forgiving as I. Dillon, I expect a full report from you on your assignment after breakfast.”
If he was forgiving, I didn’t want to know what not being forgiving looked like.
Dillon just garbled out a ‘yes, sir’ before grabbing my elbow and pulling me away from the Big House. He didn’t say anything until we were out of earshot.
“You need to be careful,” he hissed as we walked away “the gods have long memories and they don't take kindly to being disrespected.”
Mr D didn’t seem to have that long a memory, if he forgot my name in about thirty seconds, but whatever.
“In fairness, it doesn’t seem to take much,” I pointed out in my own defence, but that didn’t seem to be a good enough excuse.
“Let’s just get you to breakfast before Mr D changes his mind and incinerates you.” |
|
|
|
Post by ƤαƖƖαѕ ✧ on Sept 9, 2022 18:05:37 GMT -5
Chapter 6: I engage in flag-based shenanigans
LUKA
Note: this fic uses settings and characters from the Percy Jackson series, which is trademarked by Rick Riordan
My first full day at Camp Half-Blood went fairly uneventfully.
At breakfast I learned that each of the cabins had their own table, even the empty ones. But you could only sit with your own cabin; even though the Hermes cabin was so full that I was half hanging off the bench at our table (as the new kid I had to be at the end), we couldn’t use any of the empty tables around us. Seemed a little impractical to me but hey, I was just the new kid.
Anyway, it was pretty amazing. For one thing, the goblets never emptied and ther were even enchanted so you could ask for any beverage you wanted. Well, unless you were Mr D and wanted something alcoholic. The food was all healthy, and pretty tasty too, and we were served by dryads.
Then it was time for camp activities. I’d kind of hoped that doing these might help me somehow with figuring out who my godly parent might be. I figured that some of the skills and abilities I had were surely related to my godly parent, right? All I had to do was figure out what I was good at, and who else was good at the same things.
First, archery practice with Chiron. It turned out Lucien made it look easier than it was; I was quite possibly the worst in the cabin, and that wasn’t me being harsh on myself despite my lack of training. A bow just clearly wasn’t for me. I figured I could strike Apollo off the list of potential fathers in this Mamma Mia nightmare.
Canoe racing - we capsized and let me just say it turned out I really wasn’t built for water. I might be small, but I didn’t float too well for some reason. Not to mention the water seemed to feel way more unpleasant to me than it did to anyone else. So cold and wet and unpleasant. Every instinct told me to get out of it, and it seemed to chill me to the bone. So I figured Poseidon was probably a bust, even if he hadn’t made some deal with his brothers not to have any kids or whatever.
After that it was chores - today was polishing armour - before lunch. Lunch was pretty uneventful too, but I was beginning to find that the people in the cabin were beginning to warm to me. I’d even said a few friendly words to Pascal, who otherwise was pretty shy.
I’d noticed a boy at the Aphrodite table talking to Guinevere Sharpe during lunch. He had this kind of glowy bronzy skin, blue eyes, and this upswept white hair which didn’t seem to have a single hair out of place. Well, apart from an artful lock over his forehead which I was very sure was deliberate. Like most Aphrodite kids, he looked like he wouldn’t be out of place in a magazine, or maybe one of those teen movie or TV show where everyone is inexplicably beautiful for no reason. Theo Cross was his name, apparently. Laurie told me he and Guinevere were the only Aphrodite kids with this ability called Charmspeak, which made them really persuasive. Dangerous, apparently, and I could believe it. I noticed that he was older than Guinevere, maybe seventeen or eighteen, but Guinevere had more camp beads. Six to his four. I had to assume she’d challenged him, or maybe he’d simply stepped down so she could be head counsellor. Either way, they seemed friendly so there were no apparent hard feelings.
After lunch, we had monster fighting techniques where I learned some things that would’ve been really useful to know back on the streets. It was almost annoying how much easier a time I could have had if I’d known this stuff before. If I’d just known about this place and been able to learn, maybe I wouldn’t have been so afraid all the time. That was the first activity of the day where was actually decent. The fighting stuff seemed to come easily to me. I prayed that didn’t mean I was an Ares kid, because I wasn’t a rock music fan.
Then after a bit of free time and another chore - chopping wood for the campfire later - it was time for sword fighting practice. I prayed this was something I could be good at, because if I wasn’t I was pretty sure I was about to get my ass handed to me.
Lane was leading the practice, and of course she just had to pick me for a demonstration. That felt great. Anyway, I held my sword and stood opposite her. The thing felt a little awkward in my hands, as if it wasn’t quite right. This thing wasn’t made for me. Already my mind was flicking through all the different ways I might be able to improve it.
“Luka!” Lane said in a tone that told me it was the second time she had said my name, “Come on. With all the love in the world, newbie, you gotta pay attention or you’re dead. Now let’s demonstrate a manoeuvre; show me what you can do.”
I came at her, and we began to spar. I swear I couldn’t get a single touch on her. Lane was the fastest person I had ever seen, seemingly able to dodge any and every move I made towards her. When one of the other kids had joked earlier that she was the swiftest half-blood in the last hundred years, I’d thought they were exaggerating. Maybe they were, but she was certainly faster than anyone I’d seen. Her colourful hair flashed and blurred as she basically rang rings around me..
Eventually I got frustrated and just rushed her, which ended in her finally demonstrating the manoeuvre she’d wanted to show. She was able to use my own momentum against me, and the whole thing ended with the tip of my own sword at my throat.
“You have to be careful,” she said “energy, movement, momentum can be used against you. If you get frustrated or sloppy you’ll end up paying for it. We encourage improvising attacks, there’s space for being creative, but keep your movements tight.”
It had never truly hit me before how dangerous these other demigods were. But I was acutely aware of how easily this girl could kill me. But then she smiled this big dazzling smile and turned the blade so I could grab the hilt.
We kept practicing until I was able to use Lane’s own manoeuvre against her. Quick as she was, she had a rhythm, a pattern to her fighting which I was able to follow after being metaphorically killed by her a few times in our little mock battle scenarios. And I’d noticed that her sword had a little imbalance; a little imperfection. I didn’t even realise what I was doing, really. Something else took over in my head, as if it wasn’t even me thinking but just some sort of instinct taking over - the battle instincts, maybe, like Lucien had said. It was all a matter of getting a feel for when was the right time to attack, particularly with her being so fast it was almost impossible to do much more than defend. Either way, Lane eventually ended up with a sword at her throat. Even she looked like she’d been taken by surprise, probably even more than me, but then she clapped me on the shoulder and I couldn’t help but feel pretty proud of myself. Like I was finally getting the hang of this half-blood thing.
“You’re doing well, newbie,” Lane had said appreciatively as we left, still panting a little from the exercise, “I reckon we can make a swordswoman out of you yet.”
But after all that exertion. I was all too ready for some food. Barbecue, fresh bread, fruit. It was all pretty amazing. I didn’t know if it’d be enough to fill me after the tiring day I’d had, but the moment I smelled it I knew I’d be just fine. The stuff smelled incredible.
It was the evening meal, the sky still summer-bright but softening now. I’d been all ready to dig in until I noticed everybody getting up, table by table, and filing over to this big fire in a massive bronze brazier. They seemed to be scraping a portion of their meal into it before they sat down to eat.
Our table was the last to rise, and Lane indicated I should get up and follow the group. Little Echo had been next to me at the table, and she seemed to catch on that I was a little confused. She fell into step alongside me as we approached the brazier.
“Sacrifices to the gods,” the little girl explained, the firelight seeming to ignite her red hair “they like the smell.”
As I looked at her, I thought she looked like one of the nymphs I’d seen around the camp, with her delicate features. The girl constantly looked like she might take off at any moment and float away like a feather on the breeze.
“Oh,” was all I said, feeling more confused than ever. Why did the gods like the smell of burned barbecue? Surely it couldn’t be that good, especially mixed with burning fruit and other food.
I noticed that other people in front of me would sometimes mouth something or say something under their breath as they stopped at the brazier.
“What’re they saying?” I questioned, leaning over to Echo as we got closer to the warmth of the flames.
“Prayers to the gods,” Echo answered with a light shrug “thanks, dedications. Requests, mostly.”
I could see Laurie in front of us as he scraped something in the brazier, and I saw his mouth move. I thought I saw the word father, and I knew what he was asking for. The same thing as me, but with the desperation of more years of unheard prayers.
Soon it was Echo’s turn, and if she asked for something she did it in her head, because she didn’t mouth or say anything.
Next it was me. Just me and this big bath-tub sized bronze cauldron. The heat felt intense, but I liked that. It seemed to sear through my skin to my chest. I hesitantly scraped a portion of the food in the flames, listening to the hiss as they want in.
“Father, if you’re listening,” I said in my head “please send me a sign. Let me know who you are.”
The flames blazed a little higher, and I soon learned I was pretty wrong about the smell. It was indescribable in the best possible way. Like everything good, and they didn’t become an awful cacophonous scent together. Just something fragrant and pleasant.
I returned to my seat, feeling no more certain whether or not my prayer had been heard.
After dinner was my first campfire, which was about as awful as I could have predicted because it involved a singalong. Now my singing voice was pretty nice if I did say so myself, but I didn’t like to show it off in public. We were led by the Apollo cabin, some of whom had various instruments like lyres. Lucien was a pretty talented musician, I quickly learned, but he let his more exuberant siblings lead the campaign. He was probably the least bright and bubbly Apollo camper, so moody I almost couldn’t believe he was one of them. But his music was beautiful, his voice just as pleasant as the last time I’d heard it. Not the most impressive among his cabin, but he was good.
The flames reflected the campers’ mood, I’d been told, so as we sang cheerful songs to celebrate a pleasant day at camp, the fire blazed high and brightly and in warm, happy colours.
Once the song had died down, Chiron stood to speak. He was in his full centaur form, the first time I’d seen him that way. There was the white stallion I’d seen in the pictures, white tail glowing see-through in the firelight. Mr D had left some time ago, apparently liking nothing less than this cringy campfire singalong. He claimed it certainly wasn’t something he was willing to endure without alcohol.
“Thank you to the Apollo cabin,” Chiron inclined his head toward the group “for leading tonight’s songs as beautifully as always. I’d like to begin the evening by celebrating the return of two of our campers; Lucien arrived back after his visit home last night, and Dillon Fillery also returned from his assignment to Chicago.”
There was some applause at that, and I noticed Lucien laughing as one of his siblings nudged him and another ruffled his hair. I’d never seen him laugh before, but he quickly batted them off and returned to his usual expression. He’d been caught by surprise, I guessed, when his walls were down.
“And I would like to welcome a new camper among our ranks.” he said, and when he levelled his eyes on me everybody else’s seemed to follow “Luka arrived last night. I trust you will make her welcome.”
I wished he hadn’t done that, because I hated being the centre of attention. Hate the feeling of knowing people are whispering about you. And I could see they were; raised eyebrows and conspiratorial words. But Lane clapped me on the shoulder and Laurie started joking around.
“Oh shit, was what what we were meant to do?” he joked loudly to Chiron, creating a ripple of laughter. Chiron chided him for ‘language, Mr Bevin’, but he was smiling a little to himself and I knew that despite himself, even Chiron found Laurie pretty funny.
I decided in that moment that the people of Cabin 11 were okay. Maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad thing to be stuck there for a while.
“We will be playing Capture the Flag tomorrow,” Chiron added, and immediately the fire blazed brighter to reflect the surge of excitement, “the usual rules apply. Magical items are permitted, and no maiming if you please.”
Maiming. Sounded promising. Either way, the rest of the campers seemed to have been put in high spirits by this news so I supposed I ought to look forward to it.
After the campfire I had my first night in Cabin 11, which really wasn’t so bad. It was kind of comforting being around so many people, even if it wasn’t quiet. It felt kind of like having a little family.
At least, everything was okay until I started to dream.
Everything was black, but I could feel earth under me. It felt like I was in a cave; I could feel the still air, and my breath seemed to echo from rocky walls. But I could not see where stone encased me.
All there was, was a voice.
A silky, feminine voice. So calming, slow, as if she had all the time in the world. Serene. But still something about it chilled me to the bone. Still, I could feel some wild animal inside me wanting to run and bolt. To hide from the voice as her words settled on my skin.
“Why do you delude yourself, little one?” she asked, “Why do you keep yourself blind to the truth you already know?”
I could feel the hairs standing on end on my arm and at my neck. It was like she was drawing something out of me when she spoke. My thoughts? Power? I did not know.
“You know who and what you are. And you know, deep within, how they will fear you and cast you aside if they discover that which you seek to hide even from yourself.”
I didn’t know what she was talking about, I told myself. But my stomach twisted, as if my body itself knew what my mind apparently did not.
“Your self-deception will keep you from power if you allow it to. Even now mine grows and yours is restrained. But if you join me, your potential could be unlocked. I could help you make the thing you fear your greatest strength. It is within you. These people will only seek to shackle and stunt you, once they know. To them, too much power is danger. I can show you what true power can do.”
My instincts told me that this voice was not to be trusted. She sounded comforting, like the memory of you mother’s voice as you drifted to sleep as a child. Like she wanted to envelop me in a caring, safe darkness where nothing could reach me.
But I felt there was some treachery in it. I could hear something menacing in her voice. Something I didn’t like.
“No,” I forced myself to say eventually, but my voice was hesitant and shaky. As if I didn’t want to refuse her, really. My willpower barely had the strength to resist her tempting words.
“No need to be so rash, little hero,” the voice said, and I could hear the slow, predatory smile in it even though I could see no speaker “you will have this offer made to you only once more. I hope that you will answer more wisely then.”
And the darkness seemed to swallow me up, as if I’d been dropped into an endless abyss.
When I woke, it was to the bustle of the Hermes cabin rising for the morning. Everybody was so swept up in their tasks that I wasn’t particularly noticed, and soon I got so engrossed in preparing for the day that even I forgot the nightmare I’d just experienced. Whatever had gone on in my sleep, I seemed the only one aware of it.
Well, maybe I and the sky. A creeping darkness seemed to have been growing at the horizon. Something felt ominous about it. I’d have thought it was imagining it if I hadn’t caught Jason looking at it too during lunch. Concern flashed across his eyes.
The rest of the day passed in a blur, because all anybody could really talk about was Capture the Flag. The teams had already been announced; the Ares and Athena cabins were leading the respective teams. I’d been given to understand that this was a fairly common occurrence.
On the Athena cabin’s team were the Hermes cabin and the Apollo cabin. I figured Lucien would probably rather have faced a thousand Laistrygonians than have his cabin on River Gellis’ team. It seemed that they did, as Lucien had claimed, keep their distance from one another. There was peace between them, but it was uneasy.
On the Ares cabin’s side were all the other cabins, since Hermes and Apollo had the biggest cabins in the camp. They had Demeter, Aphrodite and Hephaestus. I figured the Ares kids would be tough to beat, especially with Hephaestus on their side. Both cabins had pretty strong campers. But I liked our chances; our team had a fair balance of melee fighters and the ranged attacks of the Apollo campers.
They waited until the evening time to play; apparently that was the best time. That darkness seemed to have been growing a little, dusk coming earlier than I thought it should given the time of year.
Lane had just retrieved some armour for me to wear during the game when I asked her about it.
“What’s with the weird sky?” I asked as I buckled on the breastplate of the Greek-style armour.
She looked up, mouth thinning.
“I don’t know,” she admitted, and the fact that even her endless optimism seemed to have been dampened disquieted me a little, “the weather here is always perfect. Rain and storms don’t get into Camp Half-Blood unless we want them to.”
This didn’t seem like a storm. I couldn’t describe it; it was like the sky had a little tinge of darkness at its edges. I’d never seen anything like it before.
I reached to put the helmet on - with its blue plume for the Athena cabin’s team - and by the time I could see again Lane was smiling as if nothing had happened.
“Don’t worry,” was all she said as if that was enough to brush away the worry, and she turned her attention to adjusting my armour until she finally proclaimed “it’s a good fit.”
I chose to take her word for it. Personally I felt like a little kid in a costume, though the dagger I was holding reminded me that this was very real.
It was at this point that Cleo Lester and some of the rest of their cabin came amongst the group of blue team campers, who were finishing final prep before we headed into the woods for the game. They were holding a blue flag in their hand, which caught the wind slightly before Cleo handed it off to one of their siblings so they could address the crowd.
“Apollo campers will be covering us in the forest, especially border patrol by the river and I want some not too far from the flag. Lucien, if you get sloppy again I won’t be happy. Focus this time.” they began
Lucien made a sarcastic noise and a rude gesture, which Cleo pointedly chose to ignore. They were very businesslike, I noticed. Seemed to take themselves (and everything) very seriously. Even a game like this wasn’t just a game to them.
“I want a few of Hermes’ cabin to roam and cover the woods, a couple to guard, while a small group launches an attack for the flag. Lane, you’re the fastest. I need the flag in your hand.” continued the Athena counsellor.
Lane gave a rather enthusiastic thumbs up at that.
“Meanwhile a group from the Athena cabin will make another break for the flag as a diversion while the rest act as cover for both groups. Chiara will lead that group. I’ll be roving, so call for me if needed.”
Chiara emerged to stand with her group in her armour, blonde hair visible beneath the helmet. A sword hung at her side, and when all you could see were those intense eyes which seemed to be a trait of Athena’s children, she looked more than intimidating enough.
The group seemed to break off then, Cleo done with their speech, but moments later they and Chiara joined Lane and I. Cleo had their helmet under their arm, armour neatly buckled.
“”You okay with all that, Sherwin?” they questioned Lane, who nodded, before they turned their gaze to me.
They looked at me as if they were trying to decide which of a hundred ways to kill me would be best. As if trying to evaluate exactly what kind of threat I could be.
“Do what we tell you and don’t get in our way, new kid, okay?” they asked, but there was no aggression in their tone. That didn’t mean I didn’t feel thoroughly inadequate suddenly. “We want to win this time.”
They disappeared to grab the flag again, leaving only Chiara with Lane and I. Chiara looked at me with the same unsympathetic gaze, but seemed to soften just a little.
“Undetermined?” she asked
I nodded, even though I knew it was pretty obvious. And I knew word must have spread through camp by now as well.
“Don’t worry,” Chiara answered calmly “the gods sometimes lose track of their children. You won’t be unclaimed forever.”
She said nothing more, just disappeared to take her place at Cleo’s beckoning. But something about it reassured me. As if she’d known what I was thinking, known my private fears that my father did not care and I would go unclaimed.
It didn’t take long then for the chaotic throng of campers on the blue team to finally get themselves together, and I followed the team the borders of the forest.
The trees, even though we had not yet ventured into the forest, had a feeling of activity. As if there were something in there besides the dryads. Monsters, I’d been told; there for practice for demigods who wanted to keep their skills sharp.
It still didn’t feel real to me that I had been fighting for my life against monsters out there on the streets and here they were target practice.
Chiron and Mr D met us as both teams gathered, a sea of blue and red divided. They talked us through the rules; the entire forest was fair game, magic items were allowed, the flags had to be prominently displayed and with no more than two guards, prisoners may be disarmed but not bound or gagged, killing or maiming (much to Mr D’s bitter disappointment) were not allowed, and guards could not stand within ten yards of the flag. Cleo was leading the blue team, River the red.
“Go, now, heroes. The flags have been placed by the team leaders.” Chiron bid us go “I will act as battlefield medic and referee. Good luck.”
The groups prepared to break off, but I watched a little exchange between Daniel and Lane. He hung around the edge of his group, and passed Lane as the two groups separated.
“See you out there, Speedy,” Daniel said to her with a rare smile.
“You better hope not,” was Lane’s teasing reply, brushing shoulders with him as she passed.
And that was it. We streamed into the forest, and I followed the rest of the Hermes cabin to regroup not far from where I’d seen Cleo had set the flag. Lane gathered us all together.
“Pascal and Laurie, I want you on guard. Echo, roam the forest - carry any messages if needed but try not to be seen. Jason, you’re roaming the forest too - you and Echo need to stick together if you can. Everyone else is either patrolling and defending on this side or staying with me to launch the attack from the flag. And careful of River and his spear. Got it?”
Before I even knew it, Pascal and Laurie had jogged up to stand guard by the flag. Echo and Jason had disappeared into the shadows of the trees together, leaving the rest of us with Lane and the Athena campers Cleo had sent to guard our attempt to get the flag.
We waited for a few tense moments, listening attentively for the sign it was time to make our move. Our breath sighed out into the air and melded with the rustling of the trees, and all I could see in dim tree-shadowed light of this deep forest were the flashes of my teammates’ eyes scanning the tree line.
Soon enough, we heard clamour rising from another part of the forest which told us the Athena cabin had launched their distraction and had drawn the Ares cabin’s team over to them. We didn’t have long before the window of opportunity the Athena cabin had given us by leading the red team away from the route we’d be taking to the flag closed.
So we set off, my hand reaching out to touch the familiar wait of the dagger Lucien had given me as I followed Lane and the rest of the small remaining group of the Hermes cabin.
The plan seemed to be working, because we crossed the river dividing the forest (and the two teams’ bases) no problem. It was only a little way onward that we finally ran into trouble.
I could see River battling a few of the Athena cabin; in fact, he’d just knocked Chiara to the ground, her helmet discarded, when he caught sight of us.
I could see now why they’d warned about the spear. He was a machine with that thing, and it looked wickedly sharp. Something about the sight of the spear sent a pang of fear through me, and I felt the instinctual urge to run. Something I had to quell.
When his helmeted head turned toward us, I watched as Chiara took the opportunity while he was distracted to roll aside quietly, scrambling to her feet and disappearing into the forest.
He started toward us, and the Athena cabin guard Cleo had left us stopped back to fight him and the other red team fighters who were undoubtedly nearby off. A couple Hermes campers stayed too, leaving only Lane and I.
Lane darted off at a speed I could barely even make an attempt at keeping up with, but when she stopped and hid behind a tree I followed suit. Surely enough, she’d stopped because the flag was in sight. There it was, gently shifting with the breeze.
But no guards.
“They’re no strategists like the Athena kids, but the Ares kids would never leave that unguarded,” Lane muttered, “an ambush?”
At first I thought that was likely, to be the case, but then the same sense that I always had when I’d lived on the streets came back to me.
“Traps,” I muttered quietly “the Hephaestus kids.”
I got to my feet, rising out of the crouch I’d dropped into, despite Lane grabbing at me and hissing my name to try and hold me back.
I knew Lane wouldn’t ever be able to make it through there unharmed, no matter how fast she was. But I could.
So I ran.
I knew where the traps were, I could almost sense where they were set. Where it was safe to step, or where I’d possibly end up taking a trip to the infirmary.
And almost too easily, my hands closed around the flag.
I took the thing and I ran, despite Lane calling after me. My feet pounded across the ground until I had reached the river. I needed to leap over, just like I’d done earlier. But the water was dark and cold and something made me fear it on my own like this.
“Hey, hon,” the words were smooth, like honey.
A feminine voice behind me. I whirled around to be met with Miss Cabin 10, AKA Guinevere Sharpe. With her armour on she looked like some sort of war Barbie or something, but I knew the very elegant sword she held, with its intricate rose design on the hilt, could do very real damage if she wanted to.
I drew my sword and she laughed - a soft, musical sound.
“Come on, now. No need for that. You could just give me the flag and we don’t have to fight.” she smiled a movie star smile.
Her voice was commanding. Her words light in tone but weighty in persuasion. For some reason, it suddenly sounded like a really good idea. An excellent idea, in fact. Guinevere was right; of course she was right. It was obvious that the best thing to do was give her the flag. It was hers, she was meant to have it…
I didn’t even seem to register the fact that I had begun to move towards her, was even lifting my arm up as if to present the thing to her. I would have given it to her if I hadn’t been knocked off my feet by a blur of blue and yellow.
Lane had tackled me to the ground, both of us rolling, and when I looked over she was pulling stray locks of hair from out of her helmet. Thank god I’d still had a grip on the flag. Cleo had come hot on Lane’s heels, obviously having run into Lane, but seconds later had to turn and run toward the sound of fighting nearby, leaving the three of us alone.
“She’s charmspeaking you, newbie,” the girl said, shooting the closest thing Lane got to a glare at Guinevere.
Guinevere winked at that, but she raised her sword. We didn’t have a lot of time; I could see some of the red team reinforcements coming, hotly pursuing some Athena kids, Cleo helping them keep their pursuers back.
Worse; on the other side of the river I could see that Daniel Morgan and Griffin Wyatt (the long-haired blond from the Ares cabin) alongside Ariella from Hephaestus and Theo from Aphrodite had grabbed the other flag and were rapidly approaching the river too. The first one to cross won. Arrows from Lucien and the Apollo cabin were raining after them, but it wasn’t slowing them down.
Lane and I scrambled to our feet, and Guinevere advanced on the both of us, sword brandished. I raised my dagger and threw the flag to Lane. I didn’t have time to see if she caught it, because I had to dodge a swing by Guinevere.
Then another, which this time I wasn’t quite quick enough to dodge; I caught the blade on my arm. She was getting frustrated now, clearly wanting past me to get to Lane and getting annoyed that she couldn’t lay a stronger hit on me. I wasn’t going to let her get past me.
I was having problems; her blade was far longer than mine and I knew that the way I was going I wasn’t going to be able to keep this going for more than a few seconds without taking a hit. And Guinevere was strong; not someone I wanted to take a hit from.
She let out a growl, and made another strike at me. But I knew what to do. All I had to do was get inside the point so I was in range. I dodged the hit and was about to use the momentum to get closer to I could get my dagger in range but she must have seen it coming, because she blocked so hard I stumbled backwards.
I was off-balance and very vulnerable. Guinevere would’ve had me on the ropes if I didn’t hear cheering from behind me.
I turned to see that Lane’s speed had carried her across the river before the red team’s group; everybody stopped their fighting, the blue team erupting into cheers as the remaining fighters rushed into the clearing, Chiron among them.
Everybody was happy, apart from Cleo Lester.
They approached me, a bleeding cut above their eyebrow and a scowl on their face.
“You almost ruined it, idiot,” Cleo snapped angrily “I said I wanted Lane to get the flag, not you. And letting Sharpe charmspeak you?”
I felt speechless at that. A flush of anger and embarrassment filled me. I knew everybody was watching, could see them gathering now. My cheeks burned red. My palms felt hot.
“If it weren’t for me we’d have never gotten the flag at all!” I shot back.
Cleo closed the space between us pointing a finger and clearly about to start getting even more vicious. I couldn’t help but wonder why they couldn’t just enjoy the fact that they’d won. I braced myself for the shouting but it never came.
Cleo was agape for a moment, eyes widening, before their mouth snapped shut and they stumbled back. I was aware of a glowing red light casting my shadow upon the ground and was turning to try and find its source only to see something even more strange before I could do so.
Chiron bent his front legs in a bow, and the rest of the campers were following. My cabin-mates, Lane, Jason, Pascal, Laurie. River and the Ares kids. Lucien and the Apollo cabin. Ariella Jackson and the Hephaestus kids. Guinevere Sharpe, Theo Cross. Chiara. Even Cleo. All their heads inclined before me.
My heart was pounding. What was going on.
“What? What’d I do?” I questioned “I-“
“The bloodline is determined,” Chiron intoned
My pulse rushed in my ears, I felt like my knees were about to buckle. But finally I followed where everyone was actually looking to see a huge fiery hammer floating above my head, glowing fiercely in the forest light.
My heart leaped with fear, excitement and joy, but my stomach dropped with foreboding. Chiron spoke as if he were pronouncing a death, as if Cleo Lester had gutted me those few moments before. As if I’d already fallen to some monster. As if my claiming were an execution.
“Hail, Raluca Ravina, Daughter of Hephaestus, lord of craftsmen and smiths, the god of fire.” |
|
|
|
Post by ƤαƖƖαѕ ✧ on Sept 11, 2022 19:32:50 GMT -5
Chapter 7: We’re Clueless and Doomed
LUKA and LUCIEN
Note: this fic uses settings and characters from the Percy Jackson series, which is trademarked by Rick Riordan
After my claiming, everything felt so surreal. The chill of the forest air never left my skin even after we returned to camp.
My father had named himself. My father knew me, and wanted to claim me as his own. As his daughter.
I didn’t know why. Didn’t know why he’d chosen that moment, what might have drawn him to it. But I felt a strange mix of grateful and disoriented. I had been acknowledged by my father, but in doing so my world had been turned totally upside down.
It felt like a strange reminder that he was there, but had never lifted a finger to help me before now. Before I’d been claimed it had almost felt more distant, the idea of a godly parent watching over me. And after all, Chiara had said sometimes they lost track of their children. It was easier to swallow, then, the idea that I’d had no help from my parent. If my father didn’t know me, how could he help?
But he did know me; he had claimed me. Had he been watching my whole life? Had Hephaestus simply left me to my own devices? Even when I thought I would die?
That was a much harder concept to take.
And to make matters worse, I’d only just started to settle into my cabin. The Hermes kids had begun to accept me, and I didn’t feel like such an outsider. I was still new, but I was one of them. They had been warmer and more welcoming once they got to know me a little, and being in this new and unfamiliar place hadn’t felt quite so bad.
But after so little time in that cabin, only just enough to begin to feel at home, I was going to be moving to a new one. To meet my half-siblings.
I had to move immediately after Capture the Flag. It was a matter of taking the armour off and heading back to Cabin 11 to grab the spare Camp Half-Blood shirts and things I had in my bunk. My dagger was really my only possession, so I had nothing else to bring with me to Cabin 9.
I said a quick goodbye to my cabin mates. I got a tight hug from Lane, who wished me good luck. She sounded so optimistic I almost believed I might have it. Jason gave me one of his books, which I only just realised was written in Ancient Greek, and said he’d teach me if I wanted to. Pascal even cracked a smile, wishing me a slightly shy goodbye.
Laurie gave me a big smile and wrapped me in a hug.
“Congratulations,” he’d said “and don’t be a stranger, okay?”
But I could see some pain behind the smile. I wondered how many claimings he’d seen in the years since he’d been here. How many times he’d had to wonder if it was finally his turn.
I nodded, and headed out into the dark.
It was almost curfew, but it had been dark already for a little longer than it ought to have been. At least, I thought so. I was no expert on it or anything, but something has felt off.
The night was illuminated by the blazing fire at the center of the cabins, which threw glowing embers which tracked their way up into the sky. The light spilled out onto the green, and caught the shining metal doors of my new home.
I approached the factory-like building. The door was like a vault door - thick like it could withstand a nuclear blast. It opened with turning gears, and I almost jumped at the hissing sound, smoke pouring out into the cool night air.
I stepped inside, my feet immediately echoing far too loudly on metal floors.
The place was so shiny, with metal walls and even metal slatted doors. It smelled vaguely of oil and smoke - which explained why the fire extinguisher on the wall was needed. There were fewer campers than in the Hermes cabin, but it was just as messy. Tools and machine parts were scattered across everything, scribbles and drawings of machines and weapons pinned up on the walls. More confusing and fascinating than anything else, though, was the fire pole which seemed to come from a second floor. A second floor which, from the outside, the cabin didn’t seem to have.
It might not be the homiest place in the world, but I kind of loved it.
The girl I’d seen earlier, Ariella Jackson, came to greet me from a spot where she’d been returning a sword to its place by her bunk after Capture the Flag. Her sword, I noticed, was not the standard leaf-shaped blade I’d seen so many others using - the xiphos, as Lane had taught me at sword practice yesterday. This was a single-edged, forward curving blade - a kopis. Better for cutting than thrusting, I’d guess, and I supposed it could be swung like an axe. A dangerous weapon in the hands of someone as tall and strong as Ariella.
She smiled, heading over and shaking my hand. Her hands, calloused with work at the forge, were warm. As I shook her hand, she laughed and pulled me in for a quick hug.
“Hey! Luka, isn’t it?” she greeted “I’m Ariella, head counsellor. You made quite the stir there at Capture the Flag, huh?”
“Apparently it’s a habit of mine,” was my reply
Ariella gestured behind her, indicating the bunks behind her. Steel things folded against the wall with a digital control panel and more LED lights than I could count.
“Feel free to pick whichever bunk you want,” she explained “each bed retracts to a private room in the basement.”
“Whoa!” I exclaimed appreciatively, before fully taking in what she’d said about a basement “Wait, you guys have a basement?”
Ariella’s smile became knowing then, conspiratorial. But there was an element of wistfulness in it, as if she were wishing she could discover these things for the first time once again.
“Oh, Cabin 9 has more hidden secrets than you’d think.” the girl answered “I’ll let you get settled in, curfew’s starting soon. But in the morning we’ll replace that dagger for you.”
“Replace?” I repeated, eyes flicking down to the bronze dagger Lucien had lent me in Chicago what felt like weeks ago now, even though it was only a couple of days. I felt kind of protective of the thing, even if I didn’t feel like it was made for me.
“Sure,” Ariella nodded “you’re the daughter of the smith of the gods. It’s only right that you forge your own weapon. We all do.”
My heart leapt in my chest. I loved designing and creating things, and the idea of having a weapon designed just for me? My mind was already whirring with ideas. And I couldn’t describe how much I loved the idea of creating something like that with my own hands. Something I’d need to trust with my life. It seemed exciting, and it kind of made it feel less scary. I had some control.
She left me to get settled in, and I picked out one of the empty bunks for myself. I stored my dagger away, but my first priority was seeking out the basement.
Turned out, that floor didn’t just have private rooms. Paradise was down there too. Well, paradise if you like power tools, a workbench and scrap metal. I could tell that this communal crafting place was often used, and I got the sense I’d be frequenting that space often. It seemed the perfect place for me. God, the traps and machines I could make down here. If I’d had something like this when I was out on the streets no monster would have gotten within a mile of me.
Cabin 11 had been nice; warm and accepting. But here I began to feel the hope that here maybe, just maybe, I was home. Among people who liked to do the same things I did. People whose hands always had to be working, making something. Just like I’d noticed how Lucien, when he got nervous, tapped his fingers against his thigh like he was playing an invisible instrument. Whenever I wasn’t actively focused on doing something, I still could never be idle. I was always breaking things apart and putting them back again, or rebuilding them better. I liked to know how things worked, what made them tick.
Cabin 9 might be the place for me.
So I returned to my bunk with a sense of optimism. Sleep came easily; I was exhausted after Capture the Flag, my choosing, and exploring this new cabin.
Unfortunately, dreams came just as easily.
I dreamt of the voice again, crawling out of the darkness towards me. It felt like she was seeking me out, gripping onto me so she could pull herself from the shadows. Still I couldn’t see her, but the voice sounded clearer.
“It is only a matter of time now, little hero.” the voice whispered “Now you have been chosen. They will find out soon. You think they will not?”
When she spoke it felt like my very organs were twisting to try and get away from her. She sounded comforting, but she made my skin crawl.
“If you think your father claimed you as his own out of anything other than desperation, you are sorely mistaken. He wishes only to have another chess piece in this game. A powerful one, I grant you, but nothing more. He hopes claiming you will make you loyal, he thinks it will allow him control.” she continued.
The darkness seemed to grow around me, her voice echoing in this cave I could not see.
“But that cannot be borne, can it?” she asked, as if speaking to a child.
“Go away,” I said, forcing my voice to sound fiercer than I felt. More commanding, as if by force of will I could banish this being.
She just laughed, a chilling laugh like a blast of night air.
“We shall see, child. Your eyes will be opened by the time we meet, I am sure.”
The darkness grew deeper, threatening to consume me. I felt a panic rise, my heart pounding and my breath pouring out into the endless dark. It felt so cold suddenly that I was sure that if there was enough light I would be able to see my breath trail in steam.
I felt like something was rushing towards me, and out of instinct I called out in panic and held my hand in front of me. My palms first heated up, then a flame blazed from them.
More laughter, and then I was falling.
I woke to Ariella Jackson standing over me. My handprint, still glowing red hot, was seared into the metal wall beside me.
My half-sister’s eyes were wide, her mouth hanging open as she stared at the imprint of my palm. But as she recovered herself, her expression became grim.
“This is bad.”
I sat up, withdrawing my hand from where it had been near the wall, pulling it close to my chest. It was morning, I could tell, but early. Ariella looked like I’d awoken her with my whole nightmare, if I was reading the look in her eyes right. She had a startled glint in her eyes, still, like she’d been shocked out of sleep and hadn’t quite recovered.
“What?” I asked, still bleary myself “What do you mean? Isn’t this normal? Isn’t Hephaestus the fire guy?”
But I got the terrible feeling that the instinct I got that I’d had something to hide had been right. The voice had been right. My powers were dangerous and I was about to be completely cast out by my own half-siblings.
I’d never wanted to talk about my powers; I refused to acknowledge them most of the time. I used them only when I was in the worst situations, when I thought I might die. They hadn’t crossed my mind since I’d come to camp, for some reason. And now I knew why. It was like something within me had wanted to hide this from everyone, even myself.
Ariella shook her head, then hesitated. “No… well I mean, yes. But fire abilities? They’re really rare - and dangerous.”
“Dangerous how?” I questioned, dread crawling in my veins.
“Well, the last demigod to use them started the Great Fire of London,” Ariella winced, “People with that power, they only show up when bad things are going to happen. They can be incredibly destructive, if they’re not controlled.”
Control. The words of the mysterious woman danced through my head, about the others wanting to restrain me and hold my power back out of fear. About Hephaestus only claiming me so he could control me.
Ariella, in an attempt to be reassuring and friendly, tried for a comforting smile.
“Look, don’t worry. It’s okay. We’ll handle it together. We’ll go to the Big House, you can talk to Chiron. He’ll know what to do.”
I’d expected her to want to throw me out or something, but she was being friendly. Big-sisterly. That wasn’t what I or that woman had predicted. She seemed a little afraid, but she was concerned for me too. Like she wanted to help.
Could I trust her, though?
I wasn’t sure, but I let her lead me to the Big House. After all, I did want to trust Ariella; she seemed genuinely kind. And I did think Chiron was the best person to go to. Sure, if the woman was right he would only seek to control me. But I at least needed to know what was happening. I needed to understand this thing.
But when we got there, someone else was also on the Big House porch. Lucien was speaking to Chiron, more animated than I’d ever seen him. His eyes were dancing with something - agitation, anxiety? Chiron’s brows were drawn together as he listened, not meeting Lucien’s eyes as he sat in a thoughtful pose.
But Lucien trailed off and Chiron looked up at our approach.
“Ariella, Luka,” Chiron greeted in surprise, “How can I help?”
And I explained. The words came rushing out, and in a way it was a relief. I told him about the powers. But Chiron looked troubled. He bid Ariella leave, and there was a tense silence until the centaur was sure she was quite out of hearing range before he spoke again.
“This gift may mean matters are as I feared. I did not want to believe it until what you told me, Lucien. But I think…” Chiron’s words trailed off, but his tone was filled with foreboding.
“The prophecy?” Lucien finished, and I could swear I heard a tremor in his voice.
“What prophecy?” I put in, by now completely and utterly frustrated by how little I seemed to know about anything.
The two shared a look, which gave me a terrible feeling that they were about to do something to infuriate me even further.
“It is better you do not know,” Chiron answered
Yeah, there it was. Again with the not telling me anything.
“If this is something to do with me, I deserve to know!” I snapped, exasperated “Somebody needs to start telling me something, at least.”
Chiron just sighed regretfully, “I wish I could, Luka. But sometimes it is better for a subject of a prophecy not to know their part in it. It could impact the decisions you make. Trying to fight against or change a prophecy, or force it to come to pass - that can mean disaster.”
I was about ready to punch him, but I restrained myself. Lucien had caught my eye and shaken his head. The interaction seemed to remind me who I was and what I was doing, almost as if a blinding light had been turned on it. Or I was looking at myself from above.
Besides, I knew there was more I had to bring up to Chiron.
“There’s more.” I admitted, and Chiron looked at me with the look of someone who had already had too much bad news this early in the morning but knew they were about to hear more.
So I explained my dream, the woman who had spoken to me. I elected not to recount some of the things she’d said about Chiron and the others wanting to hold me back; that felt like indignation best kept to myself. But that was all I hid from him. Everything else I laid bare to Chiron.
“With Lucien’s dream too, this means that it is indeed as I thought. A dark force is rising. If it is who I think it is… the King of the Gods himself fears her. There will be little time to waste.”
I looked to Lucien, who I noted really did look a little shaken up. As much as he was trying his very best not to.
“You had a dream last night too?”
Lucien nodded, but he went a bit pale and when he spoke his voice was slightly numb, “I dreamt of night. But that was all there was. Just dark. And all these birds, they flocked together but they were all different species. There was a dove, a vulture, a crane, a swan… I’m sure others. They flew into the dark. And I just heard screeching and then nothing.”
“What does that mean?” I looked between Lucien and Chiron.
“Something bad indeed, if my instincts are correct,” Chiron said seriously “But what I do know is that an enemy is moving against Olympus.”
That was just my luck, really, wasn’t it? I couldn’t even have three days to settle in before the world started ending. Perhaps not the most helpful thought in the moment, but I couldn’t help myself with that one.
Chiron turned to Lucien, looking solemnly at the Apollo boy, who straightened up under Chiron’s gaze.
“Lucien, my boy. A quest is called for; do you accept it?”
The blond blinked disbelievingly, “You want me to lead it?”
“I trust you. And you have waited for this moment, have you not?” Lucien nodded, so Chiron continued, “You shall need to go to Oracle. When you come down, we shall discuss further.”
Lucien’s jaw tightened at the mention of the Oracle, but he nodded and disappeared inside the Big House.
_______
The last thing I wanted to do was go to see the Oracle.
Sure, sometimes she would turn people mad. Sometimes people would go up to see her and never come down. But that wasn’t why I didn’t want to consult the Oracle.
Still, I had orders from Chiron, and those I did not refuse. No matter how much I wanted to. So I climbed up this rickety old ladder. So old it creaked beneath my feet and with each step I wondered if the rung would turn to dust.
But then I was in the Big House attic. It was like any other dusty old attic, with the cobwebs and the dust catching the dim light as it floated across my view. Not to mention the musty smell. Normal, except for the trophies dotted around the room. Mangled weapons, stuffed and pickled heads of monsters. Claws and teeth and crushed helmets or dented shields. A head labelled as belonging to a hydra stared unseeing at me, with a label saying that it had been killed by…
Daniel Morgan, Son of Ares, Lane Sherwin, Daughter of Hermes and Adi Karimova, Daughter of Athena.
That was the quest Daniel and Lane had gotten together on. They still wore one of the hydra’s teeth on each of their camp necklaces. I remembered Adi, too. A strong girl, but she was killed last winter. She wasn’t a year-round camper, so she’d gone home for the school year. Some monster had killed her: a cyclops, I’d heard. Either way, she hadn’t come back.
But anyway, the place was pretty normal apart from the monster memorabilia.
Oh yeah, and the mummy.
She sat on a tripod stool. A shrivelled husk, wearing a tie-dyed sundress and a lot of necklaces. Her long dark hair still remained, brushing against leathery skin.
A chill passed up my spine at the sight of her, as well as a flash of hate. I couldn’t help but think of last summer when I looked at her. She sat up and opened her mouth, and my heart began to thud in my chest. The urge to flee was strong, but I knew I had to resist.
Green tendrils of smoke or mist poured from her mouth, and it was taking all of my willpower to stay rooted to the spot. I wanted to run, I wanted to do nothing more in that moment. But the smoke seemed to permeate my skin and my ears, carting her words unspoken into my brain. A raspy, hissing voice spoke. It reminded my so much of snakes I almost recoiled
“I am the spirit of Delphi, speaker of the prophecies of Phoebus Apollo, slayer of the mighty Python. Approach, seeker, and ask.”
I could never escape my dad no matter where I looked, it seemed.
This ancient presence seemed to surround me now, looking into me and beyond me. This mummy was more powerful than I could put into words; I’d known that before but I could truly feel it here. I swallowed.
“What must I do?” I asked after a moment’s hesitation.
The smoke seemed to grow more thick as the Oracle pronounced the prophecy, that raspy voice cold in my brain.
“You shall with four others a journey make
With flame in darkness, cursed gift to take
The old curse of Thebes must one of you bear
Of an old rivalry must you beware
Some of your number the journey shall cost
And fate rests on accepting what is lost.”
With that, she grew silent and the mist withdrew. But my questions weren’t answered; I shook my head and took a step closer to the Oracle - though I’d prefer to be as far from her as possible.
“Wait,” I asked urgently “What is lost? What do you mean?”
I had to know what she meant, exactly what she meant. But she’d fallen silent; her mouth was closed again and showed no intention of opening.
It seemed only moments later I was back on the porch of the Big House with Chiron and Luka. Chiron looked at me searchingly.
“What did the Oracle tell you?” he questioned, clearly wasting no time with smalltalk. Even if there were something to make smalltalk about, “you must be careful to use the exact words.”
“She said, uh… ‘you shall with four others a journey make, with flame in darkness, cursed gift to take’. Then there was something about one of us having to bear the Curse of Thebes. Then there was ‘some of your number the journey shall cost, and fate rests on accepting what is lost.’”
“Cheerful,” Luka muttered, raising one dark brow.
Chiron narrowed his eyes, “And this is exactly what she said? You remember no more?”
I shook my head. I didn’t like lying to Chiron, but I didn’t want to tell him about the rivalry. Something made me think I ought to keep it to myself. If treachery would be involved, I didn’t want anyone thinking I knew. That would put me at a disadvantage.
“The cursed gift… the curse of Thebes. I believe this refers to the Necklace of Harmonia. It brings destruction on the wearer, but grants them eternal youth beforehand. Its regenerative powers - I shudder to think how they might be used in the wrong hands. It went missing many years ago, after an owner of the necklace was overtaken by madness and set fire to her home, perishing in the flames. If it has resurfaced, it is very dangerous indeed. It must be destroyed.” Chiron explained.
“Okay,” I began “so where is it and how do we destroy it?”
“I do not know the answer to either question.” Chiron admitted “But if the seeker is who I believe it to be, the gods will want proof of her plotting against them before they risk making a move against her. You must return before the summer solstice so we can bring our case to Olympus then.”
“Why the summer solstice?” Luka questioned
“It is when the gods hold council.” Chiron explained “if we miss it, there will not be another for a year. It is imperative that you do not delay.”
The solstice was so close. I didn’t know if we stood a chance of making it. But we didn’t have much of a choice but to try.
I wanted a quest so I could have a chance to search, like I’d always told Chiron, but it seemed my time would be too short for me to seek answers to the events of last summer.
“Naturally, Luka will have to go too.” Chiron continued regretfully, as if he could already see Luka’s shroud burning.
“Me?” Luka looked like Chiron had just told her she had better grow seven heads, “But I’ve only been here a couple of days.”
“You have been receiving these dreams for a reason,” the centaur pointed out “and the reference to flame may point to you.”
Luka said nothing, but she closed her mouth and didn’t seem like she intended to protest any further. She just looked sick with shock.
“Are you sure you want to do this, Luka?” I put in “This quest will be dangerous… it’s more than I could ask of you.”
But Luka just looked at me, and despite the fear I could see something immovable in her expression and in her eyes. Determination.
“I’m the opposite of sure,” she admitted “but I’m going. I don’t like these dreams.”
I understood what she meant; she wanted to destroy this woman from her dreams if she could. And certainly she could not just leave them be. She was too curious a person, she had to know what they meant.
“Good,” Chiron nodded “and we must complete the party. We shall bring the quest to the Senior Council.”
|
|
|
|
Post by ƤαƖƖαѕ ✧ on Sept 12, 2022 15:10:40 GMT -5
Chapter 8: I Crash a Council Meeting
LUKA
Note: this fic uses settings and characters from the Percy Jackson series, which is trademarked by Rick Riordan
It turned out that the Senior Council was made up of the head counsellors, Chiron and Mr D. Other people could be invited depending upon their relevance to the topic of the meeting, which meant that I was invited to attend (not that I had much choice) as one of the party in this new quest. Dillon was attending as a representative of the satyrs.
It also happened that meetings of this council were held in the rec room of the Big House. It felt bizarre to me, holding a meeting about the fate of Olympus and the world around Mr D’s ping pong table.
“I understand,” Mr D began in his slow, lazy way from the head of that table, “that there has been a prophecy granted to Logan here.”
“Lucien,” I caught the boy in question muttering under his breath, though Mr D didn’t seem to hear. Lucien was sitting opposite me, and I could see his fingers drumming against the table. He was nervous.
“The Necklace of Harmonia has resurfaced,” Chiron began, “long the scourge of the royal house of Thebes. A dark force is rising and I fear that it seeks the powers of the necklace.”
Something flashed across Mr D’s expression at the mention of the necklace, something I didn’t like. As if he knew its power all too well.
“Lucien must recover it before the summer solstice so that it may be destroyed and Olympus informed, and hopefully in the process he may put a name to the gods’ enemy. I pray it is not who I believe it may be. But I suspect that the Great Prophecy is already beginning to come to pass.” Chiron continued solemnly.
The mention of the prophecy seemed to create a stir amongst everyone. This prophecy must be dreadful, this thing I was not supposed to hear. Guinevere Sharpe’s eyes flashed, Cleo Lester sat up in their chair, Ariella Jackson swallowed, Lane stopped fiddling with the beads on her necklace and River Gellis leaned forward with a frown.
“And I suppose this meeting is to seek others willing to follow the boy to their deaths?” Dionysus asked, though there I could detect no genuine concern for the demigods in his tone, “This is foolishness, Chiron. Is it not you who insists on telling me our mission at this camp is to protect these mortals?”
Mr D took a sip of a newly-materialised can of Diet Coke, muttering something about child endangerment and double standards.
“The prophecy is settled, Mr D. We must answer the call, as well you know,” Chiron responded, before addressing the group “Luka is accompanying Lucien, but we need to complete the quest party.”
“I’ll go,” Guinevere put in immediately, barely giving Chiron a chance to finish speaking.
She looked so urgent, like someone fighting to be heard amongst a clamouring crowd. But the rec room was deathly silent. I remembered what Lucien had said, that Guinevere had been hoping for a chance to go on a quest ever since she’d arrived at the camp.
Chiron inclined his head towards her.
“Thank you, Guinevere.”
He seemed to be about to settle the matter, but Lucien jumped in.
“Chiron,” he reminded, “the quest calls for five.”
The centaur looked to Lucien with some concern.
“You must think about this carefully,” Chiron said, fixing Lucien with his most serious expression, “Three is the ideal number for a quest. It is a sacred number. There are three Fates, three sons of Kronos. More than three on a quest could result in catastrophe.”
“I know,” Lucien got out, clearly weighing things up as he spoke, “but the Oracle said I would journey with four.”
“And that some may be lost,” Chiron pressed “are you sure you want this?”
Lucien hesitated, pressed his lips together, but nodded.
“You always said we cannot fight a prophecy, Chiron.”
Chiron considered this, and grudgingly relented.
“Very well. Five it must be.” Chiron conceded
“Witless boy,” I could hear Dionysus mutter quietly to himself.
Chiron looked to the group again, and there was a longer period of silence this time. There seemed to be hesitation among the head counsellors; no immediate volunteers.
“Where is the necklace?” Cleo piped up, those sharp Athena-eyes glinting steel-like as their mind seemed to turn and whir.
“We don’t know,” admitted Lucien
“And how do you destroy it?”
“Don’t know that either,” Lucien murmured that one, as if rather embarrassed by how little we had to go on. I couldn’t say I blamed him.
“Fantastic,” the child of Athena sighed sarcastically.
“I’ll go,” said River, who had so far been silent for the entire meeting. He sounded decisive, and I knew that now his mind was made up he could not be deterred. He had the look of someone going to war, and there was no turning back. He did not look at Lucien.
The son of Apollo twitched, and I thought for a moment he was about to protest, but he said nothing.
“Thank you, River.” Chiron said respectfully “We lack only one, now.”
There was another long silence. Cleo looked reluctant; I knew they were hoping to go to college, that this might be their last summer at the camp. Not many people got to that point, if everything I’d been told before now was right. It was a miracle if a demigod made it past 20; most died younger, even if they did find Camp Half-Blood. So I couldn’t blame them for wanting a decent shot, for wanting to maximise their chances of beating the odds. They were so close, after all.
Eventually, Lane spoke up.
“I’ll go,” she said “I’d hoped to stay here this summer, but…”
I knew what she meant immediately. I could tell by the look on her face that she was thinking about Daniel. She’d hoped to have a safe summer back at camp, together with him. I imagined that a quest filled with life-threatening danger had not been high on her list.
“Then we have the five,” Chiron announced, “but I must impress upon you all the risk. There will more than likely be loss on this quest of one kind or another. If you go, there is a chance you will not return to Camp Half-Blood. With that in mind, do you all accept the quest?”
Nods from the five of us, though the air felt heavy.
“Then may the gods preserve you,” he said, with a sideways glance at Mr D, who did not seem to be listening, “Prepare yourselves today. The group will leave at first light tomorrow.”
And prepare myself I did. The rest of my cabin looked at me differently when I returned, though. It felt like that moment where you walked into a room and knew everyone had just been talking about you. I knew the news of my quest and my powers must have travelled by now, and already I was seeing the effects.
Chiron had explained more to me about my powers while Lucien was consulting the Oracle. Hephaestus only granted one of his children this gift maybe once or twice in a millenium. The last one had been Thomas Faynor in the seventeenth century, the one who lost control and started the Great Fire of London. The ability was unpredictable, and if the user lost control the effects could be catastrophic.
The word control was really beginning to grate on me.
Anyway, I’d avoided the stares of the other campers in my cabin for the rest of the day. Or as much as I could, I supposed. Pretended I couldn’t see the way they looked at me like I was some kind of monster, a dangerous threat.
I had the quest to focus on.
The day seemed to pass far too quickly, and soon I had one more task to do before the evening meal and the campfire. I sought out Lucien in all the spots I had noticed over the last few days that he tended to haunt. The Apollo Cabin, the archery range.
Eventually I found him by the canoe lake.
He sat looking out at the lake, the evening light turning his blonde hair a bronzy gold. His bow lay beside him untouched as he watched the sunset playing on the water.
He was so deep in thought that I thought he hadn’t even noticed me when I sat down beside him. It wasn’t until I drew the dagger he’d given me and held it out to him that he seemed to acknowledge my presence.
“Thanks for the dagger,” I said simply.
Lucien just made a sound in his throat that I presumed was meant to indicate ‘you’re welcome’ before he took the dagger, turning his slowly in his hands. He looked at it for a long time, and I couldn’t really read his expression as he did so.
“You made your own then?” he asked eventually, finally lifting his eyes from the dagger and looking to me.
I nodded, drawing out my new weapon for him to see. It was a little dagger, not so very different from the one Lucien had lent me. It was weighted for my hand, balanced for me. Moulded to my grip. It was a wicked little blade - nothing too big or heavy, but it would do just as much damage. The dagger was the weapon of the intelligent and the quick, Ariella had told me when I was deciding what to forge. It felt right for me and the style in which I wanted to fight.
The hilt was decorated, carefully etched flames climbing up toward the blade. Even the shape of the area in which the hilt and blade met looked like a curling flame. If this was who I was going to be, I figured, I may as well own it. If they were going to fear me, or let this ability define me in their eyes, I thought it was better that I lean into it.
“I called it Pyrphóros,” I explained
“Flame-bearer,” Lucien supplied with an appreciative smile, before I could offer the translation from Ancient Greek myself “making a little fun of the prophecy?”
“But of course,” I answered “what else would I do?”
“I like it,”
“Thanks,” I answered, returning the dagger to my side.
A moment of silence passed between us. I could see the worry etched in Lucien’s face now; the burden of the quest had taken its toll more than I had assumed it might. Not that I could blame him. It wasn’t exactly something I’d want on my own shoulders. I was just going on the quest, he had to lead it too. And lead it knowing that some would likely not return.
“So, leading a quest, huh?” I asked after a moment, trying to dispel the tension in the air a little.
“Yeah,” Lucien answered gloomily “I thought this is what I wanted. I’ve been asking for a quest since last summer, hoping I might…”
“‘Might what?” I encouraged
“Find out what happened to Elara.”
My mind searched for the name, until I remembered he’d mentioned it once before. On the plane journey out from Chicago.
“Your sister?” I asked.
He nodded, eyes returning to the dagger I’d returned to him.
“This was hers, you know? She preferred a bow but she always told me you didn’t always have the luxury of being able to fight from a distance. She was way better than me, like ridiculous with a bow.” he said, the tug of a bittersweet affectionate smile pulling at his lips before falling once again, “Anyway, she went on a quest last summer and never came back. My mom knows she’s gone but… she’s never been able to accept it. That’s why I had the extra plane ticket to give you back from Chicago.”
“Because your mom bought Elara a ticket as if she were still around,” I realised, and Lucien nodded once again.
“I go back to visit my mom a few days every now and then but I don’t go as often as I should. It’s too painful. I know she must be dead, but I keep thinking that if there’s a chance she’s still out there neither of us will be able to rest. If I can just find out what happened…” he trailed off, and I could hear his voice growing tight. His eyes had gone distant.
“Nobody who was on the quest can tell you?”
“Only one came back alive, and Pascal doesn’t know anything,” Lucien answered, clearing his throat in a way that told me he was trying to keep the emotion out of his voice “Believe me, I’ve been tilting at that particular windmill ever since and he doesn’t know what happened. He said they left him to keep watch over their camp while they went to investigate some monster or something and they didn’t come back. He found Elara’s dagger and her necklace, but no sign of what had attacked them.”
Her necklace. My eyes slid over to Lucien’s bow on the ground beside him, and the necklace hanging from the end like some kind of charm. It had to be hers.
“You keep saying them,” I ventured “who else was there?”
“This boy,” Lucien replied, “a son of Demeter. Probably the only Demeter kid I ever thought I wouldn’t want to face in a fight.”
“He was powerful?”
“Oh, yeah,” Lucien spoke in a way that told me ‘powerful’ was putting it lightly.
Lucien had nothing more to say, and I felt like I’d pried enough on the topic of his sister. It was clearly something that was upsetting him. I didn’t want to ask any more questions.
“Listen, it’s going to be okay,” I tried encouraging him, even though I knew I really didn’t have any right to be trying to give him hope when I didn’t know any better then he did, “we’ll search for leads on your sister. And the quest will be fine, I promise. You’re going to do great. We’ll find this tacky little necklace, blast it to oblivion, all in time to stop the end of the world. It’ll be a cinch.”
Okay, so maybe making sarcastic jokes about how difficult the quest would be wasn’t going to help Lucien’s mood. But he seemed to take it the way I intended, letting out a small laugh despite himself. Just for a second, his face lightened as the worries faded away. Just for a moment.
“A cinch is one word for it,” he acknowledged with some amusement.
But then he rose to his feet, placing a hand on my shoulder.
“Better go. See you in the morning, Firebrand.”
Great, a new nickname. I’d forgotten that he’d heard me telling Chiron about my powers. Though even if he hadn’t, half of the camp had to know by now.
I bid him goodbye, and he turned and disappeared back toward the cabins.
At dinner, everyone at every cabin’s table seemed to be talking furiously. People kept looking at each of us five who were going on the quest, so I knew that was a popular topic of conversation. But their eyes fell on me most often, and I knew my powers were also the dinner-conversation that day. Especially among my own cabin.
Laurie seemed thoughtful, though, over at the Hermes table. As if he were deliberating, trying to make a decision about something very important. The hubbub of conversation and the buzz of energy surrounding Lane at his table seemed to wash over his head.
Once again, that night, I noticed that it seemed to be getting dark earlier than it ought. I didn’t like that. Chiron seemed to be noticing it as if for the first time, too, gaze flicking up to the darkening sky with concern.
Still, for the campfire he put on a positive demeanour. Tried to get everyone to cheer us on and bid us good luck for our journey in the morning. Even Mr D had shown up to provide his unique brand of support.
“As I am sure many of you already know, in the morning, five of our campers will be leaving us on a quest,” Chiron began, “to be led by Lucien of the Apollo Cabin.”
There was an eruption of cheering from the occupants of Cabin 7, and Lucien looked thoroughly embarrassed at all of the attention from his siblings. He did his very best to glower, but it really wasn’t working for him.
“Accompanying Lucien will be Luka of the Hephaestus cabin,”
Cue some cheering from my own cabin, who seemed to like me much more now I wasn’t going to be in camp and possibly at risk of burning the place down. Ariella’s smile as she cheered for me looked completely and utterly genuine, though.
“Guinevere of the Aphrodite cabin,”
Guinevere’s cabin did the most poised, elegant clapping possible. But it seemed that they’d already shown their warmth toward their sister earlier, for she had wildflowers lovingly wound into her hair. She smiled, and I could see the sheer pride beaming from her face. She was finally getting to go on a quest.
“River of the Ares cabin,”
The Ares cabin were the most raucous. Their cheering caused the fire to blaze a good few feet higher, and some drummed their fists and feet against the ground while others clapped him on the back. Only Daniel wasn’t as enthusiastic as his brothers and sisters, because his eyes were on Lane. I knew he must have been told by her earlier that she was on this quest too, and it wasn’t difficult to guess he must have been worried for her.
“And Lane of the Hermes cabin,”
There was cheering from the Hermes cabin, but only for a few moments. The sound died in their throats as Laurie rose to his feet.
“I want to go in Lane’s place!” he called out decisively, looking between Lane and Chiron. I got the sense he’d been plucking up the courage all evening to say this.
“Don’t be silly, boy,” Mr D countered briskly, “the group has already been selected.”
“I know,” Laurie responded hesitantly, seemingly suddenly aware of all the eyes on him, “but Lane would rather stay here, she’s said so. And I’ve been asking for a quest for years.”
“It’s out of the question,” Dionysus was all but snapping now, something fierce blazing in him, “you haven’t even been claimed.”
“But that’s why!” Laurie shouted, and his voice sounded raw and anguished, “Maybe this…”
He seemed suddenly uncomfortable saying this, with so many eyes on him. Laurie, the most confident person I’d met in the camp. But being unclaimed was the thing that caused him most pain, which most embarrassed him. It was taking courage to stand in front of everyone like this and talk about it.
His voice went hollow now, “Maybe this is what I have to do, maybe this is how I get claimed.”
A quest in the hope of getting his father’s attention? A painful idea but if I were in his position, unclaimed for so many years, I might start to think the same way.
“Laurie, you cannot-”
Mr D had been yelling but was silenced there, as Chiron raised his hand. The centaur regarded Laurie, obviously intrigued. I wondered what he saw when he studied him.
“Mr D,” Chiron chided, “do not discourage the boy. So long as he knows the gravity of what he is taking on-“
“I do” Laurie put in
“- and so long as Miss Sherwin is willing to allow it.”
Lane looked first at Laurie, and then at Daniel.
“I am.”
“Then,” Chiron said slowly, “I see no issue. The prophecy does not call for a child of Hermes specifically.”
“He cannot,” Dionysus said darkly, lowly. The fire burned low and menacing.
“Why?” Laurie protested
“Because I forbid it!”” the god returned hoarsely
The words rung in the clearing, the entire camp completely silent as god and half-blood stopped their shouting match. Laurie stared at Dionysus for a long moment, shaking with anger, before he finally spoke.
“You can’t stop me,” was all he said, matching the god’s intensity in every way.
He turned to leave the campfire, when Dionysus spoke again. I never thought I’d hear Mr D sound so defeated.
“The bloodline is determined.”
Laurie froze in his tracks, turning back to look at Dionysus with shock and confusion. The anger still hadn’t washed away from him.
“What?” he asked, totally caught off guard.
Dionysus didn’t respond except to continue as he had before. There was no glow, no hovering symbol above the boy’s curly dark hair.
“Hail, Laurent Bevin. Son of Dionysus, god of wine and madness.”
Nobody seemed to know what to do for a moment, all startled by the revelation. It was Chiron who first seemed to collect himself, dipping into a bow as he had with me the night before. Slowly, every other camper followed. I bowed my own head, but when I looked up Laurie still had not moved.
He looked bewildered, blindsided. Then he looked angry.
“You?” the word was all but spat, Laurie glaring at his father.
“Surprise,” was Dionysus’ reply, but his attempt at maintaining the nonchalance I’d seen him have in his normal sarcasm-filled exchanges was unconvincing.
Laurie stalked closer, and campers shuffled back on all sides.
“After all this time, it’s been you?” the anger has turned to outright fury now “I’ve been here for five years - five years - and you never thought to mention that you’re my father?”
Mr D’s attitude seemed to change once again then, his expression hardening once more as he abandoned the attempt at nonchalance. It was clear that Laurie was too angry for Dionysus to get away with downplaying the situation.
“I had my reasons for keeping your parentage from you.”
“What, then?” Laurie pressed “What were your reasons? I have to assume your complete refusal to take responsibility for anything must be part of it.”
“Be careful, boy,” Dionysus warned “you might be my son but I will not be disrespected. I do not show favouritism to my children.”
“No shit!” Laurie exclaimed “But you owe me answers. What reason could you possibly have for letting me be undetermined all these years?”
“Because I did not want a hero for a son.”
Dionysus’ voice had gone so cold, so chilly in that moment. I could practically feel the blast of frost-bitten air. Even the fire didn’t seem to put out any heat anymore.
Laurie fell silent. I could see shock, and hurt, and anger all whirling in a maelstrom in his expression. He seemed to settle on anger and hurt, setting his jaw.
“Laurie, no, that’s not what I-“ the god began
But Laurie wasn’t hearing any of it. He just dipped his head at his father, biting out a mocking “sir” as he did so, before fixing his gaze on Chiron.
“I will be leaving with the questing group in the morning.”
Chiron did not argue. Laurie, the eyes of every half-blood in the camp still on him, turned and retreated from the light of the fire.
Goodbyes were said, wishes of good-luck given, but the campfire didn’t last much longer after that. When we got back to our cabins there was already light beaming from the window of a previously empty cabin.
A smaller wooden cabin with grapevines wreathing the doorway and the roof. Laurie had moved into Cabin 12, now its sole occupant.
The night passed without menacing dreams, but uneasily. And still, all too soon, first light came.
|
|
|
|
Post by ƤαƖƖαѕ ✧ on Sept 15, 2022 8:54:38 GMT -5
Chapter 9: I Have No Clue what I’m Doing
LUCIEN
Note: this fic uses settings and characters from the Percy Jackson series, which is trademarked by Rick Riordan
I was awake before all of my half-siblings, though I couldn’t say I’d exactly slept all that much. I’d never led a quest before, and I didn’t know if I was up to it. Chiron thought I was, and the gods obviously did, but was what enough?
The lives of four other people were about to depend upon my ability to lead this quest well. Not just that, but the fate of Olympus and the world itself was riding on this. And worse, the Oracle seemed to have all but guaranteed that I was going to fail to protect the other members of the group.
No pressure.
When I stirred shortly before first light, the cabin was in a deep, hushed quiet. All I could hear was the deep, slow breathing of my siblings as they slumbered.
One of the first things I saw in the grey light of the coming dawn was the empty bunk.
Elara had been the head counsellor before she left on that ill-fated quest. Nobody had dared claim her bunk when she didn’t come back. Not Enzo when he became temporary head counsellor. Not I when he stepped aside for me.
I knew the real reason he’d stepped down, not that either of us had ever said it out loud. He knew I wanted to go and seek out answers about the death of my sister, and I was best placed to do that as the head counsellor. I’d have the ear of the senior council, and Chiron most particularly.
I was forever grateful for that, even though neither of us had acknowledged what he’d done for me. I’d pay him back someday.
For now, I was careful not to wake him or any of the others as I grabbed the things I’d pulled together yesterday. My bow and arrows, my sister’s dagger, and a pack filled with supplies given to me by Chiron. The other questers each had one like it. Inside was a supply of ambrosia, some food, some drachmae and mortal cash. A change of clothes. Useful supplies like that. I’d grabbed together everything else I had last night - not a whole lot, as it happened - and so I was prepared.
Or as prepared as I supposed one could ever be for this kind of thing.
I stepped outside to get some air and make some final preparations. A quick conversation with Chiron at the Big House. I didn’t like to call on my father for help or guidance, because I never could pretend I didn’t blame him at least a little bit for not doing anything to protect my sister, or so much as reaching out to my mother afterwards. But this morning? This morning I even prayed to him.
By the time I got back to the green in the middle of the cabins, it seemed the entire camp was awake.
Guinevere’s siblings were fussing around her, though really I couldn’t see how they were possibly seeing even a single hair out of place. Daniel and Griffin were saying a few words to River; if I had to guess based on their expressions, they were sharing their favourite monster-killing techniques for River to keep in mind on the journey. Laurie had emerged from the Dionysus cabin and was uncharacteristically quiet, even with the Hermes cabin surrounding him. I had to guess that he was still licking his wounds from the exchange with Mr D last night and wasn’t much for talking because of it.
Dillon was just finishing exchanging some words with Luka; I didn’t have a clue what he’d been saying to her, but he looked relieved and appreciative. Like Luka had just agreed to something or promised him something. Strange. As he retreated, Jason from the Hermes cabin was approaching Luka, something in his hands I could not see.
I didn’t get a chance to see what Jason gave her, because Cleo from the Athena cabin was suddenly in my face.
“Listen, I did some research on the Necklace of Harmonia for you,” they said bluntly, producing a piece of paper with the most ridiculously neat handwriting I’d ever seen on it and offering it to me, “I thought it might help. The basics are that it was made by Hephaestus for Ares and Aphrodite’s daughter Harmonia on her wedding day. He was angry about Ares and Aphrodite’s affair so he cursed it; it was passed down the ruling family of Thebes, causing general death and ill-fortune until it finally disappeared.”
“Until now,” I answered as I took the paper, folding it up to put in my backpack.
“Until now,” echoed the child of Athena soberly.
I scanned over the paper, not taking the time yet to read it but appreciating the time and effort Cleo must have put into scouring the library in the Athena cabin for this information.
“Thank you,” I said, surprised by the kind turn done for me by Cleo. We weren’t particularly close; I would’ve said acquaintances at best. Too different to really get along, I’d always thought. But they’d taken the time to put something together that might help me.
“Don’t mention it,” they answered as they abruptly turned away and headed back toward the growing crowd of demigods waiting to see us off. The way they said it, it sounded almost like a threat. Like if I acknowledged they’d done something nice I’d somehow ruin their reputation or something.
Daniel was giving River a small vial of something I couldn’t identify. It didn’t look like very much of whatever it was he was giving him, but River accepted it gratefully so I had to assume whatever it was would be very useful. Echo had rushed over to see him, though, so his attention was quickly stolen from his brother.
Talking of brothers, Enzo had stepped up to join me. I even let him hug me without my usual complaints about having a tough reputation to uphold or whatever.
“Be safe out there, okay?” he said seriously, eyes searching my face in concern “Don’t… don’t do anything too…”
“Too Lucien?” I supplied, making the other boy smile a little.
“Yeah, you could say that.”
“Don’t worry,” I assured him “I promise not to do anything stupid.”
“I wouldn’t promise that much,” Enzo smiled, but he gave me a farewell pat on the shoulder and resumed his place among my siblings.
Luka had received another gift, it would seem, for Ariella from the Hephaestus cabin was presenting her with some armour. I wondered what the Hephaestus cabin had been working on last night, when the forge had been blazing right until curfew. It was a magical armour that they often used in Capture the Flag; chameleon armour. It blended in with the surroundings, though I’d come to learn over the years that it was only effective from a distance, and even then it was imperfect. No provider of true invisibility. But still, a useful object for us to have on a quest like this.
My final visitor to wish me farewell was Echo, who rushed up and wrapped her arms around me. I let myself smile, hugging her in return until she disengaged from me.
“You’re going to be okay, aren’t you?” the young girl said “You and the others?”
She was honestly the sweetest, most kind-hearted person I’d ever met at the camp. She’d come to us young, and we’d all instantly become protective of her. She was no exceptionally powerful hero, but she was caring and kind. Wouldn’t hurt a fly.
The kind of qualities that could get a demigod killed; it seemed the entire camp had made an unspoken agreement not to let that happen. And we would not let those qualities be stamped out of her the way they’d been stamped out of so many of us by the necessity of survival. I didn’t know why we’d all chosen her, but we had.
She needed us, and we needed her to remind us that there was still pure, kind, good energy in this world despite everything.
“Yeah,” I answered, though I knew I probably shouldn’t make promises I couldn’t keep, “you’ll see. I’ll be back by the solstice.”
She beamed at that promise.
“Good.” she said “and if you need anything…well, I can get messages around easily, and-.”
“You got it, kid,” i agreed “I’ll let you know.”
The worry on Echo’s face seemed to fade then, her expression smoothing a little. She seemed satisfied by my answer, and I gave her one final reassuring nod as she stepped back to rejoin the crowd.
All that was left then, as the five heroes migrated to stand together, were the final goodbyes. Chiron and Mr D stood side by side before the group, the crowd of campers behind them. Laurie seemed to be doing his damndest not to look at his father.
“All that is left for us now is to wish our heroes well,” Chiron pronounced “and pray that the gods guide them on their journey.”
Dionysus was the only god I could see at that moment, and he wasn’t inspiring a lot of confidence in the ‘gods watching over us’ idea. He seemed thoroughly uninterested in the quest, and he wasn’t looking particularly guide-like.
So we were waved off by the campers, and Chiron and Mr D accompanied us to the boundary of the camp; the tall tree atop Half-Blood Hill. Argus, the camp’s head of security, was waiting there with a van branded with the Delphi Strawberry Service logo. Those vans really were used to make deliveries, but they were also used to get campers into the city to get them started on their quests.
Argus looked almost like an Apollo kid grown up. A big, tall surfer dude. Well, to a point, anyway. The image was kind of destroyed by the fact that he had a hundred eyes all over his body. He didn’t talk much, and the rumour was that it was because he had an eye on his tongue that he didn’t like to show. I didn’t know if I believed it, but I had also never seen Argus talk so really I couldn’t come to any conclusions either way.
We all gathered on the top of the hill, the five of us sharing a look. I think we all had the same feeling that we were about to embark on something momentous. Something after which, for better or worse, we’d never be the same again. And I knew some of us would probably not be returning; I searched the faces in front of me, wondering which of us would live to see in the summer solstice, if any.
Argus had spotted us, and he pulled open the doors of the van. Chiron nodded at us to go, and we all made to depart as Chiron himself turned toward camp. I’d just turned my back on Camp Half-Blood, hearing hoofbeats as Chiron took his leave, and was about to step over the magical boundary of the camp when-
“Boy,”
Mr D’s voice, and he was looking at me with a frown, nodding me back over. The breeze tugged at his leopard-print shirt, and his dark hair seemed even more purplish in this light. Guinevere, Laurie, River and Luka looked over their shoulders when they noticed I wasn’t following but I waved them off toward the van, indicating to them that I’d follow in a moment. They went, but Laurie looked unsettled as he looked between me and his father. He was the last to turn away.
I approached Mr D somewhat cautiously, because I didn’t have a clue what he could possibly want. He almost never actively requested an interaction with a camper. In fact, he made a point of making sure we all knew exactly how tedious he found us.
“I have made no secret of the fact that I do not like this quest,” Mr D began
“I believe the phrase ‘utter and complete idiocy’ was thrown around more than once.” I responded dryly
“You’re aiming for a Pyrrhic victory at best,” Dionysus continued, clearly choosing to ignore my words, “all but guaranteed to lose some of your group in the process.”
“I know, I-”
“I don’t care.” he interrupted me, sharply waving off my excuses “I don’t care to hear how you intend to somehow cheat fate. I’ve seen more than enough heroes try in my time.”
“Then what do you want?”
He seemed to be judging my worth for a moment, as if idly deciding whether or not he might prefer to kill me now and save himself some trouble.
“To tell you that I could not care less whether or not you get that godsforsaken necklace. But if you dare cross the borders of this camp again without that boy,” Dionysus’ eyes flickered ever so briefly to the back of Laurie’s head as he disappeared into the van, “I shall personally make sure you never know peace for the rest of your pathetic existence. Have I made myself understood?”
I didn’t know what Dionysus’ deal was, so privately protective of his son but so clearly unwilling to acknowledge it to Laurie in any way. But he was kind of scary when he wanted to be, so I nodded to him.
“Yes, sir,” I answered
“Then what are you still doing here?” he snarled, but that was it. He simply dissipated as if he had never been there. In fact, I would have wondered for a second if I’d imagined him if it weren’t for the faint smell of grapes which carried on the wind.
But he was gone, and the others were waiting.
Still a little bewildered, I followed the others down the hill toward the waiting car; Argus had even gotten the engine running, impatient to get away. I clambered in the back, where the others’ eyes all instantly turned to me as I sat down. I could see the question in their eyes, the way they were wondering what Mr D had wanted. But I offered no explanation; I thought it better I stay silent on that one.
Argus might have been a man of few words, but having so many eyes made him an excellent driver. He got us away from Half-Blood Hill and through the streets of Long Island with no problem at all. He drove fast but precisely, and his hundred eyes never missed a potential hazard on the road. It was the fastest, smoothest car ride I’d ever had.
But all good things come to an end, for Argus could only take us so far. He dropped us in Manhattan, not too far from a bus depot should we want to take a bus.
After we watched the van slip back into traffic and vanish back toward the camp, we stood for a few moments in silence. None of us seemed to know what to do, left out here to our own devices.
And then it seemed to hit me properly for the first time, now that we were actually on our own, that I was the one who was supposed to know what we were supposed to be doing. I was somehow supposed to get these people to wherever this necklace was, get us to wherever we needed to go to destroy it, and back to Camp Half-Blood before the summer solstice.
Which was, by the way, ten days away.
“We could get the bus,” Guinevere was saying doubtfully, glancing in the direction we knew the bus depot would be.
“But where to?” River pointed out.
I felt an uncontrollable flash of rage just listening to him speak. I couldn’t say why, but we’d just never gotten on. We clashed sometimes, I guessed.
I didn’t like that he was here. The line of the prophecy swam in my mind - of an old rivalry must you beware. It had to be him. He was going to be a threat on this quest, that much seemed clear.
He did have a point, though, I had to concede. I believed in credit where credit was due. We didn’t even know where we were going, so how could we take a bus?
We all looked at one another helplessly, as if waiting for an answer to drop out of the sky. But then I saw Luka’s face light up with sudden understanding.
She looked at me, eyes widening.
“Lucien,” she said urgently “the Grey Sisters.”
Suddenly I knew what she meant. Wasp’s words before their taxi departed rung suddenly in my ears as clearly as if she were speaking them next to me.
“We’ll see you again, half-bloods. Very soon!”
It dawned on me like it had moments ago dawned on Luka what we needed to do.
I slipped off my backpack, laying my bow on the ground as I rummaged through it, eventually pulling out the pouch of drachmae we’d been given from camp. I zipped my bag back up and returned it to my back, retrieving my bow, before turning to face the road before me.
I threw a drachma into the street, and said the same words I’d spoken only a few nights ago.
“Stop, Chariot of Damnation!” I called out in Ancient Greek.
Surely enough, the coin sunk into the tarmac, melting into nothingness. And no sooner had the last glint of gold faded from sight than that familiar smoke-wreathed taxi appeared, the window rolling down as a wizened face looked out at us.
“Where to?” she asked, though that bloodshot eye seemed to alight on Luka and I with a particular glint.
Where to go? That was the question. The taxi service only served Greater New York, so they couldn’t take us to our ultimate destination.
All I needed the journey for was a chance to talk to the prophets. They clearly knew something about Luka and I - we know all, I remembered them saying on the journey, you’ll see. They might have the answers we needed.
“As far out as you can take us,” was my answer.
The sister studied our group, taking in how many of us there were. Five, this time, rather than three.
“For that many of you, it’ll cost you extra,” she replied, eye stopping its almost constant searching movement to fix hungrily on the drachmae pouch.
I grumbled, but I tossed her another of the coins. A bony hand caught it, and she passed it to her sister beside her, who possessed the sisters’ single mossy tooth. She bit the coin, and with a satisfied grin declared it real.
“Get in,” said the sister at the window.
I did not feel particularly thrilled about the idea of another ride in that car, and Luka was looking motion sick at the mere memory, but we didn’t have a lot of choice. We clambered in, River at the window, Laurie next to him, myself in the middle and Luka and Guinevere on the other side.
I don’t think I need to tell you how tight a squeeze it was, five demigods in the backseat with five backpacks and our weapons to boot. It was mainly my bow and River’s spear which was causing the problem - or it would have been, if I didn’t watch him twist it below the tip and collapse it into a little silvery torch on a keyring, which he clipped onto a belt loop on his jeans. I forgot about that; a gift from his father, Ares. So I was the only one left with my obnoxious bow to get in everybody’s way. Great, I always had to be the asshole.
After Argus’ smooth driving, I was less prepared than I should have been for the Grey Sisters’ rather different approach to transport. We were thrown around the backseat, Guinevere and I almost crushing Luka between us and Laurie and River getting thrown into one another more than once. Laurie was all lanky arms and legs, so I got elbowed by him more times than I could count. With the amount of weapons we had between us it was almost dangerous, really.
The sisters were doing their usual predictable fighting over the eye, to the extent that Guinevere and River had to brace their arms against the roof of the car because Wasp almost turned the thing at one point. Laurie had gone incredibly quiet, and even Luka had gone pale and clamped her mouth shut.
But I was waiting for my chance, because I remembered what had happened on our journey down. And I remembered what had been done in the myths. I didn’t like the thought, but if they wouldn’t tell me what I needed to know I wouldn’t have much choice.
“We need to know where the Necklace of Harmonía is,” I declared, loud enough to break into the arguing of the sisters and catch their attention.
“Can’t tell you that, half-blood,” Wasp snarled distractedly, before resuming the fighting and elbowing Anger in the face.
I expected that answer, but all I had to do was wait. It wasn’t very long before, as I predicted, that eye came flying into the backseat. Guinevere was the unlucky one, the thing almost hitting her in the face as it bounced off the headrest beside her.
She bent down to grab it, searching blindly for a few moments as the sisters shrieked and the car careened even further out of control. The taxi was accelerating beyond all reasonable speed at this point. But eventually Guinevere came back up with the eye, and was about to lean forward and pass the eye back to the panicking sisters.
“Here-“ she started to say. God, why did we have to have a nice Aphrodite kid with us? We couldn’t have had one of the mean ones?
“Guinevere,” I hissed sharply “not to them. Give it to me.”
She looked confused as to why I would want her to do that, but my look was obviously pointed enough that she recognised I had a reason for needing it.
“You actually want that thing?” Luka asked judgementally, and in fairness I couldn’t blame her for that. Nobody sane should want a slimy eyeball, and I didn’t even really know how Guinevere was able to stand holding it.
I just gave her a sarcastic smile, narrowing my eyes, as Guinevere leaned over Luka to pass the eye to me.
“You do you but, for the record, ew,” she murmured with disgust, beginning to pass the thing over to me.
“No!” Tempest wailed “give it to us! Please!”
Guinevere looked conflicted for a moment, but eventually let the eye drop into my palm.
It was exactly as disgusting to hold as you would imagine. Cold and slimy to the touch. But I didn’t have much time; the taxi was going at top speeds now and without the eye it was only a matter of time until we crashed. So I closed my fist around it.
“Where is the Necklace of Harmonia?” I pressed
“We can’t tell you!” protested Wasp, but the tremor in her voice betrayed panic.
“Tell me!”
“No! Give us back our eye! The boundary of our service approaches!”
That was when River rolled his eyes, leaning over Laurie to snatch the thing out of my hands.
“Di immortales,” River snapped “never leave threats to an Apollo brat,”
He unrolled the window, sticking his hand out just enough to let the eye dangle out the window but not enough to risk him losing a hand as the car sped through obstacle-filled streets.
“Are you crazy?” I shot back at him: I’d wanted to scare the sisters a little, not totally petrify them.
“You started this,” River replied “I’m just finishing it.”
The sisters might not be able to see what River was doing to the eye, but they could certainly hear the wind and traffic noise pouring through the window; it was almost deafening at these speeds, so much so that we’d had to shout to one another to be heard.
The sisters chattered nervously.
“We don’t have much time!” Laurie reminded from between us, shouting over the rush of noise as his curls were pulled by the wind “I reckon we’ve got about a minute until this thing crashes.”
He was right; the speed was dangerous now, and the sisters couldn’t see. It was only a matter of time.
“Start talking or the eye is roadkill!” River growled, red hair flat against his temple on the side that was facing the window as the air blasted him.
“Fine, fine!” Anger screamed after a moment of hesitation, “Athena knows! Seek her out. But if you wish to live to pursue your quest, you must give us back the eye!”
But I had three prophets here, and they were frightened and desperate. I’ll admit that I’m not real proud of the way I took advantage of their fear, but I did.
“My sister,” I said “what happened to her?”
“That wasn’t the deal, Sunshine,” River said from next to me. Now, when even the Ares kid thinks you’ve gone far enough with the brute force, you should probably stop.
“We told you what you wanted to know!” protested Wasp “we must have the eye!”
“Thirty seconds!” Laurie was saying, eyes wide as shapes flashed past the window too quickly to be recognisable.
“Tell me!” I yelled. I wasn’t even thinking, really. I just knew I needed answers.
The sisters said nothing now, their cries unintelligible as they tried to keep the taxi straight.
“Lucien, stop!” Guinevere cried out “Would Elara be proud if you got yourself killed for this?”
That one gave me pause. I didn’t know if she was trying to Charmspeak me or if she was just right. Maybe both. But either way, I felt a flicker of doubt.
“Fifteen seconds!” shouted the world’s worst alarm clock from between River and I.
I hesitated. Guinevere was right. I wanted to find my sister, but if I continued as I was I would get myself and all my friends killed. I’d never have the answers I wanted, I’d have blood on my hands, and our quest would never be completed. Olympus could fall.
“Ten!” Laurie was gripping the seat now. Luka and Guinevere were bracing, eyes closed.
I pressed my lips together, sighing through my nose, but looked at River.
“Fine,” I said
That was all River needed to hear. The son of Ares passed the eye back to Wasp, who was driving, and within a few seconds the car stabilised at least a little. It slowed down so hard we almost all flew into the front seat, but at least we were all alive.
Okay, so maybe the plan had gone a little off the rails, and maybe that was my fault. But at least it had worked. We had the answers we needed to seek out the necklace.
“Get out,” Anger’s cold voice chilled me enough for me to know that we’d overstayed our welcome. Which I supposed was understandable; we’d almost destroyed their eye and their car and we’d threatened them a fair bit.
Still, I’d paid them extra (and upfront) so I supposed it could be worse.
Guinevere led the way out of the car, Luka filing out after her. I followed afterwards, then Laurie. My legs felt like jelly as I stepped back onto solid land.
River was the last out of the car, which sped away almost the moment River’s feet were both touching the ground. He turned a furious gaze onto me, bristling with anger. The kind of anger which reminded me exactly who his father was. Emotions of hate and fear suddenly felt heightened and amplified, and I felt angry and intimidated by him at the same time. Just being around him, he seemed to be able to raise my blood pressure.
“What did you think you were doing?” he spat, almost coming toe-to-toe with me “What was that?”
“I got us answers, didn’t I?”
“I got us answers,” River corrected “What you got us was almost killed.”
“Blackmailing them with the eye was my idea!”
“Perseus’ idea,” River retorted, “You’re hardly original.”
Okay, so maybe this idea had been used once before. But hey, I knew my mythology at least a little bit and that was no crime.
I’d been all ready to respond with the same level of vitriol when Laurie passed us both to join Luka and Guinevere.
“As entertaining as this is - and it is,” he said smoothly “it’ll not be great for the vibe if the two of you kill each other before we’ve been away from camp half a day.”
His words seemed to affect River, whose eyes followed the boy as he moved past. He huffed but grudgingly stepped back, relenting.
“Wine boy’s right,” Luka agreed “we have no hope of getting the necklace if you guys don’t get your shit together.”
Laurie didn’t seem overly thrilled by the new nickname, but he didn’t comment on it. I knew the two of them were right; River had acknowledged it too. So even though it seemed that my concerns about having River on the quest were seeming more and more well-founded by the moment, I let it go too.
Besides, we had everything we needed.
“Okay, so they told us that we needed to consult Athena,” l began “the question is how we do that. There must be somewhere we can go to get her attention, or connect with her somehow.”
The gods could appear anywhere they wanted. But that didn’t mean they would. We needed to catch Athena’s attention, make sure she knew we needed her.
In the myths, we would have maybe visited a temple or a shrine to her perhaps. If we’d had one of her children with us they could have called upon her; no doubt Athena would listen to her children over other demigods. We had less of a chance of her hearing our call.
Guinevere had looked thoughtful, but finally spoke up.
“Well…” she began haltingly “I’m not sure it’ll work but I think I know a place we can go. It’s a better bet than anything else I think.”
“Okay,” I responded, trying to coax the answer out of her, “so where should we be heading?”
“Nashville, Tennessee.”
|
|
|
|
Post by ƤαƖƖαѕ ✧ on Sept 19, 2022 17:57:57 GMT -5
Chapter 10: A Tale of Greyhounds and Hellhounds
LUKA
Note: this fic uses settings and characters from the Percy Jackson series, which is trademarked by Rick Riordan
It was all well and good deciding that we needed to get to Nashville, Tennessee. The problem was actually getting there. We were talking pretty much a day’s journey by bus or by train, and we hadn’t exactly been loaned that much money by the camp that we could afford to pay for such expensive tickets for just one leg of our journey. We certainly couldn’t afford plane tickets, and with the ominous darkness which seemed to tinge the sky more and more these days none of us felt great about air travel anyway.
Still, we made our way to the bus station because we figured that we didn’t have a lot of choice. We could always figure out a plan on the fly, Lucien assured us. Hey, the entire mission was being figured out on the fly, so I didn’t have a problem with it. At least we were being consistent, if not organised or prepared in any way.
So to the bus station we headed. It felt weird travelling with my dagger at my waist like this in front of people. Pyrphoros was in full view, but no mortal seemed to bat an eyelid, nor at Lucien’s bow and his dagger or Guinevere and Laurie’s swords. I knew it was the Mist, preventing them from seeing us and our weapons as they really were. But it still felt strange. I couldn’t quite get my head around it, or feel quite comfortable travelling with the weapon.
I noticed as we walked that Laurie was studying the buildings as we passed, a childlike wonder in his expression.
“It’s so weird being in the real world again.” he murmured as I fell into step alongside him.
“What do you mean?” I questioned “you haven’t left camp?”
Laurie shook his head, “Not really; I’m not a summer camper, I’m a year-round camper. Like Lucien and River. I’ve been out on field trips and stuff but I haven’t really left camp in five years. I’ve wanted to get out in the real world forever.”
I knew what he meant. I’d learned that most campers only stayed for the summer, heading back to their homes for the school year. Some stayed the whole year round. It was more safe for less powerful demigods, like those of minor deities or less powerful children of more major deities, to only be summer campers than it was for more powerful demigods. And in Lucien’s case, I imagined it had been something to do with Elara. After all, two demigod siblings were bound to attract more monsters. It would have been safer for them to be year-round campers and protected by the boundaries of the camp.
What he’d said was a lot to take in, like the fact that he hadn’t been out in the normal world for half a decade. But I had to ask about something else he’d said first.
“Field trips?” I questioned “Where would the camp do field trips to?”
“Olympus, for example,” Laurie answered with a nonchalant shrug. As if casually talking about Olympus was just no big deal.
My eyes must have almost popped out of my head.
“You’ve been to Olympus?”
“Sure,” Laurie replied “it’s above the Empire State Building. 600th floor.”
“The Empire State Building?” I repeated sceptically. I was sure the 600th floor wasn’t a thing.
“Yeah. I mean, it wasn’t always,” he clarified “the gods’ center of power moves. It’s complicated. But Chiron sometimes takes some of us up there to see the gods’ council. I went up at the winter solstice. Trust me, it’s so boring. Like C-Span but they’re all giant. It only gets interesting when the toddler tantrums and death threats come out.”
This was mind boggling to me, but Laurie and the others didn’t seem fazed at all. Campers had gone to Olympus? Seen the gods? I mean sure, I’d seen two gods. But one was on video and the other was the delightful ball of sarcasm that was Mr D.
I tried to forget that we were travelling to see another as we spoke.
I also wondered how the hell Laurie hadn’t just been blasted to bits for talking about the gods that way. I guessed they must have something more important to worry about at that point than taking umbrage at his insults. Or maybe they were just so used to his father talking shit that they didn’t bat an eye at his son doing the same.
“You’ve got to respect Cleo for starting to work on their college essay in the middle of Zeus’ speech like that,” Lucien called back from in front, and Laurie smiled at the memory.
I wished I could have had more time on that utterly wild conversation, but we had arrived at the bus station.
We headed inside, Lucien didn’t seem to have any idea what we were going to do. Our best hope was to get on a Greyhound, but we didn’t think it would be particularly easy to sneak onto a bus like that. Still, I thought we would probably have to try.
That was, until Guinevere broke away to speak to the guy selling tickets, confident as anything. Not exactly being subtle or laying low, I thought. But she exchanged some words with him, and I could see him first looking sceptical but then his expression melted, became more open and sympathetic. He nodded, and a few moments later Guinevere appeared with some tickets clutched in her hands. She looked a little drained and a little guilty, but I could swear there was some exhilaration brightening those eyes too.
“Did you Charmspeak him?” Lucien asked in shock as the daughter of Aphrodite passed us each a ticket. She nodded.
“I’m not proud of it,” she admitted “and I don’t like using it. But yeah. It tends to make people more willing to give me stuff.”
“Okay, Miss Pretty Privilege,” I joked
“Yeah, well,” Guinevere muttered, almost to herself, “Aphrodite kids aren’t always helpless.”
It wasn’t long before the Greyhound arrived and we all piled on. So far we’d been away from camp only hours, but I was already getting nervous about the time constraints. We were on day 1 of 10, and we had a day’s trip ahead of us before we even found out where the necklace was. Lucien totally wasn’t feeling the pressure at all. He totally didn’t seem to be hiding a undercurrent of panic beneath the outward calm.
We settled in, preparing for the long journey ahead. We stowed our bags under our seats, not wanting to let the things out of our sight. Lucien sat next to me, all of us sitting close by to one another. None of us wanted to risk being isolated or split up if anything happened. Lucien and I sat together, then Laurie and River in front of us, and Guinevere across the aisle next to Laurie and River.
Lucien pulled out some paper - apparently the research Cleo had given him - moving between trying to skim read what they’d written and keeping an eye on the bus. I didn’t have a good feeling. Public transport left us exposed to monsters, and with a big group of five of us we figured every monster within a mile’s radius had to know we were here.
I didn’t know if we were going to make it to Nashville in one piece.
He delved in to what he could learn about the necklace, and shared with me what had been written; that Hephaestus had cursed it out of anger, and that it had been passed down through the ruling family of Thebes. It kept the owner young and beautiful, but also brought misfortune on them.
It had brought ruin on Harmonia and Cadmus’ descendants; their daughter Semele was one, Jocasta a second among many others. The necklace’s preservation of Jocasta’s youth and beauty was what led to her demise after she crossed paths with her son Oedipus, who didn’t realise she was his mother. And, well… that famous story didn’t get better from there.
And indeed, it seemed that before the necklace was stolen by its final, unfortunate owner, it had been stored in the Temple of Athena at Delphi to prevent it bringing its curse against any other unsuspecting people. All we could hope was that the Grey Sisters were right, and that this meant Athena did know where the necklace was.
Lucien didn’t read it for too long, because he couldn’t really focus on anything too heavily (I knew how he felt), so he stowed it back in his bag.
The day passed fairly uneventfully, I would say. We would look out the window at that dull sky on occasion and remember why we were so worried; we knew that sky would grow dark too early that evening. But otherwise it was almost possible to forget were on a dangerous mission for the gods. We all just talked, passing time and distracting ourselves from our fear. I even saw Laurie smile and laugh a few times as he talked to River; it seemed that the experience he’d had with his father the night before we left camp was finally less fresh and painful for him.
It grew toward night before we even knew it, and Lucien told the others that he’d take first watch. I think he thought that it was his duty as quest leader, especially after what happened earlier. Even in public like this, one of us would need to be awake just in case something happened. Monsters didn’t have any scruples about killing you in your sleep.
I couldn’t relax, though. My body couldn’t let me sleep. I looked out of the window at the passing scenery, and I couldn’t help but be reminded of all the times in the last five months I’d had to pack up and find a new city.
The others were asleep, all dozing in the seats surrounding us.
“So,” I eventually said, and the way Lucien jumped made me think I’d startled him, “about earlier.”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” he replied bluntly, trying his very best to block the topic of conversation.
“I imagine you probably don’t,” I answered “but… I don’t know. I guess I just want you to know that I understand. It maybe wasn’t your finest moment, but I get it.”
He didn’t say anything for a long moment. I thought I saw relief cross his expression, as if he were glad I didn’t blame him for the risk he’d taken with the Grey Sisters. Like he was appreciative of the understanding.
“He didn’t even say anything at that winter solstice council, you know,” he eventually said “the one Chiron took us to.”
“Who?”
“My father,” he continued “my sister had died that summer, and not a word of acknowledgment from him for what she’d done for the gods. He didn’t even say anything to me afterwards. Not so much as a message to my mother either. Just…”
“Nothing?” I finished to encourage him on, and he nodded.
“My mom and I seem to be the only ones who care. Apart from maybe River; he respected her. But I just get so mad that I’m the only one searching for answers. And I know it won’t make it hurt less, to find out what happened. I just feel like I owe her that. If I hadn’t been such a little brat…” he tailed off
“What do you mean?” I pressed
I watched Lucien’s walls go up, so fast I almost could have blinked and missed it. His voice had a hardness behind it when he spoke again.
“Nothing.”
“It wasn’t your fault.” I assured him “you were a kid.”
He murmured some vague thanks, but he seemed to want to change the topic, because he started to ask about me.
“What did you mean when you said you got it?” he asked “Is that why you were on your own out there in Chicago?”
I rolled my shoulders forward, eyes flicking from Lucien to the scenery out of the window.
“I meant family stuff, I guess. It messes your shit up,” I responded, glad I wasn’t making eye contact with him because I knew it’d make it harder “my mom wasn’t exactly the greatest and my foster mom not much better. Nobody wanted to deal with the weird shit that happened around me; the half-blood shit, I guess. I was too much trouble, so I struck out on my own in the end.”
I could see out of my peripheral vision the way he tried to catch my eyes, then, brows pulling together in concern. I turned more and studied the passing landscape even more stubbornly.
“Luka,” he was tentative now, “how long were you alone out there?”
“I don’t know, six months?” I replied, casually, as if I didn’t know exactly how long. But I knew exactly how long I’d been out there. I knew to the day how long I’d been trying to survive on my own.
“I’m sorry,” Lucien said softly “I know everyone has been telling you how impressive it was that you survived by yourself out there, but I don’t think anybody’s told you that you shouldn’t have had to go through that.”
I was startled by the sympathy, and the kindness. I met his eyes. I didn’t enjoy pity, but this didn’t necessarily feel like that. It sounded just like he cared. And he was right; everyone had been telling me how strong I was but deep down I just wanted someone to acknowledge that I’d been through too much.
Still, I recovered my usual expression as quickly as I could, trying to look unbothered by what he’d said.
“I’m not paying you for this therapy session, you know,” I joked with a smirk.
He chuckled in response.
“Well it’s only fair after you gave me one about my sister.” He pointed out
“Eh,” I waved him off, “it’s nothing. Dillon asked me to look out for you.”
This seemed to be news to him.
Dillon had spoken to me just before we left camp. Told me that he knew Lucien was hurting and he might do reckless things when it came to his sister. That I needed to keep an eye on him and make sure he was okay. I’d promised him I’d do so.
“Of course he did,” he smiled slightly and rolled his eyes, “Sorry, he’s kind of protective of me.”
“Why?” I questioned - I knew they were friends, but why would a satyr favour a particular half-blood like that?
Lucien hesitated a moment, but he did answer.
“He was the one who brought Elara and I to camp when I was eleven or twelve. Us and that Demeter boy. Dillon’s been a bit protective since they’ve been gone.”
That explained everything. Why Dillon had known that Lucien was from Chicago and would be there to help him get me. Why he was concerned about Lucien like that, like he was his protector specifically.
“Oh,” was my only answer, because I burst into a yawn and Lucien smiled a little.
“You should sleep,” he said “I’ll wake you later, okay?”
I hesitated, because I still felt so unsettled that I didn’t know if I’d sleep. But eventually I nodded.
“Alright,” Lucien seemed satisfied with that response “Night, Lukes.”
“Lukes?” I quirked an eyebrow “that’s a new one.”
“Sorry,” Lucien apologised, probably thinking he’d upset me or something.
“No,” I said as I turned away from him, curling up a little on the seat, “I don’t hate it.”
Unseen by him, a smile was playing on my lips.
The peace didn’t last long, though; of course it didn’t.
I was once again drawn into a dream, and the woman’s voice sounded so much clearer now. As if she had approached closer in the darkness. I still could not see her, could see nothing in the pitch black and would know nothing about where I was if it weren’t for some awareness that I was in a cave. I could hear the echoing drip of water, each droplet feeling like a gunshot as it hit the ground. Her voice sounded so real, so close that when she spoke it made the hairs on my skin stand on end.
“You are already too late, child,” that ethereal, chilling voice said, “your quest is fruitless. I grow more powerful by the moment, my dominion more complete. There is little either god nor mortal can do to stop what is coming.”
Her voice was so ancient, so otherworldly I could not describe it. It sounded almost deadened, as if a still and quiet air muffled it. Like a whisper at night. And when she spoke I could feel a chilly air seeping into my skin.
“Who are you?” I questioned, and I could feel my pulse rushing in my head and my chest rising and falling as I took in rapid, shallow breaths of air.
“Just a woman,” the voice replied, “tired of being ruled by fear.”
I blinked, though it was so dark I saw no change. She wasn’t answering me, and I felt a rush of frustration and anger. Why did everybody seem to have some sort of unspoken agreement not to tell me anything? Oh yeah, sure, Luka. Go on this incredibly important and life-threatening mission. But we won’t tell you about this apparently very relevant prophecy or about really anything at all. You’ll figure it out for yourself.
“I’m getting real sick of evasive answers these days.” I growled.
“I evade nothing, little one; I am honest. It is not secrets buried in the dark that you ought to fear; deception and half-truths hidden in broad daylight are far more treacherous, far more terrible.”
Well, that sounded pretty much in keeping with almost everything I’d heard since finding out I was a demigod. Ominous and annoyingly vague.
“I’m done talking,” I muttered.
I wanted to see who this woman was for myself. So I took a deep breath, stretching my hand into the shadows before me and focusing until I could feel a heat growing there. My upturned palm began to glow red until finally a flicker of flame sparked to life.
But I saw nothing. Nothing but unending darkness. There was nothing to see by the flame’s light, certainly not the speaker who had appeared in my dreams so often now.
The voice said nothing, but I could sense amusement coming from her. But before she could reply, a new voice spoke. This one sounded decidedly more human, less ethereal. Masculine in tone.
“My lady, if you are done entertaining our guest,” the words sounded pointed, as if he didn’t approve of the woman communicating with me, “the preparations have been made as you requested.”
“Excellent,” the voice sounded instantly gentler as she spoke to this newcomer, nurturing and peaceful, “our moment approaches.”
Her tone shifted once more as she appeared to address me again.
“Our conversation has been… illuminating as always, smith’s daughter.” I could almost see the smirk, “we shall meet again. I dearly hope so, at least, for I find observing your futile quest most diverting. But for the present, you ought to wake if you wish to survive - or face your death on your feet.”
I felt that feeling of falling once again, and then the sensation of being shaken on the shoulder.
“Luka. Luka!” came a familiar voice, hissing urgently.
My eyes shot open and I sat up with a gasp, only to find myself safely in my seat on the Greyhound. It was still dark outside, but I figured we had to be heading towards the early hours of the morning now. Lucien had taken a longer watch than he should have.
Well, when I said ‘safely’…
Lucien was shaking me by the shoulder, just as I’d felt when I was waking from the dream..
“What?” I snapped, feeling more than a little groggy and ill-tempered after being woken.
But almost as soon as the word left my lips, I registered the fear in Lucien’s blue eyes. They were fixed on something in the distance that I couldn’t yet see.
“We need to wake the others,” he whispered
I suddenly saw what it was. A pair of glowing red eyes was appearing out of the darkness as we came out from under a tunnel. But there was no need to wake the others because the driver saw at the same time as we did what was ahead of us. Well, I don’t know what he saw through the Mist, but I’m sure it was terrifying.
What I saw as the bus’ headlights hit the creature was a huge, mastiff-like dog with black fur and flowing red eyes. Maybe you don’t know what I mean when I say huge. I mean this thing was easily the size of a minivan. And not a small minivan either, we’re talking like the kind of minivan owned by the one soccer mom to rule them all.
The driver slammed on the brakes, jolting our friends awake and terrifying all of the passengers as the bus came to a screeching halt, part of the back of the bus still under the tunnel. I laid my hands on Pyrophoros and Lucien already had his bow to hand before the bus had even stopped moving. River was alert, the fastest to have his weapon ready after Lucien and I as he switched his spear from its torch form to its spear form. All of us stood at the ready. Laurie stumbled to his feet, Guiney shooting to her feet as both drew their swords. We were taken by surprise, torn from our sleep abruptly. I didn’t have high hopes for this being the best performance any of us might have given in a fight, but hopefully adrenaline could carry us all through this with our lives.
“What is that thing?” I asked Lucien as the dog growled
“Hellhound,” Lucien responded “you know, from the Underworld.”
“I got that from the ‘hell’ part, funnily enough,” I quipped, though I think it did little to convince either Lucien or I that I wasn’t absolutely terrified.
That was when we heard a thud on the roof of the bus, which all but almost caved in under the weight of whatever it was. I say whatever it was, but I already had a dreadful suspicion of exactly what it was.
The other bus riders shrieked and made for the exits, ducking under the now warped and dented roof as they ran. This second shape leapt off the roof of the bus to join the other; another hellhound, though not quite as big. This one was perhaps more the size of a grizzly bear or a rhino. Still nothing I felt particularly stoked about facing.
The dogs didn’t seem interested in the humans as they streamed off the bus, their attention instead diverted. Their noses were in the air, and I knew they were trying to sniff us out. It wouldn’t be long before they figured out that we were all on the bus.
“We have to get off the bus,” River hissed quietly. Next to him, Guinevere was searching for something in her bag. I didn’t know what.
“That’ll make it way too easy to find us,” Lucien pointed out
“Would you rather fight them out in the open or trapped in here?” the redhead retorted
“Or how about not at all?”
That was Guinevere’s voice. She produced from her bag a small bottle made of multicoloured glass forming a design of small delicate flowers. It had a bulb atomiser like those old-fashioned perfume bottles; it looked like the kind of thing you might see on a vanity or dressing table in an old black-and-white movie.
“What is that?” I asked
“Guiney, I don’t know if now is the time for perfume,” Lucien added
Guinevere rolled her eyes.
“It’s not perfume-“ she began, before she quickly corrected herself “okay well, yeah,, technically it’s perfume. But it was a gift from my mother. It masks the scents of demigods from monsters for a while.”
Everybody seemed to look at one another for a moment, but the boys seemed to be in agreement pretty quickly because they nodded to Guinevere. She sprayed first herself, then River, then Laurie, and finally Lucien before she turned to me. I hesitated, moving back.
“I don’t really want to smell of roses or whatever,”
Guinevere shrugged, making as if to return the bottle to her bag.
“Suit yourself. You can let them kill you if you prefer,”
I groaned, but took the bottle and spritzed myself with the magical perfume. It did indeed smell like roses - and if glitter had a smell, it was definitely in this perfume. I returned it to Guinevere, who stashed it back in her bag.
Those glowing eyes grew closer as the hellhounds began to move closer to the bus, so we all hid, weapons in hand. We ducked behind seats, slightly spread out around the bus.
My heart thudded in my chest, my ears sensitive to the muffled sounds of movement outside as the dogs moved around the bus. I held my breath, at one point even clapping my hand over my mouth when I was sure I could hear one right outside. I could feel the bus rock as the larger hellhound pushed against it.
I didn’t make a sound, couldn’t hear anything except for my own pulse rushing in my ears. Eventually it moved past me, and I let out a light but relieved exhale.
It really seemed like we might have a good chance of making it - until Laurie moved and his foot connected with an empty soda can somebody had dropped, sending it skittering across the aisle of the bus far more noisily than we would’ve liked.
Day 1 was going really well so far.
I saw the utter terror dawning his face, the realisation of what he’d just done. And it sounded quiet outside. Too quiet. I knew the dogs had heard. I didn’t think the perfume would matter in a moment.
“Break for the exit, now!” I whispered to the others.
We scrambled to our feet and sprinted for the exit. It was good timing too, because no sooner had Lucien been the last member of the group out of the door than a charge from the largest dog for the part of the bus where Laurie had been crouching sent the entire vehicle toppling on its side.
We split, River and Laurie taking the larger hellhound while Guinevere and I took the slightly smaller one. Lucien was between both, letting arrows fly at each from a short distance back.
I was struggling to get close to this thing, what with my dagger being such a close-range weapon, and Lucien couldn’t get a really good hit with his arrows because the hellhounds were too fast.
The bigger hellhound lunged for Laurie, but Lucien shot a well-placed arrow in its flank which, while not enough to kill it, made the dog yelp and distracted its attention towards Lucien. That distraction was enough to allow River to prepare an attack on it. Laurie realised what the Ares champion was doing and seemed to continue what Lucien had started, making a renewed assault on the hellhound. He dodged the hellhound’s snapping jaws with an agile jump backwards, keeping the monster’s eyes away from the approaching River and the bronze glint of his spear.
Meanwhile, Guiney and I had our own problems. The creature launched at me first. I fell backwards, dodging the hellhound’s teeth, and scrambled to my feet out of its way just as Guinevere’s sword sank just below its ribs. The dog screamed in pain, and Guinevere backed up.
Then it locked those glowing red eyes on her.
It lunged for her, pinning her on the shoulders under two massive paws. Her sword went skittering out of her reach. She tried to escape, kicking at its face. A foot managed to connect with the side of the hellhound’s snout, which did catch the monster by surprise and made it recoil. This gave her just the moment she needed to wriggle free, but no sooner had she gotten to her feet and started to run for the sword than a pair of jaws closed around her leg, dragging her back.
Guinevere’s pained cry at this spurred me into action. I knew my dagger wouldn’t be enough, but even before I had time to think about that an instinct took over. Like a knowledge that was already in me. A rush of fear for my friend ran to my fingertips and sparked into flame, which seemed to burst from my palms to the hellhound.
It sent the monster flying back into the side of the bus, the bus which promptly exploded in a blaze of flame against the night and a wave of deafening sound. All that was left was the flaming metal of the bus, and gold dust among the debris thrown out into the air.
I stared agape, astonished at what had just happened. I hadn’t chosen to summon those flames, they had simply come in my moment of desperate need as they had before. But that fire had been the strongest I’d ever summoned. My chest, my stomach felt like they were burning amid that bus debris.
My palms were cooling as I watched Lucien drop to his knees at Guinevere’s side. Her thigh was marred with huge, bleeding bite marks. Lucien was nodding, smiling his most reassuring smile as he told Guinevere not to look at it - that’d just make her panic - but that it looked worse than it was and he would fix it. He looked a little pale though.
Laurie and River had also dispatched their hellhound, if the dust was anything to go by. That and the tears from the creature’s claws in Laurie’s Camp Half-Blood shirt.
I approached Lucien and Guinevere just as Lucien was about to start signing the hymn to his father to heal Guinevere.
“Hey, Guiney,” I spoke to the girl, who was breathing rapidly, teeth clenched to cope with the pain, “you did amazing.”
She looked at me, and I could see she heard and appreciated the words, but she was too in pain to speak at that point. Lucien began to sing, and by the time he was done her leg was looking much better. Not completely healed, but well on its way. He looked paler than he had before, more tired and drained, but he took Guiney’s thanks with a hint of a smile.
“You were great,” I said to Guinevere as I helped her up “you saved my skin out there.”
“And you mine,” she answered.
Laurie, next to River, was examining his torn shirt with thoughtful consideration.
“I think I can make this work,” he seemed to decide after a moment, “I’m nothing if not a trendsetter.”
“You do have a spare in your bag if you want,” River pointed out
Laurie just shook his head, gesturing in the vague direction of the burning bus.
“Bag’s been cremated,”
“Shit, mine too. With Cleo’s research.” Lucien groaned. He had sat down after healing Guiney but now lay back on the ground defeatedly, folding his arms over his eyes. It seemed he’d already retrieved those of his arrows which were retrievable, though he didn’t appear to have a great many left.
It seemed that only Guinevere and River had thought to grab their bags from the bus. Mine was the only one salvageable from the wreckage; it still possessed the gifts I’d been given before I left camp, but most everything else had been destroyed. All that remained of my other supplies which was usable were a few drachmae, five dollars of mortal cash, a single slightly melted bar of chocolate from my food rations and one cube of ambrosia. I gave the ambrosia to Guinevere, who needed something to complete the healing Lucien had given her.
“Great,” I muttered sarcastically as the wreckage glowed with fire against the night sky “time to find another bus and pray I don’t blow that one up too.”
|
|
|
|
Post by ƤαƖƖαѕ ✧ on Sept 23, 2022 18:30:17 GMT -5
FLASH FORWARD - NOT NECESSARILY CANON Laurie was falling. Or it felt that way, anyway.
His stomach felt like it had a lead weight attached to it, like it was falling quicker than he was. That stomach-dropping feeling that was by now so familiar to him, thought it had felt so sickening the first time he experienced it.
His vision was a kaleidoscope, everything whirling in indecipherable slashes of colour. His heart felt like it was skipping beats. The boy’s mind was as thrown adrift as his body; thoughts would whirl out of his head, half-formed, before he could grasp one.
Eventually the world around him coalesced once again into a place he recognised. A place he had not been for far too long.
The Pantheon was as he remembered it, though the air felt different. He could feel it from the moment his foot touched solid floor and he drew a breath. It seemed stifled, somehow. There was a weapons store in the corner of the room that hadn’t been there before he’d left, awaiting the hands of defenders should they be needed. It was too silent, too lacking in colour and energy. This was a place that was troubled, that could no longer be about optimistic youthful joy.
This was no game, the Pantheon seemed now to say.
That same feeling seemed graven onto the faces of the Ascendants who came to meet those at the portal. He could see the worry and exhaustion etched in their skin. They had grown up too fast, and Laurie felt a pang of guilt. He knew he’d played no small part in that.
The greetings were… mixed, to say the least. Some greeted him with a more ready kindness than he probably deserved; those who were too open-hearted and loving to shut away anyone, no matter what they’d done. Those who could never have even conceived of doing the things he had done. That was what made it so much worse. Those who were the warmest in greeting him were those who would never have betrayed or hurt anyone. It simply wasn’t in them. They did not have a selfish bone in their body.
Others greeted him with outright hostility or anger. He understood that. He’d hurt so many of his friends, after all. River’s anger at him hit him especially hard, as deserved as he knew it was. He thought he’d prepared himself for it, River’s anger and hurt, but it turned out nothing could prepare him for that.
Still more greeted him with a wary or uneasy acceptance. Lucien, for example, had said nothing. Just stood apart from the crowd and looked on in silence as he stood against the wall. Now, if one were skilled or experienced enough in reading Lucien’s expressions, they could see the anger and hurt in him too just as much as the circumspect, closed-off feeling in his demeanour. He suspected Lucien had things to say, and they’d inevitably come out some time in the future. Just not yet.
Many were just as quiet, unsure what to do and say but greeting without allowing themselves too much warmth or enthusiasm.
Cleo told him that he should get some rest, that there’d be a decision as to next steps in the morning. Nobody was quite sure what to do, and Laurie knew why. The elephant in the room loomed so large. What he’d done. So he understood why they might want to think about things, come to a decision about whether he’d be allowed to stay and under what conditions.
So he’d returned to the room he hadn’t been to in so long, pushing open the door. That door which had always had a slight creak - he’d missed that in the exiled base, for some reason. He supposed it had been comforting in a strange way.
Inside it was just as he’d left it that Halloween night. Even a jacket he’d changed his mind on and switched with the one he’d actually worn that night still lay strewn on his bed, and a comb thrown carelessly to one side. He might have thought he’d tidy it up later when he got back from the mission - a mission he hadn’t returned from.
He’d felt so lost ever since that night. So disoriented, like he didn’t know where he stood or what to think. Fed so many lies interspersed with truth until he could not distinguish them, even lied to himself. Been so thrown off by the fact that Ripley would hurt him so deeply one moment and be unexpectedly kind the next. He felt like he’d been so blind, led only by Ripley’s manipulation and his own foolishness. For even though he knew he shouldn’t, he did blame himself for what he’d been through. It wasn’t his fault, but knowing that to be true didn’t mean he felt that in his heart. Didn’t mean he didn’t try to fight that truth.
He couldn’t trust himself, couldn’t like himself, because of the poison Ripley had fed him. He didn’t even recognise the shell of himself he’d become.
But he was, for now, home. The Ascendants may not be kind to him for what he’d done, but they would be fair, and he did not fear them. Only feared losing them or being cast out, as he’d been so afraid he would be if he returned. Still, while he was here he didn’t have to live in fear of Ripley any longer.
He didn’t have to hold his breath, didn’t have to listen for footsteps in case they were his. Didn’t have to give fake, practiced smiles to placate. Didn’t have to think over every word before he said it for fear one might anger him. Didn’t have to make himself small or lesser. Didn’t have to stop himself flinching at a touch or jumping when a door closed too loud. Didn’t have to despise himself and drain his own confidence so that Ripley didn’t have to do it for him. Didn’t have to be on guard every moment.
It felt almost dizzying, that realisation. The word ‘safe’ flitted into his mind and it was a strange, fragile thing. A word he did not want to touch, a thought he did not want to focus on too much, just in case it shattered. Instead, he let it take root in his mind, and looked at it from a periphery. Carefully, cautiously. But with growing hope.
Breath seemed to rush into him too fast. It felt like such a big weight lifted, even if much still burdened him. Everything was not better, and he might never be who he was before. But he was safe, for the moment.
So Laurie, back against the door to his room, stood and did not care about how it was hurting the injury Ripley had given him on his back.
He just choked out a relieved sob, hand moving over his mouth. He couldn’t believe it. Not yet okay, but safe.
Safe.
|
|
|
|
Post by ƤαƖƖαѕ ✧ on Sept 24, 2022 18:45:17 GMT -5
Chapter 11: The Dead are Alive, and Not in a Cool Zombie Way
LUCIEN
Note: this fic uses settings and characters from the Percy Jackson series, which is trademarked by Rick Riordan
I didn’t have a clue how we managed. We were just five exhausted, cold and lightly-mauled half-bloods in the middle of nowhere. But somehow we must have gotten another bus, probably thanks to more of Guiney’s charm abilities and probably a little bit of good old-fashioned pity for the teenagers lost at night. All I know is that somehow or other, we were in Nashville before midday the next day. We were already a day closer to the summer solstice, but at least we were about to make a start, to find the first step on our journey.
We clambered off the bus, most of us having not slept a wink despite the ambrosia to ease our aches, pains and injuries. Only Laurie had really slept, but we’d discovered that that boy could sleep pretty much anywhere.
Guinevere led the way through Nashville; I wasn’t sure where she was taking us, and I wasn’t sure if we’d know it when we saw it.
Boy, was I wrong.
After all, it’s fairly difficult to miss a huge temple. It was a huge Greek-style building in Centennial Park, with huge Doric columns stretching up toward the pediments. The pediments showed the birth of Athena on one side and, one the other side of the temple, her competition with Poseidon for Athens. The metopes showed various battles against the gods; the Gigantomachy, Amazonomachy, and the battle against the Lapiths.
“The Parthenon,” River murmured, and I could hear a note of awe in his voice.
“A Parthenon,” Guinevere corrected “this is a replica. But with any luck? It should work.”
We didn’t have any reason to argue with her logic, nor any better ideas, so we headed inside. It was strangely quiet, empty in fact, which set me immediately on edge. I hoped it was just because it was nice weather so everybody would be outside exploring the rest of the park, or because everybody was in search of lunch. But places being too quiet almost never meant anything good when you were a half-blood.
There was a huge statue of a helmeted woman in a golden peplos, with a spear and a shield. The aegis, if I remembered correctly. A snake stood at her side, though I tried to avoid looking at the creature, and she held a statue of Nike on one hand. A large amulet lay around her neck, which judging by the face and the snakes would appear to bear the head of a gorgon. This had to be a representation of Athena - a replica of the Athena Parthenos statue.
“That’s her,” Luka said, “what do we do? Pray to it or something?”
Laurie shrugged, “I’ve never tried to contact old Grey-Eyes before.”
“I might start with the proper term of address.”
The voice startled us originally, echoing across the walls of the massive room. But then a figure stepped around from the base of the statue to reveal herself. She was a tall, stately-looking woman. Beautiful, but a very powerful, authoritative kind of beauty. Like a warrior queen who would run you through without hesitation if you gave her reason to. She wore these robes of a soft stormy grey colour. And she had these piercing grey eyes, with exactly the same kind of intensity as I’d seen in the eyes of Cleo Lester and Chiara.
“Lady Athena,” Guinevere was the first to gather herself, bowing her head to the goddess who smiled with approval as she did so.
I followed suit, along with River and Laurie. Luka was a little more hesitant - or maybe a little less confident in how to greet a god - but she eventually followed our example.
“I am aware that you wish to seek my counsel, half-bloods. I have long been a friend to heroes, indeed, and bestowed my patronage upon those I prefer. None of you have earned my favour.” she said, those grey eyes burning into each of us in turn before landing on me, “Still, I may yet be persuaded. What would you ask of me?”
“My lady,” I began, clearing my throat to dispel my nerves, “we’re looking for the Necklace of Harmonia. The Graeae, they told us that you might know where it is.”
Athena’s eyes seemed to grow a deeper, stormier grey. I could not read her mood as she looked at me, but I felt like she was searching into my very soul. As if she could see everything I was. Every flaw. When she looked at you, it was as if she was calculating a hundred different ways to kill you.
“You know not what you ask for, Son of Phoebus.” the goddess answered “That necklace has seen greater mortals than you brought to ruin.”
“Tell that to the prophecy,” Laurie muttered.
Athena’s eyes turned to Laurie, and she seemed about to speak, before River spoke up too.
“Lady Athena, the Oracle said we have to find the necklace.” the son of Ares explained “We have to destroy it before it falls into the hands of someone worse than us.”
Athena seemed to consider River’s words for a moment, before returning her gaze to me.
“If the necklace is no longer concealed, it certainly has the potential to be a great threat to Olympus in powerful hands.” she agreed, “Very well. I shall share with you whatever I know about the whereabouts of the cursed necklace. But you must render to me a service beforehand.”
“Can’t you just tell us first and we’ll help you afterwards?” Luka piped up “Payment first only seems fair.”
I gave Luka a warning look, before returning my attention to Athena.
“What do you need?” I asked.
“My amulet, the Gorgoneion, was stolen from me,” the goddess began with a glance at the statue beside her and the amulet around its neck, “I know not by whom. A demigod, I would suspect, for another god could not take it. I have quarrelled with Ares recently-”
At that she paused for a moment, looking over at River with distaste, before she continued.
“- but I can prove nothing. It has great protective powers. If you find my amulet by day’s end, I shall aid you in your quest. Fail, and I shall be doing you a favour by refusing to give you guidance. You would not be equal to the task of bearing the necklace.”
“Where do you think the Gorgoneion could be?” Guinevere questioned.
Athena levelled those steely eyes on Guiney.
“A daughter of Aphrodite,” she looked as if she’d just smelled something bad, “what good hands I entrust this task to. I believe the amulet is within the city; I cannot search for it myself, for we cannot involve ourselves directly in the affairs of our mortal children and I do not wish to create conflict among the gods. The last time I visited this city I found myself at the Andrew Johnson Theatre. I suggest you begin your search near there. The Gorgoneion is powerful; when you grow close to it, you should be able to detect its proximity.”
“I didn’t sign up to be anybody’s errand boy,” River began, though I suspected this was more just him being angry about Athena implying his father had some part in the theft of the Gorgoneion.
“River,” I warned, though doubt flashed through my mind. Was he being deliberately obtrusive because he had taken the Gorgoneion, or one of his siblings? Was he trying to sabotage this quest somehow?
“Perhaps not,” Athena countered evenly, “but you asked that I render you a service and I have set my price. You are free to refuse it, but equally shall you forfeit the knowledge you seek from me.”
I was reminded just how little you would want Athena for an enemy. She did not seem like the type to make mistakes, to have chinks in her armour that you could exploit. She would be relentless, and exacting in the creation of her plans. She was terrifying, I thought.
“We’ll find the amulet,” I promised, almost before I even knew the words were out of my mouth.
The goddess smiled, and inclined her head. It felt like a blessing.
“Go well, then, heroes.” she said, looking to each of us in turn, “I shall hope to see you before sundown.”
We left, but I wasn’t feeling too optimistic about finding Athena’s little trinket by sundown. Not to mention that if a demigod had taken it, we may have a very strong opponent to face. Hopefully, though, only one.
On the other hand, Athena was right. As we drew close to the Tennessee Performing Arts Center where the theatre was, I could feel the presence of something powerful close by. Something very ancient but very protective.
The amulet was close by.
The others seemed to feel it too, if the look of understanding the five of us shared was anything to go by. So we followed that feeling as it grew stronger, that awareness of the presence of the amulet.
It seemed strongest at a particular doorway, which River pulled open to reveal a set of concrete steps which descended into shadowy darkness.
I didn’t feel too great about heading down there, remembering how difficult it was for even Dillon to sense monsters underground. Below ground was the last place I wanted to be. But River was already switching his spear into its torch form to illuminate the way for us.
I led the way but stopped in front of the door, turning to Luka in particular. If I remembered rightly about the gifts she’d been given…
“Luka, we’re going to need all the stealth we can get down here. So I need you to change into your chameleon armour. Wait a few minutes and then follow down after the rest of us. Just in case. I want you to focus on finding the Gorgoneion.”
I didn’t have a good feeling about this place, and that usually was a pretty good indicator. All demigods had the ability of foresight, stuff like getting visions in dreams. I was no prophet like some children of Apollo of old, but I liked to think my instincts were pretty good.
The only time they’d failed me had been with my sister.
Luka agreed to the plan, changing into her armour, and Guinevere gave us all a spritz of her perfume just to be safe. Now that I wasn’t too busy focused on an immediate hellhound threat, I could actually notice the smell. It really did smell like roses, but there was something else as well. A heady floral scent like jasmine, mixed with thyme and a faint savour of sea salt. I could almost smell the warmth and summer as the smell settled into my skin.
My mind was instantly brought to warm islands. I remembered the stories of Aphrodite having been close to Kythera or Cyprus, and it was like those very places had been bottled up in the perfume.
Now that we were as ready as we could be, I led the way down the shadowy steps. I kept my tread as light as possible as we descended into the darkness; all I could hear was the occasional stirring of the others as they followed behind me. Guinevere had her sword drawn, as did Laurie. River illuminated our path with his torch, and the bronze glow of the swords of Guinevere and Laurie occasionally caught that cool light.
After a few moments, though, River was able to switch off his torch. The hall into which we descended seemed hewn of stone, and strips of artificial light illuminated the path. That harsh light threw the walls into high relief, casting shadows against the uneven rock.
It was quiet. Disconcertingly quiet. I knew River was thinking the same thing because he switched his torch back into its spear form. As a half-blood, you learned pretty quickly never to trust anywhere that was too quiet. My unease only grew, my reticence to go further becoming harder to fight.
We walked for quite a while, the hallways sloping down, so I had to assume that we were completely underneath the huge building with the complex of theatres making up the Performing Arts Center. The sound of the traffic which had been rushing nearby only moments before was by now completely gone.
Eventually, the hallway seemed to widen into what I could only refer to as some kind of underground atrium. A big entrance hall with other rooms leading off from it, or i had to guess so from the several doorways surrounding us. The roof was surprisingly tall, kind of vaulted, which I hadn’t really been expecting from such an underground space.
The air felt chilly now; being so far from the sunlight was beginning to have an effect. I’d always liked the sun, probably because I was a child of Apollo, but I had to assume I wasn’t the only one feeling the cold in the air. The lack of sunlight couldn’t be affecting only me.
River seemed to grow a little more tense, and I could see Guinevere’s eyes darting around the room, as if worried one of those shadows might move.
“Well, this place is just delightful,” Laurie’s sarcastic voice echoed off the stone behind me, but there was clear discomfort and nerves behind it. It was like he was trying to make himself braver with the humour.
I couldn’t exactly blame him for not liking the place. It was cold, dark. Even the modern-looking strips of artificial light and the metal doors didn’t give the place the contemporary feel it seemed like the owners were trying to go for. It just made the place seem colder.
“I’m not loving it either,” I answered, “we should just find the amulet and get out of here.”
I didn’t hear movement behind me, but the others saw it. I saw too late the way the fear flashed across their eyes.
“Lucien-“ Guinevere started to say
She was cut off - she didn’t need to say anymore. The blade at my throat did all the talking.
“What an unexpected pleasure.”
This was a male voice, one that was horribly familiar to me.
A voice of someone I thought was dead.
My stomach dropped. There was no way, there had to be no way. It wasn’t possible.
A memory flashed through my mind of a shroud of lustrous golden thread. Simple, but beautiful. It seemed to shine with an inner light, to catch the light of the sun - or of the flames that burned it. Laurel bordered the shroud in white thread. And in the very centre, a bow and arrow rendered in silver. Elara’s shroud; one which I had helped to make with my own hands. One which I had consigned to the flames myself, in front of the whole camp. I could still recall with shocking, vivid clarity the way the heat from the fire had felt like it was searing the tears into my cheeks.
And in that memory I could not avoid the flashing image of another shroud. One of a million different shades of green. Emerald, moss, juniper, pine. A tapestry of delicately woven thread, interwoven like the million colours of a forest canopy or field of grass. Embroidery of wheat in pale golden thread made a border around the outside, and in the centre a cornucopia. I remembered the flames burning away the verdant fabric to black, charring the wheat, melting away the cornucopia to ash.
Both had burned without a body, for it was tradition when a camper went on a quest for their cabin to make them a shroud while they were gone. They would be burned whether they died or whether they returned safely from their quest. Sometimes, though, there was no body to burn at funerals. Just a camper who had been missing for too long and a shroud.
I remembered this boy’s shroud of green and gold all too well.
“Atticus?”
The blade was suddenly tighter against my neck, though the words sounded deceptively friendly.
“Long time, no see.”
I swallowed, which made me feel like the blade might draw blood. It was a sickle, I was pretty sure; the blade was certainly curved. If only I could reach my dagger… but I knew he’d kill me before I had the chance.
“I thought you were dead.”
I could see the others, though not Atticus, who stood behind me. They all had their weapons in their grip, but didn’t seem to want to risk an attack.
“Nah,” Atticus answered, almost too casually, “but if your friends here make any moves, you will be.”
“Don’t tempt me,” River growled, but his grip on his spear slackened.
Laurie and Guinevere sheathed their swords, both keeping their empty hands far from the scabbards of their weapons to show Atticus they had no intention of reaching for them.
Atticus must have been satisfied by this, because the pressure of the blade against my neck lessened a little bit.
Well, it might have been that, or it might have been the two new figures who appeared from a doorway behind Guinevere.
One was a boy. He was tall, a little taller than Laurie, though around the same age. He was all tan skin, chestnut brown hair and brown eyes. Good-looking in an almost fake, plastic doll kind of way, with this smooth skin and very straight white teeth. He even flashed a smile when he saw Laurie, Guinevere, River and myself. He seemed to relish the idea he might get to kill us. Or I hoped it was that; it was slightly better than the idea that it might be torturing us he was so looking forward to.
Next to him, a girl. Probably about average height, and younger than the boy. If I had to guess, probably about sixteen. She had a swimmer’s physique, I thought, and in her face she was rather daintily featured. A light spray of freckles across the bridge of her nose, visible against her pale skin, and a small delicate chin with a little cleft. Her hair was long and brown, her eyes kind of hazel. She looked sweet, but that belied something more dangerous which I could see in something hard and unforgiving in her eyes.
Both bore swords.
I could identify other demigods without any problem, though obviously without being able to tell their godly parent. Even if it weren’t for the celestial bronze weapons they bore, I’d have recognised these two as half-bloods instantly. Just like I knew Luka to be a child of a god the moment I laid eyes on her.
“Perfect timing,” Atticus greeted these two strangers, “please take care of our guests’ things and show them to the next room.”
The two set to work, the girl grabbing Guinevere’s sword while the boy grabbed Laurie’s - though I noticed the way he seemed to look Laurie up and down appraisingly before he moved on to River. The redhead was reluctant to give up his spear, his grip tightening on it as the boy approached. Eventually Atticus was able to prise it from him, but it must have taken a lot of effort because he had to snatch it away from him. River glared at him for a tense moment, but the boy moved away. It was like he’d lost a staring contest, which shouldn’t have mattered at all given that he’d just succeeded in disarming River. But somehow, incredibly, River still seemed to come away from that interaction looking like the one in control even as his spear was wrested from him.
Their backpacks were taken next, everything stored in a corner of the room for the moment. They must have planned to move it all later once they had us where they wanted us - or once they’d killed us. I didn’t want to think about that idea.
Atticus took my bow and arrows himself, though I noticed that by some stroke of insane luck, he seemed to have missed Elara’s dagger at my waist, maybe hidden by my leather jacket. But then I supposed he might not have expected me to carry one, since the last time the two of us had crossed paths I hadn’t used one. Just my bow.
He threw my bow and quiver of arrows - which, though I had bigger things to think about, made me suck in an irritated breath because how dare he just throw my things around - onto the pile in the corner of the room. He moved his sickle away from my neck, and stripped the steadying weight of the backpack from my back, adding that to the pile also. I didn’t dare make any moves knowing my friends were defenceless and these three still very much had their weapons.
And just like that, my friends and I were unarmed and without any of our things.
The girl headed open to one of those metal doors, pulling it open and gesturing with her sword for us to make our way through it. Guinevere, Laurie and River did so, the boy behind them bringing up the rear - presumably so they didn’t try anything funny.
A push forward from Atticus at my shoulder was a sharp reminder that I needed to follow, so I headed after my friends toward the open door. The son of Demeter walked behind me. I hadn’t gotten a good look at him yet, and I was almost terrified to see him again. Would he be as I remembered?
Most importantly, I was just beginning to have time to be confused. Why on earth was Atticus, who my sister and I had known for so long and even through so much with, threatening me now? What was he doing here?
I felt a foreboding that he was not the boy he used to be, and that he did not mean well. I mean, the sharp weapon at my neck earlier had been my first clue (and a fairly conclusive one, at that), but still.
However, as I was about to pass through the door, I felt a flash of relief in my heart. I was sure I just barely caught movement in the shadows in the atrium-like space we were just leaving. I couldn’t be sure, of course, but I had to have hope. Hope that it was her, safe and in her chameleon armour.
Luka.
|
|
|
|
Post by ƤαƖƖαѕ ✧ on Oct 7, 2022 18:35:06 GMT -5
Chapter 12: We Do a Jewellery Heist
LUCIEN
Note: this fic uses settings and characters from the Percy Jackson series, which is trademarked by Rick Riordan
I wasn’t exactly feeling great about this whole situation. Sue me, but running into someone you thought was dead was either a really good thing or a really bad thing, and the whole threatening us with weapons debacle was making me lean a little towards the latter.
Still, despite myself, the knowledge that Atticus was alive kindled a hope in me. The question couldn’t help but run through my head, no matter how much I told myself I couldn’t let my mind run away with me.
If Atticus was alive, could Elara be?
The room we were led into felt even more modern, cold, metallic. Shiny dark metal everywhere. Something about that made my skin crawl. I knew Dillon would have hated it; he couldn’t bear being underground anyway and as a satyr he hated unnatural things. I felt encased, caged. The air felt colder than it should, even underground like this.
I moved to stand next to the others in the middle of the room, beside Guinevere. Her presence was comforting in a way I couldn’t describe. I wasn’t sure if she actually was feeling confident in that moment, but she always seemed to have a feeling about her of being centred in herself. Of knowing exactly who she was.
The boy and the girl I didn’t know the names of stood before us, and Atticus stepped around River, Laurie, Guinevere and I to stand between the two of them. For the first time since he’d left on that quest with my sister, I got a proper look at him.
He was mostly as I remembered him. A boy of about 17 or 18, about the same age Elara would’ve been. He had brown skin, curly dark hair, and brown eyes. Well-defined cheekbones and jaw, a sharp pointed chin. I’d always been a little intimidated by him, because he radiated a power I couldn’t describe. Maybe it was his connection to an earth goddess like Demeter, but it felt like a very ancient kind of power. Like he could leave me no ground to stand on if he willed it. Demeter kids were not usually particularly powerful, but Atticus was the only one I’d met who I thought was truly terrifying.
“Well, if it isn’t little Lucien Fairfax,” Atticus began with amusement, eyes landing on me before drifting over to River, “and River Gellis. My, my, is the old centaur so scared that he put both of you on a quest together? Quite the gamble.”
I didn’t look over at River, but I just set my jaw. Yeah, the two of us had never gotten along. We’d never really liked one another from the off, we butted heads too often. Especially since I’d become a counsellor; we annoyed one another to no end at senior council meetings. Not that Atticus would know about that, he was already gone by then. But he’d know about our rivalry, from the moment I’d set foot in camp.
Atticus slowly, as if he had all the time in the world, turned his attention to the other two.
“Guinevere Sharpe,” he smiled “finally got that quest you’ve been asking for all this time? How’s that working out for you?”
Guinevere said nothing, but I could feel the way she grew stony beside me. It took a lot to make Guinevere angry usually. Not even that time Lane and the Hermes cabin pulled one of their usual pranks and filled all the beds in the Aphrodite cabin with glitter. Yet Atticus’ mocking seemed to have plucked a nerve. He always did have a talent for pushing people’s buttons.
He looked over to Gwen and Ripley, leaning toward them a little and adding quietly in reference to Guiney, “Careful of this one and her Charmspeak. Don’t let her get to you.”
Finally, his brown eyes settled on Laurie.
“And Laurie Bevin,” his grin grew wider, like he was relishing what he was about to say, “I hear your father finally got off his ass and claimed you. Don’t feel bad, that drunkard was never the most paternal.”
Laurie looked like if he were less caught off guard he might have tried to kill Atticus there and then.
“How did you know that?” he asked in shock, so surprised the heat of anger hadn’t reached his voice quite yet.
“I have my ways of finding out what goes on in that camp.” Atticus replied smoothly, as if this were a conversation about the weather, “being ‘dead’ gives you a surprising amount of freedom.”
I didn’t like that at all. He must have had an informant in the camp. But I didn’t have a clue who it could be. One of the Demeter campers who had some loyalty to their brother? I didn’t know, but it was clear that there was a traitor within Camp Half-Blood.
“But I really should introduce you to my friends here,” Atticus continued as if he’d committed some grave oversight of manners, “this is Gwen, daughter of Nemesis. And this is Ripley, son of Notus, the South Wind.”
“The South Wind?” River commented, “Come on, the ‘full of hot air’ joke is right there.”
Ripley glared at him, and Laurie held back a snort of amusement. If Luka had been here, she’d have surely been the one to make that joke. But I didn’t give Ripley a chance to take out any anger on River, because I spoke up instead. I was getting fed up of the fake pleasantries and thinly-veiled threats from Atticus.
“What is this, Atti?” I questioned “I don’t understand.”
What was Atticus doing out here? Why had he never returned to camp?
“I’ll make this as simple as I can, then,” Atticus smirked “I took the Gorgoneion. I’d have thought that much was obvious.”
“Yeah, we got that.” Guinevere muttered.
“Why?” I pressed, confused and feeling more betrayed than I’d expected to feel “Why did you never come back to camp, why all this?”
Atticus sighed, evidently already frustrated by the question.
“You’re asking all the wrong questions,” he grumbled, almost disappointed, before grudgingly answering, “because I got tired. I don’t think I need to explain to you what it’s like. Camp telling us it’s the only safe place for us and in the same breath teaching us that it’s somehow an honour to die for parents who have never cared about us. Who would never do the same for us, even if they could.”
He turned to each of our group in turn, then, starting with River.
“I’ve seen the way you give everything you have for your father and he doesn’t give you shit in return. I know it makes you angry, you just won’t admit it because you don’t want to be like him. But he just gives you a fancy spear and thinks that’s somehow a substitute for a ‘thank you’. I know that hurt you.”
Laurie was next in his sights, the dark-haired boy shifting under Atticus’ gaze. It felt like being pinned down, like he was enjoying tearing us apart layer by layer and seeing what was inside. Like when an Athena kid looked at you, it felt like he could see how you ticked. But in his case there was a more painful feeling to it, like he was splitting us apart to see our core - and it felt like he enjoyed it.
“It’s bad enough that some of the gods have so many children they lose track and can’t remember if a child is theirs. You’re Mr D’s only child that we know of and he just watched your pain and lied to you for years. And you stand here trying to argue that the gods care.”
That was all he said but, given how raw that situation between Laurie and his father still was, he didn’t need to elaborate. We all knew. Guiney was his next target.
“And Guiney. You’ve never been able to get out of your mother’s shadow. All you’ve ever wanted is for people not to think you’re shallow, vain and weak. You want to be more than a daughter of Aphrodite - trust me, they’ll never allow that at camp.”
Guiney’s mouth twitched, and just for a moment I realised that Atticus had pushed a button. Her confidence and self-assuredness did not seem to extend to the topic of her mother.
“You better have a point,” I snapped “we’ve had a very long bus ride and very little sleep.”
“My point,” Atticus countered, though his own patience seemed to be wearing thin, “is that we want the same things. Lucien, you know better than anyone that I’ve been where you are. I know you’re angry. I know that sometimes it feels like you’re the only one who noticed she’s gone.”
I swallowed, because that felt too real. So real I had to break eye contact because it felt like he was seeing more than I could ever say. But he just approached.
“If you joined us,” the son of Demeter said, “you could make your father say her name.”
He stood almost toe to toe with me now, and stood before me for a long intense moment. I didn’t say anything, couldn’t so much as properly draw breath. Then he returned his attention to my friends.
“You could fight for your parents’ approval, maybe even die for it. You could let them define you. Or you could be everything they could never be. You could join us and tear Olympus down.”
“Sure, and let me guess,” River spoke up, “if we don’t, you’ll kill us?“
Atticus shrugged, but Ripley and Gwen stepped closer.
“It’s not personal. But I knew camp would send someone to stop us eventually and the fact is that if you aren’t on our side, it’s too much of a risk to let you live.”
“Figures,” I muttered
“Athena’s amulet has protective magic, which is the final thing we wanted for our journey to get the Necklace of Harmonia. Our mistress is growing stronger by the day. The fall of Olympus can’t be stopped now, but if you join us you can be part of it.”
I said nothing for a very long time; I’m not proud to say I hesitated at his offer, but I did.
“You’re the last person to see my sister alive,” I said “I want to know everything you know.”
Atticus smiled, twirling his sickle almost absently. He was moving it with such fluid motion, without really having to look at it, that I knew he’d be deadly with it in a fight. He’d been good with a blade before he disappeared, and he’d had a long time to practice with it since.
“More wrong questions. I can tell you, but it’ll only be useful if you live,” the son of Demeter responded, and I knew what he meant. It’d only be worth anything to me if I lived, and I’d only live if I agreed to join Atticus’ side here and now.
But I couldn’t help but consider it. Atticus might be the only person alive who knew what had happened to Elara. He might be the only person who might be able to tell me anything about her final days or her final moments. Hell, what if she was alive? Atticus was. If I missed my chance here, I might never know. I would be giving up on her. Surely I could just lie to Atticus, tell him what he wanted to hear?
I had Elara’s dagger, I could threaten him? Demand they let us go? But that was relying on the fact that Ripley and Gwen would agree to let us go in exchange for Atticus’ life and wouldn’t just kill my unarmed friends right there. No, something told me this wasn’t the right moment for Elara’s dagger. I needed to be patient.
“I-” I began, though even as I started to speak I didn’t have a clue how I was going to end that sentence.
The others looked over at me, all in shock that I seemed to be considering it. River looked at me with what seemed to be a hint of disgust. I started to wonder if I could blame him.
I was leading this quest. I’d never put much stock in the idea of being a hero, no matter how many times Chiron called us that. But I recognised that I had people looking to me and relying on me. I’d never wanted that, but it was true. That was a responsibility I couldn’t walk away from. I wasn’t here to find information about my sister. This was bigger than me.
“No,” I answered
Atticus’ face darkened, but I pressed on.
“Atticus, I know you’re angry at the gods but there are other ways.” was my plea to him, “This isn’t going to fix everything.”
The girl, Gwen, rolled her eyes and began to raise her sword.
“Enough talking,” she cut in, though she did seem to look to Atticus for permission.
Atticus nodded, and moments later I felt something tightening on my leg. I looked down, only to see the plants breaking through cracks in the floor, the only part of the room apparently not completely coated in metal. They were snaking up our legs, tightening as they did. Rooting us into place.
I drew in a sharp breath, trying to wrench my feet from the plant, but it only drew even tighter. It was like it was trying to choke the life out of me. It wouldn’t let me go until he wanted it to - because of course it was him. When I looked at Atticus I could see it in the slight raising of one corner of his mouth, tempted by a self-congratulatory smile.
“What a shame,” Atticus began as if he really did feel bad about this, “I’d hoped you hadn’t been completely brainwashed. But if we can’t be allies…”
He looked to Ripley and Gwen.
“Make it quick this time - don’t play with them,” he gave a pointed look at Ripley there, “The Lady wants us to leave as soon as possible for the necklace.”
The trio, weapons in hand, made a move toward us. The plants grew higher, tightening uncomfortably around my stomach with life-leeching strength. If these three didn’t kill us first, it wouldn’t be long before those plants choked us to death.. Atticus made for me, raising his sickle. Gwen made a beeline for Guinevere, and Ripley for River.
Apparently they hadn’t planned for Laurie.
Don’t ask me how he did it, but new plants began to rise from the floor. Different plants.
Vines sprang up, winding around the plants Atticus had begun to grow. Atticus’ plants seemed to pull back a little, and I guessed the vines were choking them. Laurie looked more shocked than Atticus did, his mouth agape for a moment as he tried to process what he’d just done.
Laurie’s moment of shock though, and probably his weakness from using his powers for the first time, gave the more practiced Atticus an advantage. He pushed harder, the plants fighting Laurie’s vines until the exhausted son of Dionysus was forced to give.
It was too late, though; River had seized the moment when the plants had been weakest and broken free of them, and he faced Ripley now without restraints.
I took the chance to draw Elara’s dagger and cut my bindings, and myself prepared to face Atticus. I didn’t fancy my chances with just my dagger against that wicked looking sickle, but River was facing harsher odds. If he could do it, I could. Not to mention the fact it might distract Atticus a little from trying to kill the group at large if he had to focus on me.
Ripley was dreadfully proficient with his sword. When I say River had been incredible in trying to deal with him, I wasn’t exaggerating. I’d watched River dodging the blade, keeping out of its reach, with so much agility I thought he could have made a pretty good Hermes kid. Ripley seemed to be making more mistakes, though, like River was getting in his head. Ares kids were good at that, could make you get angry and impulsive. But still, it was pretty soon all over there - I knew that even River couldn’t keep going forever without a weapon. Before I even knew it River had been forced back until his back touched the metal walls, the point of Ripley’s sword pressing into the skin of his throat.
Ripley drew back the sword, prepared to make a final stab and end River then and there. But suddenly he frowned. The sword seemed stuck in mid air, like he was trying to move it through treacle. Telumkinesis; power over weapons. An ability of Ares’ children. But I knew this would drain River’s energy and he couldn’t keep it up. I could already hear a low, straining growl from his throat with the effort, red hair bright against the silvery metal of the wall as he pressed his head right back against the wall as if that would save him from the blade. The moment he stopped, he was dead.
Guinevere wasn’t faring much better against Gwen. The daughter of Nemesis’ movements with her sword were precise - no nonsense, no wasteful flourishes. It was all Guiney could do not to end up stabbed. Laurie was at least able to offer a distraction, but that only ended with Laurie staggering back for a moment in a daze. hand covering a bloody and what had to be broken nose from the hilt of Gwen’s sword, which she’d very efficiently slammed backward into Laurie’s face when he’d tried to tackle her. Now Gwen had a moment where she only had to focus on Guinevere.
Atticus made his first swing for me, which I dodged, but he did take note of Elara’s dagger as I raised it, and he couldn’t resist commenting on it.
“So that’s what happened to it,” he smiled, “I had wondered.”
I had to ignore him, otherwise the burning desire to kill him would make me lose focus. I just kept fighting, aiming my own attack with the dagger.
I could barely keep up with Atticus and his sickle, and my dagger was certainly no match for it. Atticus seemed a little tired after making those plants grow earlier, but he still had a massive advantage over me. He was older, bigger, stronger. He was taller than me, and I was no melee fighter. Apollo kids, we didn’t tend to fare well in hand-to-hand combat. Not unless you were my sister.
We fought fairly fluidly; we knew one another’s fighting styles and idiosyncrasies. We’d fought alongside one another plenty of times before, and we’d sparred together more than a few times too for training. Though he’d always done that more with Elara than with me. Still, I knew him. I knew the rhythm he liked to fight in. Some of his movements were like mine, so telling of the fact that he’d taught me some of them.
I tried to get close to him to try and hit him with the dagger, but he swung and though I missed most of the blow, it was enough to cut a nice gash in the upper arm of my leather jacket and - probably more importantly- my skin beneath it. I could feel the bursting pain, could feel the hot sticky blood pooling beneath it. Luckily I figured the adrenaline would stop me from noticing it too much until the fight was over. That was my hope, anyway.
I kept fighting, but I could constantly feel Atticus’ plants tugging down at my shoes, trying to trip me and hamper my movement. He seemed to see his chance to end the fight because he pressed me hard, making a swing hard enough to force me back. Before I even had time to register what was happening I had hit the ground hard, Atticus’ plants having tripped me.
He stood over me, sickle blade at my throat, already reddened with that bit of my blood it had tasted.
The boy’s eyes looked at me with such coldness that it hit me like a wave. The realisation that there was no mercy, no sympathy to be found there. He laid down a foot on my wrist, pressing down on the brittle bones until I cried out in pain and opened my hand holding the dagger. Atticus just removed his food and kicked it away, skittering noisily away. His eyes laid on that dagger for a moment as they had before. I cradled my painful wrist in my other hand.
“I can’t believe you’re her brother,” he said to me, sneering, “I don’t remember her being quite so pathetic.”
I knew in that moment, with a certainty, that he was going to kill me. But it didn’t feel like a revelation. It didn’t bring a wave of fear, or dread, or sadness. Didn’t make me feel angry. Didn’t make me feel anything really. It was a numb, almost peaceful acknowledgement. This boy here was going to take my life. I didn’t feel an urge to fight it.
I turned my head and looked at my friends. Guinevere trying to avoid a speedy barrage of attacks from Gwen, only barely missing the flashing bronze blade. River, to whose throat the blade shakily grew near for, unable to keep up his powers, he’d resorted to physically trying to hold Ripley’s hands back. This was it. The Oracle had been wrong. This ended here and now, like this.
It was at that moment the door behind us burst open, admitting a blur of dark curls spraying out from beneath a helmet of chameleon armour. Luka had her dagger drawn, no longer needing to care about stealth if I were to judge from the fact that she could not have made any less of an effort to hide.
She had the Gorgoneion around her neck, and in one hand held Pyrphoros while the other bore the torch that River’s spear converted into. I had to guess that she couldn’t carry all of our weapons and so River’s was the only transportable one. She’d grabbed that one and I assumed was betting on us being able to get our other weapons on the way out.
I wasn’t bitter or anything, but my bow would have been really good. Preferably about half a minute before, but I wasn’t picky. I’d have taken right that moment instead.
Still, I was just relieved she was alive. More relieved than I could say.
I knew it was the Gorgoneion around her neck instantly. A heavy-looking golden chain with a large pendant, from which a hissing gorgon’s head stared with ferocious hate, snakes writhing from its scalp.
Atticus, Ripley and Gwen’s eyes all fell on her and, in what I had to think could only be shock at the sudden appearance of this unexpected guest, faltered.
Luka was able to throw the torch to River, who since he no longer had to defend himself against the distracted Ripley, caught it and converted it to its spear form. With a weapon I suspected that he’d be more than a decent match for Ripley. She made to support Guinevere and Laurie against Gwen, drawing Pyrphoros and jumping in to the carnage with far too much calm for someone so new to this. Though I forgot sometimes just now much of a veteran she actually was when it came to fighting enemies - she’d been fighting monsters on her own for months out on the streets before Dillon and I found her.
“Come on!” Luka yelled at us all, beginning to retreat back towards the door.
She was right. She had the Gorgoneion and it was taking all her effort to fend off Gwen’s attacks in an effort to get the thing back. We had to get out, now.
I’d managed to scramble to my feet while Atticus was distracted with Luka, but I didn’t want to retreat. I couldn’t leave Elara’s dagger here, that wasn’t an option to me. Not here with Atticus. I started to make a break towards it, but the Guiney grabbed me as she pulled back towards the door. I tried to struggle but her grip was like iron encircling just about where my lower ribs were as she pulled me back.
For a few moments I kicked and struggled, using every sharp part of my body to try and get Guinevere off me. She made a few pained grunts, but didn’t let go. I had to relent.
It was probably for the best too, because Atticus, Ripley and Gwen began to advance as we retreated. River and Laurie were the first out, but because of the trouble I’d caused Guinevere, we were a little slower. Luka was bringing up the rear.
The very air seemed to be growing more heated suddenly, and I didn’t know if it was Luka in her panic or if it was Ripley, for I’d sensed a similar feeling around him earlier in the anger of the fight with River. An uncomfortable heat, the kind of heat I thought felt destructive. A wearying heat.
The three were advancing too quickly now, running, and the air became stifling. It was as if our lungs were about to set on fire. Guinevere and I were running now, backwards toward the door, and Luka followed.
Guiney and I got through, and Luka only a second behind us. Gwen, Atticus and Ripley had almost caught up, and once they fell on us they’d do more than force us into a retreat.
“Close the door!” Luka shouted in rushed panic, and Guiney and I did just that, slamming the metal door shut. I felt like I couldn’t breathe.
“It’ll only slow them down for a few seconds!” I cried
Luka didn’t need to answer. She seemed to know what to do, and even thought she’d never mentioned that she’d done this before, I had to assume she had. I’d seen her use her powers before at the bus, and of course we all knew about it before we left because rumours spread like… well… wildfire at camp. Especially when they had something to do with a prophecy. Still, this was next level.
She stretched out a hand, and her palm glowed and then blazed. Guinevere and I dove out of the way as a blast of flame hit the metal door. I don’t know how hot her fire must have been - or maybe it was because it was magic - but the metal on the door glow first red, when white-hot.
I looked at Luka’s face, thrown into sharp relief by the flames. Her eyes fierce, face all shadows and light. And I knew in a moment why Hephaestus’ children feared fire users so much. She was a dangerous force, a pure power. If the parts of the Great Prophecy I had heard were right, I could understand how she could be the difference between Olympus’ preservation or destruction.
She directed the flame against the edge of the door, near where the handle was. Before I could fully appreciate the magnitude of the power I’d just seen her display - out of desperation and fear though it had been - the metal of the door had been melted and deformed.
I was expecting Luka to make some kind of quip, say something about that holding them for a while, but instead her eyes rolled back in her head and I had to catch her as she crumpled.
“Shit, shit, shit,” I muttered as I slowly and carefully lowered Luka to the ground.
River appeared then, Laurie at his side. They’d clearly been getting our stuff back because both had backpacks - it looked like Guinevere’s and River’s - and Laurie handed Guinevere her sword. River had turned his spear back into a torch which was clipped by its little keying loop to his belt and was about to hand me my bow when he seemed to register the figure I was kneeling beside and the melted door. His eyes widened.
“Damn,” he murmured, something like awe in his voice.
“Di immortales,” Laurie said in a hushed tone alongside him, doing a movement I recognised as being a gesture for warding off evil. I’d seen it before, mainly from Dillon and the satyrs. Like crossing yourself, but much older.
Laurie had been at camp a long time, even though when he’d come he hadn’t been much shy of thirteen. He was more comfortable in how this world worked than most of us. And in the process had picked up habits from the satyrs, nymphs and Chiron and Mr D. He was the best pinochle player in camp, having been dragged into so many of Mr D and Chiron’s games. Sometimes I forgot, since he’d never been on a quest, just how demigod he really was. He’d always just felt like a fixture at the camp. Part of the furniture, not a hero like us.
River passed me my bow, which I took back gratefully. I was sorely feeling the loss of Elara’s dagger. I hadn’t been without it ever since I lost her, and apart from her necklace attached to my bow it was all I had of hers. Losing the dagger felt like I was growing even further away from her - just as I was growing further from answers about what had happened to her.
Luka stirred below me, and tried to sit up rapidly in panic. I made a placating shushing sound, telling her to take it easy, before I looked to River behind me.
“River,” I began, “give me some of your ambrosia.”
River looked unhappy about giving me anything, but he knew it was for Luka and so he didn’t hesitate. He took his backpack from his back, unzipped it and passed me a square of ambrosia. I gave some to Luka, taking a little bit for myself to help with the cut to my arm and crushing pain in my wrist. I didn’t know if it would be enough, but it would help. We needed to ration our ambrosia supplies, especially since mine was now gone after the bus explosion, along with Laurie’s and Luka’s.
River also gave some to Laurie, who was still rather covered with blood from his nose, and I swore to him I’d heal it properly once we got to safety
“Are you okay?” I asked Luka concernedly, looking her over.
“Just dandy,” Luka commented sarcastically in return, “thank the gods I was able to get the amulet or we’d have been well and truly screwed.”
“How was finding it?” I asked, stepping back as River offered her a hand to help her to her feet.
“Let’s just say the chameleon armour is very useful when a place is guarded by half an army of demigods,” she replied
Guinevere’s eyes widened, “Really?”
Luka nodded grimly. None of us said anything; we didn’t need to. A big group of demigods looking to take down the gods was not good, not good news at all.
This quest was starting to feel too big already, too much for us. I felt out of my depth as the one who was supposed to lead it.
“Well, let’s bring the Gorgeoneion back to Athena. Hopefully she can help us in return,” I reasoned. Honestly, I was just exhausted and wanted to get away from that place. I had a lot to process after seeing Atticus alive again.
“Or we could not.”
Of all the people in the group, I’d never expected those words to come from River’s mouth. I might not get on with the boy, but he usually had an extremely strong sense of right and wrong and was a fierce as I was in sticking to it. I looked at him in astonishment.
“What?” I questioned, shocked, as I too rose to my feet.
“You heard what Atticus said,” River responded “he said they needed the Gorgoneion to get the necklace of Harmonia. If we want the necklace, we’re going to need it too.”
“And exactly how far do you think we’ll get if we piss off Athena?” I challenged.
“Well having her on our side has almost gotten us killed, so I don’t see how much we can lose.” River shot back.
I narrowed my eyes, folding my arms.
“Well it’s a good thing I’m the one leading this quest.” I answered firmly, “we’re returning the amulet. I don’t care what is going on between Athena and your father, but you’re not making that your business right now. This isn’t open for discussion.”
River’s eyes seemed to blaze with fury, but eventually the redhead settled on turning and leading the way out, stalking ahead of the rest of the group. We followed - I paused to grab my backpack, the only one Laurie and River hadn’t been able to grab - and headed back toward the entrance we’d originally come through.
When we did step out into the fresh outdoor air, we stepped out into a Nashville that was darker than it should be for mid-afternoon
|
|
|
|
Post by ƤαƖƖαѕ ✧ on Oct 20, 2022 17:28:43 GMT -5
FLASH FORWARD - NOT NECESSARILY CANON It was the night before his wedding, and Laurie could not sleep. He’d been chatting with Luka, but she did in fact need to sleep, especially having been working so hard to help with wedding prep. She’d been the last one awake aside from him, for everybody else had gone to bed. He’d even said a last goodnight to River before the big day. Now he was alone, filled with too much anticipation to sleep.
At least, he’d thought he was alone.
He’d been sitting outside by the lake beside which he’d get married the next day. The lake where he’d kissed River for the first time. Inky black water stretched like a smooth mirror before him, a silver dusting of stars trapped within it. The man looked up, and there it was. The constellation of Heracles. The words he’d shared with River all that time ago rung in his ears as clearly as if they’d just been spoken. He was no longer the boy who’d spoken those words, but he was more in love than ever to the man he’d spoken them to.
But still he had doubts. Not about River, but about himself. About whether he was good enough, worthy enough, of all this happiness.
He wears too busy trying to settle the whirling storm in his mind that he didn’t even notice a familiar figure approaching.
It was only when a shadow fell and then a woman sat quietly beside him that he finally registered the presence. A dark-haired woman who oozed a quiet, centred confidence Laurie had never quite had. He had always seemed like the most self-assured one due to his exuberant, outgoing demeanour, but his sister was far more secure in herself than he. Really, she was the more confident one; Laurie was louder, but it was a mask and it echoed hollow.
“Qu’est-ce qui ne va pas , Laur?” Denise asked her brother, speaking in French. She was learning English so she could talk with River and with Laurie’s new friends (with the exception of Guinevere, who she happily spoke in French with), but with her brother she always spoke in their own language.
”Rien” the man answered, the word flying from his mouth a little too quickly to make him really look believable. He was a good actor, but he never had been great at putting on a front when it came to his sister.
Denise clicked her tongue, and Laurie knew instantly that she’d seen through him. Of course she had. To her, he was as transparent as glass.
”I might not understand all this stuff you’re telling me about what happened after you went missing,” she replied in French ”but I know you. You’re not the same. I don’t really know much about what you’ve gone through since you left home, and you don’t have to tell me-“
”Good,” Laurie said shortly, fingers clutching at a clump of grass in his grip.
”But you and this American boy,” the woman continued. She was always calling River ‘that American boy’, no matter how many times Laurie reminded her of his name.
”Yeah?” Laurie was a little defensive, perhaps. It hadn’t even crossed his mind that his sister might not approve, but suddenly the fear hit him. Suddenly it felt that Denise could bring Laurie’s life crashing into shattering shards with what she chose to say next.
”I know what you’re like, Laur, you’re my little brother,” she said ”you always do this.”
”What?”
”Self-sabotage.”
Laurie didn’t know how to respond to that, so he just breathed in that soft night air. It was that kind of atmospheric night where the world seemed to stop right up until the sun came up. One of those nights where time seemed to slow down.
”Things get a little too good and you convince yourself you don’t deserve to be happy. So you destroy things on your own before they have time to wake up and realise you’re not good enough. Because at least then you can’t be burned again.” Denise continued ”You let yourself think you deserve to be treated badly.”
The Champion of Dionysus sighed, looking out again over the lake. He’d gone for what he wanted out there that night when he kissed River, but it hadn’t taken long for the doubt even then to creep into his mind. Like he was somehow dragging River down by being with him.
It had crushed him, the breakup. It had all but confirmed for him that he was the liability he’d been beginning to think he might be. Denise’s words hit a little too close to home after everything.
”I’ve seen you pick people you know aren’t good for you. I’ve seen you wreck things that might have had a chance. But you’ve got a good one this time, Laurie, and I’ve never seen you seem quite this happy with anyone. Don’t you dare get in your own way now. That man loves you, and he’s a good person.” she said firmly, ”You deserve to be happy - and that American is it.”
She stood and gently patted his shoulder, letting her hand linger there for a moment.
”Get some sleep,” Denise said gently, turning and disappearing to head back inside. |
|
|
|
Post by ƤαƖƖαѕ ✧ on Nov 17, 2022 17:49:33 GMT -5
FLASH FORWARD - NOT NECESSARILY CANON Laurie hadn’t expected the knock on his bedroom door.
That day had been Luka’s trial, and he couldn’t say he’d thought anyone would want to talk after it. Not after such a heavy day. He’d spent most of the time praying silently to every god from every pantheon he knew that it would go okay for her. He’d made no small effort to get across during his own trial his hopes for leniency for Luka.
He’d called for the visitor to come in, barely glancing at the door as it opened. But he had to do a double take. There she was, stepping across the threshold into his room. Luka. She had been angry with him over what he’d done with the exiled - just like everyone else. Join the club, he’d always thought. But he didn’t know what to make of the fact she was there, so his look was cautious as he regarded her.
”Hey,” he greeted uncertainly, unsure how to approach this. Luka had actively sought him out and she didn’t look furiously angry. There was tension in the air, but the anger he’d felt from her seemed to have abated a little.
She approached quietly, Laurie moving a little to allow her to sit alongside him. The girl was seated before she spoke, face hidden by the dark curls at first. ”What you did for me - the trial…” Luka began, trailing off.
”Oh,” Laurie swallowed, before shrugging. A slight smile flickered across his face, ”Yeah, I’m trying this new thing where I don’t make everything about me.”
Luka seemed to appreciate the little joke, looking thoughtful for a moment before simply replying with, ”Wow,”
”Yeah, it’s pretty weird.” the French boy joked, ”I just… I couldn’t have you be punished for my mistakes.”
Luka shook her head at that one, ”I think you’re giving yourself too much credit.”
”Yeah, I’m starting to think that might be a bad habit of mine,” the young man responded, the bittersweet words staining his tongue.
Luka looked at him then, and she looked like she was looking for something. Maybe trying to figure out what he was truly feeling. Maybe trying to decide why he’d defended her at his trial. ”You didn’t have to do all that for me, you know.”
Laurie sighed then, hand moving to his face as he looked down. It was a moment before he took a deep breath and spoke again.
”Don’t tell me I didn’t have to do it.”
”Why?”
Laurie shook his head, ”Because you deserved better. You all did.”
Luka opened her mouth as if she was about to speak but then closed it again, exhaling through her nose as she paused thoughtfully for a moment, as if trying to form the right words.
”Laurie, I was angry at you because of the hurt you caused us,” she began carefully ”but it wasn’t your fault, you were in a vulnerable place and he manipulated you. Yeah, you chose to do what you did but you didn’t make that choice freely. You made some bad choices but you didn’t have any good ones. I know what that’s like.”
Laurie looked at her, a little surprised by the reassurance, and Luka placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.
”I’m not saying you have no responsibility for what you did. But what I am saying is that I’m nowhere near as angry at you as I am at Ripley for what he did to you. And I need you to understand that you could never have deserved the shit he did to you, I know you blame yourself on some level for it and that’s not okay.”
Laurie could have cried right then with the sheer relief of what Luka said. It felt like a weight had been taken from him. In fact, he took in a shaky breath, blinking hard a couple times. It was a few moments before he felt like he could speak again without sounding tearful.
”You don’t know what that means to me,” Laurie began ”but I just- I knew that what I’d done had hurt people, and I knew that accepting me back would be a risk for so many reasons. I didn’t want to be the source of any more pain, and I didn’t think it was fair of me to ask people who had suffered because of me to let me back into their home if they weren’t comfortable.”
He hadn’t wanted to bring any more trouble or pain. All he’d wanted was to make sure his own safety was protected, whether he was accepted back or not. And he’d been prepared to accept the fact that they might not be comfortable having him back again. Especially when they couldn’t know for sure that he wasn’t secretly still working for the exiled, and Laurie himself could still be a target for the exiled.
”And I knew you deserved for them to know how much you’d done for us,” he finished.
”It’s probably the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for me, so thank you,” Luka replied earnestly ”But remember that you’re not some kind of curse or burden, Laurie.”
Laurie barely let her finish those words before he reached to wrap her into a tight hug, a hug through which he was desperate to impart all of the relief he felt, all the gratefulness he felt to her. What Ripley had done to him had warped his self-belief so much. Made him think he was worthless, not worthy of love. That he’d caused so much pain to the people who loved him that he’d never be able to salvage a relationship with them, that they’d hate him. That he was someone who hurt other people and deserved to be hated for it. That he was so damaged that to love him was a burden and that he only hurt the people he cared about.
And as he hugged her, he could feel some of the pain he’d been carrying drift away. To be replaced by the tiniest seed of hope. A little voice whispering that maybe Ripley had been wrong. Maybe he wasn’t weak, or a bad and totally selfish person. A little voice that could tell him that he had never deserved to be hurt - a voice that gave him permission to get angry because he’d been used and hurt and torn apart. But also a voice that told him he wouldn’t be angry forever, that one day he would be living a happy life and that was the most important kind of revenge.
“And you’re a good person.” he said as he pulled away from the hug, ”and more people see that than you think. You deserve for people to love and care about you. I know sometimes it’s feels like it’s better to let people hate you but you deserve better than that.”
|
|
|
|
Post by ƤαƖƖαѕ ✧ on Dec 12, 2022 19:22:23 GMT -5
FUTURE WRITING - NOT NECESSARILY CANON Lucien had seen the two words written on his records with the hunters time and time again.
Subject non-cooperative.
He’d fought with everything he had when he’d first arrived there. But this wasn’t like fighting the exiled. They didn’t see him as a person, just a number and a set of powers. His protests went heard but unheeded. His furious struggling did nothing. It was like fighting against a brick wall.
Eventually he became exhausted, and he could feel his fight failing. He couldn’t physically fight them off anymore and so hard resolved to hurling insults. But they saw through that easily. They could see the cornered animal that he was.
He thought that was why one day they brought him into a room he’d never been into before. He’d thought it was some new testing place but when he got inside he faltered for a second.
It was the only room in this godforsaken place that he’d seen that didn’t look like a hospital or science lab. It still looked like the kind of room Lucien’s family wouldn’t have afforded in a hundred years. Like an expensive study or office. All mahogany, everything polished beyond an inch of its life, the occasional tasteful hint of gilding. Classic but expensive.
The only thing that made the place unpleasant was the stack of records next to the old record player. He could see his father’s face looking at him from one of them.
A woman rose from a chair behind the desk, smiling with closed mouth as she gestured for Lucien to sit in the chair opposite. Lucien was wary, but the hunters who had brought him in stepped back out of the room, closing the doors behind them. He knew they’d be right outside.
But that just left him and this woman, and despite his reservations he felt compelled to sit. He couldn’t just stand there forever, after all.
The woman looked maybe mid to late 40s. Aside from being intimidatingly tall at around six foot, she didn’t look scary. Really, she looked strict in a teachery kind of way. Lucien had dealt with teachers like that before millions of times, could tell the type in his sleep and he wasn’t afraid of them. The biggest threat he felt from her was that she might give him detention.
”Oh, no.” he commented with tired sarcasm as he took the seat, ”have I been called to the principal’s office?”
The woman waited until Lucien was seated before taking her own chair once again, replying smoothly, ”In a sense, I suppose you have.”
She looked at him in an evaluating and calculating way, the kind of way that made you want to squirm under the gaze. Her eyes seemed to be grey, almost as if she were metal underneath it all. Not that he’d be particularly surprised if she were.
The last time he’d been in an interview situation like this he’d been in the olive station talking to the officer who would later turn out to be Apollo. Even the god had possessed a less disconcerting gaze than this woman. Suddenly he felt that he would take being in the police station again over this any day of the week.
”My name is Cassandra Valentine,” the woman continued ”I’m the leader of this little organisation.”
Of course she was. Lucien should’ve known the moment he laid eyes on her and this office. This was the one. This was the woman who was hurting his friends, his sister. This was the woman who was responsible for what he was going through. This was the woman responsible for all of this.
He felt the same urge he’d felt during that meeting when Cleo had been insulting him. He felt the same spark of anger flashing through his body, the same desire to hurt this person in front of him who was the cause of all this pain. That igniting rage.
But where had fighting got him? What had it achieved for him? Nothing. It hasn’t changed anything. In the end it didn’t stop these hunters from doing what they wanted to do. Besides, he was exhausted, he could feel that much. His body was weak, and aching. He wouldn’t get far.
So he distracted himself by gouging a scratch into the arm of the chair, trying to banish the thoughts of how much he wanted to hurt Cassandra Valentine.
”Cassandra, huh?” he forced himself to reply after a moment, ”Like the prophetess? The one with bad blood with Apollo?”
God, wasn’t that just his luck? Of course the woman who had basically kidnapped him happened to share a name with a famous Greek mythological figure who’d been wronged by his guide. That was just the kind of cruel irony he kept experiencing.
He knew the myth of Cassandra. The Trojan princess who had been given by Apollo with the power of prophecy but with the curse that nobody would believe her. That was one of the more creative curses in Greek mythology, and Lucien could see why it would be terrible to live with. He knew what it was like to live with a gift that had a painful caveat. But he wouldn’t trade for Cassandra’s lot. To always speak the truth and never have anyone listen.
Valentine regarded him with new interest, then, and he wasn’t sure whether what was a good or bad thing. ”Smart boy,” she answered almost appreciatively.
”Surprised?” was Lucien’s response, because of course he couldn’t stop himself challenging her a bit.
She ignored that comment, though her eyes hardened a bit. She didn’t respond to it, instead folding her hands on the desk as if this was just a business meeting or something.
”07, I’ve called-“ she began
”Lucien.”
Valentine stopped at the sudden interruption, but was clearly displeased. ”Sorry? she asked, in that way parents did where they were giving you a chance to correct yourself before you got punished.
But Lucien was stubborn, so he simply doubled down. ”Lucien. That’s my name, and it annoys the shit out of me that nobody in this place uses it.”
He could see he’d annoyed this woman now. For just a second, an expression flashed across her face. Rage boiling just below the surface. If he kept prodding her like this he didn’t know what might happen. But for now, she just smiled tightly.
”I’ve called you here because I’ve heard from my colleagues that you’ve been giving them quite the battle since you arrived with us.” she answered, though Lucien noticed the choice not to use his name.
He didn’t know how to respond to that. Did this woman really expect him not to be angry or fight? Did she expect him just to be okay with this whole thing that she was putting him and his friends through?
“‘Arrived with us’” Lucien scoffed, because he couldn’t believe this woman was talking about this as if this had been somehow voluntary on his part, ”Yeah, I’m on a real holiday, lady”
Cassandra didn’t seem very amused by the boy, her lips pursing slightly in response to his words. Lucien didn’t give a shit. If she didn’t like attitude she shouldn’t have dragged him in here to talk to him.
”It’s a shame,” the woman answered regretfully, ”You know, it is a shame because I have nothing against you, Lucien.”
Lucien folded his arms, ”Could’ve fooled me,”
”I want to help.” Valentine replied, unclasping her hands and sitting back in her chair. Then she looked at him again, that gaze that felt like he was talking to a teacher or a therapist or something. Whatever that feeling was when she looked at him, Lucien hated it. ”Because when I look at you, I don’t see a fighter. I see a scared child. You are a frightened boy who has been taken advantage of and used. And you know, it’s not your fault.”
Lucien didn’t know what to say to that, mouth opening as if he could will a protest to come to his tongue but he couldn’t. Because by all accounts, wasn’t that exactly what Apollo had done? As much as he wanted to deny it, it was true.
Valentine’s voice softened, so much so that he could almost forget where he was in that moment. Because he hadn’t felt like he’d heard that kind of comforting parental tone in a long time.
”I know how much these powers hurt you. And I can tell you’ve been given responsibilities you should never have had to carry. Can you honestly look at me and tell me that you haven’t ever wondered what it would be like if all this could just go away? If you could just stop fighting?”
He couldn’t pretend he hadn’t wondered. Of course he’d thought about how nice it would be to not have been given these powers, or the leadership role. What if Apollo had never chosen him?
Because God, did he want it to stop sometimes. The pain, the pressure. The constantly wondering if he was good enough. The fear of letting everybody down. The fear one day Apollo and the other Ascendants would wake up and realise what a terrible excuse for a champion or a leader he was and that would be that.
But they needed him still, he knew that. So he tried to meet her gaze. ”You have me all wrong. This isn’t about fighting for the gods. I do this shit for my friends, that’s what this is about.”
Valentine shrugged lightly at that, seeming very unruffled by the young boy sitting in front of her. It was like she could see what Lucien had always feared people seeing; that his bark was far worse than his bite.
In her eyes as she looked at him he could see what she must be seeing. This child sitting in front of her, putting on a show of defiance that was for nought. An exhausted teenager, worn from more than his time with the hunters. The stress and lost sleep had gotten to him long before that, from the moment the others had been kidnapped that Halloween. Or maybe even from that first night where he was elected leader. He’d never thought he was good enough for that, but he’d wanted so desperately to try to be. And where had it gotten him? Now he was nothing but a tired, pale boy with tangled hair and eyes a little wild as if he permanently had adrenaline and fear coursing through his veins.
Apollo’s hero, indeed.
”Maybe you’re protecting your friends from the wrong thing. These abilities you have are greater than mortals - even strong young ones - are built to bear. They’re dangerous to you, not to mention bystanders. You’ll suffer for them, and you’ll always suffer for them.” the woman began.
He was sure Apollo had mentioned something like that before. Something about the gods’ powers being too great for a mortal body.
”How did you believe this would end?” she pressed, Lucien looking away from her now, ”Gods involving themselves in mortal affairs only causes pain and suffering.”
Lucien set his jaw as she leaned forward again, as if to tell him a secret. The boy remained resolutely silent.
”Apollo isn’t saving you, is he? And I hate to tell you, but he isn’t going to either. One day, you’ll probably die in an unpleasant way, most likely in some fight somewhere. And Apollo will choose someone new and that’ll be that, because to him you are a tool. What you haven’t learned yet is that immortals can’t value mortal lives. To live, sacrifice and die for something is a thing they can’t experience or grasp the meaning of.” she continued, so matter of fact that Lucien couldn’t believe how casual these words sounded coming from her.
Was she right? Did the gods understand what it was the ascendants were giving? Did the dedication of a life mean anything to a being who didn’t know what it was like to have a limited lifespan? Did the sacrifice of a life mean anything to a being who didn’t know what it meant to face death?
Perhaps she was.
”I just want to take all that away. Get rid of the powers, so nobody can be hurt. And healing abilities like yours, 07? If we could learn from those, imagine the lives that could be saved. Doesn’t that feel so much better than hurting people?” she was asking now, voice gentle but firm.
Lucien looked down, quiet for a long time. He didn’t know how to feel or what to think. He couldn’t refute some of what she’d said. But he knew all too well that she was hurting him and his friends and he could never be on her side. He could never cooperate with her.
I’m the end he just looked up, expression largely unreadable.
”What I think won’t make any difference anyway,” he answered numbly
|
|
|
|
Post by ƤαƖƖαѕ ✧ on Jan 11, 2023 17:46:10 GMT -5
FUTURE WRITING - NOT NECESSARILY CANON
Cleo’s words still rung in my ears.
“It has to be you. Nobody knows her better than you do.”
They were right of course. At least, that’s what I had once thought. The two of us understood one another in a way nobody else did. I was close to River in my own way, of course, but though our brotherly relationship was no less meaningful to me than my friendship with her, it was different. The two of us? We weren’t even two sides of the same coin. We were kindred spirits.
Or that was what I’d let myself be convinced to think. But if she truly knew me, she would know how much walking away like that would hurt me. Did she not know me as well as I thought? Did she know and simply not care? It had to be one of the two.
I didn’t know if I was angrier with her for what she did, or with myself for not knowing better.
The familiar falling sensation of the portal tugged at my stomach, dragged the breath from my lungs like a drop on a rollercoaster. I hadn’t felt that too often lately. Keeping me safe was a new priority since the kidnappings and the increasingly daring behaviour of the exiled. Couldn’t let the healer be at risk. It was only because I was so valuable to the group, I was always being told, but it didn’t help much. I was going stir-crazy, and everyone knew it. Being stuck in the pantheon all the time was making me more agitated than ever, especially because I knew I could be useful out there if they would just let me. I understood why they held me back, I tried not to complain too much about it because I knew it was sensible. But I knew the others could see it anyway. That was part of why I’d agreed to do it, and I think part of why Cleo and the others decided to send me.
My anger was also part of it, I would admit, but I knew Cleo’s only concern about sending me was the possibility of me being carried away by my emotions so I had tried not to show it too much to them. But I had never let it go.
The whirling, disorienting feeling of the portal ceased, and I stepped out in a place I did not know. In preparedness, I grabbed my bow, feeling more confident with the weight of the weapon in my grip. The smoothness of it, the steadfast grip. I let one of my hands hover over my quiver of arrows, just in case. I knew what she was like; unpredictable.
My breaths came out slightly choked, as if I hadn’t realised I’d been holding them, and I had to force myself to breathe more deeply and slowly. I stepped forward cautiously into dim light, my steps suddenly feeling too loud and heavy in the deathly quiet.
”You do not have to be the one to do this,” Apollo’s voice in my ear held a note of concern, ”Lucien, you shouldn’t. I promise that fighting her will not ease your pain.”
I just chuckled lightly, scanning for any movement or sound as I began to move cautiously.
”No, but it’d be so satisfying.”
i was past Apollo’s concern for me. I didn’t care anymore, not about any of it. All I cared about was finally confronting Luka for what she had done.
I didn’t recognise the building I was in, but I’d been in enough abandoned buildings on missions to know this was one. I could tell by the stale taste of the air.
Then I froze. They were light, certainly, but I knew I’d heard footsteps. A soft, rippling echo of them bouncing off the walls. Good; I had started to believe she wasn’t there.
”No point hiding,” I called out to seemingly nobody, ”I know you’re there.”
I drew in a breath in anticipation of an answer. It was silent; had I misheard the footsteps? Was I imagining things? Surely not.
Then a sudden burst of laughter; it wasn’t loud but in the dead silence it was like the pealing of bells.
”Oh no, you found me. What, you want a cookie or something?” that was definitely her voice. I couldn’t mistake it if I tried.
I stepped forward slightly, unable to see her still but by now able to detect the sound of some movement around me. She was taunting me, hiding somewhere. Of course she would, messing with people was one of her favourite pastimes. But why had this girl I felt I’d come to know so well turned against us like this? At first I’d wanted to believe it was part of some plan, but the pain she was causing us was real. Very real. And if this was some kind of plan, why wouldn’t she tell us?
Why wouldn’t she have told me, who was supposedly her best friend?
”Come out and we can deal with this like adults.” I tried to reason, my grip tightening on my bow.
Then her voice rang out again, and with a dawning shock I realised her words came from behind me, and I whirled to meet those eyes I knew so well. As I turned, the hand I’d had at my quiver drew an arrow and very soon had it aimed at the girl.
”Adults now, are we? Is that what suits Cleo at the moment?”
Luka was smiling a wicked smile that curled the corners of her mouth. Her eyes glittered, and I couldn’t tell if it was with amusement or an excited anticipation of the fight. She looked… I didn’t know. Stronger and more powerful perhaps, but something felt off. Like she wasn’t herself.
I knew she wasn’t. I knew already, had already had all of my hopes dashed of her still being the friend I knew.
Her emerald eyes drifted casually to the arrow now, as if the weapon aimed at her were an afterthought. She seemed to much more controlled and calm than I; my chest rose and fell with sharp, rapid breaths and I knew already that my emotions were ruling me more than Luka was ruled by her own.
”I see you’re going for the diplomatic approach.”
I huffed in annoyance, not enjoying the game she was playing already. I wanted to fight her, to make her pay. I knew I jumped to anger too easily, that my fury was justified but logically would not help me, but I couldn’t stop myself. So I replied harshly with, ”This isn’t about Cleo.”
Luka raised a skeptical eyebrow, and a movement of her hand brought a flash of silver. She had her sword to hand.
”Oh, but it is. Cleo, and the gods, and all of it.”
”And what about the others and I?” I challenged, but I relaxed my draw, but was prepared to aim at her again at any point ”It’s not the gods you’re hurting.”
Luka scoffed disgustedly there, and when her eyes met mine again it was simultaneously so familiar to me and also like looking at a stranger.
”Don’t try to guilt trip me, Fairfax,” and I couldn’t tell if it was a threat or a plea, for her voice was thick and I could hear such anger and yet such hurt in it ”Don’t you dare. You know, for someone who claims to see how shitty the gods are, how shitty Cleo treats us, you sure as hell seem happy to stick around. At least I’m doing something about it. At least I’m not a coward.”
I gritted my teeth, before answering as slowly and restrainedly as I could muster, ”I am not a coward.”
But Luka knew she’d touched a nerve, I saw something ignite in her. So she advanced a little, pressing me now, goading me. She was blazing with fury, nothing was stopping her, and the reaction from me was flame to touchpaper.
”Yes, you are. And no matter how much you swallow that hero shit, we both know all you are is desperate for approval, and that’s why you will always, always choose them over me!”
Her eyes shone with tears by the time she was done speaking, and her words spilled into a heavy and expectant silence.
A tense stillness that was only broken when I took aim once again.
And I could swear I couldn’t read whether there was anger, heartbreak or surprise in her expression. But something settled on her face, something that ate at me. Something so painful I couldn’t describe.
”I don’t want to fight you,” it was meant to be a warning, I knew that much.
I stubbornly said nothing, did not move a muscle, so she tried one more time to reason with me.
”Lucien, you know you won’t win.”
I didn’t try to argue with that. I couldn’t, I knew I couldn’t. I had my bow, but I did not have offensive abilities like Luka did. And even healing myself took it out of me, even if not as much as it did healing other people. Logically, if I were to make a bet on this fight I’d put everything I had on Luka.
But that didn’t mean I was going to walk away. Not after she’d caused so much pain. Not after she’d chosen to betray us. Not after she’d abandoned me.
”I know,” I answered evenly, I sounded so much calmer than I felt, like the knowledge that I was finally going to get whatever closure I needed to this whole thing had washed reassuringly over me, ”I said I’m not a coward.”
|
|
|
|
Post by ƤαƖƖαѕ ✧ on Jan 31, 2023 18:45:34 GMT -5
FUTURE WRITING - NOT NECESSARILY CANON Lucien sat in a room that was familiar but not his. Still, he knew the place just as well as he had known its occupant. It was largely the way she’d left it that night; in fact, the whole place still smelled like a room spray he’d got her for her last birthday. It was one of her favourites and they only made it in Australia so he’d bought her it as a little surprise. But the scent was fading now already, only just clinging to the still air.
Lying in the corner of her room like she’d just kicked them off her feet had been the shoes she’d been wearing at the last leaders’ meeting, the last time he’d seen her before it happened.
The man sat on the floor, back against the wall as he stared at the cold and empty fire pit that had always once been blazing. He wanted desperately to find some kind of solace in that room. Something in that comforting, encompassing darkness.
But he found nothing.
”I don’t know if you’re listening.” he began thickly, swallowing, ”I came in here hoping I’d find you, but you’re not here.”
She didn’t seem to be anywhere. He tried desperately to find something of her somewhere, some last spark of Luka. Just a sense or a feeling that she was close to him again. But he couldn’t find anything, couldn’t feel her presence.
He could feel his voice would be shaky before the next words even came out, ”It’s the funeral today.”
The words felt heavy on his tongue, like he less spoke them and more let them tumble out. It was a strange feeling he couldn’t describe, like was was so numb and yet in the most acute pain of his life. Like when he’d been with the hunters when he was younger and he used to just dissociate from the pain. He could still feel it shattering him.
”They asked me if I wanted to say a few words. I said yes but I didn’t have a clue what to say. Still don’t think I do.” he continued, and almost distantly he heard himself give a rueful chuckle ”First time in my life I haven’t had something to say, huh?”
He didn’t have the words. They were there, he was sure, but out of reach. It felt like trying to clutch at smoke.
He sighed, leaning his head back against the wall.
Luka would have probably killed him for saying it, he thought he could finally understand the first wave of ascendants.
He’d never quite grasped how Atticus Fell, Gwen Anker and the rest of the original ascendants became so corrupted. How they could just turn like that. But he was understanding now, with the people they’d lost. The pain didn’t get easier, it didn’t feel less unfair.
It made him want to be angry. At the gods. At himself for not getting there fast enough to save her. For a little bit a part of him had even wanted to blame Chiara. But he knew it would help nothing, that Luka wouldn’t want misdirected anger.
”I hate you for leaving me, Luka, because I don’t have a clue how I’m meant to go on without you.”
He never expected it to feel like he couldn’t breathe. Like all the air was gone. They were best friends, and with her gone it felt like everything was empty. Like life was gone. But then the sun would dare to rise and the world would dare to keep turning as if nothing had happened and he’d get angry all over again.
He mourned sometimes for the children he and Luka had once been, and what their lives could have been. He could never regret meeting her, of course. But they’d both been forced to grow up too fast, to become people they might have never had to be. To make decisions they should never have had to make.
If he’d spent the rest of his life in Chicago he would have never met Luka or River or the rest of his friends, and he probably wouldn’t have done anything especially interesting or impressive with his life. But he would have never had to experience what he did with the hunters, he would never have had to face death or pain as much as he’d done. And Luka? She had gone through so much more than she’d ever deserved to go through, been through more pain than any one person should. He knew little about her life before the Ascendants, but what he knew wasn’t happy. Still, he mourned the girl he’d met when he dropped into the pantheon for the first time.
Even if meeting her had been one of the best things to ever happen to him.
He swallowed, continuing on as he spoke into the expectant silence of the room.
”I guess you’re in Valhalla now. I don’t know if that means we’ll ever see one another again. But I hope it does, I hope it does because we never got a goodbye and gods know we’ve earned one.”
He didn’t know what the afterlife situation was like. Luka was in Valhalla, and he was bound for Elysium. Lucien didn’t have a clue whether that meant he and Luka would be separated forever. Or perhaps it was all the same place but would just look different to them both and so they coulds see one another again.
It would break his heart never to see his best friend again.
”Thank you, Lukes.” he said, steadying his voice now, ”When we met I was just a kid and I was so angry with the world. And you made me feel understood and just maybe strong enough for all this. And I’m sorry.”
He sniffed, shook his head now because he could feel the tears brimming at his eyes.
”I’m sorry I wasn’t fast enough to save you. I’m sorry I wasn’t there, at the end. I wish I could have been.”
He hated that he’d been too late. One of the worst parts about his power was that sometimes it made him feel more helpless than if he’d never had it at all.
Losing Luka had made him feel helpless too. If he couldn’t save one of the people he loved most, who could he save? Sometimes he was tempted to give up on being a leader and an ascendant. Just up and leave and go somewhere there was no pain or expectations. Let the gods take him where they would.
But he had too much to stay for. Claudia, River, Echo, the children of his pantheon. They needed him, but more importantly he wasn’t ready to let them go.
Apollo had told Lucien long ago that he had pieced together his future - or at least some of it. Lucien didn’t know what it entailed, but he trusted Apollo. He knew that even the gods were influenced by fate, that Apollo had been fated to choose him. But still, however things would end for Lucien he still felt he had to trust that Apollo wouldn’t lead him down a path if it weren’t worth it in the end.
”You know,” he began ”I remember back when we were fighting when we were seventeen. And I remember being so angry at you. Laurie was talking to me about it, and I remember him getting so serious for a second. And clear as day I can still hear what he said to me. He said ‘in a way I’m glad you couldn’t ever understand what happened in that place, and I hope you never have to. But you will never truly grasp the sacrifices she made for you’.”
Laurie had been almost the most serious Lucien had ever seen him. The kind of serious that reminded Lucien exactly who he was dealing with whenever he started to forget that Laurie wasn’t just a light-hearted joker.
”I hope you knew I loved you for it all, even if I never truly knew what you went through. I could never have actually hated you, not really. I just cared about you too much and I was so scared of getting hurt that I prepared myself too much for it.”
He couldn’t pretend he hadn’t jumped to assuming the worst. Which he couldn’t be more sorry for, because he knew everybody assumed the worst of her and it wasn’t fair. He knew it probably didn’t make it better but him assuming the worst was nothing to do with Luka. It qas everything to do with his own shit.
He’d been so scared of getting hurt. Another person realising he wasn’t worth staying around for.
For a few more moments he sat and just took in the peace of the room, as if it were still waiting for its owner. Perhaps if he stayed in there he could pretend she wasn’t really gone either. Forget her funeral and pretend she was coming back.
”I love you, and I don’t want to get used to you not being here. Cleo almost called me Thing 2 the other day out of habit before they remembered.”
Speaking of whom, Lucien paused and held in a breath at the sound of footsteps in the hallway. Any sound had him on alert these days, but he recognised the voices that came along with the sound. Cleo and Chiara were calling his name. Chiara had been a mess since Luka’s death, so he didn’t want to cause any more distress by keeping the pair waiting.
”I have to go,” he spoke more quietly now, his words feeling their way into the blankety hush of the room itself, ”but don’t have too much fun in Valhalla without me, okay?”
He smiled, but could muster no joy in it. Just bittersweet memories.
|
|
|
|
Post by ƤαƖƖαѕ ✧ on Mar 27, 2023 15:26:15 GMT -5
FLASH FORWARD - NOT NECESSARILY CANON The atmosphere had been tense between Luka and Lucien ever since she had returned. There had been an explosive reaction from Lucien initially upon her return, or at least that was what Laurie had gleaned from the yelling. But after that? After that Lucien had made a point to avoid Luka whenever possible. He’d spit out the occasional snarky comment or venomous barb but generally he kept quiet. He’d just leave the room when Luka entered, though that spoke volumes more than words would.
Still, Laurie knew Lucien too well. He knew that something was building, like building pressure in a volcano. Lucien was not the kind of boy who coped well with keeping anger bottled up. Something had to give eventually.
Laurie had been proven right. There had been a nasty little outburst from Lucien at the dinnertable, and suffice it to say that there was a clean up going on in the dining room for a shattered plate.
The champion of Dionysus had watched Lucien stalk out of the room, could feel a dark and consuming energy coming from him. Something dangerous. So he’d done the only thing he could think of to do.
By the time he got there to the other boy’s room, Lucien had the door shut. Laurie knocked and got a long string of swears to colourfully tell him to go away. Laurie, of course, just kept knocking until he heard footsteps approaching.
Lucien eventually pulled open the door, an expression of anger and exasperation on his face.
”What the hell, dude?” Lucien asked with a note of incredulity in his tone ”You need sedating or something.”
He said nothing more, but left his door open as sat back down on the bed with a hard sigh.
”I don’t want to talk about it, Laurie, if that’s what you’re here for.”
Laurie shrugged, but sat near Lucien anyway. He had no intention of leaving, that much he knew.
”That’s okay, you don’t have to” Laurie answered, keeping his tone as calm and casual as he could because he figured that was what Lucien needed, ”I just didn’t want you to be on your own.”
Laurie knew he was taking a gamble, with Lucien being as stubborn as he was. In fact, the other boy sat in silence for such a long time that Laurie was sure he’d really meant it when he expressed that he didn’t want to talk about it.
”I’m fed up with pretending like everything’s okay,” Lucien replied eventually ”Being in a room with her and acting like it all didn’t happen. And worse, I was back here picking up the pieces of everything she broke. And I’m so tired of being the one who has to put everything back together.”
Lucien’s guitar was next to him on the bed, and he must have intended on playing it before Laurie arrived because he was turning his guitar pick between his fingers as he spoke. He focussed on it as he did so, which Laurie suspected was an excuse to not have to make eye contact while he said all of this.
”I know,” Laurie responded ”I know you’re hurting.”
Lucien just scoffed.
”She betrayed me. She left just like that, and I thought we were better friends than that. I would never have done that to her.”
It was then that Laurie reached out, putting a hand on top of Lucien’s for a second to force him to stop playing with the guitar pick and look at him.
”Did you ever think think that maybe Luka didn’t want you with her because she was trying to protect you?” Laurie questioned
That maybe wasn’t the right thing to say, because Laurie caught a flashing spark of anger in Lucien’s eyes.
”I’m not a child,” Lucien retorted, ”I have enough people treating me like a kid.”
Laurie shook his head, ”No,” he acknowledged, ”You’re not. But you don’t know what it was like there, of course you don’t.”
He swallowed, memories flooding back to him. Affectionate touch that could turn violent with one wrong word. A smile that never really felt real.
He ran his hand through his hair, feeling his shorter curls. Sure, in a way he’d cut them off because he couldn’t bear the memory of Ripley’s hands in them. But it had also been an effort to reclaim himself. To take back control. To feel like himself again.
”I’m glad, in a way, that you don’t understand what happened in that place. And I hope you never have to.” he began earnestly, ”but you’ll never truly grasp the sacrifices she made for you.”
Lucien was silent for a long time. Laurie could sense a weight settling on the other boy, some kind of thoughtfulness and realisation.
But eventually he answered.
”She never had to do it on her own.” Lucien’s words had been so quiet Laurie hadn’t been sure he’d really heard them at first.
The French boy shrugged. He couldn’t know exactly why Luka had chosen to do it all the way she did. To avoid suspicion? Maybe. To keep the others safe? Maybe. Because she thought it would be easier if she didn’t have to worry about anyone else who was with her? Possibly.
But Laurie thought he knew.
”We won’t let people risk more for us than we think we’re worth.”
He knew that, he knew it all too well. He remembered the awful feeling when River had broken up with him. When he’d said that people had almost gotten hurt because his feelings for Laurie were getting ahead of his duties as leader. Laurie had never thought he deserved to be put before anyone else. He’d never thought that he was worthy of any of it. Not River and his attention. Certainly the lives or safety of the others.
So when it all fell down in some ways it had felt comforting, because part of him had been expecting it. Waiting for the moment when the penny would drop that he wasn’t worth it. Waiting for River to realise that he deserved better. It had been almost a relief, because Laurie hadn’t realised quite how much he’d been holding his breath waiting for the inevitable conversation about mistakes.
But it had also ripped at the part of him that had still held out hope that he might be wrong about himself.
If Luka also didn’t realise how much she deserved to be valued, loved and cared about then he understood that. And he suspected that to be the case. If so, maybe it made sense that she might have thought she wasn’t worth any of the others being put at risk to help her.
Maybe she’d looked at Lucien and thought she wasn’t worthy of him putting his life at risk to protect her. Just like Laurie had looked at Luka and often wondered how he could have ever deserved what she’d done for him.
Laurie sighed, and began, ”Look, Lucien, it’s up to you. I’m not telling you to forgive her, nobody can demand that of anybody. That’s why forgiveness is so precious. All I’m saying is that if you follow that feeling of being let down the only place it’ll take you is anger. Trust me on that one.”
He couldn’t pretend that the exiled hadn’t played on feelings he had. The deepest wounds and his most inner fears and doubts. And they’d used them, played with them. Made them something spiteful and angry. Oh, he couldn’t pretend he hadn’t believed at least some of what the exiled said. His support of their cause had not entirely lacked genuine belief or conviction.
”You’ve already made up your mind about her, I can see that. But you’re still hurting.”
It was written all over Lucien’s face, in the white-hot pain Laurie could see in him. He wasn’t thinking straight yet, the hurt was too recent. Too strong. He needed time, and maybe a little perspective. Laurie could only provide the latter.
He put one hand on Lucien’s shoulder, looked to the younger boy.
”Make sure you have the full picture before you let the friendship you and Luka had go. It’s worth more than that.”
|
|
Demisexual
Leo
Surviving off Thai tea and Miguel O'hara
|
Post by Leo on Mar 29, 2023 15:00:11 GMT -5
TRIGGER WARNING FOR MENTIONS OF ABUSE!!! He forgot how long he’d been in the stables. It could have been 30 minutes or maybe two hours. It could have even been eight hours and the sun was beginning to rise. Regardless, time always seemed to distort while he was in here. Surroundings disappeared as he fell into the rhythmic pattern of his movements. The steady ‘thud, thud, thud’ into the wooden pillar coming from the dark corner of his family's stables. A corner he’d claimed as his own since he was a young child. His focus was simply on his breath. In and out. Trying to calm down and suppress what had just happened. The only feeling he allowed was the sharp sting of his fists connecting with the worn wood beginning to splinter and the dull throb of his knuckles as they continued to split skin and tissue, getting ever so dangerous to cracking the bones again. But, his mind wouldn’t rest until he stopped imagining that man’s face leering over him. Taunting him to do something. Anything against him. Wanting him to give a reason to be sent away. “I believe it’s dead.” Ripley spun on his heel and backed up into the wooden pillar he had just been punching to death, hoping to hide the evidence of what had happened to it. His breath caught in his throat as he caught the eyes of a stranger gently petting the nose of a white mare nearby. Sandy, his sister’s horse. Normally the mare nipped at everyone that got too close to her including Ripley. But there she was silent and obedient to this intruder, ears tucked back as if she were annoyed or nervous. The man was older with white hair neatly trimmed and framing his face that gave him an air of importance. He wore a black and maroon three-piece suit accompanied by a long black overcoat, black gloves, and a cane with a weird animal head that kinda resembled a bald armadillo as the handle. The man patted the neck of the horse and cooed gently to her before turning his attention to the boy and giving him a careful and unkind smile as he began approaching slowly. Ripley watched him carefully, taking note of how he walked just fine without the cane. He encroached on the young man’s space as Ripley tried to push himself further and further into the wooden pillar, seemingly trying to either climb it or melt into it to escape this situation. “Who the f*ck are you?” he asked sharply as his hands searched for any piece of tack nearby he could use as a weapon. He was well aware his father was a powerful man and had enemies everywhere. Enemies that wouldn’t hesitate to take Ripley, his sister, or his mother as leverage. He had been told since he was born that he needed to be careful about who he trusted and not to become a liability. It had been so far so good, but was today the day he was finally taken? “Just passing by” The old man answered nonchalantly. He took his last few steps before stopping and leering over the boy, hands folded behind his back. The stranger seemed to notice that Ripley was doing his best to save face and try and look brave. However, his entire body language read as completely fearful and suppressing the quivering of his heart racing faster and faster. Something the old man seemed to take pleasure in as he grinned. Ripley scowled and leaned forward, seemingly trying again to show he wasn’t scared. “I said ‘who are you’ not ‘what are you doing’. What you don’t understand English, old man?” the boy snapped. “Old,” The stranger mused with a chuckle. He leaned back and took a couple of steps away from the boy, going to look out the nearby window and running a gloved hand over his beard. Flecks of what looked like maybe sand fell from it. “Yes, I suppose I am.” Moments of silence passed before Ripley spoke again, moving towards the double doors as he did. “You need to go before I call security,” He cautioned as he backed up, never taking his eyes off of the intruder. “My father doesn’t take kindly to random people on his proper-“ “In this storm?” The man asked pausing in his grooming to incline his head in Ripley’s direction. He huffed out a laugh at the thought which oddly offended the young man. “They’ll never make it to you.” Ripley had made it to the doors now. One hand was on the latch, the other on the door itself ready to push it open and run. “Oh so you’re dumb too?” he asked angrily with a mix of smugness. Lifting the latch and pushing the door open, Ripley shifted his position so that he could run back to the house. Surely, he could easily outrun this stranger granted there were no henchmen or something nearby. But, as the door swung open, Ripley was blasted with an angry vortex of sand. Whirling around his body and striking his skin painfully. The horses in the stable reared and whinnied in a panic. Skittish to the sound of violent wind and even harsher gusts of sand. Some of them tried to move as far away from the door as possible while others kicked at their pens attempting to run. Ripley forced the door back closed, using one arm to shield his face before deciding he needed the help of both hands to accomplish the task. Straining against the wind and grains of sand, the young man managed to pull the door closed with a loud WHOMP causing him to fall backward onto the flat of his back. Scrambling he got back up and secured the latch so the door didn’t suddenly fling open again. He leaned against the door panting, his hands trembling in a mixture of tiredness and fear. He couldn’t believe he had almost run right out into the storm like that. But, there hadn’t been a predicted storm for tonight. That’s why he was in here. The horses were still screaming and kicking at their doors, still panicked and wanting to run to safety even though this was the safest they were going to get. The noise was too much for Ripley. Unnecessary sounds from stupid animals that didn’t know the danger had passed. Whirling around at the beasts he screamed “Shut up!” causing them to fall into an agitated silence. “Fascinating how fast they always seem to catch up to me,” The stranger mused now facing Ripley, seemingly unbothered with the events that just transpired. Not a fleck of sand was on the man whereas Ripley was covered in the substance head to toe. Some managed to imbed themselves in the wounds of his knuckles. Ripley scowled and began striding towards the old man. No longer fearful for his life. “You! Get out!” The man pressed a hand to his chest and guffawed at the outburst. “How unkind of you. Sending a poor old man out into a storm such as that.” He raised his cane and pressed the end of it into the boy’s chest to keep him from coming any closer. “You truly are cruel.” Ripley slapped the cane away with the palm of his hand and attempted to take a step forward, except the cane came back in a circle and planted itself right back where it had been. “Foolish little boy so desperate to get back to the father that hates him. And yet here I am offering a solution to the problem.” All the fight left Ripley’s body. The tension in his shoulders and arms relaxed and his expression fell to that of confusion before hardening and shaking his head. “No, he doesn’t-“ “Do not be stupid I beg of you. You think going into that corner and beating yourself bloody so you don’t feel anything is the result of good parenting? Don’t call me the imbecile until you’ve looked at yourself in the mirror.” The old man cautioned as he dropped his cane back to his side. He was quiet as he watched the boy look between his eyes, trying to find the lie or the joke. Something. Anything! Ripley dropped his gaze to his feet and huffed out a frustrated breath. “Ok and so what? What are you going to do?” He asked flexing his hands and gritting his teeth against the pain. “I’m not going to do anything,” The man whispered. He reached into the pocket of his coat, which caused Ripley to stiffen, and produced something that appeared in Ripley’s line of sight. A handle connected to a silver blade. “You are.” The young heir’s breath caught in his throat and he stared wide-eyed at the blade. Perfectly clean and untouched. No knicks in the steel to indicate that it had been used previously. Beautiful and deadly. “Wouldn’t it be better to practice on a live target?” The man asked in a hushed tone, a wicked grin spreading across his face. He pushed the dagger into the boy’s hands and placed a hand on his shoulder guiding him to the door he had previously locked. Just like a father would. As they reached the door, Ripley paused in opening it and glanced at the stranger beside him. “You still haven’t told me who you are.” The man simply smiled and patted Ripley on the shoulder. “The storm won’t harm you.” |
|
|
|
Post by ƤαƖƖαѕ ✧ on Apr 3, 2023 16:45:10 GMT -5
FLASHBACK: NOT NECESSARILY CANON
Gwen slammed the door of the exiled base closed behind her. She did not look back, taking striding steps, determined to put the building out of view.
She was so tired. So tired of all the anger and the suffering. Even now they they were no longer ascendants, they could not escape anything. She could still see the stress drawing lines on Atticus’ face and the tiredness staining dark circles beneath his eyes. Those who were left and had rebelled against the gods just sniped at one another now. Barbed jabs because they were afraid and traumatised and saw no end in sight. And there was no path to the revenge they wanted which was not fraught with even more pain.
Certainly not one that would not make them monsters. Gwen would become one, because it was necessary. Her choice was that or being a pawn and she had never been one to deny herself power. But that didn’t mean she had never wanted to be a monster. It didn’t mean she didn’t mourn the person she had once been before Nemesis had forced this life on her.
She hadn’t realised what being a hero really meant, and even then she hadn’t chosen that. She probably wouldn’t have chosen it for herself.
The girl had just had a very rare spat with Atticus. They didn’t argue a lot, because she saw him like an older brother. So their argument had affected her more than it normally would. So much so that she’d felt an itch to just move. A need to walk and walk until the thoughts ran out of her head. Until the blood rushing through her body quietened her brain.
The sky was heavy with thick, steely clouds, but golden sunset light broke through them. The wind was picking up, washing in brisk cool waves over her skin. She could feel that energy in the air which told her a storm was coming. Good. Perhaps when the sky released its thrumming energy her body would release its own.
She followed a shallow path in the grass leading out of the back of the building, walking with confidence along the familiar route. It was one of her favourite places to go, so she went there often. She could walk there without even thinking now.
Eventually she reached it. The grass became scarcer and ran to sand soil and then a rockier ground, before falling off on a sheer cliff. The brunette stopped close to the edge, casting her eyes down to the water below.
It was dark in places, but blazed where the light caught it. The water was beginning to churn, though. And she knew it was coming. The storm. Soon the sun would disappear completely and that water would turn inky. Flinty black with only the white tips of the crashing waves to differentiate the dark mass.
The air was rapidly cooling, burning her throat as she breathed in.
”You fight like children,”
The voice in Gwen’s head was still unfamiliar, still made her start sometimes. It was different from the voice of Nemesis. No, Ceto’s voice was cooler and more menacing. Frightening in a different way from Nemesis, who could be terrifying in entirely her own way. Gwen tensed, her shoulders tightening at the voice.
Gwen made no reply, but she did not need to, for Ceto continued, ”You are narrow minded, all of you. But then I suppose mortals never have been able to see the bigger picture.”
The teenager scoffed quietly, a bitter sound. Bitterness was all she felt these days, when she didn’t feel angry or just empty. Ceto preyed on that, and Gwen knew. After all, what use would she be to Ceto if she were happy? But Gwen didn’t feel like she wanted to be happy anyway, at least not yet. She wasn’t ready.
”Nemesis might have at least tried to say something comforting.” Gwen pointed out, but despite herself couldn’t help but to add, ”What bigger picture?”
Ceto’s response was said smoothly, casually, ”You forget your squabbles are inconsequential, and matter not. It is great luck on your part that you are the ones who will be part of this great usurpation, but in fact it has been millennia in the making. It is not about you. Any angry, misused child could benefit from the plan in your place.”
Despite the chill, the stinging sea breeze clawing at her skin, Gwen felt heat rise in her cheeks.
”No they couldn’t.” the girl got out.
She was sure she’d be shaking if she held out her hand to check. She’d gone through too much by now to be told any other girl with an axe to grind could be in her position. That she was worth so little.
Yes, she knew this was an alliance of convenience. Gwen wanted revenge against the gods, so did Ceto. Her guide didn’t actually care about her. But she’d at least thought that she had some worth to the goddess.
Instead, the sea seemed to churn along with Ceto’s ringing laughter.
”Then, child,” the goddess was heard to reply, ”Prove it.”
The way she said it made Gwen’s heart race and stomach twist, made her swallow that freezing air.
”How?” she asked, a cool dread spreading through her body. Whatever her guide was about to ask of her, she couldn’t imagine it would be pleasant.
Ceto replied with just one word.
”Jump.”
The dark waves seemed to swell even more strongly, and she knew what the goddess was asking. But still, she asked. Anything to mean she didn’t have to believe it for a second or two longer.
”What?”
But the goddess was not accepting of her attempts to skirt around what she already knew, and responded with, ”You know what I mean, girl. The water.”
Gwen was used to the ocean. She’d grown up alongside it, it was familiar to her. She was as comfortable with it and all its moods as she was with breathing. But still she felt a white-hot spark of fear as she looked down over the cliff edge. The water churned, dashed itself against the rock in a relentless pummelling attack.
It would be cold, would steal her breath. She could tell. And the drop itself… well, that was something she hadn’t even brought herself to think about.
Before she even realised, she found herself stepping backwards.
Ceto tutted.
”I am disappointed,” the goddess said, ”how do you expect I am to entrust my guardianship to someone who does not trust me in return? The kind of power you seek cannot be gained for nothing.”
Gwen said nothing. She was frozen; whether from fear or indecision she did not know. Only when the goddess said her name did she startle back to herself.
”Gudrun.”
The name was jarring now, she realised. It had been a while since she’d heard it. So jarring it spurred her back into action.
”You must be crazy,” the words escaped her accompanied by a nervous laugh, ripped away from her by the wind.
Ceto obviously did not approve of that, felt like she’d been mocked, because her next words were harsh.
”Your choices are to do as I say or walk away from our agreement. Now jump.”
Gwen understood the threat beneath Ceto’s words about walking away from the agreement. The goddess would not allow loose ends; she’d be lucky if she just had her memory wiped. The reality could be far worse.
The girl took a step forward. Slowly. Her heart thudded against her chest as the ends of her toes hung in the air, hovering above the drop.
Still, she hesitated. Surely the goddess was trying to kill her? There could be no way that drop was safe.
Ceto became more insistent, voice harsher. So forceful she could almost feel the push physically.
”If you do not trust me you will never survive what is to come. Jump! Now, before I lose my patience.”
Gwen felt like she could hear nothing. The rush of the sea was distant now. It was just the panicked beat of her heart in her ears, and Ceto’s voice filling her entire head.
”Jump, faithless child!”
The teenager, on that exposed cliff top, felt the wind tugging at her clothes and hair. The drop felt all the bigger the more she looked at it.
She couldn’t do this. There was no guarantee Ceto would actually protect her. Could she really trust her life to her?
But if she did not do this, what did she have left? What she was her anger if she was powerless to do anything with it?
Alice would never accept her failing at this hurdle.
So the girl closed her eyes, and stepped forward into air she knew would not catch her. Her stomach flipped as she dropped towards the bone-chilling cold she knew would await her.
|
|
|
|
Post by 𝕊𝕙𝕒𝕕𝕠𝕨 on Apr 4, 2023 19:05:02 GMT -5
Luka stood in her room, frozen in shock. Gwen stood near the door, Luka’s phone in shambles below her feet, crumbled practically to shards of glass and plastic, the screen glitching out before it turned black.
Her gaze returned to the girl standing there, taller than Luka herself, wearing that sneer on her face as she lifted a leg to stomp on the broken phone as she crossed the threshold fully into the room, slamming that door shut behind her.
“I should stop you now,” Luka commented, throwing her hands up, throwing on a cheeky grin onto her face, “I’m not really interested in you like that-”
“You may have everyone else convinced of your little act,” Gwen interrupted, breezing past Luka’s snarky commentary, edging closer and closer into her personal space, “but not me.”
“Act?” Luka questioned, tipping her head in a faux sense of innocence. But her grin revealed much more than that. A hidden little thing, coy and dark, with a truth of intention there. It showed that Luka knew exactly what Gwen was getting at, but Luka was never one to back down or reveal her plans outright. “Whatever would I have to act for, Princess?”
“Don’t call me that!” Gwen snapped, stepping forward once more, and Luka ducked beneath Gwen’s arms, crossing her own as she took a few steps away. A game of cat and mouse, but it was hard to tell who was the cat and who was the mouse. Who was meant to be the hunter here, and who was the prey. “You know exactly what I’m talking about, don’t play dumb. It’s not a good look on you.”
“Better than you,” Luka grumbled, letting her eyes roam Gwen with a look of disgust there, “there’s no good look on you.”
Gwen was fuming, and Luka was proud of that fact, letting it cover the panic she felt deeper in her bones. The panic over the broken phone, over Gwen’s recognition of the truth where others had missed it.
“You fall a lot on jokes as a defense mechanism, don’t you?” Gwen commented, her eyes narrowed as if she was trying to read Luka despite the other girl’s air of nonchalance.
“Maybe!” Luka chirped, “but at least I’m not a boring no-good brat who thinks she knows it all but knows nothing at all,” she commented, examining her hands, cut slightly from glass, and she picked at the cuts slightly to keep up her faux attitude.
“I know more than you think I do,” Gwen returned, “I know you’re here, acting like you’re on our side, just to help out your friends. It’ll be hard to communicate with your little friends back at the Pantheon now, without your phone.”
Well, Gwen did have a point there. Not that Luka was going to let her know that.
“Nah,” Luka replied, looking up in disinterest, “I’ll just use the burner I brought with me.”
She didn’t have a burner phone, and they both likely knew it. But Gwen’s suspicion was going from agitating to mildly amusing.
“You don’t have anything else,” Gwen called out, “you didn’t plan that far ahead. You expected us all to be stupid and fall for your tricks as soon as you came in.”
“Well, I have an almost perfect score on that, don’t I?” Luka commented, laughing a bit at the look on Gwen’s face at that half admission. “Two out of three, I’d call that good enough to pass as a win.”
Gwen was silent for a few moments, eyes narrowed, “they don’t trust you either, they just want to wait, see if you’re something they can use to their benefit-”
“Is that what you think, or is it what you want to believe?” Luka questioned back, stepping closer to Gwen, placing her hands behind her back and tipping her head, a taunting look on her face, “because to me, I think you’re just jealous that the few people you can rely on would choose to replace you with the next best thing the second it entered the doors to this place.”
“They haven’t replaced me,” Gwen hissed out.
“Haven’t they?” Luka questioned, tapping her cheek as she thought, “I mean, if you went to them now, told them all you think you know, do you really think they’d believe you?” Luka questioned, before she laughed a bit, “because I think we both know they wouldn’t. You can bring my phone to them, search my room for whatever proof you think exists, and they wouldn’t even give you the time of day. You’re as much of a pawn to them as I am.”
Gwen seemed silent at that, eyes narrowed in silent fury now.
“Honestly, princess, I wonder what’s going to do you first, that unmistakable loyalty or your absolute stubbornness to see it for the fairytale it is.”
“I don’t know what game you think you're playing, Chosen of Loki,” Gwen finally replied, seeming to have had enough of that particular topic, “but let this be your warning: It won’t go how you expect it to.” Gwen said, not making another movement, but standing there in all her imposing glory still, her cold eyes set on Luka. Eyes broken by traumas Luka had never seen. “You won’t win.”
“I won’t?” Luka inquired, tilting her head as she examined Gwen, as if trying to get a read on the older girl, as if she was luring her to reveal more.
“You won’t,” Gwen confirmed, leveling that steely case with Luka’s cool one, “you never will.”
Luka smiled, looking at the room Atticus had given her, all barren and torn but habitable enough to stay in, “there is no game, Gwen,” Luka commented, letting her eyes roam the cracks on the walls, before she leveled her gaze back with Gwen, “you believe there is, and that’s your opinion,” Luka added on, before her face fell from that smile to an almost dead serious one, “but if you think this is a game that you can play better than me, think again.”
|
|
|
|
Post by ƤαƖƖαѕ ✧ on Apr 12, 2023 16:43:03 GMT -5
FLASH FORWARD - NOT NECESSARILY CANON Laurie had fought for a while against the truth. But in the end trying to convince himself that Ripley cared about him, much less loved him, had been exhausting. It had taken far more effort than just coming to terms with the reality did.
But now that he had accepted that truth, he didn’t know what to do with it. Maybe the old him would have fought for himself, said he deserved better. There had been a time a million years ago where he’d been loud, obnoxiously happy and most importantly, confident. His self-worth had never been high, but it had been better than this.
Back then he hadn’t doubted his own judgement or capabilities so much, or second-guessed everything he thought he knew. He had been a person, at least, not whatever the shattered shards of a being he caught sight of in the mirror was.
Being with Ripley was like something he couldn’t describe. In one moment, he could make Laurie feel like the strongest person in the world. Someone who could bring gods crashing down. Ripley could make him feel like the sun was warming his skin. But in the next moment, with barely a breath, he could make Laurie feel like the smallest and most incapable child. Unable to even think for himself, reliant on Ripley who knew best for him. Or like the most disgusting, cowardly traitor. Someone who nobody trusted, someone who did not deserve love. He could make him feel like Ripley was doing him a favour by being with him, because nobody else would ever genuinely like him for who he was.
He knew all of it depended on Ripley’s whims, whether he would rip him down or build him up. Laurie’s emotions, his feelings even about himself, were completely in Ripley’s hands. His playthings.
But he was not good enough to demand better, at least in his eyes. Especially not after what he’d done. Besides, he had no option but to make it work. What would Ripley do if he tried to leave? And if he did leave, where would he go? Back to the Ascendants he had betrayed? The Ascendants who had treated him like a joke, who had so little respect for him that they’d gone behind his back about his relationship with River? Back to the Ascendants who blindly allowed themselves to used by tyrannical gods? There was no way.
If he had to be someone’s pawn, at least he stood to gain something if he were Ripley’s rather than Dionysus’. Besides, Laurie was numb to it all at this point. To everything, really. Enduring Ripley was something he was used to by now.
In the end, the truth was revealing, but only enough to let him see the bars of the cage he had sleepwalked into. Only to let him see the true extent of his powerlessness.
He stood outside a room with the other exiled, nervously fiddling as he did and undid a button at his wrist. He’d buttoned everything up as much as possible, so the others didn’t see the injuries. The man stopped though, when a hand gripped his arm to still it and the man standing next to him leaned towards him.
Ripley’s breath against Laurie’s skin made him want to shy away, but he didn’t dare. The other man whispered something or other. Laurie felt so anxious he couldn’t really concentrate on what his boyfriend was saying, but he thought he was telling him to relax. From anybody else it might be comforting. From him it was an order, maybe a threat.
Atticus pushed open the door in front of them and strode through, and Laurie caught the movement of Gwen tossing her hair as she followed. Ripley released Laurie’s arm but stuck close by him as the two joined the others.
Laurie took a deep, calming inhale moments before crossing the threshold, but it didn’t nothing to steady him. He was actually glad to have Ripley so close to make sure he kept moving. Honestly, it crossed his mind at one point that he might faint, something he had a feeling might be more pleasant than the meting he was about to endure.
As he stepped through the door, he barely even noticed the long table and the chairs arranged either side of it. The exiled one side, Ascendants the other. All he saw were the eyes. It felt like everyone on the other side of the table had turned their attention to him.
He could see different things in those eyes. In some, hurt. Others, betrayal. A few looked confused or shocked, some angry or even downright murderous. None of them looked at him in a way they’d ever looked at him before. It was like they were seeing a new person.
Lucien glared from one end of the table, but Laurie couldn’t help but notice he also looked exhausted and older. His eyes weren’t as bright. Dillon’s look of disappointment was one he could’ve predicted but it hurt for the compassion he still saw in it. Luka’s expression was utterly unreadable, he couldn’t figure out what she was feeling at all but it felt unsettling. Cleo’s gaze was sharp, analytical. They were trying to figure something out, that much Laurie could deduce. He had to do his best to make sure they didn’t find whatever information they were looking for from him.
The only one of the gathered Ascendants he couldn’t bear to meet eyes with was River. It made him feel sick with guilt and so many other things, the idea of looking at him. When they sat down and Ripley possessively put his arm around him, Laurie could feel River’s eyes on him but still could not bring himself to look at him. He was sure Ripley was giving River a very self-satisfied, mocking smile.
Laurie sat a little too straight in his chair. This meeting was torture already, but he couldn’t mess it up. This was important. He had no doubt Ripley would make this as painful for him as possible. Twist the knife, test his loyalty. Laurie had to pass this test. He had to prove he had no allegiance to the Ascendants any longer. In fact, Ripley would no doubt be watching to see how far Laurie would go in his willingness to hurt his old friends.
This was a matter of survival, now.
The others began to speak, but once again Laurie wasn’t listening. He had to clear his head. A lot was at stake here, ge had to focus.
He was an actor; this would have to be the performance of a lifetime.
|
|
|
|
Post by ƤαƖƖαѕ ✧ on May 13, 2023 16:54:33 GMT -5
FLASHBACK: NOT NECESSARILY CANON
Gwen didn’t remember making her way back to the exiled base.
All she remembered was the terrible feeling of her first experience with these new powers. The powers given to her by Ceto. The way her bones and flesh had felt like they were going to tear apart. The pure fear of becoming something you did not know or understand. The terror of realising your body was not your own.
The girl sat huddled in the quietest part of the base she could find. Her hair was still damp and cold against her skin, smelling of the salty seawater. She pulled her knees up to her chest, hot tears spilling down her cheeks.
The teenager was terrified.
Gwen had told her Olympus feared monsters, and at that moment she’d been entirely willing to become one. But she hadn’t realised it would be quite so literal, not to mention so scary. She had never wanted to be a monster, not actually. She’d wanted to do whatever she needed to do in order to destroy Olympus, but in doing so had given away some of her humanity.
Her body was wracked by shivers, but she found herself relieved for the reminder that her frame was the one she was familiar with. Her, not this creature Ceto had turned her into.
When she had first been chosen, she’d been forced into a fight she never wanted. Had her choices taken from her to serve as a pawn. She’d fought against that, allied herself with Ceto who had promised her a different life. A different future. A future where Gwen could be in control. And Ceto had taken the girl’s trust and control of her own body. Maybe even her ownership of it.
The goddess was coldly silent. She had no comforting words. For Gwen anything at all, no matter now deceitful or manipulative, would have felt better than the quiet. Ceto’s silence was damning; there was not even a pretence that she cared. Even Nemesis had been able to muster that on occasion.
Her vision blurred with tears, her sobs bouncing and echoing from the bare walls. She could feel her whole body shaking, her lungs dragging in gulps of air as if to push away the breathless memory of the seawater.
The girl was in such a state she didn’t even hear the door open.
Soft footsteps approached, a shadow falling on the ground as someone sat cross-legged beside the teenager. She didn’t know who it was at first, and when she first felt a touch at her shoulder she flinched away. But she heard a gentle voice shushing her in a comforting way, a familiar voice. She relaxed a little, and this time allowed the hand to wrap around her shoulder and pull her in slightly.
Atticus was undeterred by her hair dropping water on his clothes, focussed only on comforting his younger friend. She leaned into his body heat, allowing herself to cry even more freely when she was in his grip.
“Hey, Princess,” the boy was saying, voice soft and concerned in that big-brother voice she’d heard him use with Alice so many times before, “what happened?”
The girl had no words, and was sobbing too heavily to say them even if she wanted to. She just shook her head, turning into him and burying her head into his shirt.
He comforted her quietly for a long time while she cried. His heartbeat thudded steadily in her ears, and his slower breathing helped her regulate her desperate shaky breaths.
“I’m a monster,” she eventually managed to get out between sobs “she made me a monster.”
She’d never wanted to be a monster. She’d never wanted to be something she wasn’t. Gwen had wanted only tp give the gods what they deserved for what they’d done. Nemesis had preyed on her anger, her bitterness, that hot angry part of her that wanted revenge. But in the end Ceto had done exactly the same. She was not perfect, but surely she had not deserved this.
Atticus’ grip on her tightened briefly in a comforting squeeze.
“Oh, I don’t think so,” was his answer “nobody can make you a monster unless you want to be. You’re not a monster, Gwen.”
Nothing else needed to be said. He just held her in silence until her tears would no longer come. Only once she was ready to release him did he make a move to stand, and even then it was just to get her a warm and dry towel.
Atticus Fell was never far when Gwen needed him. Because of that she was loyal to him completely, no matter how many times she doubted or questioned him. He was the only person she could rely on. Above Ceto, above the other exiled, even above herself.
|
|
|
|
Post by ƤαƖƖαѕ ✧ on Jun 4, 2023 18:12:06 GMT -5
FUTURE WRITING - NOT NECESSARILY CANON Lucien ran his thumb over the smooth surface of the rune stone in his hand. It was cool against his skin, too burning hot in comparison to the steady cool weight that lay on his palm.
He hadn’t seen this stone too often before. They were only used by the leaders for truly important decisions, so the thing still felt sort of foreign to hold. It was small, made of some yellow stone. He didn’t know gemstones, but he knew if his mother saw it she would have known what it was. Yellow onyx maybe, or aventurine. The ‘L’ for his name, picked out in gold, faced up towards him. On the other side he could pick out the contours of the symbol on the other side. The lyre that also adorned the door of his room.
The leaders’ room was empty, chairs left abandoned at angles like strange islands around the table. They had just finished a long and draining meeting, both physically and emotionally. Some leaders had voted right after the meeting, others had broken off to have some time to consider the issue privately. They had a few days, but Lucien couldn’t torture himself thinking about it for that long. No, he’d stay in the room that night and he would not sleep until he had come to a decision. He’d only make it harder for himself to make a decision if he gave himself days to think about it.
He didn’t know how long he’d been sitting in the room on his own, but he could still feel the pressure of Cleo’s hand on his shoulder. They had been the last of the others to leave, and as they passed behind his seat he remembered they’d laid a hand on his shoulder. The gesture was surprisingly gentle.
“Whatever you decide, it’s okay. Take your time.”
Those words had been simple. But for Lucien they were the most comforting thing he could hear. It was a little unexpected coming from Cleo; indeed, back before the kidnappings Lucien would have been shocked to hear something so empathetic coming from Cleo. They had always been fair, but for them fair hadn’t always meant kind. But since the kidnappings, since everything those remaining had been through together, he’d seen a change in them. Nothing monumental, but little by little each day there was a thaw. A blurring of their black and white painting of the world. The ink spreading, bleeding and feathering to grey.
He was sure they’d seen how they had been wrong for their judgements before, for their overly rigid perspective. Now acts of kindness like this from Cleo might not be necessarily ordinary, but they weren’t a shock anymore.
Still, the issue remained of exactly what his decision would be.
His eyes flicked up to the scale in front of him. Stones of different colours shone from both of the scale’s pans, bright against the metallic sheen. His stone would have to go on one side or another.
He couldn’t pretend he wasn’t angry at her. God, was he angry at her. Among all of the too-much ever since he had been chosen, among all of the fear that he didn’t have the time or opportunity to let himself feel and all the feeling so overwhelmed he couldn’t even process it, she had been someone he felt he could trust. They were the same. The same kind of broken, the same kind of angry. Their friendship had been simple, uncomplicated, and comfortable.
And then she left, and he saw her with the very people who would have him dead. The people who left him bleeding on the ground for his friends to find. The people who had hurt River so badly that night. He wasn’t blind to how in pain River was, nobody could be. Not even when he tried to hide it behind the closed doors of his room.
When he saw her with them, everything he thought he knew and trusted was shattered. He would have trusted her with his life, he had trusted her with his life. And now he didn’t know if he could trust anyone anymore. How was he supposed to walk this road Apollo had set him on if he couldn’t do that?
He traced the letter on the stone again. An ‘L’ for his name. For her name.
She was more to him than he could explain. He’d say she was like a sister, but Lucien had one of those and the siblings weren’t that close. She saw who he was without even needing to try. She understood him without the need for words.
Was any of what he was feeling right now worth losing that? Was it worth fighting for, even with the betrayal? Did he cut his losses and force himself to extinguish the last little flame of hope that she was not a lost cause? Did he declare the situation unsalvageable?
He felt so alone. Somehow once again he had found himself picking up the pieces. While she was doing what?
He had to be angry. What else was there to be?
A memory flickered into his mind, so vivid he could still feel the warmth of the campfire fighting the cold night chill from his skin. After most of the others had gone to bed, he and Luka had sat together by the dying fire. Neither had been ready to sleep and it seemed both had felt some kind of desire to watch the embers lose their final glow and go dark.
The fire had still been glowing and putting out enough heat for the two of them, and in the low firelight he could see Luka’s face dimly.
“The gods really know how to pick ‘em, huh?” he remembered Luka saying.
He had given her a look of confusion, turning to her and feeling the firelight warming his cheek as he did so.
“What?” he’d questioned.
In response, she’d gestured between the two of them in a silent indication that she was referring to the two of them.
“Speak for yourself,” Lucien had joked, and Luka herself let out a little chuckle at that. He wasn’t willing to think too hard or seriously about the fact that the pair of them were ill-suited for whatever war it was the gods wanted them to fight in. He’d spent enough time turning that concept over in his mind.
But Luka’s laughter was brief.
“How are we meant to lead this thing?”
The question had been vulnerable, stumbled half-whispered from her lips. And in all honesty he hadn’t been sure how to answer. She was right, after all. They had no business being responsible for leading people in life and death situations. He was terrified, if he were truthful.
“I don’t know,” he couldn’t lie about it, after all. But he reached out a hand to touch her shoulder and added, “but we’ll figure it out together.”
And they had, hadn’t they? They’d had one another’s backs every second they’d led together. She understood him without him needing to say a word, because she knew him like she knew himself. Just like he’d known her.
Or that was what he’d thought until now. Until he’d seen her with them, making the same points the exiled made but making them sound so reasonable coming from her. Yet he couldn’t recognise her, not when she wanted to hurt people she’d once called friends. The worst part was that he still loved her, and prayed every time he saw her that she’d give him just one reason to believe she hadn’t wanted to hurt him.
And he felt like a fool, honestly. Sitting there still hoping. Sitting there and still trying to do the right thing when she’d just chosen to walk away. Sitting there giving everything he had to protect his friends when he couldn’t trust anyone anymore and he couldn’t protect them from her.
Yet, what would he be if he gave up on her? Was he giving up on her too easily? There was always doubt, always hope. His good memories with her, the memories where he could almost still feel the stitch in his lungs from laughing. The times she’d truly made him feel seen and understood. He couldn’t reconcile this new Luka with the one he knew. Did he owe it to her to stand by her and hold onto that faith in her he’d once had?
Finally, he rose from his feet. The silence of the empty room pressed on him, and stepping towards the scale felt like an eternity. He lifted his hand, hovered for a moment in hesitation. Then he lowered his token onto one of the pans. For a long time he did not let go, fingers lingering on the token. The scales tipped with the weight of his addition.
This was not the right decision, his gut told him. But no decision could ever feel right.
Lucien let his fingers detach from the token finally, leaving a fingerprint on the shiny surface. And he stepped away.
|
|
|
|
Post by ƤαƖƖαѕ ✧ on Jun 15, 2023 6:17:35 GMT -5
QUICK NOTE THAT THIS IS OUTSIDE THE TIMING OF THE MISSION AND EVERYTHING Chiara’s research in the library had yielded frustratingly little. Some vague information about some of the exiled and their history, but very little else that was of any use. Nothing she could use against them. They were ghosts.
The issue had been playing on her mind so much that she’d had to get out of the library. She’d effectively been stuck in there for days with her head stuck in the books. The girl was pretty sure that if you shook her a layer of book dust would fly off.
So, to help with her urge to move and get rid of the stress she was carrying, she decided to head to the only other part of the building she’d frequented since the kidnappings; the training rooms.
She had to make sure she was up to scratch for missions, but she also had to develop her skills. Her powers from Heimdallr gave her good instincts, she just needed to know how to use them.
She entered the room ready to train, in exercise clothes, her hair swinging in a ponytail, and sword with her. However, the sight she was met with was a little unexpected to say the least.
River and Jason were exchanging sharp words, and their body language screamed even louder that there was conflict going on between them.
”Woah,” the girl began, stepping forward into the boys’ space and smoothly stepping between them and holding her arms out to separate them before Jason could step any further forward and close the distance between the two boys completely, ”what’s going on here?”
As she asked the question she looked at each boy as calmly as she could, searching each of them with her gaze as if looking for an answer.
She thought she had seen River making the initial move towards Jason, so it was him Chiara looked to now. Once she was sure the boys weren’t going to escalate anything, she lowered her arms.
”Talk to us, River,” she began, gesturing to Jason to include the other boy ”I know your feelings have been disregarded when you’ve opened up before, but that’s not going to happen in this room.”
Whatever their argument was about, she knew that the root cause of this was probably that River was struggling. She also knew Jason well enough from their library sessions to know that there were not many things he would be willing to get confrontational about. What River was going through could certainly be one of them, if she had to guess. It had to be addressed.
Who could blame River, after the way he’d been treated recently, for thinking sharing his feelings or talking was only going to lead to more pain? Chiara knew that to get anyway feelings needed to be shared but after River’s negative experiences with opening up she couldn’t fault him for not wanting to. She wanted him to know she understood.
”Keeping this bottled up will kill you.”
And she meant that. If he was hurting and distracted he would be in danger in battle, not to mention the emotional and mental turmoil he was going though. He couldn’t keep going like that.
|
|
Demisexual
Leo
Surviving off Thai tea and Miguel O'hara
|
Post by Leo on Jun 15, 2023 16:35:38 GMT -5
River simply scowled at Jason and was prepared to push him out of the way when Chiara stepped in between them. Both River and Jason backed up a bit initially out of surprise at there suddenly being a third person with them. However, with River it didn't last and he began leaning forward again now turning his anger toward Chiara.
She was trying to appeal to him. Get him to open up and talk about his feelings. A very small part of him wanted to. Wanted someone to confide in, wanted someone to simply listen to him, and wanted someone to know why he acted the way that he did especially now.
The majority of him shrugged off Chiara's last comment and turned away from them.
Banging the pommel of his spear into the ground as he walked away, the weapon bounced up into the air and collapsed into a smaller cylinder. It fit right in the palm of his hand as he snatched it out of the air. Putting his now collapsed weapon away into his pocket, River headed towards the obstacles he put around the training mat, some of which were his own things like spare shoes, a backpack, and a handheld weight.
"This is what I've been dealing with," Jason grumbled to Chiara under his breath. He'd been gently trying to get River to talk for days now. But all he ever wanted to do was train the poor boy. Which to be fair, Jason had asked for but still. They were supposed to be friends. They were supposed to be able to talk to each other.
Jason watched him go around the room, grabbing things and putting them back where they belonged or into his backpack. When he came closer to get the rest of his things. Jason noticed a small trickle of blood running down his neck and into the fabric of his shirt.
"You're bleeding," Jason told him and pointed to the other boy's neck. River stopped and touched his neck, pulling his hand away he saw what his student was talking about. Grumbling something about how it never took this long to heal back home, River grabbed his towel and pressed it to his neck. Jason watched him expectantly, waiting and hoping that River would actually say something.
River caught their gazes and scowled. "There isn't anything else to say. I've already said my piece."
Jason stepped forward again, gesturing to both himself and Chiara. "River, please we're sorry," he insisted, desperately trying to get the older boy to listen. "We want to be there for you. We just want to help."
River dropped the bag in his hand and glared at the both of them. Now he was raising his voice. Now he was pissed off that they were trying to have some sort of intervention with him. "What makes you think I want your help?" He asked. He looked between the two impatiently waiting for one of them to answer. He began waving his free hand in front of him as if trying to help them along in their thought process. "Hm? What makes you think that I want you to help me? I haven't asked. I haven't gone to any of you for help. You came to me," He snapped pointing an accusatory finger at Jason and then at himself.
Glancing at Chiara he opened his mouth to yell at her specifically but hesitated and decided to just shake his head and close his mouth instead. Grabbing his bag back up in his hand, River pushed past them and began heading towards the door. "We're done for the night."
Jason, not taking no for an answer anymore, quickly grabbed the strap of River's bag and stood his ground. Glaring at the back of River's head. "No, we're not," he decided. They were going to talk. Now, that it wasn't just Jason against River but him and Chiara, he wasn't going to let this chance go. Even if he had to prepare for a fight.
|
|
|
|
Post by ƤαƖƖαѕ ✧ on Jun 16, 2023 4:52:43 GMT -5
Chiara gave Jason a little nod when he whispered to her about this being what he had been dealing with. She had not witnessed a lot of what was happening with River herself since she had isolated herself in the library mostly since she kidnappings. She sometimes didn’t some out for food or to sleep, which she knew wasn’t healthy but she was working on it.
She watched the exchange between the two boys while River collected things, watched him grumble about the blood. Watched him get angry and then try to leave. She sprung into action when Jason grabbed his bag, taking the opportunity to move in front of River in hopes of blocking his exit somewhat.
”River,” she said calmly ”I know you’re angry, we know. But that anger doesn’t scare us and it’s not going to push us away so you can keep from having this conversation.”
In truth, was angry River intimidating? Hell yes. Chiara or Jason probably wouldn’t stand a chance on their own, but together they had a rare opportunity she thought they had to take here.
”We all know you need help. It’s not subtle, we know you’re hurting. But if you don’t talk about it or let it out then it’s just going to eat you up inside and I’m not willing to stand by and watch that happen.”
But she knew that River knew all of this, and maybe he didn’t care if his pain destroyed him. But she cared, and Jason cared, and it had to be said.
”I know you might find it hard to believe, but we care about you,” she gestured to Jason when she said ‘we’, though she knew far more than just those two cared about him, ”We want to listen, not to judge or ignore your feelings, and I promise you that.”
She shared a look with Jason then, knowing he would agree with what she had said, before turning her attention back to River.
”I know if it were anyone else who was feeling like you do, you would tell them not to keep that in. You need to give yourself that grace.”
River was kind, though admittedly he’d been hurt so much that many people did not deserve his kindness. Chiara knew he’d want anyone else to deal with their pain, and she wanted him to know she knew that. That she saw him and she knew he cared about other people. And that she cared about him too.
She wasn’t willing to let this go, and she knew Jason wasn’t either. Even if they had to fight River together she knew they would do it.
|
|
|
|
Post by ƤαƖƖαѕ ✧ on Jul 11, 2023 14:50:47 GMT -5
FUTURE WRITING - NOT NECESSARILY CANON ”So what’s her name?”
The older Lucien had been gathering up papers from the table and had been so taken aback by the sudden question that he had jumped a bit and got a paper cut on his finger. Letting out a pained hiss and shaking his hand, the man lifted the stinging finger to his mouth before looking to the source of the question with a furrowed brow.
He and Cleo were alone, the last to vacate the leaders’ meeting room in Cleo’s pantheon. The other leader had hit him with that question the moment the door had closed behind Dillon and the two had been left on their own.
”As usual, Cleo, I don’t have a clue what you’re talking about” the Champion of Apollo had replied once his finger was longer bleeding, proceeding to gather the rest of his papers.
”This girl you’re seeing.” Cleo’s response was casual, matter-of-fact. Indeed, they had started skimming their own copies of the meeting papers as they spoke. The only thing that betrayed any interest was the slight raising of their brows as they talked.
Lucien did his best to look skeptical, but he knew now exactly what Cleo meant. What he didn’t know was how on earth they knew. He couldn’t imagine either Luka or River telling Cleo about it; it was very personal and Lucien was quite a private person generally. Especially now he was a bit older.
But of course he knew Laurie knew, and he also knew that Laurie could accidentally spill the odd secret sometimes without meaning to. When they weren’t dreadfully serious secrets, of course. The champion of Dionysus seemed the more likely culprit if Lucien had to guess.
”Don’t be stupid,” Lucien said evasively. That was the kind of thing he would normally say to Cleo, he convinced himself. Honestly at this point he wanted to avoid an awkward personal life and feelings conversation with Cleo by any means necessary. He’d already been considering escape routes and was not ruling out diving out of the window in a truly dire scenario.
”I’m never stupid,” Cleo replied evenly, making eye contact with him now, ”but you were staring out the window for about ten solid minutes at one point and you missed an opportunity to make fun of River twice. You’re also wearing new clothes, and the last time you bought anything new it was because Luka accidentally singed half your wardrobe.”
There were times Lucien really loved Cleo’s observation skills and attention to detail. This was not one of those times. It seemed Laurie had kept his mouth shut and Cleo had figured it out themselves.
”God, can’t a person invest in a couple of new shirts around here without it making national headlines?” Lucien questioned, once again doing his very best to avoid discussing what Cleo was really getting at.
Lucien’s lack of investment in new wardrobe, for the record, wasn’t so much because of any lack of interest in fashion. It was more because of his thriftiness. Having grown up without a lot of money, Lucien had learned how to make things last. Fix things, patch them up, reuse material. He could buy new clothes if he wanted to these days, of course, but even now he never could feel right about throwing anything away he could make use of. He tended to wear things until he really could could use them no longer.
Cleo was not going for Lucien’s attempts to shut down the discussion and didn’t look convinced at all.
”I can also tell when you’re lying.”
Right, Cleo’s abilities. On schedule as always to ruin any of Lucien’s attempts to have a peaceful day - or life. The window was looking like an increasingly tempting option.
Over the years he had come to learn that it was nigh on impossible to have a secret amongst the ascendants. The group relied on each other and as a group they had grown so close as a result - it was almost impossible to keep anything from them even if you tried.
Lucien just tutted in irritation, which seemed to give Cleo all the confirmation they needed. The man caught the corners of their mouth lifting into a soft smile - back when they were younger Lucien would have probably thought he’d hallucinated if he’d seen Cleo smile.
”I’m happy for you, Lucien,” they said, ”I mean it.”
He didn’t doubt that Cleo meant it. They very rarely said anything they didn’t mean - with all of the good, bad and ugly that brought.
”Yeah?” he answered
”Don't make me say it again,” Cleo chided, but he could tell they weren't annoyed, ”but yes. You deserve a life of your own, gods know you’ve earned it.”
A life of his own? He didn’t know if that was possible. He’d given everything of himself to the ascendants, sometimes in a very physical way with his healing abilities. Everything he was, it was theirs. He still wasn’t sure if he could build his own life for himself like many of the others, but she was showing him more and more every day that it could be possible if he worked at it.
”You’re getting sentimental in your old age,” was Lucien’s teasing reply.
Of course, old was a vast exaggeration. Cleo and Lucien were still young, the lives of the ascendants really just beginning in the years after the establishment of the new pantheons. But Lucien wouldn’t be Lucien if he didn’t call any older ascendant geriatric, and Cleo was no exception.
Cleo laughed a little, but they seemed thoughtful suddenly and so the laughter died as quickly as it had come and they fell quiet for a moment.
”Does she know?” Cleo questioned after a moment, ”about…?” They seemed to trail off, instead indicating what they meant with a gesture first and Lucien and then generally at the room around them. It didn’t take long for Lucien to realise what they were trying to say.
”No.” he answered, before elaborating with ”Not yet, I mean. Even if I knew how to tell her, I don’t want to put her at risk.”
Lucien had seen all too well how love could be exploited as a weakness, how enemies could use people the ascendants cared about against them. Had Claudia been an ascendant herself he might not have been so worried, because she would have understood the kinds of threats they faced and been equipped to deal with them. But Claudia had no powers, no guide, and it would be far more risky for her to deal with supernatural threats. He wanted to protect her for as long as possible from his world.
Cleo seemed to understand all of that without Lucien needing to elaborate. Of course they did, for they had seen the same pain and suffering that Lucien had observed over the years. They had to know exactly what he was referring to.
”I understand,” they affirmed.
Though Lucien believed them, though he didn’t need it affirming, the words came spilling out of his mouth before he even knew what he was saying.
”Promise me.” he said, voice firmer than he had imagined it being, ”Promise me that if something… if something happens to me she’ll be safe.”
He knew they’d say yes, of course they would. And he’d known all along that the other ascendants would look out for her. He had no reason to ask, really, other than to know that he had.
”She is under Ascendant protection from now on,” Cleo’s promise was just as firm, just as certain, and he knew they were trying their very hardest to assure him. They were very serious about it, just as serious as Lucien had been.
The man hadn’t realised just what a weight of worry he’d been holding in his shoulders until Cleo said that. He hadn’t realised just how concerned she had been for his girlfriend and her safety, but suddenly it felt like he could breathe for the first time in a long time.
He wanted to thank Cleo but he couldn’t find the words. He’d never really been very good at expressing himself that way, and he wasn’t used to doing it with Cleo even though their relationship now was better than it had been when he was younger. Instead he just nodded, finally heading to leave with the papers he had pulled together.
”Claudia.” he said.
”What?”
”That’s her name. Claudia.”
He didn’t wait for any response from Cleo. With those final words, Lucien stepped out of the meeting room and pulled the door shut behind him with a soft click.
|
|
Demisexual
Leo
Surviving off Thai tea and Miguel O'hara
|
Post by Leo on Jul 19, 2023 2:14:13 GMT -5
River didn’t turn to look at Jason as he grabbed his bag strap. He stared hard at the door he was supposed to have walked out of minutes ago until Chiara came and stood in front of him. He stared down at her, still as a statue and unblinking as she gave her speech.
Silence filled the space once she was done. Moments passed as everyone stood there waiting and deciding on what was going to happen next. It was River who finally moved first. He leaned forward, invading Chiara’s space and speaking quietly. “Then don’t stand by,” he hissed. Standing upright he pushed past her and yanked his bag from Jason’s grasp.
He was halfway to the door when Jason spoke again.
“Funga.”
A spare bostaff was tossed at River and with the utter of the magical word, it bent and coiled around the boy’s body. It trapped his arm to his sides and around his tights to keep him from walking any further.
River inhaled sharply in shock. He attempted to dodge the magical weapon but with every move he made, the weapon only snaked its way around and found a way to trap him. The attack caused River to stumble and fall to his side. Struggling to escape the hold, River looked up at the two ascendants with a withering glare. Then his eyes landed on his attacker.
“Jason!”
Jason shrugged and looked rather proud of himself. Shoving his hands into his pockets he smiled smugly and tilted his chin up triumphantly. “Just because I don’t practice magic here doesn’t mean I don’t practice,” he informed.
River continued to try and pull free from the twisted wood, growling in frustration when he couldn’t find any purchase. “What do you want from me?” He finally snapped looking between Chiara and Jason. “You want me to talk about the extreme rage I feel? That’s not a new thing. We all knew that was my biggest flaw. You want me to talk about how I keep letting people down? How I let down Laur-“ He stopped suddenly not daring to say the boy’s name out loud.
Biting down on his tongue he looked away from them and continued to try and pull himself free.
Jason’s expression softened ass he let the name hang in the air for a second. His breath caught in his throat as he seemed to understand where a lot of his anger was coming from. Realizing just how much River had actually lost. “You can say his name, River,” he tried softly. Practically begging the leader to say it so that he could feel something other than anger for once.
River stilled for a moment. Considering if he should. He’d only been able to say ‘Laurie’ in his mind. Only able to think of him happily in the mere seconds before he collapsed from exhaustion every night. Only able to glance at the door to his room before having to pick up his pace so the pain in his chest wouldn’t last longer than usual.
He opened his mouth the repeat the sentence.
‘How I let down Laurie over and over again. How I let down Echo when I promised I’d always protect her. How I let them all down by letting them out of my sight and not speaking up when I should have.’
He closed his mouth and shook his head. “All of that is obvious and I already made that clear. I’ve already said all of this. There’s nothing else to say.”
Jason’s brow furrowed and he crouched in front of River. “There’s always more to say.”
|
|
|
|
Post by ƤαƖƖαѕ ✧ on Jul 19, 2023 3:39:06 GMT -5
Chiara was grateful for Jason’s help in preventing River from leaving, because Chiara didn’t think she could have done so on her own. Though she did have to take a moment to be impressed, as she always did when she got to see Jason demonstrating his abilities.
She matched Jason’s stance in crouching in front of River, listening with a tilt of her head as River spoke. She felt for him, deeply, but she knew he wouldn’t react well to anything he thought might be pity so she had to keep her expression carefully schooled. The girl was sure that she hadn’t kept all of her concern for him from writing itself across her features though.
”You know,” she said eventually once River had spoken, ”I don’t think about fate the same way Heimdallr does. But I do think there are things that can’t be changed. There has been a lot of blame - including self-blame - thrown around where it isn’t deserved.”
The pain River was going through wasn’t something Chiara could completely relate to because River’s experience was nothing like anything she’d ever gone through. But she understood the fear of letting people down; it was why she spent all her time in the library. She knew Heimdallr spent all of his time knowing that he would fail at his task of guarding the Bifröst and preventing Ragnarok, and she knew that affected him. This was something Chiara could at least on some level understand.
”You haven’t let anyone down, River,” she said gently ”You can’t protect everyone, and you shouldn’t have to. You’ve shown time and again that you’re incredibly selfless. You should never have been blamed. Cleo is so focused on doing what they think is fair, just and sensible that they haven’t learned yet that all of that’s only a small part of doing what’s right.”
And she didn’t say it, perhaps because part of her didn’t want it to be true, but Luka and Lucien hadn’t learned yet that being the kids they really still were was a luxury they couldn’t afford anymore.
”I think you’re the one who has been let down,” Chiara finished, ”and it’s okay to hurt and be angry about that. You have the right to feel everything you’re feeling. We don’t want anything from you, we just want to help you not keep all of this bottled up.”
As she’d expressed before, it would destroy him. The anger, hurt, guilt and pain if he didn’t process it in a healthy way. Chiara didn’t care about whether or not he returned to being a leader or if he ever set foot on a mission again. She just wanted to make sure he was okay and that he knew he had people there who cared about him.
Whatever he was feeling, she wanted him to feel like he was able to express it. Even though she didn’t think he’d let anyone down and she let him know as much, it was valid that he felt that way and she wanted him to be able to talk about it. They might not know one another that well, but maybe that was more helpful than anything. After all, everyone River was close with had either been kidnapped or had been involved in the events that led up to River feeling this way.
|
|
