Alright, it's just a one-shot I wrote at about two in the morning. It makes absolutely no sense what so ever, but that was the point. It was meant to be…confusing, not really supposed to have a meaning. I wrote it in a different style that made the words flow, like in a rhythm. So don't look into to it too hard, okay, if you do you might get a nosebleed from all that…nonsense.
I don't own PJO
If I had a world of my own.
Everything would be nonsense.
Nothing would be what it is
Because everything would be what it isn't.
And contrary wise what it is it wouldn't be,
And what it wouldn't be it would,
You see?
-Alice in Wonderland
"Why the hell did I agree to this?"
Why the hell indeed. Snow was on the frosty ground, ice was caked on every flat surface, and the wind was one of those winds that chilled you to the bone no matter how bundled up you were. It was cold, so cold in fact that it felt like the tears streaming down his face froze the moment they left his feverish skin.
He was sick. Wet coughs, stuffy nose, a few queasy moments here and there graced him all week. So as he walked through the darkening forest as another Capture the Flag game was commencing, he wondered what made him decide to do this.
It was a foolproof plan, supposedly, and all he had to do was find a monster. No biggie. But instead of killing it he had to…capture it. That worried him. He could kill monsters fine and dandy, but trying to trap one and bring it back to camp was another story.
Monsters were mean; they were vicious, coldblooded killers. They lusted for demigod blood; they yearned for human bones between their sharp, yellow teeth. They had no souls accompanying their coal black hearts.
Again he questioned his sanity as he stepped over a fallen tree and trudged farther into what he now deemed the forest of death.
So again, why the hell did he agree to this?
Why the hell indeed.
It was cold.
He was sick.
Yet he made his way steadily into the forest with only his bronze sword, riptide, as comfort. Those guys would pay once he gave them their "Secret weapon". He wanted breakfast in bed, personal slaves, and live practice dummies for the younger, less experienced demigods.
Payback was sweet.
Revenge was golden.
A wicked smile swept across his face, he pictured the torture he would make them go through; he could practically here their screams. A cruel laugh bubbled up his throat and marched through his mouth ready to be released into the menacing forest.
But it died when he heard a sound. No, not a sound; the sound. It was a growl, but more vulnerable. It was weak, barely a racket compared to the obnoxious wind coursing around the trees, and it had a slimly tone practically dripping as it vibrated throughout the small clearing he was passing through.
Please don't eat me
He thought as he switched paths and started following the noise down another, less safe, dirt road. The moon was high in sky, flashing as grey clouds full of snow passed in front of it. It seemed to be mocking him, all safe up there in the sky while he was down here chasing a monster.
Life's not bloody fair…stupid moon.
He paused for a second, only for one, and he thought about when he started insulting things in British. A wind swept through the area, and he shivered in his wool jacket.
Probably just a phase.
And he continued walking. Past a lake with water black as coal, up a tree with angry squirrels that grew possessive over nuts, and he walked across a log that had a large, lumpy toad sitting on the end.
They looked at each other.
Can you move? He asked silently.
The toad went back to croaking, but sent an answer back.
No.
A nod was made, and the toad was stepped over in the most courteous manner one can do while stepping over another. I liked that toad, he concluded, and once again he began wondering when he went insane.
Christmas maybe?
Yeah.
Had to be Christmas.
The noise was uttered once again, but this time to his left. With a sigh he changed courses and went down a steep hill, slippery with ice coated grass. It was pure luck he didn't fall.
The sound was closer now, closer, even closer than before. He made a sharp left, than a quick dash over a boulder, only then when he found himself in an overgrown meadow, did he stop and stare in disbelief.
There was a dragon.
Not one, but two.
One was a baby.
And the other was dead.
The little reptile, black scaled with yellow gems gleaming, took a quick glance at him and snuggled deeper into what he inferred as its mother.
Dead mother.
He took a step, one foot in front of the other, and slowly made his way over to the baby. It growled but let him approach. The wind was picking up now, all harsh and arrogant. The dragon shivered, and it seemed to ask him a question with its eyes.
Are you going to kill me?
He made another step, glanced up to answer it back, before taking another one.
I don't know.
It seemed to accept that answer.
He slid around the mother, stopping in front of the little infant. It mewled, cried, whimpered along with the wind. He didn't touch it. Only his hand, pale and frostbitten, made its way towards the creature.
The hand didn't rush.
It didn't touch.
Just offered.
The baby ignored it, for a moment, but its heart grew accepting as the wind grew more demanding.
Stupid wind.
The two locked eyes.
I agree.
The dragon made its way over to the hand, sniffed it once, then climbed up the arm it was attached to. It cuddled and curled around his neck, purring a thanks in his ear.
He rubbed his hand against its scales; it nuzzled the hand that was offered.
I'm calling you Credere.
The request was whispered into the air, it soared a bit before it settled.
Trust.
Do you trust me?
The plea was made, but unheard. It went through a bond only special occasions acquired, but while unheard, it wasn't unheeded.
I like that name.
He smiled.
And yeah.
The smile widened.
They made their way back through the forest of death, passing the dozing toad along the way. They went around frozen trees, and dodged bombs launched by angry squirrels. They made their way back to camp, ditching the game, and wandered towards the kitchens to grab some hot chocolate.
Nobody questioned the dragon.
Not a second glance was spared.
They wrote it off as a Percy thing.
Enough said.
It wasn't until Percy lay in his bed, Credere beside him, that he asked the question eating away his mind.
Why'd you trust me?
Wide yellow gems glanced up at him tiredly before they closed.
Did I have a choice?.
He sighed, but nodded tiredly. He understood.
Sort of.
So yeah, it made absolutely no sense what so ever. But there was a hidden meaning, if you find it, well…give yourself a pat on the back.
Oh and you guys don't have to review, just read and review my other story.
-Time'sLonelyWanderer
Trust; it breaks easy and a bitch to rebuild.