So. Been working on this one for a REALLY long time, and I'm so pumped to finally be able to post it!! I really like it, and I feel like it has a really good story to tell. It's an AU version of Percy Jackson and the Olympians (which BTW are amazing books, go read 'em dude. Seriously. Now. And then come back when your done.).
I've fitted some stuff to go with my flow of, I don't know what to call it, supernatural addiction, so it's a tiny bit different. But I love it. Did I mention that yet?
The chapters are gonna be really short, usually around five to anywhere-more-than-five paragraphs, but I didn't wanna take the time to sort out where I should cut off, so every time there's a scene change, a new chapter begins!!
Oh my god, I'm seriously excited for this! I've wanted to write a good PJO fanfic for-eva, and now I'm posting one! Woot Woot!! (inside joke, don't ask)
Disclaimer: Rick Riordan totally gets credit for inventing the amazing PJO crew, though many have tried to pass them off as theirs *coughcough*. . . and no I didn't not get caught! I'm so better at lying than that, duh *rolls eyes*
Kisses,
{--Inky--}
She throws her too-light bag onto the backseat of the waiting cab, sliding in after while simultaneously directing the cabbie to Brooklyn. He doesn't ask twice, just accelerates. This cabbie isn't a very observant one; he passes over the oozing gashes raking her cheeks, the torn clothes, the dirt and blood mixed with tears caking her face and hair. He doesn't even object to the gun blatantly clutched in her cold fingers, or the bloodied celestial bronze knife in the other hand.
The girl slumps down in the seat, looking for the entire world as though she's just tired. Later, the cabbie will find large, menacingly crimson stains of what could only be blood spread across his upholstery.
He does notice, however, when she accidentally short-changes him when they reach her destination. She's already gone though, and he hadn't watched to see the direction she'd gone. Angry, the cabbie swears and squeals his tires as he pulls away from the curb, and Annabeth Chase slumps farther down onto the pavement, her Yankee's cap dislodged from her knotted curls.
You know what I just realized?
My AN is longer than my chapter.
Oh dear.
But you know something else?
I don't care if your review is longer or shorter than my chapter! So long as it's there!
Isn't that great?