All rights are the head troll's. I've been spending lots of time on this story, and it was not meant to be as long as it is, or will be. I got kinda carried away with Calypso and her friends.

This is not the place for this part. No, most definitely not. What is this part, anyway? It looks weird. Loads of teeth on a straight strip of material which Calypso realised was not metal, but plastic. Blue plastic. Her comb's blue plastic. Her comb's blue plastic which she's been trying to insert in her latest machine for half an hour, dammit. She definitely needed some shut-eye, but not before she could actually find the part which she was meant to insert instead of the comb, so that she wouldn't forget again. Where...? She felt for it around her, her fingers flying across a cold object. Eureka! Wait... no. It was her comb again. She threw it to the other side of the cave in disgust. Can't anything go right today? She stood up to look for it, and a metallic gear fell off her knee, where she put it for safekeeping before stopping to watch the clock for a second, and then picked it up from besides her again to put it in... Nix, she was stupid. She placed it carefully in its slot and made for the comb that now lay on the floor near the smoothed wall of the cave, which she spent quite a while recently trying to sand to make her cave less formidable to stay in. She slowly bent to lift it, groaning. She really should return to using chairs.

Light fell on her face as she straightened herself, and she groaned again. She was standing right by her new window, which she desperately needed to fit with a shade. She waited for her eyes to accustom to it and gazed around her island. It was pretty, as usual, the sky blue, sands yellow, the sea a calm turquoise, trees a shivering autumn's gold... but it was just pretty. Not deep, like it used to be. Not meaningful. Not beautiful. She has grown used to this feeling, ever since she was reminded that she wanted more than this. Ever since he was here.

The beach scene wasn't quite right, she observed. Something was off, just ahead of the window, in her blind spot. She could feel it in her veins, the way she always knew. She always knew when they came. She grunted. She could not be bothered to take care of a hero right now, yet he was here, so she begun gathering her small first aid kit from the shelf, and a pack of clean clothing she had left, back from when he was here. She knew from experience he would need it. He either came from the sea or from above. They always came from the sea or from above, that was the rule, the rule that was only broken once. For him, when he came toppling through.

The newcomer didn't seem to be hurt too bad, so she placed the clothes besides him and left back to her room for some sleep. She didn't have time for this right now. She had so many projects, as well as so much she needed to do in the island to make it suitable for her again. For the first time ever, Ogygia could not even grant her time.

Jonathan was scouting the island, and his only current observation was that it was seriously weird. It clearly wasn't abandoned, with enough perfectly maintained corners for his entire camp, but he saw nobody. He looked almost everywhere by now, and the only thing that prevented him from stopping was the fact that the mystery people actually left him clothes and food several hours before, and he was starved. And anyway, if there were people, and those people had access to manufactured clothing, they had a way to leave the island, didn't they? And if they did have a way to leave the island than he needed it right now so that he can go back to helping his camp make justice. Why was there an island so close to Long Island, anyway? It didn't seem to belong to the graeci. But then again, this fact did not speak volumes for them, if they didn't even know that there was a resource-filled island right next to them. Or worse, if they knew there was a resource-filled island next to them, but preferred growing strawberries with their drunken director. Greeks.

He had suspicions about that cave in the mountain, actually. It was well placed so it had a view of the entire beach, if manipulated correctly, and it was well away from the wind and the rest of the island. In fact, he only spotted it right now. At least the rest of the legion wasn't here, or he would be in probatio status for years for not being aware of his surroundings. He wanted to put those stupid officers in probatio status for being jerks. Or even just that stupid, arrogant, teddy bear-slaying augur, if he couldn't put all of them there. And the Praetors. All two - no, three - of them, for being chickens and abandoning their positions. Cowards. In retrospect, those dancing graeci seemed a better option. At least they stayed together.

He made his way begrudgingly towards the cave. The path was marked and cleared, with fresh footsteps denting the sheet of dusty sand swept onto it. A short metallic sound rung through the sky, and he hurried his steps, until finally he arrived at the entrance and lost track of his thoughts. It wasn't much of a cave, rather a crafts room and a poor excuse for a living space. His bunk at Camp Jupiter was more prestigious. It wasn't that, though, that astounded him, but the fact that the room was stunning, and it was mainly thanks to her. It was full of life, light reflecting off every machine in just the right angle to create an eerie illusion of sentience, and in the middle of it she was, a girl lost in thought and creation, moving the gears of the machines in the same speed she moved the gears in her brain and the same way she moved those in his heart. When she turned towards him she revealed a face formed for kindness, but that immediately scowled when she saw him.

"What do you want?" She asked, palm still hovering, screwdriver clutched firmly, above her latest creation.
"You're Calypso, aren't you?" He asked, searching her face for a sign that this was indeed the kind, generous person the tales spoke so much of.
"I am." She appeared almost bored as she slowly placed the screwdriver on the floor and turned towards him. "What is it to you?"
"Well, I'm on your island and all, so I thought I might as well talk to you..."
"I'm busy."
"Aren't you meant to, like, help heroes?" The question slipped out from his frustration unintended, and he instantly regretted it.
"Well, people change, -"
"Jonathan."
"Jonathan. I have changed since the stories were written."
"But you're supposed to make me food and give me a place to stay until I leave, right? Isn't that what you do?"
"Why don't you go out of my sight? That's a good place to stay." She bit her lip, appearing somewhat guilty. "Forget that I have said that. As I said, I changed, but that doesn't mean you're on your own, al-right? You're just less fussed over than the other heroes who came here."
"I can deal with not being fussed over." They both smiled, Jonathan a free, joking smile, and Calypso a shy, sad smile, and he wondered, what has she seen that changed her into this? What monster or god could do this?

She gestured for him inside to a small counter, and he followed her long finger to a small meal and another stack of clean clothes. She was entirely engrossed in her machinery once more, and he did not interrupt her. Instead, he looked through the windows at the island, seeking a place he could stay. when he found no building or hut to work with, he settled for a stretch of the beach that Calypso would be able to see clearly. Whatever it was that hurt her so much, she needed some help to grow out of it, and he was willing to help her for as long as he was stuck on Ogygia.

Calypso had to admit that a few heroes ago, she would have fallen for him the second she met him, but she wasn't the same girl she was a few heroes ago. She really did not care for him now. He was nice, she granted him that; quite independent, too, as far as she's seen; friendly, possibly; just not anything she had a crush on. Not anything that played the strings of her heart the way it used to. He impressed her more than once in his stay on Ogygia, too. He built a makeshift hut which actually stood without collapsing, he fished, he cleaned his own clothes. He did all of the things she never let the heroes do, because she thought that they did not deserve the bother. Now it seemed that they needed it more than they would admit.

She had a nagging feeling that this was not the way this would have went if she would have continued with her previous ways, and she was glad for that. She did not realise that the heroic act would be so quickly swapped for a human one when given some space, and it was much happier this way on the island. She wasn't alone this way, she realised. She was less alone than she ever felt she was on her own, or when she tended to other heroes. She was, in fact, the least alone she had ever been since him.

Several days passed, and he was still building his hut, and she was still helping him, and they both still had a lot of warming to each other to do. His hut was now more of a building, strengthened with wood he cut down himself and some crystals she supplied from the cave that made excellent building materials. She spent half her time with him now, entranced by this new type of person she had not met in thousands of years. He was fresh and full of laughter, and friendly, and not heroic or distant or grave or overcome with tragedy. He was a human, with fears and joys and faults that she kept seeing and he wasn't really hiding, and she was, too, and she was eternally glad for that.

"Hey, need any help with that?"
"Nope. Managed to fix up a door, by the way." Jonathan was hauling up large planks to make a bed in his little room, and Calypso was bored out of her wits.
"Awesome. Like, a moving door, or just a stone slab at the front of your hut?"
"A moving door! I'm not a cyclops."
"Wouldn't have known it."
He chuckled, which made her smile. This was fun.

Jonathan was gathering fruit just in time to see a body wash up on the shore. It was a boy, clearly unconscious, completely drenched, and Jonathan went straight into healer-mode from training. Pulse, breathing, temperature, bones, all seemed fine. There was no actual reason for him to be unconscious, as far as he knew, but then, why was Jonathan unconscious when he arrived? This was not something to worry himself with. Best thing to do is get somebody who actually knows a thing or two about what is going on, a step which led him right up to Calypso's cave.

He could not carry the body on the steep trail, so he left it where it was, running into the midst of the trees and cutting straight through the clearing he was told to always avoid. In a few minutes, he was huffing outside her workshop, attempting to regain his breath. "Ca-Calypso, somebody got swept up on the shore."
"What?" Her head immediately rose from the cables she was twisting. "It shouldn't happen... what is wrong with the magic... this isn't right..." she begun to mutter, gathering bits of kit from around the room. Jonathan spied several first-aid kits, food, clothes and a blanket.

No, no. no. This was not good. No, another boy being swept up is far than ideal. She didn't even completely get used to Jonathan yet, and now this boy was here. Since when did two boys get stuck on her island at once? That's insane. It was not supposed to happen. The rules, the strict rules that have been in place for thousands of years and she was now used to, were gone. They were gone since he came, since he was swept here. Gone faster than her table broke. But... but those rues that were broken until now were not as strange as this. They did not beat the entire point of Ogygia, like this. This was not supposed to happen.

She took a deep breath. No, this was not supposed to happen, the gods were supposed to free her, and she was supposed to hate Leo and love Jonathan. Supposed went out of the window here. Now, she had to help him before he died of hypothermia for being drenched, and she had to help Jonathan make space for him to sleep tonight, because she wasn't going to let him sleep in her cave and leave Jonathan out, but she had no space for the two of them with her room as full as it was. This was not ideal, of course, but it was practical, and by tomorrow she and Jonathan could arrange a actual space for him to live in, permanently.

Permanently. This was not a concept she usually applied to the island; heroes came and went in Ogygia. None of them had to stay permanently. None of them had to build a house for themselves, with sturdy walls and a comfortable bed, because they were not leaving any time soon. This island was supposed to be her punishment, not theirs, and she felt it was wrong that now these two boys had to share it with her, when they probably did nothing wrong. Jonathan was the epitome of good: he was in the Roman army, did what his superiors told him but knew it was wrong and attempted to stand up for what was right, and has gotten washed away to her island attempting to save a friend, a friend he was now worrying about, unable to know whether they survived or died.

She took the towel, and wrapped it around the newcomer.
"His name is Daniel." Jonathan said, nearing her.
"Daniel? You know him?
"Not really. Saw him once or twice in his camp, but he's a graecus. I'm not allowed to talk to graeci. I looked on his necklace, his name is written on a bead."

Calypso has seen similar necklaces before many, many times. After all, many that came to her island were Greek. The necklaces, she had learnt, summarised your years at camp. Each had an important event drawn on from that year. Daniel must have threaded another with his name on it, as she has seen happen many times with various personal objects. She examined the beads she did not recognise, slowly approaching the first, a bead with a tall building etched on with many names surrounding it.

"Do you know what this is?" She asked Jonathan.
"That's the Empire State building in New York. Olympus is there. I have no idea why the graeci thought it was so important."
"It means something important happened there on that year. Do you know anything about that?" She was rapidly arranging things around Daniel as she spoke, checking for bruises and injuries and ensuring he was comfortable and will not get hurt.
"Some people say that the graeci killed Saturn there. A lot of people just think he died with Mt. Othrys. Believe whichever one you like."

Calypso was shocked at Jonathan's cold demeanour. Until now, he was always kind and joking, but he had turned frosty as soon as Daniel had arrived, spitting out the word 'graecus' as if it were a curse. There was clearly a feud between these heroes, but she knew better than asking. Getting involved in war would mean picking a side, and when either side was likely to greet you at any time, this was not a good idea. And anyway, it frustrated her, the conflicts and war and blood feuds. She'd rather not hear about every spat, every cruel step or misunderstanding, even if just to preserve her sanity. "Do you have any idea how he got here?" She asked instead.
"Probably fell into the sea or something. I dunno"

Calypso looked at Jonathan again, as he sighed and turned away. "You know what? I'm just gonna go start preparing for him." he said.
"Jonathan,"
"Yeah?"
"What's wrong?" There was a short silence as she awaited his response.
"He's a graecus, Calypso. Greek. They are stupid, disorganised, uncultured, and I had to fight them, and now I have to share a building with one. I don't think I can do it."
Calypso swallowed. The last thing she wanted was for a fight to start between Jonathan and Daniel, but she could not separate them at all, and a meeting was inevitable, and as much as she liked Jonathan, she felt that he could do better. What was a hero for if they just followed others' opinions? That was why they were so often used by the gods. So opinionated. So easy to manipulate. A fighter, a non-heroic, honest fighter, would not follow other's opinions so easily. He would not hate this boy because years ago, somebody told him to hate all Greeks. Or maybe he would, and Calypso was just hoping for too much once more. Maybe conflicts could not be solved with understanding and respect. Maybe this stupidity was the force that won wars. After all, there was so much more of it than wisdom in the armies.

Jonathan looked at her expectantly, and then, seeing the disappointed in her eyes, turned around and disappeared in the trees. She stood still until she could no longer hear the leaves rustling behind him, and then started dragging Daniel up further than the ocean so that she could dry him properly. She bound his injuries and towelled him off, leaving a bundle of clothes, some food, and a note pointing him towards the hut and warning him of the possible conflict, before leaving him in favour of her machines. She saw what Leo loved in them so much now. Not emotional, not over dramatic, and certainly not completely stupid. Automatons suddenly seemed flawless angels compared to humanity.

A while later, once she had finished the part of the machine she had focused on, she looked quickly through her window and towards the hut. She did not know what she had hoped to achieve by that, really. She kept telling herself that she hoped that they would not be fighting, but she also expected them to be in the middle of some form of duel. She did not expect Daniel to be sitting next to Jonathan like a civilised person and laughing with him. Looking at this sight sent a pang of emotion piercing through her heart, and the room felt hot and choking, the machines worthless metallic clutters. In under five minutes she had whipped up a small amount of food and left to join them around their fire under the stars.

It was cosy, she had to admit. The tree trunk she sat on was hard and rough, the food was sandy and the fire was glaringly bright and smoky and not very hot at all, but for some reason, non of that mattered. Instead, what mattered was the pointless laughs at strange conversations, the even stranger anecdotes and the weird jokes they had learnt about each others camps. It was all so pointless that it made her laugh even more, laugh for her new friends who let her have this conversation, laugh for the fates who did not care enough to maintain the rules, laugh for the moon that smiled at her in the sky, and laugh even more when Jonathan started tickling her when her realised she was not listening and when Daniel joined in.

Please R&R!

Do note, it is unlikely that Chapter 2 will be available until December, because I am a NaNoWrimo participant, and will have no time to focus on anything else.