A/N: Next Chapter. Yay! Review! I cannot stress that enough.
DISCLAIMER: All characters are not of my possession, save for the characters that are. All comments, jokes, asides, rubbish, cabbages etc are of my own making and in no way represent the making of original story nor author, nor any cat, dog, goldfish, insect, bacteria, mineral, etc, in their fictional existence.
Travis P.O.V.
Katie's about ready to do a flying leap into her garden. She grabs a watering can, and fervently fills it, sprinkling water over, well, everywhere within the sidewalk. Bending down to keep various leaves dry, only watering the roots.
There's a tenderness in her eyes not many people see. They see Katie, mildly agressive, definitely temperamental, but not soft.
I stand here on the sidewalk, watching her. Just sort of, staring. I think about sitting down and watching her all afternoon, but shake the thought out of my head. That would definitely come across as creepy.
She puts the watering can down with a small klunk and gently rubs the large leaf of a flower bush I can't name. Almost instantly, the small buds blossom, the pale orange now an intense vermillion, and the overall view of the flower bush becomes prettier. She goes around to a trellis heavy with pale yellow roses; the tips of the petals of the roses are dark pink.
"Tea roses," Katie explains, and cups a particularly small, sad-looking tea rose in her hand. The rose brightens in color slightly, grows a few more petals, and it makes all the difference. The blossom is so beautiful. More beautiful than the other blossoms; it has a grace.
Like Katie. I remember overhearing some of the Aphrodite girls one summer, talking about Katie. They said rude things about her, saying she was ugly but that she would be mildly pretty if she at tried. I think those Aphrodite girls are the other flowers on the trellis, but Katie is the young graceful blossom.
I walk down the short path to the trellis and to Katie. I pick up a fallen rose. It's white, and small; an emblem of fragility. I cup Katie's chin with my fingers, brush a strand of hair from her face, and tuck the white rose behind her ear. It works in contrast with her brown hair. Katie's eyes are wide, startled.
I drop my hand, my face burning bright.
"I guess I'll see you later, then. Monday," I mumble, and shove my hands in my pockets. I turn to walk down the path, looking at my shoes, the flowers, the cracked sidewalk, anywhere but at Katie. My stomach is in knots.
I hear Katie take a few tentative steps behind me, but she stops.
"I'll see you. . ." She says, her voice soft and laced with an emotion I can't define.
I trudge down the walkway across the street and continue down the street. I walk past my house. I walk past the old lady with the chiffon scarf on her head and the smirk on her mouth. I hear the clack of her shoes on the sidewalk behind me. I don't turn around. I don't know where I'm going, I may just be going in circles.
"Young man," the old lady says in a pleasant, lightly accented voice.
I turn around, cautious, cautious. We've all had our experiences with hag ladies turning into batty demons.
As I watch, her irises shift in color, going from pink to red to orange to yellow to green to blue to purple and back again. My mind goes through descriptions of monsters. As far as I can remember, there are no monster-women with shifting eyes.
Then my mind clicks.
This is a monster of a different class.
And I take back what I said about her being a hag lady.
"Lady Aphrodite," I murmur respectfully, and bow my head.
She winks gracefully, her eyes rainbow-ing, "Call me Gertrude for now." She moves the end of her elegant scarf over her shoulder.
"Gertrude." I try to compute this in my mind: Aphrodite, old hag, Gertrude. Irony's a bird (for lack of better swear words).
"Very good, dear," she praises silkily. Her words wash over me and fill me with an unbelievably intense desire to please her, and to receive her praise. I shake my head, trying to clear my thoughts.
"So. . . to what do I owe this honor?" I ask formally, not knowing what to say next.
"Aren't you sweet? I'm here to give you a bit of advice. Is that fine? Because, darling, you desperately need it." She waits for me to nod my assent, which I do, but only because she expects me to. I don't think I am that bad at talking to Katie.
"With all due respect, ah, Gertrude, I'd rather do this on my own."
Lady Aphrodite (Gertrude) looks affronted. "Well! If you don't want to hear what Katie thinks about you, I guess that's your choice." She shifts her scarf back over her shoulder haughtily, and begins to stroll away slowly.
I weigh my options: either I can anger Aphrodite by denying her and not hear a thing about Katie, or I can agree to hear her advice and risk her meddling. My choices aren't looking so good for me. Such is the pitiful life of an average half-blood.
Aphrodite senses my hesitation, and comes back and loops her arm through mine. "Help a poor old woman like myself-" I barely manage to hold in my snort "-feel joy again! Accept my advice and I promise not to intervene divinely." I know when she says this, she means she won't use her persuasion or whatever to get Katie to love me. That doesn't mean she can show up at school where Katie and I are and meddle that way.
"Don't intervene, period, exclamation mark, and maybe we can work something out."
Aphrodite huffs, "fine. I'll tell you what Katie feels about you and you'll take my advice."
"You'll tell me what Katie thinks about me and I'll listen to your advice."
Aphrodite pouts, her lip curled and her rainbow eyes twinkling. "That's the best offer I will get, isn't it?" She nods thoughtfully. "Alright. But not here."
"Where do you have in mind?" I question.
"It's a lovely day for a trip to the park, yes?"
Yay.
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We sit on a park bench. The park is unusually busy for an afternoon; usually parents take their young children to the park in the morning or around noon.
"So, where to begin?" Aphrodite exclaims in her silky voice. "Ah, yes. Katie. Katie conflicted and unsure of herself. She knows she likes you, possibly more than that, but she doesn't know if you feel the same way about her. Your abstract displpays of affection confuse her further, and shock her.
"The unfortunate incident including your brother, Connor, and the potion hurt her. In a teensy way, it showed that you may have feelings toward her; that is, if it had been you. It hurt her beyond belief when she thought it was you; she felt betrayed, she thought you were mocking her.
"No. She got over it, but not entirely. Everything has an impact, and nothing heals completely. And then today, when you tucked the flower behind her ear, that made her feel loved. The way you were protective of her when she was attacked by the dracaenae, well, if she wasn't in love with you before, she definitely is now. Lovely touch, by the way with the flowers." Aphrodite winks.
My head is spinning.
"Oh," I reply dumbly.
"Next time you come to a situation similar to today's with Katie, carry out your intentions. It would save both of you plenty of pain." Aphrodite looks at the entreating clouds. "I must leave you now."
She walks away, but turns around and tosses me a vial of slightly bubbling blue goop. "You'll need it. And you'll know when to use it."
Aphrodite turns back around, walks a few steps, and then her image blurs and shimmers like a mirage, and I avert my eyes.
My head feels like it's bursting with information.
A/N: Rather short chapter, but extremely fluffy. I hope it was satisfactory. PLEASE REVIEW!