A/N: Darn it, E.
See, this is how you get off track. You're SUPPOSED to be working on Out Of The Woods, Beyond The Shadows, Nicknames, Exiled, that Hunger Games crossover, the very random Piper Oneshot, and about a billion other things.
But no. You just had to write this storyline earlier, didn't you?
Please keep in mind that this is a Two-Shot. The end of this chapter is kind of vague, but we'll get to the shouting, the arguments, and the death-talks next chapter, shall we?
I suppose it's time that I talk about Darker Demigods. Anyways, it's about if more of the Demigods died young, and about how nothing is okay after the horrors that the Giant War and the Triumvirate War brought upon the Camps. Anything labeled under this will be a part of the same universe, you got that?
Anyways, please enjoy this chapter of a mortal's POV!
DISCLAIMER: UGH, I DON'T OWN PJO, HOO, OR FREAKING TOA! You got that?
At midnight, the bus still ran.
Most people did not understand why, although they accepted it, considering the fact that it was normalcy. You could hear it moving from street to street; wheels turning, pedals pushing. Many of such transportation-devices littered the streets of New York City, for any stragglers that did not wish to travel by subway.
A man looked around as he boarded, wondering who exactly he was stuck with this time. One of the many things he enjoyed about the trips were indeed the people who were a part of it, the strange folks that rode into the night.
There was a teenage girl in the back, one wearing headphones and nearly blending into the shadows, if not for her incredibly pale face. The man could have easily mistaken her for a vampire, if not for the fact that such things simply did not exist.
Across from her was an African-American man with a candle; for whom, the man could not say. He was staring out the window, seeing the lights flicker and the cars flash by.
The man then distracted his thoughts to his personal seating arrangement, when he saw a woman with dark hair sitting in the middle section. The man usually didn't say whether or not he had a seating preference or not, but he did enjoy the quaintness of the middle. There were no shady folks, no overly cheerful occupants to bother him on such a quiet night.
And so the man walked towards the woman, and asked a very important question.
"Excuse me? May I sit here?"
The woman appeared to consider this, and eventually nodded after what seemed like minutes, even if only seconds had gone by.
And so the man sat down, looking at what the strange woman's eyes wandered to. She seemed to have them continue to pace, wandering from object to object, not saying a word as her gaze abruptly shifted between every single one.
And so the man blurted out the first thing on his mind, attempting to shatter the ice between them. "Do you believe in love?"
The woman was startled by his sudden words, but they eventually sunk in. She stiffened at her reply. "No."
The man was genuinely curious now, "Well, how about infatuation?"
The woman quickly responded, "Perhaps."
The pair sat in silence for a few moments, until the man was ready to speak again. For he was not about to give up this easily.
"My wife is with her friends right now."
The woman raised an eyebrow. "And this involves me because?"
The man pondered this, "Well, how else are we supposed to get to know each other?"
The woman sighed in aggravation. "I don't know, how about not talking to each other at all sound to you?"
The man shrugged. "Whatever you say. I was just trying to talk to you about social interaction. Oh, forgot to introduce myself. Damon Briggs is my name."
The woman remained quiet, and Damon accepted his defeat. Suddenly, however, she whispered something quite strange. "L. E."
Damon was confused. "What?"
"That's my name. L. E."
"Is that short for something?" Damon questioned.
L. E. stiffened once more. "Yes, but I would rather not talk about it."
"And why not?"
L. E. shivered, "Too many bad memories."
"Ah. I see," Damon said. "Well, ma'am, you got any friends?"
The woman shrugged, and soundlessly pulled out a photo, which she began to stare strangely at. Damon leaned over to see what the photo contained.
Four teenagers were standing in front of a tree, perhaps one in the park. The girl stood out the most, having dark hair almost exactly like L. E.'s. The other three in the photo were three teenage boys. The one on the right of L. E. had black hair, and was the only one in the photo who appeared disgruntled to be there. The boy to the right of him had blond hair, and looked the total opposite. Meanwhile, the final boy had auburn hair, and wore a mischievous smirk.
Damon snapped himself out of this sort of daze, commenting, "I don't know what you're trying to convey."
"Friends," L. E. said, although it came out quite hollow. "I trusted them the most. You wanted an answer out of me—you got it."
"Well, what happened?" Damon found himself even more curious every single time the woman spoke. "Did you drift apart after high-school?"
L. E. sighed. She pointed to the smirking and the disgruntled boys. "They're gone," she said, rather bluntly. Her finger then shifted over to the blond. "We haven't spoken in a long, long time."
Damon didn't know what to think of that. He just asked, "So what happened, then?"
"They had names, you know. Cecil, Nico, and Will," the woman said. "We were really close; all of us were the same age. We met at a summer camp, you know? Cecil and I became friends almost immediately. It wasn't much longer until Will got roped in, and we all became close after that.
"After a while, I kind of . . . Left. I don't like talking about those years much, but I kinda turned against the Camp in more ways than one. But when I came back, those two were some of the first ones to accept me, no matter my decisions."
She took a deep breath. "I met Nico then. Will liked him in more ways than one, so we let him into the group. He was one of us, after all. We didn't really want to leave him."
She shuddered. "W-We lost Cecil in our Freshman year of High-School." Her expression wavered, as if she wasn't exactly telling the whole truth. "It was rough for all of us, y'know? Will blamed himself, Nico did . . . I dunno, exactly. And I saw the whole thing go down.
"Four years go by, and Nico dies, too. Will and I lost contact after the funeral. We didn't really feel as if there were that much of a reason to keep in contact with, not after what happened."
"Wow. Um . . ." Damon tried to process that information. L. E. laughed.
"I can't believe what I'm doing. Me, a random girl, giving her entire life story to a stranger. I know you must think I'm crazy—"
"What?" Damon asked. "No!"
"Then you're not like most people I've met, I'll give you that."
The bus halted abruptly, and L. E. chose to look out the window.
"Guess this is my stop," the strange woman that had given Damon a strange sort of ride said, picking up her bag. "It was nice talking to you, Briggs."
He didn't know what happened to that woman, only seeing her gasp and her look of shock when she saw a man on the bench outside. He had blond hair, and perhaps he may have been the boy in the photo, the one from all those years ago . . .
Damon didn't have enough time to look back, as the bus creaked as it moved, rolling off into the night.
A/N: Part Two will be up soon! Criticism is appreciated, for feedback is always considered!