"Discordia"
Disclaimer: Don't own. If I did, Luke would be safe and sound in the end and Blackjack would be lord of the Pegasi.
A/N: WARNING- author has been known to sporadically leave works unfinished for long bouts at a time and to introduce mary-sues that tend to fall for broody bad guys. You've been warned.
Chapter 1: Discord
Silver edged clouds laced the sky, peppering the neighborhood below in short bursts of shade as they sped over tall, dying trees and aged brick houses. A girl stood in the brown lawn of one such overlooked house, gazing disdainfully over her suburban kingdom before she popped on her headphones and took off down the street with powerful strides. The rhythm in her ears echoed on the hot pavement below her and through the eerily quiet porches as she pounded by. Her songs changed many times as did the street names that flew past, but she was used to this neighborhood and the route she jogged. Soon, as was always the case once she passed the creepy two story on Madera Avenue, she was struggling to keep up, her breaths becoming labored and sweat dampening her brow.
A shadow flew over her, and she used its coolness as a goal to maintain her tempo. Unfortunately, it was not the shadow of a cloud overhead.
The shadow shrank until it was the silhouette of a disfigured woman, with heavy wings and a grotesquely pointed face. It was directly over the girl now, and as she witnessed its transformation, her already erratic heartbeat thumping even louder against her ribs like a hummingbird trapped in a box, she glanced up and saw what could only be described by her heat addled brain as a harpy.
She didn't really have any other terms for the creature that had the torso of a woman- a very well endowed woman- feathers everywhere, the wings and tail of a vulture, and the face of a hag with the beak of an eagle and ears like a beagle. She had seen something similar in her childhood favorite, 'The Last Unicorn.'
However, this was not a movie and the creature was only a dozen feet above her, its sharp eyes and clicking beak gleaming in the bright sunlight.
Ungracefully, the girl fell face first into the pavement, her palms taking the worst of it before her body rolled several times at the sudden loss of momentum. She was numb for a moment before the beating of thick black wings very near her face cleared the stars from her eyes and she raised her head off the blacktop. The harpy smiled, if it's possible for harpies to smile, and hopped awkwardly toward her on devilishly sharp, clawed bird's legs.
"STOP! Get away from her!" A voice shouted somewhere behind the harpy and the girl. Both turned to see what must have been a shock, for the girl's oddly colored eyes widened even further to the point they were in danger of bursting something, and the harpy's beak opened as if to squawk in protest.
It was Ernie Statford, the thin and nerdy sophomore that the girl had occasionally glanced skulking about in the crowded hallways of her school. She only remembered his name because earlier that same week, she had caught him staring at her, the intense, creepy sort of stare you really don't want on you, and had inquired who he was, and if, you know, some kind of restraining order was needed.
Now, the shy and awkward teen was wielding a gnarled stick, or rather a club, and galloping toward the harpy as if he intended to strike her with it. The girl watched, mystified, as Ernie leaped at the harpy and simultaneously clubbed her over the head while his oddly jointed legs struck a resounding blow to her beaked jaw.
He landed neatly on the other side of the harpy and wheeled around, poised to strike again but there was no need. The harpy flapped her wings like a nervous turkey for a moment, clicked her beak in disapproval and then flew off, her shadowy figure disappearing into a benevolent silvery cloud that quickly passed over the neighborhood and meandered serenely on its way to the next.
Ernie hobbled over to the girl and helped her stand, even being so bold as to wrap his arm around her waist as her shaky legs gave out and she attempted to rejoin her friend, the pavement.
Seeing him close-up, she noticed a few things that the hoodie and baggy jeans he always wore while at school tended to hide: his curly dark hair hid two tiny spiraled horns, like a baby ram's, and his legs were oddly joined because they were the legs of a goat, complete with hocks, wooly grey fur, and little black cloven hoofs where his feet should have been. His human skin was olive toned and his arms, uncovered as they were with the fitted white t-shirt he was sporting, showed very nicely toned muscles. His warm brown eyes gazed into her hers as his lips moved.
"Did you hear me at all just now?" Ernie was saying, frustration beginning to override his concern.
"Oh, sorry…" the girl shook her head, trying to quickly wrap her mind around the fact that harpies and satyrs were real, as well as the fact that Ernie Statford happened to be a major hottie, with goat legs.
He began half leading, half carrying the girl down the street back toward the direction of her house. How he knew where her house was, she didn't really want to know. "I said, we need to get you out of here now. There's going to be more where she came from and only one safe place for you to go."
"A mental institution?"
"No, Ari," he said her name with a sigh, the frustration now evident. "Camp Half-Blood."
The girl laughed and took a little bit more of her own weight so that he could release her waist. "A harpy," she said the word like it was infected, "attacks me and I'm supposed to go to some summer camp?!"
Ernie forcefully stopped her, catching her shoulders and whirling her around so that his chocolaty gaze could hammer the severity of his words in. "This is a special camp for those who require sanctuary from monsters and things that would otherwise see them dead. Now that you've been exposed, more monsters will come for you."
The humor in her cyan eyes died. "Why would monsters suddenly want me dead and just how the hell is some kiddie camp supposed to keep me safe?" She backed a few steps away from him. "How do I even know I can trust you?"
"The camp is the only thing that can keep you alive right now. You can either trust that or see how far you'll get on your own," he said, suddenly looking a decade older and a lifetime wiser. Looking at him now, she could barely remember the scrawny, hunched over kid that stalked her in the hallways.
She shivered, the feeling of being watched, hunted, crawling over her skin like worms. She heaved a great sigh and regarded her strange and mysterious savior once more, the honesty in his animal like eyes digging straight to her soul, if such a beast existed. "Alright, it's not like I had any great scholarships to look forward to here anyway." She said recklessly, the need to move, to escape the openness surrounding her overwhelming. "Where to?"
"New York, but we'll need to go cross country. Flying is too risky."
"Riiight. And there won't be any friends of the harpy meeting up with us on some whirlwind road trip instead?"
"Better to have somewhere to exit than a thousand feet down."
"Ah, I see…
But the girl was cut off as a police car pulled up beside the two and a cop in ray-bans lowered his window. "Is there a problem?" If he noticed that Ernie had a goat's behind, he didn't seem to let on.
The girl arched an eyebrow and glanced at Ernie but his eyes were cast down. "No sir. My, uh… friend and I were just talking."
"What are your names?" He asked curtly, a pad in hand and a pencil poised.
"Really, sir. I don't understand. Have we done something…"
"There was a report of some screaming a few streets down from here. I'm just wanting to make sure that everyone is alright."
He sure didn't sound like the caring type if his tone was any indication but she didn't need a trip to the station on top of the day she was already having. "Arista Darios." When Ernie still didn't say anything, Arista added with a roll of her eyes, "And this is my mute friend, Ernie Statford."
The cop jotted down their names and then smiled. "Thank you," he said slowly, and turned to put down his pad and pencil. As he turned back to them, he slid off his ray-bans.
Arista didn't have a chance to scream before Ernie tackled her to the pavement where a new street burn was engraved in her arm and a rush of heat flew over their heads.
"Time to go!" Ernie shouted.