Being an Oracle Is So Unpredictable
3rd Person POV
If, before everything, you had walked right up to Rachel Elizabeth Dare and told her the Greek Gods are real, she would have rolled her eyes and told you to go back to your Truth or Dare game. But that was before she needed to blow her nose- which resulted in her becoming a Greek Oracle.
Before she accepted the spirit, but after she found out about everything, she had a crush on Percy. Later on, she figured out that Percy and Annabeth were meant for each other, but at the time, she just wanted someone to love her. Oblivious to all of her attempts, Percy just could not like her back.
After everything, the war, the deaths, and most important to her, becoming the Oracle, she took out her emotions on the canvases Camp gave her. She spent a lot of time in her cave in the woods, just staring into space, thinking. But when she got an image in her head, she spent uninterrupted hours visualizing it and creating it with the strokes of her brush.
It was a late evening, and Rachel Elizabeth Dare was thinking. It was the day after the war, and everyone was rejoicing. But for some reason, Rachel secluded herself today. Her conscious told her to.
An idea squirmed its way into her mind. She sat up straight immediately ad hopped off of her silky bed, where she has been lying. She walked across the cavern, ripping off a sheet on a blank canvas. She pulled out her array pf paints from under the easel. Her brush was worn, but she trusted it not to stiffen and mess up the picture in her mind. She could not lose focus. Something was telling her this was important.
She started with the outlines. She sketched quickly with a spare pencil, making the outlines of seven people, each with a personal detail- one girl had a horn, another a horse. One boy was holding a bow and arrow with his arms furry and clawed. Another was on fire. Yet he was completely fine.
She tucked the pencil behind her ear, pushing back the unruly curly red hair sprouting from her scalp. Picking out her brush again, she worked on the face of the first boy. Blonde hair, slightly shaggy, with blue eyes and a scar on his face… her mind went on autopilot, her body turning into a machine, needing to finish the painting.
Hours later, she was almost done. She picked up a small brush meant for shading. She goes to work on a pure black Pegasus in the air above them, mastering the look of her hair and mane, the direction it was flowing. She then worked on a streak next to another girl. It was a horse, but for some reason, the thing was so fast she couldn't capture it.
In a few minutes, she was done.
Her eyes lost the focus they had been holding for hours, and she realized in horror what she's done.
The first girl was Cherokee. Her hair was uneven. Her eyes were kaleidoscope and held terror, like she knew what Rachel knew- things they didn't want to. She held the horn, which she realized was a cornucopia. It was sprouting blueberry muffins like nobody's business.
Next was the boy she did first. His hair was blond, and looked like it hadn't been cut in a little while. His eyes were determined- like he knew exactly what he was doing and was going to do it even though he didn't want to. In his hand was a golden sword.
Another boy was Asian. In his hands was the bow and arrow. Except they weren't hands. They were paws. Rachel almost screamed.
Next was a girl with darks skin and hair with golden eyes summoning diamonds out of the ground. Each one was pure and razor sharp, perfect for impaling monsters. By the way the girl was glaring, Rachel knew that was exactly the girl's plan.
Next was the boy on fire. His eyes were sad, but the twinkle in his eye told her that he was a jokester. His whole body was aflame, and fireballs were bursting from his hands, travelling away, probably to monsters. His clothes, thank Gods, did not burn away.
Her eyes grew in horror and pain when she saw who the last two demigods were. They were both beaten and bloody, and their eyes were sunken and broken, almost lifeless. Hair a mess and skin pale from open wounds, was Percy and Annabeth.
Rachel stumbled away. How could she paint something so terrible? Evil? Was this the future? Did she, by painting it, make it the future? Was she to blame for any future pain against the Heroes of Olympus?
She throws a sheet over the canvas, smearing a little bit of the paint that wasn't dry. It didn't matter though. It just made it look more realistic. She shoves the piece into the corner, hoping to forget the thing.
As soon as the events started playing out, Rachel connected the dots. She knew this was what she had seen that day was happening before her eyes, for real this time. She tried to forget, against her better judgment, but the Oracle's voice in her head became too much. She went to Chiron.
Chiron was able to find hints Rachel couldn't have if her life depended on it. He concluded that Percy was one of the Seven, and announced this to Camp. But, on a better note, he also drew that Percy must have still been alive, since the Oracle herself had seen it.
After, really after, after Gaea was asleep and the camps united, Rachel was relieved. And when she predicted a ring, only to have Annabeth turn around and see Percy propose to her in front of everyone, Rachel felt good.
She decided that being the predictor of the future was really unpredictable.