Here's the rewrite. I've got rid of the Wildgirl thing, (COS IT DON'T MAKE SENSE) and I've changed out of the very irritating 3rd person.

Percy

Cyra was strange. She had long, flowing hair the colour of night, and her eyes were beautiful, even if the blue reminded him a bit of Annabeth. She was tall, and skinny, like she'd fought for scraps for her whole life. I first met her when Orthrus came for me.

I had been trying to find a place to sleep; finally coming upon an abandoned building sitting on the far corner of New York. I crept inside, and upon deciding it was deserted, I had collapsed in a dreamless sleep. But I was wrong about the desertion of the building. She lived there.

Cyra

I had been about to wake him, to send him away, when Orthrus came. The monster charged in, his two-heads whipping around in a fury. Orthrus wasn't an average monster; two heads, both armed with razor-sharp teeth and a venomous snake for a tail. Just perfect. Percy had been trying to get up, obvious fatigue making his limbs heavy when I sprung from the shadows. I struck with lightning speed, and the moves, like always, came as naturally as breathing.

He tried to stand again and this time he managed to rise, but by the time he had come to his senses, I had the monster cowering in the corner. I drove the sword through Orthrus' chest and he dissolved into a flurry of golden monster essence. I had turned away in self-loathing as I tried to wipe the monster blood from my hands.

"What a bloody waste...", I had muttered to myself as the wind began to pick up the gold.

As he had approached I spun, pinning the sword against his throat. "Jeez! Calm down, I'm not here to hurt you!" Percy said, cautiously looking at the sword pressed to his throat.

His eyes had a wild spark in them; as if daring me to make my move. I had backed off, my sword still raised in a ready position. The weird reflection of light had danced off the sword to paint the walls bronze, gold and grey. While the mix of silver, steel, gold and bronze gave the weapon a strange glow, it was still eerily beautiful. Though his bronze sword hung weakly from his hands, but Percy still gave an aura of experience and one of a hardened fighter. At full strength, I had thought he would be a dangerous enemy and an even better ally.

"Είσαι μου αρέσει?! Ποιος είσαι εσύ?" I had tried.

Obviously he had known of both halves of the world, so I had attempted Greek. He then muttered some terribly structured sentence, so I had rolled her eyes.

"You're like me! Who are you?" I had said again with the Greek tingling into my New Yorker accent.

After stubbornly attempted to stare me down, I repeated myself.

"I said, who are you?" I had said, carefully shaping the words to "help" him understand. Percy looked annoyed then, like I was insulting his honour, or something.

"Who are you?" he had asked, annoyance and anger evident in his voice. Neither of us spoke, leaving both questions hanging in the air. This was going to be a long night, I had thought.

The stupidity of this boy had really pissed her off. I had been about to turn him out when something stopped me. Behind the anger and steel in his eyes, this boy was broken, alone and…guilty? I felt somewhere deep in my soul that he needed a friend just as badly as I did. As I had thought, he had seemed to come to the same conclusion. After sticking out his hand as a sign of greeting, he had raised his eyes and met her stare one more.

"Percy Jackson's the name and child of Poseidon's the game." Percy spoke tiredly, like it should have been important or funny, but he couldn't find the strength to care anymore.

I don't remember thinking much after that besides:

Oh Gods. Oh Gods. OH GODS! NO NO NO NO NO! WHAT?!

This had been the one thing I WAS NOT AT ALL prepared for.

A Son of Poseidon.

Gods know they weren't common; the Big Three weren't meant to have kids anymore, right?

Could I have possibly found the breaker of my curse? Before I even realized it, I had slipped into the dream I had been having since I was only a little girl.