Hey, all! Oh boy another project. I'm still going to continue Sons of Darkness (if anyone cares, because it's not really that popular) but I'm officially making that my second priority. This, my few fans, will be my main event. Background information – I'm sick and tired of Mary-Sue/Gary-Stu OC fics, and cheesy lame Percabeth fics. I'm here to introduce what I hope will become the number one OC fic in all of PJO Fandom (emphasis on "hope"). This takes place several years after The Last Olympian, and all unnatural threats are gone. With that, I live you with my newest, and possibly one day, greatest fic - The Dawn Treader.
They say that walking out and quitting are two different things. But what about climbing out? I ask myself in dismay as I stare upwards. The Climbing Wall at Camp Half-Blood is no small feat, especially when you're as short as I am. I reached desperately for the next stone grip, still forcing myself to keep an eye on the sky. If any lava spilled on me while I wasn't paying attention, I'd be toast. Literally.
With a mighty gasp, I extended my arm as high as I could reach. I could feel the tendons in my shoulders scream in pain, but I finally felt what I was looking for. The next grip.
Of course, though, my moment of glory soon faded. There was the sound of churning from above, and a masculine blob of flaming orange muck started oozing its way towards me. Desperately, I closed my eyes and prayed to my mother – and anything else that might be listening – and sprung my sudden plan into action. Reluctantly, I let go with my left hand, and loosened my left leg. I swung to the right like an old-fashioned saloon door, and let the speeding ball of muck slide past. My whole body illuminated with heat, and all of the hair on my arms started to singe. My body started naturally reversing its rotation, but I held back my weight just long enough to let the deadly lava pass.
With a pant of relief, I clasped onto my familiar holds. For the time being, they were burning hot, which didn't make things any easier for my journey.
I huffed with effort, and forgot about the last spill of lava, my brain naturally starting to cook-up a plan for the remainder. I've gotten too far to back out. If I want to be the best… I've got to beat the best. Never back down.
I started fixing a pattern of easy stone holds along the jagged sandstone wall. It was like playing connect-the-dots, only my life was at stake. It seemed as though so many of the holds were out of reach. At times like this, I would've given anything to be 'Mr. Incredible', so I could just stretch my rubber arms higher, and fling myself to victory….
CRUNN…
I dazedly snapped back to reality, breaking my rushed train of thought. The wall parallel to the one I was climbing – the scary looking one with jagged rocks that were formed like medieval spikes, and deathly brown stones that could crack bones – started making its move. I'm sure Chiron had all the best interests in training demigods the way powerful heroes like Jason would train, but then again, spending a little extra money on safety precautions would have made the whole thing worthwhile.
After a few fatal accidents in the years passed, a few things had changed about the Camp's infamous Climbing Wall. At the very bottom, no longer was there a raging whirlpool, and pointy rocks, but a much calmer white-water rapid with only a couple small rocks off to the sides. Any small chance is better than no chance at all, right? Sadly, though, the facing wall still pursued the climbers as they pressed themselves higher.
With a few more desperate heaves and grasps, I managed to gain more and more altitude. The hot sun beat down on me, as if Apollo was just trying to make this harder for me. I could feel my entire body stiffen, and ache, but I did my best to ignore it. It was kind of like trying to watch television with a pack of banshees, though.
I stared desperately to the precipice of the mound, estimating how much longer I had before I went 'crunch'.
Time was not on my side. I let out a small growl, and pressed myself to the limit. It almost felt like I was trying to leap to the top. My mind averted to the fact that if I made the slightest of mistakes, that could end any possibility of making it to the top. Or getting married… I figured, as I imagined my body flailing down the canyon, while I screamed like a pack of hungry lions was after me.
Sweat dripped from the nape of my neck, and raced down m spine. Despite all that was happening, I tried not to giggle. Laughing was never a good flaw to have; ever. I could nearly picture myself in a high-intensity fight with an ages-old Spartan warrior, and right as he was about to deliver my death blow, I would start singing like a hyena.
I risked a small peak over my shoulder, and automatically regretted it. The wall chasing me wasn't more than 20 feet away, mocking my every move. Frantically, I clambered up faster than I thought I could. All of my instincts were driving me to reach the top, and I didn't even care that it felt like it was raining on my body. With a small sense of relief, I felt my right hand brush the top of the course. I smiled a little, and was tempted to do a fist-pump, but I refrained myself – trying to keep in mind that I would fall.
Suddenly, the opposing wall tapped my butt, reminding me to stay determined for a few more seconds…
I groaned and slid my right leg over the top. The wall following me started to brush my right side, and with one final cry, I rolled sideways, giving myself just the boost I need to scramble over the top.
BOOM!
I heard over my own deep breathing, as the two walls collided, and the water below churned.
"I need to whip my fat butt into shape…" I panted, talking to myself.
Gingerly, I used the bottom of my orange Camp Half-Blood T-shirt to wipe the sweat out of my face and brow, and stretched out my arms to dry in the breeze accumulated in the high elevation. My body was burning with soreness, and my forearms were, well, burning.
I could have stayed in that single spot all day, but I knew had to rise eventually. I padded over to the edge of the soft, grassy platform, and sat down – dangling my feet over the edge.
It was the highest spot in Camp, which made for a great view. The sun over the ocean seemed to illuminate the ancient Greek-style building in the camp. The green grass had been stomped down by the many campers, and specks of bright orange dotted the horizon. I noticed a group of satyrs and naiads picking a game of volleyball with a group of Aphrodite children. Some big burly looking Hephaestus kids were comparing some sort of shining metal, and Mr. D. and Chiron were playing a rousing game of pinochle on the porch of the Big House.
The Big House…
With my ADHD, my eyes subconsciously averted towards the tall pine trees just behind the Big House, where there was a flicker of movement.
And that was the first time I saw Him.
"Him" is a pronoun. I think a pronoun is a very under-rated grammatical element. I mean… symbolism has been around since there was something draw on. I think a pronoun is the modern symbolist version of a greater force. Weird – I know – but just think about it. Who is they "They" in all the common references? Who is Nobody? Not the one in the myth, but the natural force. I guess it's another one of those little things that no one seems to care about until it comes around and bites them.
Even from my distance, I could see the glint of his deep, plotting, navy blue eyes. Even the shine that the gel products in his hair glinted in his coppery-blonde hair. He appeared to be making eye contact with me… and his distant facial expression made me think he was smiling.
But why was he singling me out? I fit in pretty normally, I was nothing special. Why me?
But as quickly as 'He' appeared, he disappeared into the shadows of the trees again.
I sighed; this whole afternoon had been way too intense for my liking. With one last glance towards the tall pines 'He' had walked out of for a few moments, I leaped off the side of the wall, and started a free-fall towards the 25-foot gentle water, pool below.
*****