Here's a cute little drabble that I randomly thought up…at like, ten at night…sorry if it sucks.
Nope. I don't, and never will, own the epicness that is PJO. *sobs* WHYYY?
O-o-O
Paradox: par·a·dox (noun) 1. Something absurd or contradictory.
They were a paradox. At first, they couldn't stand to be in each other's presences; the very existence of the other made them want to pull their hair out in frustration. He said she was a bossy know-it-all; she claimed that he was an obtuse child who wouldn't stand a chance in the real world. And why shouldn't they hate each other? Their parents had been enemies since the beginning of time; they were bound to clash like waves against a rocky shore.
And yet there was another contradiction there, even from the very beginning: there were places where the waves would roll smoothly; blending with the shoreline until you couldn't distinguish where the ocean ended and the land began. Somehow they always made the best team, as if their differences only made each other stronger. Her brains, his leadership—they always worked best together. They always had, even in the beginning; hadn't she been the one ready to leap in front of a snarling hellhound to save him, that very last night they thought it would be possible to be friends?
And then they were thrown together, working not for personal gain, but one common goal, and when they returned from that first quest everyone could see the difference. Where they had once been born enemies trying to coexist, they were now friends, joined at the hip. He was the only one who could bring out her sense of humor, and she was the only person alive he would take orders from without question.
That first year changed them. Stubborn as she was, he could always somehow change her mind, even when the people she trusted most had failed for years. She always managed to stop him before he could do something stupid, and showed him reason, a plan. They brought out the best in each other. They were a paradox to the very meaning of paradox; somehow perfectly balanced and polar opposites in the same second. They were the tide, pushing and pulling and always wrestling with each other, but always somehow turning their violent, grating friction into something smooth and easy. They flowed.
As they grew older, the easy friendship turned to something else, something both blissful and dark. They could hardly stand to be near each other, but in the absence of companionship they craved each other's company with an almost physical pain. There was no easy middle ground now; they were always clashing, always fighting. Somehow it brought them even closer. Even when he was treading on eggshells, and he very well knew it, he would still charge straight to the heart of the problems, doing anything he could to make her open up. She, in response, closed herself off, turning herself into a war machine, focusing only on the task at hand, and at the same time reaching out to him for help, sometimes without conscious thought.
And in the end, in one single, peaceful moment, they stopped fighting. The tide stopped pushing and pulling, the water stilled, and somehow every single contradiction was blended into a single entity, the very being of them. The sun and the moon may as well have become a single source of light; the son of Poseidon and the daughter of Athena, night and day, somehow absolutely head-over-heels in love. It was as if every sour feeling they had ever felt toward each other in the last four years had vanished; it didn't have any significance now. They would always fight, always push and shove, always be a paradox. But the tide would always still, if only for a few moments, and there they would find there common ground.
O-o-O
That was short…
Review?