Like I said, I've been running out of idea, so these two are prompted drabbles. Many thanks to Mission to Marzipan for the second one. :) I wish I could have done more with it. And to general zargon for the first, which was a lot of fun to write. :)
Terror
It didn't take Rachel much time to realize that she was being followed.
All right, so being seventeen and out in Brooklyn at two in the morning wasn't one of her brightest ideas, but once in a while her feet tended to take her to gloomy places like this. She suspected it was another side effect of hosting the Spirit of Delphi. The thing practically gloried in anything depressing.
Besides, she could deal with most mortal creeps now. They tended to get really freaked out when she stared at them and recited little-known facts about their lives. And if that didn't work, she was good at running. And throwing things accurately at people while running. And there was the pepper spray, and the celestial bronze knife which would probably look like a gun or something to any prospective mugger…
Whatever was following her hissed. Or rather, made a sound something like a mix of a growl, a hiss and a primeval predatory announcement. Rachel didn't even glance back before she started running.
It slithered, and hissed again. She had a feeling that running wasn't going to be much help here, and her feelings were never wrong. And that didn't make sense. If the spirit of Delphi had let it's host go out into certain death, it was really, really slipping up-
The monster hissed/growled again, but in the wrong direction. Someone yelled out a battle charge. Rachel took advantage of the situation to hide behind a dumpster (where she was almost positive it wouldn't be able to smell her), and tried to remember where on earth she'd heard that voice before. She didn't have to ponder for too long, because the answer materialized out of thin air above her and immediately flattened her to the ground.
"Oof."
"Sorry," Nico di Angelo sounded a little dazed, then disgusted "Eugh. Rotten tomatoes."
"Get off me, please," Rachel said evenly, trying very hard not to think about whatever it was she was touching at the moment and even less about what was beyond that.
"Sorry," he said again, and scrambled up. She had to squint to find him again, probably because of all the black he insisted on wearing. Somewhere above them, the thing growled and something moved.
"What," she demanded through teeth two seconds away from chattering, "The hell is that thing?" This whole near-death experience thing might have been unremarkable for a demigod,but she was still getting used to it.
"Giant snake," Nico answered. She thought she heard him sheathing his sword, and that drove up her heart rate a bit, "Are you all right?"
"Not really," she said, "But I think having that sword out in the open will make me feel a lot better. Could you just please kill it already so my knees can stop shaking?"
"Who do I look like, Heracles?"
"Hell, no," she rolled her eyes, "but I thought the Son of Hades thing counted for something."
"That thing's huge and venomous, and I'm not suicidal," Nico might have folded his arms, but it was hard to tell, "We can just wait it out."
"Uh. What if it finds us?"
"It can't smell us over all this garbage, and I can make sure it doesn't see us. What else is it going to do, hear us? It's a snake, for Hades' snake."
"It's a magic snake the size of an eighteen-wheeler. Why on earth would you think it follows normal snake rules?"
"Because it didn't react to my yell."
"Right," Rachel muttered, leaning back against the wall. Her heart was still thumping hysterically, but it seemed better than before. "Thanks, by the way."
"No problem."
Nightmare
The thing with being an art student was this- sometimes, you had submission deadlines. And sometimes, that meant waking up early in the morning to put finishing touches on your latest assignment. Rachel thought this was grossly unfair and curbed her creative spirit and complained accordingly. Unfortunately, Annabeth had been around at the time and she'd been treated to a two hour lecture on how much more intense it was for Architects, and she really shouldn't complain because her life was a bed of roses by comparison.
Really, that girl just had to win everything.
Rachel attempted to rub the sleep from her eyes and succeeded when the bright fluorescent lighting in the kitchen ravaged her eyeballs. Nico looked up from where he was slumped over the kitchen table, decided she wasn't worth his time, and pressed his face into the table again.
"And here I thought you slept like the dead," Rachel said brightly. Being up at four in the morning didn't suddenly seem so bad. So long as she wasn't alone in her misery while he was curled up in a nice, comfortable bed, there was some form of justice going around in the universe. Plus, he'd made coffee, and the worst part of the morning was the part between her dragging herself out of bed and her consuming her first cup of caffeine.
"Shut up," he muttered, "It's too early for bad puns."
"What can I say? You inspire me."
She saw a spasm run through him, probably from the wince. He tried to burrow his face into the able too, which (shockingly enough) did not work. Rachel felt her grin getting wider.
"So," she said (perkily, just to annoy him), "What happened this time? A virtual thunderstorm?"
"Go away," he sighed.
"You can't blame me. I was counting on being up earlier than you for once," Rachel happily poured out her first cup, "I'm understandably curious-" Her voice was abruptly choked off with her first sip, and he looked up. She swallowed with some difficulty.
"I think I'll make another batch," she said, gently putting her mug back on the counter, "Do we have any sugar left?"
He scowled at her.
"No? Doesn't matter, really. Two spoons of sugar or one drop of your coffee- the end result should be pretty much the same."
"Okay, it's a little sweet," he snapped, "Big deal."
"Little? My pancreas are hating me right now."
"You'll survive the trauma," he gulped a mouthful from his own mug, "Go finish up your project already."
Rachel had winced at the mouthful, but then she started to get worried. Anyone would have to be insane to scarf that much sugar in one go. He looked horrible, too- almost corpselike, for real. Even goading him was less satisfying than usual.
Of course, this would happen on submission day. Nico was renowned for his ability to show up on the dot when you were in a tight spot, but he made up for that by having incredibly bad timing for anything else. It was something she'd have to live with.
"That bad, huh?"
He took another sip of liquid sugar and shook his head. She knew better than to fall for it.
"What are you trying to prove here? I already know how tough you are."
He winced and finished his coffee, then held his had out for the percolator. Rachel reluctantly handed it over and watched him drown another batch.
"Look, at least eat something. That much sugar can't be good for you."
"I'm not four," he told her, pouring out his third cup, "I think I'll manage. And besides, I'm not in the mood for burned egg."
"It's crispy," she said, insulted, "Not burnt."
He disagreed and went back to his sugar. It was probably her imagination, but Rachel thought his eyes were a little less sleepy, but a lot more wild.
"Fine," she huffed, "At least let me get you some cereal. You look like you're about to fall over… Nico?"
He'd jumped at cereal, and was now looking at her like she'd just held up a knife to his throat and announced her lifelong intention to murder him. Which really did not make any sense.
"What? What did I say?" she demanded, pulling out a box of whole grain wheat and examining it. So it wasn't the tastiest thing in the world, but something had to balance out all that sugar.
"Put that thing away," he told her.
"If you don't want to eat my cooking-"
"Rachel, put that thing away, dammit. I don't need this right now!" He sounded a little hysterical.
"Stop being a baby," she told him, tipping some into a bowl, "It's cereal, it can't hurt you. Or did you have a nightmare about giant boxes of whole wheat trying to gobble you up?"
There was silence. Rachel froze. Moments passed.
"Just put it away, please," he pleaded, "It's Demeter. She's crazy about the stuff, and I think she's sending me those dreams."
Rachel unfroze herself, and doubled over laughing.
"It's worse than it sounds, okay?" he exploded, "I'm working on a farm, and I'm being force fed. And then I complained and- Rachel, I had to eat a literal truckload of the stuff. And it was bland! I think I puked sometime, and I'm sure at least some of it was real. Ish. Stop laughing."
She did, but only after she'd dragged herself out of the apartment. Ammunition like this was well worth waking up for.
