Percy had sneaked in an extra one of those, what are they called, drachmas into his pocket. Fleecy didn't seem to mind; she actually pointed at the pile to him. Hazel backed up away from the fountain, as Percy planned on contacting Annabeth. He sighed, tossed the drachma into the mist, and slowly said, "O Iris, accept my offering." The feeling of doing this seemed so casual and similar, yet he couldn't place an exact scene from the past into the reality. When the gold coin shimmered out of view and into who knows where, he said "Show me Annabeth." The Mist had struggled to show a picture, not even a glimpse of anything. It went blank, until a voice spoke, "I am sorry, but your call cannot be made. Please try again later." He sighed. It seemed hopeful yet unrealistic, able to reach her this easily. Juno would've done something to prevent the contact, anyways. Fleecy looked at Percy as he turned around. "Do you want to try again? Maybe do my direct call?"
Percy smiled. "Nah, thanks anyways, though. You should spare some of those coins for any other people. I'll try next time."
Fleecy objected, but Percy said it was fine, once again. As Hazel Iris-Messaged/direct called Reyna, they scared her yet got some relief to see Reyna again.
A phrase spoken from someone so familiar spoke in his mind.
Annabeth looked out her window, her face gloomy and tired. She was busy helping build the Argo II, getting ready for their expedition, and of course, still stressed. The thought of Percy lost- well, not quite, if he's at the Roman camp, but he's pretty much mentally lost right now- made her shiver and keep playing back scenarios of the two together on his birthday, munching on a messy piece of blue birthday cake, sweet with an adorable kick, like their kisses. She kicked the wall. Everyone else was participating in the daily sing-along at the Amphitheatre, but she was allowed some time to spend alone. Suddenly, she heard a sound. Like a faint telephone ringing. It was faint but audible. The room was empty. All of cabin six members' cell phones are turned off and stored in a cabinet, locked. Also, it was the ringing of a classic telephone, like the really cool retro ones with the same little tolling.
The ringing stopped after a few moments. A faint voice said, "I am sorry, but you cannot receive the call." It was familiar. She heard it before when she tried calling someone via Iris-Message, only getting the blank-expressed note, saying the call cannot be made. Annabeth was a bit worried; some creepy monster could somehow be smart enough to use Iris-Message and try to track her down, but this was camp. The call would not work for the monster; this is a restricted zone, a bit. Still, she was worried. Her fatigue took over, and before she decided to head outside for fresh air, a phrase said by someone, maybe Chiron, rang in her head. It seemed so distant; she had heard it almost a year ago.
The gods bent all their will, wove the Mist as tightly as they could, to make sure the enemies never remembered each other, never met on their quests, so that bloodshed could be avoided.
Percy was dazed, but a name was popping up in his mind. He couldn't hear the name due to the buzzing from somewhere.
Annabeth immediately thought. "Percy. No contact. The Mist. Too strong. He was in the Roman property. I'm in the Greek property. Percy...Mist...no contact.."
So...how did you like that? First Percabeth fanfiction! Yay! Anyways, I know the ending's a bit confusing. The quote is spoken by Chiron at their meeting in the Lost Hero. Well, I hope you enjoyed! I had to rush due to the time and I have no PJO fanfictions yet. Anyways, thanks! I don't own the characters; all belongs to Rick Riordan. Thanks for reading :)