"I befriend people too quickly - I don't think that's wrong, but I get told that I should be a bit more careful." -Nicole Appleton
"What do you want most, Percy?"
The boy being questioned shook himself awake. What time was it? He glanced down at his watch. 2:27 AM.
Oh jeez. He shifted in his chair, trying to get more comfortable. Pulling himself up a bit, he drew up his right leg. Judging by the weight gripping on his left leg, Aly was sleeping on it. Again. Gods, it would be so numb later.
Where were they? Some room. Two exits, one conventional, one unconventional. Ok.
"What …" yawn "did you say again, Rachel?"
Glancing over - first confirming that yes, Aly was drooling on his leg - his eyes blearily traced Rachel's silhouetted figure in the window by the door. The moon was bright - full? - and there was something that the new redhead was caressing in her hands … something silver? It was so hard to distinguish.
"You want to fondle it too?" The ginger brought up the object. Seemed like a rock. Maybe some silly putty, considering how it was being reshaped.
"Not after how you described it," responded Percy, more awake.
"I suppose back to original question then," acquiesced Rachel, moving away from the window. Wait … it was supposed to be Dakota's watch. But with how the guy was, Rachel probably decided to take it.
It was probably a bad idea to let people he never met before take watch, now that he thought about it. He'd instantly fallen into this routine with Aly, since they'd sworn on the River Styx. Perhaps try that again?
He should probably ask Aly about that first. It was their thing, after all. But for the short term … "Swear on the River Styx you and Dakota won't turn on us."
Rachel cocked her head curiously at him. "How cute. You don't know."
"Don't know what!?"
"Well, to say before anything else, you'd be dead already if we'd wanted you dead. You two have been asleep for hours, and Dakota and I could take you two down easily if we wanted to beat you two after you guys tired out."
Admittedly, Aly's magic had taken its toll on her. Usually she'd have waken up if Percy moved too much.
"And for the oath part, it doesn't take on mortals."
"Huh?" Rachel was mortal? Oh … like Mom. Well, it seemed like that was she was a demigod, but they hadn't had time to discuss it. "Why not? And why are you on the run, then?"
"You need divine blood for the River to care about punishing you. And … ah, yes, monsters don't target me, nor demigods, so no one would force me away. Nothing interesting about human meat when there's so many fresh demigods and fellow monsters to eat or fight around," explained Rachel, tucking her feet under her legs as she sat on the ground opposite of Percy. "I wanted to get away from home, though."
"Why? What could be so bad?" Percy couldn't comprehend a life where you didn't want home. "Probably every demigod's dream to have some stable life!"
"Yes … but I couldn't stand my parents. Perhaps you were blessed, but I didn't get along with mine. And when Dakota exploded into and out of my life, I took my chances with him. I don't regret it," said Rachel, eyes fixed on Percy's. Green reflecting green. "Now, I believe I asked what you want most, Percy."
The Son of the Sea was stuck. A response wasn't quite there - what was there he really wanted? When he was still a kid, he'd wanted stuff that his mom couldn't buy. Now, he could just steal it. Everything that he wanted back them now seemed so … irrelevant. Childish. He kinda wanted a safe place to stay, but that seemed so irrealistic. For all the groups he'd heard of and been in, he couldn't think of any that had only one established home.
"Take your time," chided the ginger. "Not an easy question."
If anything, it was just to … "I just want to live."
"Hmph. Boring." Well wasn't that just a heartwarming response.
"Boring? What am I supposed to want? Anything physical I can just steal! Aly's been the only person I needed in this twisted world! What's so bad about just wanting some security on the fact of my existence?! Gods are immortal, but their children can just take all the crap in life and be mortal? Fine, if I have to, but at least let me live a good amount of time!" Percy paused to calm himself. Wow, he didn't mean to get that riled. He'd almost waken Aly in her post-magic exhaustion.
"The thing about wanting only to live, Percy, is that it's not living. It's surviving." Rachel looked off at Dakota, who was lying across several chairs like an absolute sloth. The unconscious teen's shirt had ridden up, exposing some odd vine tattoo along his side. "I'm sure there's other stuff that you just haven't thought about. Yes, you want to live, but did you think about wanting to keep Aly safe? And on living long, did you think about a future beyond just running away from other demigods and monsters? You need education for that. And what about changing the system so you don't have to live this way?"
Percy slouched back into his chair, taken aback. "Oh … I suppose I haven't then."
His promise with Aly was only not to betray her, not to support her or be with her forever.
Gods, that was a scary thought. She'd literally been a constant companion for more than six months now, outside of civilized restrooms. Wait. "Is it selfish for me to want Aly to be stronger so that she could protect us?"
"Without having to fight for survival as much as demigods do, I've had more time for thought. And that? It would be, if it was just to protect you. But do you want her to be better just so that she'd be better for your survival? Or for herself?"
Then he wasn't selfish. That was a relief … "What would you call that feeling?"
"Me, personally?" Rachel smiled, a motion that lit up her face in the darkened room. "I like to think of it as love."
Percy's gaze averted from Rachel's knowing look. Love? Really?
"Don't think of it too hard. Maybe you picked up love as a thing that you only have in families and couples. Or you see it tossed around between kids, just wondering if they even mean it if they use it so casually," the ginger lectured as Percy nodded along. "But it's up to you to define it for yourself, and how so. Look at all those love poems and songs. In fact, look at Romeo and Juliet - who's to say what type of love is right? You probably didn't get a chance to read the last thing, but that's just two teenagers who've known each other for a few days. Honestly, the best person to go to on this is Aphrodite - she's the goddess of all types of love, not just the ones people think she stands for. Me? I can only believe like a human can."
That would be a lot to think about. "And the other stuff?"
"I've put plenty of things in your mind to consider already, Son of the Sea, I think you should sleep for now. After all, you are the ever present tide … hm … I don't quite remember if it's the pull or the push right now …" and the enigmatic newcomer returned to the window, muttering to herself as she played with the silver … dagger?-scissors?-key? … in her hand.
Settling back in his chair, Percy thought. Besides what he thought of Aly … a different way to live, beyond just surviving … ?
Education … ? Seems too much a long shot …
Changing the … changing the system? … zzz … zzzzzzz ...
Percy's Journal
Entry 43
So, just yesterday Rachel's managed to get the Roman to take food from us. I guess she's just too hungry? Not that our food is the best made …
Actually, Rachel's been able to cook up our food better than just putting it over a fire. Apparently all Aly and I ever did was roast or heat up food when we'd used our supplies.
Cutting keeps the flavor inside the herb or berries, apparently? And crushing spreads it.
I don't know what kinda precedent it was to meet and get along with Aly first. Another week into getting to know these people, and I'm not quite sure about how it's going.
Rachel's as batshit insane as Aly, if in a different way. This week, I've been woken up for "what doe you think is the meaning of life?" and "do you believe in aliens?"
Just question and question after question - and the few times I can ask her questions I just end up with more myself. Asking about her, about Dakota, about her opinions on things … it's a like dropping into Tartarus.
Dakota seems so unapproachable. The guy is like - eighteen? What kinda practically adult guy is fine with following two fourteen year olds? Can't quite ask him though. He seems content to just drink whatever jacked up Kool-Aid and seems to go through as much diabetic candy as there is in Aly's bag per day.
The guy's a solid fighter, so far as I can see by the body count. Watching him, I have yet to understand how the hell his fighting method works, but he's beaten everyone he's come across so far. He's been the one managing the Roman when we're moving about, since Rachel volunteered him for it.
Honestly, I feel like he's just doing what Rachel's telling him to do. Well, at least he's fun with cards, knows quite a few good tricks. Enough people to play Big 2 and stuff.
At least we don't have to share the night with them too much. They've already had their own tents and things. We had to steal Lee a hammock though.
On that tangent, I think he's the most normal. Well, beyond the 'what the hell is normal' because on no level am I to judge, the easiest to understand. And that is that he's not planning to stay. Like, what?
Aly wants to just straight dump him on the curb. And while she's killed other demigods before (wasn't that a shock to learn all of a sudden), she assures me she won't unless she can use his body to leave a message for the Hunters.
Good to know she draws the line somewhere, I guess.
But Lee sticks in Rachel's orbit. I don't really hate the guy - he's doing what's strategically best for his future if he wants to get back to the Hunters somehow - which is sticking by another group until he gets word of where they are. Still leaves a bad taste in my throat being taken advantage of.
At least he's pulling his weight. We bought some arrows from a group of Athenian kids - not stupid enough to try to rob those guys. Then again, Aly used her mist manipulation to give them about half the cash. Maybe not such a good idea, but odds are we won't have to regret it later. Having more long range backup never hurts.
The team, then, I suppose is rounding out. Rachel's decent up close, but hardly worth mentioning. She uses an Imperial Gold machete that she seduced from some Vulcan salesman. Dakota handles himself fine without a weapon - he generally uses the environment or just picks out the enemies' weapon from their hands and uses it against them. I suppose experience? I do with my knife and baton combo, so short range we're covered. We've got Aly's mid to long range musical Mist manipulation and she can hold off things long enough to get away using her weapon's base form. Add in pinpoint arrows and we're covered pretty well for now. And if - well, Rachel says when - the Roman joins, a spear user would be quite helpful. We still carry around her old weapon.
For a small team, we've got enough skill in various areas to go jack of all trades and fare well off against any usual enemy.
Clothing is doing well - actually, better than ever. I would feel guilty, but well, trying to 'survive' here. Good attire is essential! What does it matter pretty much all the t-shirts I get are blue? Aly likes to be a little more fashionable now that she's more comfortable raiding higher quality stuff (no point flying solo looking like a good target by dressing pretty). I don't even know the names to most of her stuff. I can only tell it looks good, with all sorts of intricate patterns and materials. Rachel has her stack of uniquely self-colored clothing that she deals with; Dakota has his variety of reds, blues, and purples to not get too many stains when he drinks; and Lee seems to like black. We wear jeans and khakis all around - they're practical in most all weathers, even if not in combat. A few pairs of shorts, only for the hottest of weather. Everyone does their own laundry. Not sure if the girls need bras, not gonna check. The two redheads deal with the Roman's cleansing, changing, and such. Hotel showers work beautifully when you know how to cheat yourself into a room there. Free toothpaste, shampoo, and even conditioner for the girls!
His turn to watch.
Swig.
Histurntowatchhisturntowatchhisturntowatch.
This time, Dakota was actually staying up for his night shift. It was one of those nights he just couldn't sleep, nights that came with no rhyme or reason, where -
Annihilate. Wield. Construct. Destroy. Rebuild.
- it would just not stop calling.
"Voices in my head, not just mine but not just yours, swinging about and a …" he mumbled on, eyes tracing around the forest clearing.
Which one again?
Teutoburg. Wilderness. Armistice. Hűrtgen.
No, no, no, Yellowstone. Returned back West.
Bad idea, really, with the number of feral monsters roaming about, but the few nocturnal beasts wouldn't dare prey on such a large group of strong scented demigods, especially not so concentrated.
Yet … a sawing noise.
Telekhine. Piranha Sheep. Gryphon.
None of those. Usually those teeth bore through flesh. This Sounded more like … not wood.
Rope.
It was very faint in the night ambience, but Dakota could pick out strands snapping one by one. Which meant …
He crept noiselessly around an extinguished campfire, utilizing shards of moonlight to avoid trampling anything. Yep.
Roman girl was cutting through her bindings with a knife she'd probably kept hidden for a very long time. Dedication, that was, considering the few places the group hadn't checked for. However, the positioning of hands only allowed a very tenuous reverse knife grip, so the cutting was awkward and slower than necessary. Her feet were already free, and now she was trying to slice through the knot seizing up her wrists behind her.
Traitor. Praetor. Lawbreaker.
What was it more testimony to, her focus or his stalking, that she had yet to notice him? Delicately, nimbly, Dakota plucked the knife from her hands.
The Roman froze.
"Nnnow now now, lassssssie. Yo-you've really got nowhere to go, escaping," tittered the not fully cognizant boy. He received a glare that would've sent most men packing. It was the eyes, he mused. The eyes had it.
Intensity. Strength. Dedication.
A warrior who'd proved her mettle.
"Shut up," rasped the girl. Ouch, now that was a voice that hadn't been used for some time. She struggled on, trying to pull her arms free. "You know nothing."
"Oh, dearrrr. But I do."
Gladiator. Fight. Sacrifice.
And the girl locked eyes with him again. However, what anger was initially there was quickly replaced by mild shock, then the slightest tinge of fear.
What she saw was singular yet varied, focused yet unseeing, ambiguous yet absolutely certain. Madness, pupils focused into pinpricks despite the dark night as if he'd taken far too much drugs, the purple tinged blue iris a shocking bolt of color.
She stopped struggling again. What the hell was she up against? This guy was supposed to be the worst guard out of the entire group, with his drinking problems.
"B-but nooo matttter, no matter," slurred the Son of Bacchus. "What will bring you back to us? Will it be you running from the hellhounds?"
Taking her knife, he slit through one of the few remaining pieces of rope. "Trying to escape the call of the wild?"
Another strand of rope fell away. "Or the realization that no other group will accept you?"
The last vestiges of her bounds fell away, and she looked down at her trembling hands. The Roman numbly accepted the knife as Dakota dropped it into her hands. She hardly noticed that the boy was completely undefended as he pulled her face up by her chin, forcing her to look at his face again.
She focused on his liquid soaked lips, which looked bloody in the absence of proper lighting. "If you want to find us again, stick to heading Southeast. Casper. Denver. Kansas City."
He let go softly, then ambled away, still treading as softly as a panther..
Finally, finally, she was free of her ropes! Why wasn't she running? She'd been planning for weeks, and now she wasn't making her move? Every single thought devoted to analyzing the best moment, the weaknesses to exploit, considering whether her food would be drugged and if - if she would be - she would be taken advantage of.
Capture was far worse than death.
Dakota had returned to his previous position, not even at all appearing to care what she did. His attention had returned back to the wilderness around them, even as he hummed some song off tune.
Snatching up her spear, planted into the earth just by Rachel, the Roman took off without even considering slaying her captors.
She looked back only once.
Percy's Journal
Entry 44
I'm actually starting to miss the Roman.
Like, it really did go no questions asked when Dakota said he let her go. Two weeks in, and no sign of her being willing to join. Sure, supplies aren't really that hard to get, but it was a waste of effort to keep watch over her full time.
Yet since the others have joined, it feels a bit strange to be missing a member of sorts.
Fights aren't as engaging when you don't have someone to babysit, I guess? It was more challenging having to fight a giant flying neon pink pig when there was more to manage.
Who am I kidding? I can't even write that with a straight face.
Not really much to say this week. It's been quiet. Heading into the Great Plains, where there's generally a safer place. Actually, I suppose that's something I can finally put down just in case I need to refer to it, now that the others have given me more information.
The West Coast is pretty much explicitly Greek territory. There's rumor that there's a group of Poseidon kids forming up in SoCal (South California), but I think that's just rumor. As powerful I might be, I don't think any less than twenty is enough to hold back the Greeks if they come recruiting. Though it does bring up the point about there being other Poseidon kids - I'm sure there's a few. But where would they be?
Anyways, the Northwest and Central North area holds fewer notable demigod groups. The Amazons are up there, for one thing. And maybe judging from a previous altercation, perhaps the Bellona/Enyo kids are there (apparently Bellona does have a Greek counterpart - who knew? Oh, that's right. Rachel, for some odd reason). But the feral monster population is higher there, mostly because of all the empty space.
It's sort of the same with the Great Plains, except for two things. Both the Hunters and the Huntresses wander that area quite often. So, beyond more monsters being there, you're dodging the entirety of 250 nomad Apollo kids and sects of the Huntress packs. Demeter and Bacchus kids could be there, but usually those kids will stick with other groups.
The Southern area is taken up by a literal riot of Mars and Ares kids, according to Aly. It's not good territory to infringe upon, since they manage their borders. The Southeast is Aphrodite and Hephaestus territory - never actually came across the Aphrodite kids, but Beckendorf was apparently having negotiations with them while I was under him.
The Romans hold down most of the East, though. They ruthlessly spsquash any other smaller groups from forming there. If Aly and I had started up on the East, we'd probably have been hunted down long before we'd met the others.
However, some parts are outside their jurisdiction. Washington D.C. is under completely locked down by Athena, from what Rachel tells us. So far as Dakota's told her.
Up further north by New York and further is where the Children of Zeus are. Infamously bad place to head to.
Who's left? Ah, Hermes/Mercury. Two roving nomadic groups, generally stick to the Appalachian mountain area. Basically just left of Roman territory, but avoiding the Great plains for the most part.
Dakota and Rachel filled in the gaps in Aly and I's knowledge for the Northeast. Lee, on the other hand, knows more about the monsters.
Laestrygonians apparently stick by their culture - they've completely taken over Chicago. New Orleans are overrun by telekhines, although according to Lee it wasn't so bad until some Daughter of Poseidon helped spark Hurricane Katrina.
…
Yeah, honestly, I don't know if I wanna meet this girl or keep away from her. Ignoring whether or not she's still alive after what she pulled off.
Cyclops aren't localized, but the majority of those not working for my father are in some company called Monocle Motors. Catchy.
Werewolves are also nomadic. Right now word of mouth says they're currently in the Kentucky area.
Party Ponies are in practically every state. Aly and I ran into a group few months back. They'd invited us in, it was a wild party.
I think that should about do it. Hera doesn't have mortal children, Hestia is a virgin, and Hades by what most people assume avoids siring any kids since the minor little thing called "World War II."
"Day 9. Still no sight of the Roman the Holy Prophet Rachel said would join us," mocked Aly, tossing down a pair of 4s. Hearts and clubs.
Things were turning out pretty ok, really. They'd hiked into Colorado today. Aly was getting to like Rachel better. Gingers had to freakin stick together. Even if putting down pairs forced her to pass her turn. Then again, she only had a few cards left.
Dakota, on the other hand, put down a pair of fives, before popping some TicTacs. The Son of Bacchus - well, actually they'd yet to ask him if he was but frankly it seemed kinda obvious - was the same as always, nothing to hate there.
And she was still waiting for as much information about the Hunters before she gutted Lee, who wasn't playing because apparently he didn't like cards. Tosser.
Percy, who'd yet to play anything until now, topped the round with a pair of jacks. Everything had settled back into a fairly nice rhythm, and thus all was well.
Kill a few monsters after breakfast, head out for somewhere. Find someplace to eat lunch.
Percy opened, having won. "Hearts flush."
Aly raised an eyebrow in astonishment. Topped with another Jack, too, so Percy's cards must've been that bad that he had to break apart a triple. "Hot damn, you've had that this whole time? Pass."
Walk around the nearest town and look around all the stores for something cool.
Picking through her cards, Rachel tossed out a flush made of spades. "The Roman will be back, Aly. Tomorrow, I bet. Honestly, where does she have to go?"
If some big-shot company, steal it. If some small-time business or service is excellent, flirt with the cashier operator to get a discount.
Dakota laid out a prearranged set of cards. "Sevensss over thhrrees."
Snatch a dinner. Play few card or board games.
But Aly knew that Percy had something better. Godsdamnit, that dyke's freakin smirk was so big. "Queens with aces."
Taking a look around, the Daughter of Apollo knew no one else had anything. "Asina mater fornicor, your win. And Rachel, I'll take that bet. A drachma."
"The victory card is …" laughed Percy, flipping around the card in his hand, "the underdog!"
A three of fricken clubs. Rachel giggled, gathering the cards to reshuffle, before nodding to Aly's offer.
"Oh, both you pieces of shit can go screw yourselves. Let's play poker."
Actually, the Roman wasn't really that far. Just outside of the camp, at the moment, tucked comfortably in a tree and carefully watching in the waning moon.
She knew she was being mocked.
Every day, without fail, she would check out their camp after they left. She was certain it was the inquisitory redhead that left some degree of supplies for her.
Absolutely humiliating. But beggars couldn't be choosers, and the nights were getting colder … she drew her cloak closer to herself, adjusting her braided black hair to accommodate.
The more she thought about it, the more she realized that she hadn't thought things through. At pretty much every point. She really didn't have the time, to, but that was no excuse. No excuse at all.
Since she'd washed up upon American shores, life had been pretty bad. Losing track her older sister from day one had sucked, but luckily she'd picked up on how to fight fast.
Lupa herself had found her. Stared right into her eyes, and pulled her into a mad world of constant conflict. Roman society as its most barbaric. Oh, the cunning wolf, who now had Romans as she originally wished - a nomadic pack of terrors, enforcing territory and raiding weak prey. Constantly mobile, not even bothering to set up camp for more than a single night. Subterfuge and slaughter to rise to the top, at best barely hidden from each other. There were some good soldiers, yes - she'd been one. Dedicated to becoming a praetor, to guide the Romans back to something that she'd imagined it to be. Irrumabo, it was so exhausting.
It had been her last gods damned mission before she reached centurion-ship. 2 years of complete commitment, doing her best to utilize what little skill she had in politics and continuously ensuring no knives were poised to stab her back. Building up loyalty with and between other honest Romans, working to keep an absolutely impeccable mission record, avoiding needlessly insulting any of the current centurions (regardless of whether the name was still accurate, for they weren't leading a century of troops). Even if it took her using her thrice damned mind control to do it.
Aawoooooooo… a howl trailed off into the night.
The sound was from … left. The Roman turned towards it, both legs dangling over the side and no longer leaning on the trunk.
The fact that she'd come so close, before being screwed over in such a horrid fashion was just absolutely soul crushing. The spawn of Orcus, she surmised, had been placed in her mission group, likely by some opponent vying for an authority position also. The boy's constant griping had worn away at her nerves - he was the type that would kill off his centurion to gain ranks if it worked.
She knew body language and how people acted. She knew that Bryce was trouble, the moment she saw his beady, cruel eyes. That Hank was more fit for politics, and Leila much the same. But she hadn't had enough time to analyze the people they attacked. They'd just snatched the archer, having been on a ransom run, and her group had decided to rest for the night. An hour later, Hank, who was scouting, pointed out the duo nearby that seemed ripe for the picking.
One captive was honestly enough already for a run - they'd gotten the most difficult run, having to go out all the way near Greek territory. Magnus opus, right? So why not. They gotten a somewhat decent drop on the two.
Then had gotten absolutely stomped. Rumor had said there was a strong pair going around the traditional no man's land. What were the bloody odds that they came across those two?
She was knocked unconscious by the most crass maneuvers she had ever encountered. She'd fought Greeks that had been less , captured. Only her, somehow. Seeing their group, it was unlikely they'd slain the rest. What was probably the best sign, though, was that Leila wasn't there. It ruled out sex trade and rape. However, though, that meant she was sold out. Which only Bryce would have done.
For two weeks she fought to get away. Fought to get back to a life, that, when she took a good look at … sucked worse than the vacuum of Tartarus.
Absolutely torturous, watching the motley crew learn to get along. The camaraderie was so aggravating, seeing it develop in mere days when she couldn't achieve anything of the sort within two years.
Excluding the archer boy, though. Seemed like he still rubbed the Son of Poseidon and Daughter of Apollo the wrong way.
Aawoooo - Awouououou… more howls, harmonizing.
When she'd ran, she literally had nothing but her weapons and clothing. In desperation, she'd doubled back to the camp later on to see if they'd left anything, despite knowing their camp routine. The other redhead - Rachel - had been anal on keeping the environment safe and clean.
But there was some food. Not much, but left there innocuously in the shadow of a few stones. And her Imperial Gold dagger and trusty silver pocket knife.
Beyond not having supplies to reach anywhere, she'd realized there was no place she could go. Traveling by herself would be a death sentence, especially in the recent climate. The Romans had been preying on stragglers and smaller groups more than ever, even starting skirmishes with groups like the whatever odd name the children of Aphrodite/Venus banded under, whoever it was, and the children of Hephaestus under Beckendorf. Demigods would jump at the chance for some revenge - it took very little effort to identify one.
Her torch and helmet brand tingled in remembrance of the excruciating pain. Each Roman had a brand, somewhere. Some people had it exposed somewhere obvious, proudly - on the arms in general was most popular, but some had it elsewhere. She kept hers on her back behind her right kidney.
If it was gonna glow every time she tried to use her abilities, she had to keep it somewhere inconspicuous. Also, she didn't have to look at herself and feel like cattle.
Wait … these howls were really familiar. She'd heard them before, at least once. Hanging out with the Romans followed up by something else … her eyes darted about, trying to pick out any sign of danger in the dim moonlight.
Awoooooo… the howls trailed off, the wolves evidently moving away. The Roman relaxed.
Gods, her heart. If it didn't stop racing, she was going to have an anxiety attack. If it had been a shriek … she couldn't take this anymore - riding solo went against every Child of Rome's natural instinct. Time to swallow the remnants of her pride and hope for the best.
Steadying herself, she dropped from her branch.
"Godsdamnit, you did come back after all, Roman," sniped Aly from her seat on a small boulder. "Looks like I lost last night's bet, then." How did Rachel know she was coming back today, of all times?
The petite girl - shorter than herself, even, looked better in her week and a half of freedom. Looked like she'd done some exercise too, after stagnating for her stint in ropes.
"Couldn't fend for yourself anymore, weakling?" Oh, she looked salty as all hell. "And still as silent as ever. Gotta give that to you at least, if nothing else."
Was that grinding teeth she heard? Oh man, a pint sized ball of fury. Aly quickly finished bundling up some camp gear to deposit in her bag.
"Aly, please, must you?" Oops. Percy was sounding a bit too aggravated. She'd almost forgotten he was next to her, with how quiet he was being.
The mocking musician turned to waggle her eyebrows at the boy. "Taking her side, eh?"
She creeped up a little closer to Percy, pressing to his side.
"Fine, fine, ass. But only because it's you, dear," she whispered into his ear, breath puffing and ruffling his hair. Aly grinned as he squirmed away a little, then launched back and away.
"I'll go catch up with the others, wherever those dopes scouted off to. Ciao!" she called.
The exuberant ginger dashed away, and Percy stood up to properly face and observe the Roman. Hair as dark as his, but her eyes were sharper than obsidian. A certain confidence, now, that hadn't been present before. They regarded each other for a moment longer.
Since it was evident she wasn't going to talk first, even after waiting a touch longer, Percy finally spoke. "Are you expecting something?"
"The-" she rasped, before clearing her voice from disuse again, "the host speaks first. Roman custom."
"And how does that help with me not knowing exactly why you're here?" retorted Percy, smirking a tad in amusement.
But if the Roman was stumped, it only showed in the smallest twitch in the arm. "Just … habit. And stop taunting me, you know exactly why I'm here."
'Was it the food?" Percy wrist moved sharply, and his Stygian Steel rod formed into a sword, just in time to block the Roman's angry knife stab. "Rachel's cooking tastes loads better than field rations full time."
Pushing away the girl, he backed up carefully, ensuring that he didn't trip over anything. Meanwhile, the Roman moved her knife to her left and pulled her pilum whatever she used to keep it at her back.
"You know I don't have a choice! What else can I do?" she screamed at him. She wasn't pressing for an attack now - seemed that her earlier response had been in frustration more than desire to kill him. She was already breathing heavily, despite it being early morning and not really even fighting in the least.
"You had a choice. Just that the other led to certain death." Even if he wasn't as insulting as Aly, he couldn't help being as witty. At her angry look, he merely laughed lightly. "Not much of a choice, but still a choice."
Meeting Percy's unrepentant gaze, she calmed down. Her muscles visibly relaxed, her aggressive stance fading away. "I offer information so I can join your group."
Still, neither quite moved from their position. Percy eventually sighed and said, "You aren't going to kill me, then. Right?"
At the Roman's shake of her head, he nodded to himself. "Right, right, no benefit. Nowhere else to go, and such a suicidal move is no different than not coming back."
'Sheathing' his weapon, he gestured back to the area he'd camped in the previous night. "If we're going to negotiate, let's get more comfortable."
While he returned to where he'd been sitting next to Aly, the Roman found a decent place to sit on a worn stump across from him. "So … what kind of information?"
"Roman habitual travel paths and those of the East Coast," she responded promptly, giving no less and no more.
"Ah, yes … you almost certainly overhead the rest of us discussing … but that also means your knowledge is mostly obsolete," Percy pointed out.
She hesitated. "I know … but I do not have anything else to offer."
Percy quieted at the response. Her voice sounded like broken glass at the admittance of her incapability, her weakness. In his primal male instinct, he wanted to just hug her until he'd wrung out all her sadness.
"You and your …" - the Roman paused, evidently looking for the right word - "friends … have all you need. Supplies to last a year, strength to beat even some of more cohesive, established groups. I … can offer only nothing."
"Not even whatever you're doing to try to manipulate my will?" asked Percy distrustfully. It was the certain tingle … the girl blanched. "Did you think I wouldn't be able to tell, with one of my allies being a sorceress?"
He wasn't prepared for the girl to start crying though. "I … wasn't trying … to!" she sobbed, drawing in and hugging herself tightly. "I … don't want … to!"
Skata. First with Aly, no with whoever this girl was. Well, even the strongest of people had their breaking points. And she was definitely being honest about it. He could actually feel whatever power she was using do it - it was making him also feel vaguely tired and confused and desperate.
Carefully, he moved to kneel in front of the girl. Gently, he pulled by the shoulders her down to kneel with him. Looking at her downturned face - still looking vaguely regal, despite tears and a little snot running down her face - he pulled out a leftover clean napkin from a dinner some time ago to wipe her face. She froze, not moving a centimeter while he attended to her.
After he was done, though, she soon reverted to shaking. Tears were still running, now silently down in shame, eyes still averted. Gods be damned, he better not have to do this with every other girl he met.
Lightly, he pulled her in, letting her lay his on his right shoulder. She didn't fight it, but neither did she embrace him, merely keeping her arms to herself and between them.
"Hey now, it's ok … you're alright … don't stab me in the gut …" oops, he didn't mean to say that one …
Well, this situation was definitely different than the what happened between Aly and himself. And he certainly didn't know how to console her either.
"Feel any better?" he asked uncertainly.
What did he know about this girl again? Is Roman. Fights with a spear, and knives apparently. Can manipulate how he feels somehow. Has nowhere to go. Well, it was comforting to know he knew so very little.
The girl mumbled and sniffled inaudibly.
"Say again?"
Deep breath, and she drew back to look at him in the eye again. There was the spine he'd seen before. "Ask me something so I don't feel like I got into your group out of pity."
The Son of Poseidon smiled crookedly, moving back to his seat. "When did I say that you were in?"
"I'm not deaf. Rachel and Dakota for me joining, although Lee has a grudge against me and Aly seems perfectly willing to kill me," she said assertively, "but you have definitely shown yourself to be far too nice."
"Unless, Perseus," she continued as she eyed his currently non functional weapon cautiously, "you don't follow your namesake."
"Oh, do shut up. If you're coming with, just call me Percy," he quipped, before realizing something key. Still didn't know her name. Well, considering he'd heard stories of people going on dates without knowing the partner's name, this wasn't so bad. "And what should I call you?"
"Reyna," she said evenly, picking up and storing away her weapons.
"And last name is?" Percy asked again as he also finished gathering his few things.
He had asked around for everyone else's before. Aly hadn't even told him her real name yet, so it was no surprise that she didn't tell him last name either. Dakota said his was Bosky. Rachel actually seemed to be attentive and care when she told him hers was Dare, like it was supposed to recognizable. It wasn't like it was McLean or something. Lee's last name was Fletcher - if nothing else, showed Apollo wanted to be funny.
"Full name brings back bad memories," the now identified girl said monotonously.
The Son of the Sea slung his bag over his shoulder and led their trek away. "Nothing at all?"
"Avila, then." She was back to business, then - stoic and resolute.
"Mind more questions?"
"Only a few more, if you're going to be so nosy."
"How often do the Romans go to Manhattan?"
"They never go there, actually. Islands are a horrible place to stay at strategically if the location is known, and no sane demigods try to live in the city where Olympus stands. Not even Children of Zeus."
"What kinda pizza for lunch?"
"Hawaiian."
"How long you staying for?"
"Haven't thought about leaving at all until you mentioned it."
"What about heading out to Manhattan?"
"Are you crazy?!"
"Oh, so now you put emotion into your voice!"
"Because you suggest something insane!"
"Don't suppose you would take an Oath on the Styx for me then?"
"…"
"…"
Sigh. "I didn't sign up for this."
Percy's Journal
Entry 45
So I said the same Styx oath as before for the new deal between Reyna and I. Like, if I was going to get something special, awesome, right? But did I, did Avila? Well, kinda.
I got a special migraine for assuming that Styx would be so kind to give gifts again. The Oath didn't even take, because apparently I'm an 'arrogant insignificant little half-mortal' and that this and my previous oath would 'lose meaning' if it went through.
And now that I think about it, it's kinda true. For one, it's doing like what the gods do - they don't have imagination, from what I've heard - they like to just repeat history over again.
Also, swearing in such a way says more "keep your word, or else." I get the feeling it means more when it's more "I promise you I am willing to keep this oath even under the pain of …" lost the metaphor there. What exactly happens if you break an Oath on the Styx as a demigod? Well, a piece of gum to not finding out.
Honestly, I'm not entirely sure why the river goddess even came to Aly and I in the first place. We haven't made a huge name for ourselves yet, so we can't quite show off the weapons we got. She has to have a good reason to support us … so she must know something we don't.
But what could that be?
There was once an age where there was no enforcement of laws. However, while such a statement is true, it is very misleading.
It was not that there was no force policing the world. There were simply no laws to break. It was impossible that any wrong could have been committed. Things were golden.
From this age one woman began the arts: epics, music, poetry, hymns, dance, tragedy, comedy. Another brought forth the rivers, another brought the dawn, hailing the sun and moon; still others brought divine justice and much more. But with woman, man. The ruler of the eternal land surrounding river; the watcher, wise, bright with light; the bringer of constellations, father of power, destruction, dusk, wind, and star; the piercing greatness of the warrior of mortality - patron of the endurer of the sky, of the fire-carrying forethinker, and hope-keeping past-watcher, of doomed might; and the great gloried king of them all, manipulator of the fourth dimension.
It was in this era that the gods of the current time entered the world.
And ended the peace.
He would bring it back though. He'd been waiting to do so. It was his divine right, no matter what others claimed. They were gathering, those that could, his siblings.
But not behind him.
Unforgivable.
The black fortress perhaps was not all there, wispy mist rising from black marble that was not necessarily fixed to the earth, but held in place by some ethereal power. His siblings were absent from their thrones, deep past the dark foyer and in the main hall. Everything shone with a hidden light, and the slow, haunting music of a piano lilted through the air. Statues made of night lined the walls behind each seat, modeled after each supposed inhabitant's likeness.
Regardless of anyone's actual presence, though, his ceremony would continue. Empty seats faced a large dais that sat between two bronze braziers. The dias itself was full of scenes of death and destruction. Gods trodden under chariots, temples and famous world landmarks burned to the ground.
Despite the roaring green fires that sat within the braziers, the dias radiated an aura of extreme cold. Or rather, perhaps the sarcophagus upon caused the effect. It was actually quite plain, just solid gold about ten feet long. The only thing that could be considered intricate about it was the frosty gold pattern that originated from the coffin. If there was any way to describe it, it would be that there was some electronic grid that sat beneath the casket. Light played along the wiry format of gold, and a distant whispering was audible as the light traveled along the wires to the casket.
Rachel's Take on the Author Notes
Are you actually going to do this seriously?
Are you sure whether AN is Author's Note or Author Notes?
I … haven't thought about it.
Coouuursse he hasn't. Wwhhhyy would paraadoxed think!
And Dakota's take too, I guess. I certainly didn't conceive you showing up either.
Yes, you did. You chose to do this. paradoxed is just so cute trying to amuse readers.
Yep. Wait, what?
Honestly, are these notes even necessary? I don't think you're sharing any important information. I admit it used to be … but now?
19/6/15 upppdaate. Nooow where'sss my … my drink!?
Are you British? And let me do it! Edited 7/10/15. I get the last word in, not you.
Only because you rewrite the chapter. Shame on you.
Hushhhhh. HUUUUUSSSH. HUsushushshshshshhsuuhs. Children, children. Leeet me speak. The author wants more response please. He needs thatttt - inner peace - hummm - to work onn! Heee can't do ssooo welll gettinggg so littlee ressponsee!
Uh … sigh, I got nothing for that. Gods, writing this with both of you two in it makes it so much harder for me to deal with.
13/7/15 edited!
Dakota, the chapter you're referring doesn't exist anymore because of the author. Readers, please ignore the previous line. I'm afraid my friend has had a bit too much of his brain being addled.
Yes, continuity, please.
15/7/16 rehauled!
Why do I even ...
Alternate Title: Decoding Dakota and Co.
Well, the order for this stuff has sure gone out of whack.
And whooose fault iss that?
A note on chapter titles. Imagine Dragons=Roots, twenty-one pilots=Heathens, and (rest in peace) Christina Grimmie=My Anthem. Chosen for good reason, albeit the last one with a tad more.