"It does not do to leave a live dragon out of your calculations, if you live near him." - J. R. R. Tolkien
Percy's Journal
Entry 53
Damn. It took three more weeks than I'd hoped to get here.
Ya know, it might be slightly concerning how unreactive our group is to insults. We don't really argue that much anymore - we're actually getting along fairly well. From the books I've read to alleviate boredom over the years, it seems quite strange to have such a cohesive group. We all have similar enough senses of humor across the board, and while our actions may be exasperating and frustrating to deal with *cough cough Aly cussing *cough Dakota drinking *cough Rachel drawing ON EVERY SINGLE DAMN THING WITH THOSE STUPID MARKERS SHE FINDS. Um. *Cough *cough. Where was i? Was that even a full sentence? Ah well, no eraser.
Sigh … I should focus. I really should. Don't have much time to write.
Some things are still off. It seems a some of the group holds a residual grudge against Lee, and Aly is touchy with her trash talk. Rachel is as flabbergasting as ever, and Reyna isn't the most interesting to talk to since she's so closed up. (Still, I try, and the occasion she does share something is quite interesting. Apparently a Roman punishment is to tie you up in a bag full of weasels and dump you in a river to fend for yourself … seems legit.) In all of its irony, the guy with the drinking problem is simplest to hang out with.
We've managed to establish a few more caches of emergency supplies in New York, even if Aly still carries the bulk of important materials (non-perishable food, emergency clothing, toiletries, tent-making materials, all essential duct tape, godly food). Everyone also now carries at least a day's worth of clothing and simpler day to day things.
Hm … wrapping this up. Being in Manhattan, so close to Olympus itself, is unnerving. Here and anywhere near is horrible for setting up a base. We got settled yesterday in a hotel yesterday, but had to sneak out to avoid some storm spirits. No idea why they were there of all places. Course, it wasn't any simpler to creep unnoticed past huge scores of bestial monsters roaming the streets at 1 AM.
I had hoped it was just me, but Lee caught sight of the bloody Minotaur of all things in Central Park, stalking a few nature spirits. Any fighting in any place attracts too much attention in this monster infested city.
Also, a few other small groups we passed by traded some information. If they're true, there just might be a forge worker that set up shop nearby on Long Island. It's also been said that there's an underground Saturn worshipping cult kidnapping people. Apparently the guy is the basis of the Saturday, and not so bad in Roman mythology. Considering what I know - that his Greek counterpart is Kronos, who was imprisoned by the current ruling gods - that's going to be a lot of trouble.
Well, enough writing. The girls are out of the restroom, so time to get out of the cafe before they realize the money is counterfeit.
I've got to go give my respects to the most wonderful person I've ever known.
"So why here, ya sod?" Aly's tone was appropriately, if oddly, flat.
The source of her livelihood over the past year looked so somber, wistful emerald eyes gazing over and away towards some dense clouds over the sea.
Earlier, he'd called everyone to pair up and wander the area one last time to get any souvenirs they wanted and meet at the Brooklyn Bridge at 7 o'clock. No one said a word, they could all read each other so well now. Rachel had dragged Lee over to try to sneak into a Broadway theatre to watch Aladdin, and the Roman had trailed after Dakota towards what seemed like a toy store.
But as for their choice … Aly had walked silently behind Percy as he moved through the afternoon crowds of the city, not even bothering to do more than glance at a few monsters that strayed the streets. Step by step, traffic light by traffic light, the crowd parting before them as they headed for the Hudson River.
Pier 63 was indeed an odd place to travel to. The park was pleasant - relatively small but oddly homely all the same. The view off the island city was nice once one discounted the dark and murky polluted Hudson river. Aly just quietly proceeded to pace along the railing, leaving Percy to sit on the railing by himself to look out towards the water. Towards the setting sun, which burned a satisfying orange. He would talk when he was ready.
In the park, a baby satyr ran by, frolicking in the cool grass. A cloud nymph, likely its mother, drifted along behind him, swooping to send a ruffling breeze around.
"Did you know my mother was never buried?" began Percy wryly. "No, no. Of course you wouldn't. How would you have? I didn't tell you."
For the first time since Aly met him, Percy sounded truly like a broken child. Like the broken children they all were. "I don't really remember her too well anymore, actually."
"I remember blue. Lots of blue." A poignant pause, and a seagull squalled. "Candy, sweet foods, she was an excellent cook. She was an orphan. She struggled in life because she was always taking care of a sick relative."
The monologue was cut off again as Aly leapt up to join her friend on the railing, leaning in on his shoulder, even if for only a moment. "But … but I barely remember what she looked like now. I only remember her voice, how she sounded like when she told me about my father. And when she was screaming at me to run."
Percy sighed, before dropping to face into the park, as if he were rising from the approaching night tides. Aly did the opposite, facing out to the fading sunlight as she listened to his persistent words. "I only left a few years ago. How is it that I've forgotten so much about her already?"
"How is it that I remember her getting beat up by the asshole Gabe than anything else?" Aly was sympathetic, really, but she was having difficulty expressing it. Her partner had never been so … transparent before. So fragile. She could only pull up closer to him and clutch his right arm close to her side as Percy continued. "S-she'd thought it was for the best. That it would mask my scent from all the night time horrors of Manhattan."
"She told me that when I was 8 - who I was, and why everything was so strange and difficult for me. She … she had given up a lot - so much for me." The redhead remained silent, a comforting warmth for the green-eyed lad tearing up as he continued to lay out his feelings bare to his companion of a year and change. "Gabe was hitting her, and then when she hit the ground after a slap she stopped moving … and I blacked out. Next thing I had remembered was that I was somewhere, and that my mom was going to be tried for murder."
His fingers flexed, tightening rigidly in her grip. "She wasn't a violent person. I remember going for a knife. She probably … she probably made sure she took the blame."
The mother and child left. It was getting dark, but Percy pressed on.
"Her lawyer did his best, but the jury and judge were both freaking biased. She helped me survive in so many ways. I ran away then, and visited every month, doing my best to just see her again. I was never let in, being a runaway kid with no ID. I don't know how soon after, but a cellmate killed her. I would've raided the prison when I learned about it … it was two years ago? It's been so long … the prison cremated her. The place itself isn't too far from here."
"I'm grateful to her for my life and all, for giving birth to me and saving me. But now I've really forgot about her, moving around everywhere with my life." A tear splashed down on Aly's exposed arm. But only one. "And you're here, now. I have you. And I feel troubled by that. Is it wrong to have moved on so easily? Did I replace her with you or something?"
Aly shifted over once more to directly gaze into Percy's face as he blinked hurriedly. Well, that was something she hadn't learned in the long time they'd been traveling together. She was silent for a minute longer, and Percy began to drift backwards in embarrassment, as if he wanted to be swallowed by the river.
Eventually, she spoke up and asked, "Do you remember when you met me?"
Percy, taken aback, quickly nodded his head. Pursuing, she continued. "And what I said about my name?"
Since Percy was still nodding, she began her counter-monologue. "My name is … my real name is Taia. Could be written T-é-a, but it's T-a-i-a. Probably so the orphanage people could pronounce it how my mum wanted it. And … ah, last name, too. Joyce."
Taia Joyce, she saw Percy mouthing, lips crinkling into an exceedingly soft, if pained smile.
"Don't suppose you know what Taia means, Percy?" Feeling the boy's head shake in their now more intimate embrace, she chuckled and murmured, "No, no, of course you wouldn't. Not as if I'd ever told you."
Percy's smile was now more mirthful than ever, dimples forming. His words had been thrown right back in his face. "My name is rooted in the Greek language. It means 'gift of god.' My sweet, sweet, mother, named me her gift from the gods, regardless if she left me to fend for myself."
It was certainly not the usual time of day that most confessions were made. It was not snowing with cherry blossoms, nor were they before a beautiful sunset with which the two could peer off to. It was the wrong season for blossoms, and the sky was too cloudy and polluted for the sunset to truly be gorgeous. But the duo could witness other parents leading around their little children in the park. Not with the utmost joy - they were looked too exhausted - but definitely with a tested and tried love.
"Well, where was I? Family is important, Percy." She grimaced, trying to amend her phrasing. "Well, not so much immortals. But mortal family is. When they care for you."
"But you have to move on eventually. They might've given you a lot, but they can't forever. A mortal I met in the orphanage told me she didn't mind being there very much - she said she'd never remembered her parents to begin with, so she didn't have anything to have been attached to."
"It's getting cold. Let's take the subway back," muttered Percy, coming back over and dropping from the railing. "You're not talking about yourself, are you?"
"No. I'm not." This time, they walked together as they headed for the nearest stairwell into the depths. ""My mum … yes, my mum actually told me. Along with the bit with my name meaning. She came to get me one day, stealing me away from the orphanage to tell me about the gods."
Descent. "She hadn't believed in her own ability to raise me when I was born or even then." The ever present blast of heat that followed the clunking subway train. "She knew that soon I would have to learn of the blasted world, so she told me everything she knew." Doors sliding. "She was clear-sighted in just one eye. Drove her crazy - but she was a musician, so crazy works fine." Bustling movement of an incalculable amount of people. "I don't remember her that well either, Percy." Doors sliding again. "I knew her for moments." The stark restart of forward momentum. "There was just a note, saying she had to go - and I never saw her again after that."
"But I was so lucky, Perce. So lucky." For the moment, there were no seats, so they stood back to back. "Admittedly, I might have went off the hook a little bit just after she left."
The boy snorted. A little off the hook. Right. "But eventually I calmed down. Went back to the orphanage. Stole the money mum had left me before I headed off to who knew where."
Another stop, and the deceleration forced Percy to keep the Daughter of Apollo from falling over. "So, then, you got the pretty red hair from your mum?"
Recovering, Al - no, Taia, quickly pulled them both to an open seat. It was for naught, though, as the majority of subway trotters had left and few to none had got on. Impassively, the ginger leaned back into the yellow and orange seats as Percy slouched next to her. "And the eyes, yes."
"The flute too, then." Percy was acting (rather terribly, she might add) at trying to look smart. Well, at least it was better than moping.
"Mum played one for me the week I had with her. She'd left it, so I spent a lot of my time after that trying to learn flute, and it helped because groups of demigods picked me up to alleviate boredom by listening to me play. Entertainment is more useful than you'd think. Hell, it was hard at first because my breath ran out so quickly."
Percy still wasn't giving up on his mini-act of being smart, and Aly cracked, a giggle leaking through the serious exterior as she finally returned to cursing. "Hot fricken damn, you utter bastard, I'm trying to be touchy-feely here!"
As Percy also began to laugh. Oh, it was refreshing. Cleansing. Oh, it was good to hear his voice so joyous again.
Two more stops. "And here I thought you'd finally stopped cursing."
"Oh, so I can't ever be serious?" she responded, smiling.
"I know you can be. But what should I call you then, my dear ginger? Plan to keep up with being Aly, or is that with everyone else? Or are ya gonna be Taia now?" Percy asked.
"I've been Aly ever since the thing with my mum … my name was too precious to share without good reason. I've come to really like it, Perce." Aly grinned, not viciously or victoriously like Percy was used to dealing with Aly, but a soft, quiet, and introspective smile. "It's a part of me now, no matter how cheesy that sounds."
"Aly? Taia? Alytaia?" Percy stumbled across his word.
"Perhaps, you turd," teased Aly in a cheerful taunt, "Just maybe. And … I actually like that. Alytaia. A-ly-tai-a. Huh … only when it's just us talking, yeah? And only as long as I get some kinda name for you. Like … like …"
As he moved to sit up proper, Percy responded. "Do you really need anymore though? You already have so many names for me, Aly. There's -"
The following list of so-called affectionate terms used by Aly, while beginning mildly, slowly reached into highly offensive terminology that caused heads to turn even amongst the most impolitely verbose New Yorkers.
One more stop. Almost time to get off.
Aly snickered, still laying back upon the warm hued seats. "Yes, those are nice and all, but I want something personal. Something that's just you, if you're going to have me be Alytaia. Like … Emerald? Such pretty eyes, but no. Journal? closer, considering all those infernal writings you keep, you freak. Hm …"
Percy exhaled softly - not like he could fight this anyways, he should know that by now. "Then how about Diary? Log? Notebook?"
Aly's face lit up, beaming as adjusted her satchel so she could now lean onto his shoulder.
"Notebook! Good enough, sounds just about right," she claimed, "You'll be Notebook! And then you could call me Alytaia."
"Hm … well, Alytaia. I love you." Aly tensed. Body language saying 'WTF?!' aside, it did not keep the boy partially beneath her from recklessly rambling on.
"Perhaps it hasn't been the longest time we've known each other, so I hope I didn't freak you out all of a sudden …" the boy trailed off briefly. "But I really think I do. Maybe I got attached too quickly. But from what I understand of love … well, I'll be there for you. Always. I promise. Well … heh, I already did, haven't I?"
He drew his weapon, non-operational but not any less glacial.
"Maybe by enforced choice, I promised," Percy admitted, before again realizing he probably need to better cover up his massive blunder of revealing the pubescent emotions of a young teenager. "I read once that men love with their eyes, and women with their ears. and I guess you're quite wonderfully beautiful and attractive, and … and …"
He tried to push her away to stand, hoping the coming station would help brush away his mortification. But Aly finally relaxed, falling into the rumbling rhythm of the subway. "I wish you hadn't told me that, Notebook. Perce. Percy. Notebook. Shit, that nickname just doesn't work. But first, we only promised never to betray each other, so not quite the same.
"And second, well anyways … I guess you're right, because I never would have said a thing if you didn't say yourself. It's so easy to get bloody attached in this hellish existence … but we're sworn to stay at each other's backs, hm? I love you too." And just like that, she turned her head and plunged in for an awkward kiss.
First the noses collided, before she and Percy re-angled to properly meet and kiss. Light and chaste, but held for more than just a instant. They separated, and both breathed in the odd menagerie of scents of the New York subterranean system before parting more fully.
Still, the subway train clunked on.
"That … didn't feel quite right," whispered Aly, fingers ghosting over her lips.
"No, it didn't, hm?" smiled Percy, just the slightest tinge of sadness returning from before to color his tone. "Never speak of it again, then, Taia?"
"Only if it was your first kiss that I stole, Notebook."
"I do believe that was."
"What kiss are you bloody talking about, retard? Sheesh, Percy, you idiot, did you drink some of Dakota's Kool-Aid? Have you been hallucinating?" Nonetheless, after they both stood, she embraced him tightly, smiling as he returned it.
Tiptoeing to bring their foreheads to meet, she tried her best to convey everything she couldn't say. How secure she felt because of him. How much she trusted him. How thankful she was for everything he'd said and done. Things that she only knew how to express properly as music.
And with no more left to say, the duo slinked out of the subway.
Anima. She would … she would name her flute Anima.
The waxing crescent moon in the sky was the same as it ever was (excluding light pollution that not only ruined the constellations, but even seemed to dim the moonlight). It hovered in the heavens above, in midnight darkness. The general silence was not concrete, for the endless shuffling of leaves in the forest covered the movements of both terrified prey and eager predators. Crickets also chirped endlessly, and the occasional buzzing of brightly glowing pumpkin orange fireflies interjected into the orchestra every few seconds. The forest was as it always was, mostly undisturbed by the endless traffic and construction of the eternally bustling New York.
Within the boughs of the boughs of an ancient oak, however, crouched the largest prey of all. A girl - one of the more timeless females that looked fourteen or fifteen but could have practically been in her thirties - was daintily perched upon a more static branch, sylphlike in a sub-radiant beauty that was obvious even in the heavy, thick, darkness.
Perhaps it was easier to see the girl's regal facial features due to the light and short silvery-gray hair that was kept back into a messy bun. Or perhaps it was the soft glow that her body gently emitted. It also helped that her clothing was completely silver in nature, helping light up the slight bends and string of the recurve bow upon the girl's back.
A single shaft of silver moonlight fell from a hidden holster within the mercury colored jacket of the girl, and she deftly snatched it, holding the fletching of the now evident arrow as if it was a blade. Meanwhile, the other hand rested lightly on a most curious blade. The handle was small, fit for a more feminine grip, and a small crescent blade adorned the bottom of it. The actual blade, which lay against her silver adorned leg and was cutting slightly into the trunk of the bone-white tree she was hiding within, looked much like a cross between a khopesh - a curved blade used by ancient Egyptian guards, and a sickle - a gardening tool adapted for war as a scythe. In short, it hooked heavily, also appearing much like a crescent, in the opposite direction of the crescent decorating the handle grip.
A wispy wind floated by, parting the leaves so that light could enter the canopy the girl was residing in. The rays shimmered down the blade, following the heavily imbalanced s-shape. Red-tinted metallic eyes peered out of the leaves, watching for danger.
Her pale hand gestured calmly, motioning for a previously impossible to see figure to come forth. Said figure was not lit by any extraordinary means in the shady absence of light, so the tiny girl of at most toddler age was difficult to see as she crawled up the tree branch to the elder girl's backside. The child looked as if she were suffering, at some stage of recovering from malnutrition or starvation. A taut stomach and thin limbs, gaunt cheeks and a pained grimace from the ever present hunger. However, if nothing else, a pair of twinkling eyes shone impishly from beneath the sheaf of unkempt black hair framing her small face.
But the peace of the moment was not to be.
Supernaturally, the moon above … changed, for lack of a better term, within a second's time. It shifted into first quarter, but did not even cease as it continued into waxing gibbous phase - full moon - waning gibbous - third quarter - waning crescent - new moon - and finally once more a waning crescent moon. The flash of unnatural light lit up the entirety of the forest, and a vague whistling could be heard.
The practically albino warrior girl in the tree quickly turned to snatch the child up, ducking a shaft of an arrow that flew and embedded itself within the previously tranquil oak. A hunting horn sounded, to be echoed by horn after horn. The haunting call aroused the wind, chasing the fleeing female and child upon her back. The warrior's slim frame dashed down, hurrying over a small stream to the east. The burst of movement sent up flashes from the odd khop-sickle tied to her waist, and the girl upon her back gripped tighter to the elder girl's neck as they ran desperately from the pack of predators.
The sorrowful melody of one of Beethoven's most famous pieces, Moonlight Sonata, filled the night air by way of a Styxian Steel flute. Perhaps not written for the flute, but Taia, Aly, would use and adapt whatever melody she wished, regardless of whatever instrument it was originally composed for. She'd been playing variations and inspirations of the sonata already, and the notes moved seamlessly from improvisation to the original canon and back again, the rare breaths needed to power the sound spaced into perfect cadences.
The crew of six sat around a stone surrounded cheerfully crackling fire in a clearing, tended to carefully by the ever strange clear-sighted mortal within the group. The bangs of Rachel's pixie haircut drifted forward slightly as she added pieces of dead wood to the fire to keep it smoldering away. Sifting through her backpack, the ginger drew her Imperial Gold machete from a sheath on the side of her calf. She hummed the a complimentary harmony line of the Classical-Romantic Era piece as she casually snipped few loosening threads from her clothing. It was a very strange sight - a teenage girl in an extremely colorful tie-dye shirt and equally multihued jacket, a peasant skirt, sneakers hidden underneath her legs as she organized her things.
But the tall drunkard to her left of the fire was an even more curious sight. Dakota, in his drunken, curly black-haired glory, when not swigging a variety of Tic Tacs from a monster sized canister, dozed on the earth in gym clothing - gray baggy sweatpants, a white undershirt, and a non-zipped darker gray hoodie. A green bag lay by his feet, kicked about in his sleeping throes and some of its contents - rock candy, toothpaste, a cabbage, and even more Tic Tacs - were strewn about the ground by the Son of Bacchus's large feet.
Again to the left sat Reyna, dwarfed in her petite size compared to the giant Dakota. She seemed greatly engrossed in something beyond the flickering whites, yellows, oranges, and reds of the flame that reflected upon her coal black eyes. Her face was mostly covered by the ever present efficient side braided hair and hands covering her mouth in thought. She was leaning forward to better see the flames, resting her elbows on her knees. She was clad in a simple, rich purple, shirt - bought or shoplifted from an Abercrombie and Fitch store, no one will tell - and covered by a black cloak, all presided above a pair of worn navy blue jeans and small tennis shoes covered feet. A black bag was left forgotten behind her, as her eyes were too busy trailing the nimble, agile sparks that flew into the air. And if occasionally those eyes glanced left to regard and contemplate the person there, well that was for another time.
Percy was laid back on a comfortable bed of dried crinkling leaves he'd raked together. His navy blue hoodie sweater hood was up, though his hands were still inserted within the hood to better support his head. He was watching the night sky, after all - eyes perusing each constellation he could pick out, and contemplating a planet he was sure was Venus. Occasionally, he would leave his reverie to sit up, and his green shirt would peeked out from underneath the collar of his jacket. This time, he dusted off his khakis and shuffled around his sneakers to better reach towards the available food by the fire. Mostly just canned food, cooked by the ever so able mortal. the meatballs and tomatoes were quite tasty. Just missing noodles to make spaghetti. At times, the boy would reach into his kangaroo pocket to pull out his journal, and attempt to draw the night sky above him. Each iteration, though, would fail miserable and he'd erase all the constellations. It was difficult to pinpoint anything but the moon accurately in the light-polluted heavens.
Proceeding on was Aly, who seemed content to serenade the crew with her agile moving fingertips dancing across the keys of her instrument weapon. Her long red tresses reached somewhat beyond her shoulderblades, and flitted about in her swaying motions. She wore just a black t-shirt and jeans, not cold in the slightest in the autumn night; an almost vile olive green turtleneck and dark purple hoodie were folded carefully and resting on top of her magical satchel. But for her current getup, she could get away with attending a funeral in said attire if her shoes were not gray converses. Dark brown eyes remained closed as her body leaned to and fro from the flow of the music.
Last of all, conveniently across from his once upon a time captor in an effort to stay as far away as possible, sat Lee. In the most dutiful and responsible manner of the group, the blond was collecting the dinner tins that each ate from, his white polo slightly smudged from travels and staining foods. His favored golden jacket lay within his bag, which he kept pinned between his jeans and tennis shoes in order to keep his blue eyes trained upon it. They'd left even the most extended territory that the his Hunt had ever traversed … he needed to keep it safe.
The more clunky weapons - a pilum, a gladius, and a longbow, were each driven into the ground or propped up to be of easy access to in case of emergency. It formed a convenient equilateral triangle, enclosing the group of six that encircled the merrily snapping fire. Conversation was ignored in exchange for dinner, but it rather seemed that dinner was over. Rachel had picked away at and eaten little of her mango chutney; Dakota had long since devoured his sausages before returning to his diabetic diet of candies; Reyna had finally completed picking at her vegetables and beef; Percy finished inhaling his anti-pasta; Aly had gulped her stew down at the very start to practice her flute; and Lee tossed in the skewers of the last of his hunted rabbit kebob.
Finally, chatter picked up, Lee attempting to talk to Rachel to ask her how she exactly wanted the garbage disposed of in "an environmentally safe fashion." There was some difficulty, though, for she was already sharing a very strange conversation with Dakota, who'd initiated a discussion everyone being Caucasian in their group except for Reyna.
"Lllike, it's it just so straange that only Avilllaa's - like. Um. Where's Reyna froooom anyways?" Dakota drawled out as he gesticulated wildly, fingers carefully covering the opening of his precious Tic-tac supply. In the distance, a wolf howled.
"She's just a Roman," grumbled Lee, still unable to let go of his grudge. "They're all the same. Pluto forsaken barbarians."
"Now, now. Lee, there's no need to be so touchy. Peace. Meditation. Hmmm…" intoned the ever odd Rachel. "And leave the trash bag here, I'll take care of it."
"What? They are basically barbarians now. When's the last time they've done anything as a Republic, with whatever vote in the Senate?"
"No, they haven't. But aaat least theirrr diverse is mooore populaaation!"
For the sake of all of our sanities and political correctness, moving elsewhere.
The girl in question glanced back as Aly started playing Greensleeves, then scooted closer to Percy to address him about whatever that seemed to be occupying her mind. Quietly as to not be overheard, Reyna began speaking.
"Perseus," Reyna whispered, leaving her fire scrutinizing trance and nudging the boy laying on his back, "I wish to speak with you."
Awoooooo … Awoououououou …
"Formal as ever," Percy said blearily as he sat up, rubbing his face with his sleeve, "What about? Regret sacrificing your food to the wrong god or something? I gave mine to Hestia." Who else would he sacrifice to? Offering to his father had yet to do anything for him, and Hestia was Goddess of Home and Hearth, so it would be good to get her favor.
"Hestia?" Reyna blinked in surprise. "What's the use of that? Hasn't she faded?"
The boy popped a piece of gum into his mouth. "Well, maybe because of me she hasn't."
Wait … those howls. She'd hadn't been paying attention as she should, distracted as she was … if …
SCRI-AAAAAaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa…
Irrumabo. Springing up, she cried out at the group. "Prepare for contact!"
With that bombshell, an albino haired girl popped out of the forest to collapse upon the ground a few feet from the fire, panting as she struggled to stand. A puny child from her back rolled off, and ran to the fire to warm up, barely registering the the group of six. Struggling to catch her breath, the elder arrival turned her head slightly to plead with the group while drawing her oddly shaped weapon.
"Please help us." Her khopesh-sickle swept out, drawing out a crescent line before her. Silver light erupted forth from the line, creating an ethereal boundary.
Rachel extinguished the fire swiftly it with a pre-set mound of dirt, and pulled off her own jacket to cover the small girl. Aly/Taia played on, tune shifting into one of her own creation. The forest around them rustled, and they turned out to face approaching wolves.
Hunters of Artemis melted into the clearing, silver glow matching slim moonlight. The wisping smoke trail of the exterminated fire flew off from the center of the clearing, almost as if being drawn in like a cigarette into the sky's cheshire cat grin.
Pop. Cocking his head in confusion, Dakota voiced his rather untimely and hypocritical question. Even as he swigged the last (as in the last fifth) of a 200 Tic Tacs box, he spoke around the pieces of candy. "Is nowww really the timmme to be blowwwing bubblegum?"
Moon. Hunt. Wilderness. Maiden. XVI.
The selection of Huntresses before them evened out. They weren't in any position to the crew at the moment, both individually and as a group. Dakota totaled their numbers to be nine (he wasn't drunk, just hyper - his counting ability wasn't impaired, hopefully), nine girls that were visibly becoming more furious by Percy's seeming nonchalance.
The Huntresses were older than the Greek and Roman groups themselves. They were more dangerous than them, too, to a certain extent.
There were many demigods who'd tried to survive by themselves after the power shift. Camps were gone, and so everyone disbanded. The cruel atmosphere of the world was untenable - many were consumed by bestial monsters, torn apart in the developing monster culture's gladiatorial rings, or even killing each other off. But quickly, everyone realized such a situation was ridiculous. The gods had only toppled the camps, but left Artemis's Hunters alone.
The people that still followed around both civilization's established teachers soon found their place. Greek and Roman took control of the west and east respectively, a travesty of past traditional home locations. They were the largest, retaining about two hundred out of the approximately thousand they used to be. They avoided each other more than ever now, though, even with the Mist unraveled between them.
Renaissance. Renewal. Revival. Resurgence. Rejuvenation.
The demigod population dropped severely. Half were lost, never to be found again. Those more intelligent, more capable, more experienced, or more fortuitous and were able to survive by banding together themselves. It was difficult. The Greeks would demand tribute from whoever they could reach and threaten. They never destroyed smaller groups that they encountered - they were left as an emergency buffer zone in the case Romans attacked. But the extortion definitely impeded survival and growth. It was one reason why the group of Bellona's children never did take off.
The Romans simply held raids on relatively groups of demigods when they reached a certain population level, usually those numbering fifty some or more, and steamrolled over them. Completely conquered. Death tolls were massive, the only silver lining being that those who survived were no longer traumatized from seeing so mangled corpses. Such destructive combat still happened in present day - demigods were too much like cockroaches.
Glory. Victory. Triumph. Prestige. Honor.
However, by then the largest threat by far in the U.S. were the Huntresses. They'd been renamed after a (not) surprisingly large number of children of Apollo banded together. Hunters and Huntresses. The Hunters were also up there in threat level, being flat out the largest group. Compared to the Huntresses there was no sexual divide to lose members. Also, Apollo's sheer number of affairs led to their numerical advantage over the Greek and Roman groups, if barely. While not the most skilled, their sheer numbers and consistent teamwork enforced their territory to a frightening degree - their territory happening to be whichever city they wished to inhabit, generally holing up at any metropolis months.
The Huntresses, on the other hand, didn't need any numerical advantage. Even after a sudden influx in membership for a few years after the second world war, the Huntresses rarely lost members at all. Their numbers remained a consistent forty - their members never died from any of the things other groups faced like disease or even just age. They were elite predatorial quasi-immortals who were by far more adapted to the current demigod lifestyle for eons before the great shift occurred.
There was little definite information known about the Huntresses, as they didn't recruit unless a member died (which was rare). Since joining was a life commitment for females; and males above the age of ten that came across their Hunt were left as carcasses in ditches, no one had absolutely concrete details.
Agreement. Accord. Concurrence.
From survivors, the stories eventually spread.
They had long since divided from a single hunt under the only Earth-roaming goddess into groups of eight. One toon captain leader, one co-captain, and six troops. The entire force only came together every solstice to meet with their leader, who no survivor had ever lived to tell the tale about. Their movement patterns were untraceable, never following the same hunting routes. There was no shortage of lack of desire to trace huntresses who could easily be setting traps for the tracer.
There were 5 sects of Huntresses scampering across the U.S. and constantly picking apart whatever group they met. By the stories, three of their sects had once come together to defeat the Mars children a decade ago. At that time, they'd had some of the largest territory, having dominated the Tornado Alley. However they had attracted the ire of the Huntresses, the next thing everybody knew was that the Children of War were gone. Their territory had shrunk dramatically, and those under that particular god's banner never left Texas for more than a week.
Pop.
Tactics. Stratagem. Scheme. Plot. Maneuver. XXIV.
Well, Dakota had to admit. Percy, for all the bad timing there was, had finally managed to blow a bubble properly.
The were … Dakota spun quickly, ensuring he counted correctly. Yes, there were nine very angry girls surrounding them, mainly focused on the unknown albino and Percy.
Nine, nine, nine. Holy shit. If there were nine of them now instead of the nightmarish eight, that meant the Huntresses were expanding, or Artemis was here herself.
Then, of course, more silver clad females popped up in the trees all around the clearing, arrows trained on all of the obvious threats - everyone but the little girl. The falcon that had screeched earlier was perched on one of the new opponent's shoulders. Damn, he should have known there were more hidden earlier because of that.
"Well … irrumabo nunc sumus omnino damnati, LIKE FREAKING GOD FORSAKEN quod ei sanctus f***ing cacas vere nunc!?" Even the Huntresses and those who could not speak Latin turned to look at Aly. Apparently the f***ing didn't translate directly into Latin. F*** did. The redhead was scarily angry, reverting to her ancestral language to curse. The ominous mad smile adorning her reddening face was not a pleasant omen either.
Engage.
Alrighty then. She was going to start it.
Practically everyone was staring awkwardly at Aly due to her outburst and her tightening grip on her instrument. The exceptions, though, were the extremely frightened little girl in Rachel's arms, and Reyna. The girl was merely too young to completely understand what exactly was happening and was probably exhausted from running for her life. Reyna, on the other hand, was more on the other end of the spectrum.
She was far too agitated to care about whatever Aly had said. She'd wanted to have a meaningful talk that night. Some relaxed, unhurried time to tell Percy about herself.
She'd yet to, after all. Even when she'd fallen apart at the beginning, she'd said nothing about herself. She didn't have any reason to fully trust any of them - it was only because it was the smartest decision for her to be there and most to their advantage to have her.
Every night, everyone else would talk. Rachel would chatter away, always leading the discussion. Managing Dakota, bringing in Lee, pulling out the occasional curse from Aly, and pressing for Percy to command and lead. But she never bothered with her. She would only glance at her once, every time conversation began. It was so infuriating, how blank her green eyes were. How it seemed to see everything yet nothing, looking at her as if she only saw her soul.
So different than Percy's, who every day sat before her. That was really all he did. Only one meal a day, really, just sat there and shared a meal with her. He'd ask some questions, and they'd talk a bit.
The most extraordinary things could be so trivial.
Everyone else had pretty much given their backstories. Percy had wandered amongst groups before hooking up with Aly, who holed down near the Greeks to survive more easily by herself snatching scraps. Rachel, who knew the world was very strange as a mortal, decided to follow the hyper kid who burst into her room and crashed out the window opposite in order to lose some Cyclops. Lee had turned the wrong direction and was snatched up by Reyna before getting exchanged to Percy.
Reyna had yet to say anything about herself, though. She was still bottling up everything inside, and it was so … frustrating. She'd never responded to any of Percy's questions on that subject, but he'd just laugh to himself quietly and talk a little about himself.
While leaving her home country, the ship was destroyed by what she was convinced was the Kraken, so she'd separated from her sister. Then, as she'd washed ashore onto California, she'd immediately been kidnapped. She'd almost raped despite being 10 years old. It was at that moment that one of the Huntress sects had rescued her. Well, just slew the man, who'd had 'acquired' more than a dozen girls, then continued on. It was how she knew their hunting call.
It was more a coincidental save than anything else too, so it hadn't been much of a rescue. Right after, she was found by Greeks and taken to Chiron to get 'pressed' for information. She'd gotten away, and somehow found herself at the Wolf House. Lupa found her there, and she'd begun her campaign. It took a year to ascend far enough to get her torch and helmet brand, even with using the her powers to sway the crowds. Even though she hated using those so much.
There was no one to ever tell things to. No friendly faces, all people who rather weren't interested in your life or wanted information to stab you in the back with. Then she'd been captured, and stewed in silence for weeks honestly being treated far more kindly than ever before as a prisoner of this group than a fully fledged Roman. As an actual member, she'd witnessed and been part of more camaraderie than she ever did in the backstabbing power-hungry Roman camp.
She'd intended to finally wind down tonight, to unload all the debris in her mind with someone she could trust. Percy had shown his compassion, strength, and loyalty. She'd almost forgotten those traits existed. She wanted to be honest with him, not just truthful. And these pieces of crap were interrupting?
Screw that. Violence might not be the answer, but it's still an answer. Time to let loose.
The Huntresses had made a terrible mistake in their approach. Anger had most likely clouding their judgement. The clearing was relatively small, and the people on the ground had approached too close. They were now in the crossfire of the Huntresses in the trees, provided one was able to take advantage of that.
Her first action was an unforgivable sin by Roman standards, or really any military standard. She launched her pilum, letting her main weapon leave her hands. The gold tip flashed before digging a deep wound through the nearest Huntress, who screamed. Still moving, she snatched Dakota's gladius - it was the Roman style weapon she was accustomed to after all, and she knew Dakota would be fine without it.
The nearby Huntresses were now moving back, but Reyna darted in close enough and seized the spear she'd impaled through a Huntress, further jarring said girl. Instead of dodging a quickly snapped arrow from a Huntress on the ground, she pulled over the girl she impaled to bodyblock the arrow and threw the gladius. The projectile sliced apart the bow that shot the arrow, sending the fractured weapon snapping back into the wielder's face, then embedded itself into the wielder.
Her hand snapped back before her, and after a quick glance snatched a knife from the skewered girl she'd first attacked who was now trying to gut her with. Reversing the grip, she jabbed into the silvery jacket the girl wore, which was now gushing with red. Unless the Huntress she was manhandling received godly food immediately, she was going to die.
Still, not even ceasing the flow of her movement, she pushed, forcing the incapacitated girl on her spear back and guiding the speartip on the opposite side of the girl into another Huntress's left side. Spinning to the right of the first Huntress, she drew her knife from her belt, and slashed away at the huntress's stomach.
In the span of five seconds, Reyna had picked apart three huntresses. The first Huntress she'd attacked was now certainly going to die, she'd lost too much blood. The one who had sent an arrow at her had both lost her bow and had a sword sticking in her lower intestines. And for the final girl … well, Reyna ducked an arrow that the girls in the trees sent at her, stabbing her knife into the second speared girl's stomach several times. She was in no state to put pressure on those wounds, so she would bleed out as well.
The archers above had designated targets, so had shot in the first instant that Reyna had charged in, attempting to eliminate all the others before ganging up on the nuisance that eliminated a quarter of a sect. However, it was not to be. Aly, who had never ceased playing, riffed a rapid arpeggio and knocked every currently airborne arrow out of the air. Another immediate riff into a pitched shriek that sent the two nearest grounded Huntresses into the land of Morpheus as the odd magical shockwave that emitted from the girl hit them.
The second volley came
Lee, who had drawn several arrows beforehand, trickshot two at once while hold the bow horizontally. Each managed to deflect one arrow apiece before those ricocheted as well, deflecting all the arrows shot from one side of the clearing. Lee never used any other weapon but his bow and arrows. If you were only ever going to use a bow, you had to master it to a level beyond even the average Huntress.
On the other side, Percy reflexively shifted his Stygian Steel knife and bar, deflecting the arrow shot at his heart into his arm. It had only penetrated through fatty flesh, but it was excruciating all the same. He bit his lip to keep from screaming in pain, and pulled the arrow out from the other side, before grabbing a water bottle. It burst in his hand, and the water quickly coursed to his wound and began repairing it.
Dakota merely blinked and weaved, already out of the path of the arrow shot at him. His wrist flicked forward, sending a stone he'd picked up into an arrow meant for Rachel. Looking back briefly, crazy and what not, took the silver arrow that had gone through the Son of Poseidon from Percy's bloody hand and went after two Huntresses on the ground at his end of the clearing. Rachel simply drew her machete and kept the small toddler close, backing up to meet her redhead counterpart and protect Aly's back.
Percy's eyes refocused, and looked for the albino haired girl that had likely led the Hunt to him and his friends. Turning right, he gasped as the slim girl dashed away into the trees, meeting yet another eight that were coming to flank their side, about two dozen arrows already on their way to to turn them into pincushions. But the girl somehow whipped her odd blade in a wide curve, sending forth another burst of silvery light that instantly deflecting all of them.
She would handle that, then. He turned to the last two of the Huntresses of the ground sect that had been decimated, only to find them gone, along with some other of the downed Huntresses. Hopefully that meant they'd fled.
He had yet to do anything to truly contribute. Dakota had somehow stole another arrow and was fighting as if using dual knives. Having taken down one, the drunkard and Reyna were now double teaming against a rather steampunk looking girl who was using dual hunting knives with gears on the handle. Lee had picked off two huntresses in the trees, if the thumping noises were them falling out of the branches. Aly was now focused solely on keeping the barrages of arrows from striking their team. Rachel was tying up any of the Huntresses who hadn't been slain, leaving the child cowering underneath her coat by the fire. They'd come out on top, despite facing a good dozen or more of the Huntresses.
Better help the unknown female. The other sect of Huntresses were focused completely on her, and the battle looked like a monochrome rave party. Roving orbs of silver blocked arrows as the girl fended off three knife wielders keeping her from reaching the archers. It was an epileptic nightmare, the amount of silver flashing made the entire scene appear in strobe effect.
"Quake!" He cried out. His team immediately echoed the call and widened their stances in preparation for what was to come. Clasping his hands, his weapons welded together and lengthened and adjusted, forming a two and a half foot long steel sword. He implanted almost hilt deep into the ground, and from him emanated sheer devastation. The earth shattered beneath him, and plates of bedrock shifted several inches, knocking everyone in the clearing off kilter or off their feet.
In the forest, where the remaining Huntresses were, the few remaining in the tree tops quickly fell out as they lost footing. The other sect along with the albino were forced to hold on to the nearest tree to stay standing.
Laughing, Percy collapsed on the ground, and his weapon morphed back into a steel baton. Even if it exhausted him every time, he loved doing that. Aly, recuperated from the miniature quake, stumbled over to him before sagging to the ground too.
SCRI-AAAAAaaaaaaa …
"They're retreating!" yelled Lee, spinning slowly to analyze the surroundings.
Water welled up, likely from burst pipes, and reenergized Percy, if only briefly. The Son of Poseidon sat up to watch as wolves coasted through, picking up the dead and dying Huntresses. One tried to swipe at him, but a faceful of water pushed it away and deterred any others from attacking.
The corpses dragged away looked almost peaceful. He would have believed they were sleeping, if not for the various incisions and injuries that marred their bodies. The injured moaned piteously - his team had made sure they were in no position to retaliate after taking them down. One of them had scrambled away, despite how cut up their limbs were. The metallic scent of iron intoxicated the air, and Percy felt queasy, if only mildly.
He was used to the blood. But before, so much of it had never been shed because of him. Because of his decisions.
Aly - Taia - Alytaia, he still wasn't sure how to address her in his mind … she was now dozing, and Rachel was tending to the camp, putting everything away in each person's respective packs. Reyna was cleaning her spear with a wad of a fern; it looked so innocuous now that it wasn't doused in blood. Dakota was rubbing his head, and honestly it could have been anything from a hangover to him soothing his forehead after a headbutt attack of all things. Lee remained vigilant, ensuring the last of the Huntresses were gone.
The girl who'd asked for their help was now limping over, towards the bulk of the group. With a shlick, she embedded the tip of her odd khopesh-sickle into the earth, to leave it standing there, resolute. The soft light she gave off illuminated the gristly scene.
Crumbled, uneven earth that sifted as blood dripped off clothing and salted the dirt. The trees were now scarred; arrows sprouted from all places as if some parasitic weed.
The glow, which previously seemed to make the girl more inhuman and ethereal, now emphasized her weary, baggy, eyes, and the slack, bloodstained grip she still kept on her blade handle. Now that they weren't preoccupied, they could more evidently see how torn her silver clothing was. Seeing Rachel tend to the sleeping child, she smiled lightly and whispered two words. "Thank you."
Then her knees buckled, and she fainted dead away, right onto Percy.
If any of the six had an idea of what to do next, it was made irrelevant. The six had next to no time to react to a most odd singing approaching.
"OOOOOH, a ba-da-dum-daaaAA. It's craa-zyyyy, just how it is, but that's just that the facts are this! Um ba-da-dum-daaAA-da-bum-TAAA. All the la-dieessssss-" The source of the music appeared from the only side of the clearing where no battling took place, moonlight glinting off goggles propped on his forehead. The strange boy was also wearing an unbuttoned green camouflage jacket, white undershirt, and heavy duty cargo pants, Fingers played an imaginary instrument on a leather toolbelt around his waist while the boy still hummed to his likely made up music as he arrived.
"Well that!" the unknown boy cried out suddenly, spinning around and pointing to pretty much the entire clearing, "was not what I expected …"
Trailing off, he redid the last lyric of his strange song, which everyone conscious collectively raised an eyebrow at. "Bam! All the ladies, bam! All the ladies, bam! All the ladies, bam! Allll the laaaayyy-dieeeeeieieieieiies! Ba dum tss!"
All those conscious jumped as a bronze winged mechanical dragon that had made no sound up to that point dropped out of the sky behind him, heavy steps thudding into the earth as it blared a rock riff to accompany the last lines, conjoined with spewing fire fifty feet into the air. "LoooOOooOovvvvvveeeeeeeeeeeeeeee LEO!"
With a crooked grin, the Latino curtsied and asked, "Is anyone in need of any assistance?"
Blight. Catastrophy. Downfall. Ruination. Scourge. Bane. Doom. Calamity. Subjugator.
For years they had bided their power, building up their strength. Now …
Soon. The earth reverberated, soil humming to the thrum of a vast bass.
Soon.
The sun was finally going down over the island, turning the sky sanguine red. The bay mouth reflected the sky, only further hueing the world crimson. Mist rose, choking dying pine trees from light, shielding boulders from the sky, and covering half melted snow. Constant waves lapped the shore of black sand. A small ship gouged a line of shadow on the beach. A raven perched upon the boat's stern. It was a greasy nightmare, larger than an eagle, its jagged talons like an obsidian knives, and its beak acrid pruning shears.
Eyes glittering, it croaked softly. "Swear."
Several unkempt trails led from the beach through the woods. Overgrown and dark, each were full of dangers, both natural and magical. Bears - or rather, things much like bears - rustled deep in the humid undergrowth. Glowing white spirits that were only vaguely human drifted through blackened trees, twisting up into the lucid red sky. There was a constant snapping sound and painstaking moans, as if some poor soul had been captured, pulled into the dark, and torn apart.
However, the sounds only grew louder as one drew to the center of the island, where two immense black boulders seemed to radiate their own gravity, forming an entrance. It seemed to breathe, air constantly drawing in and out, in time with a pulse that reverberated through earth, sea and sky. The air smelled of the freshly turned soil of graves; a sweet, drowsy heat that would draw in any who seeked warmth from the outside cold.
The cave further in was larger than even the greatest crypt of all history - the Great Pyramid of Giza. The walls glowed luminescent, mosses of vibrant plant green, dried maroon red, and heavy midnight purple. A cavernous pit ate away at the floor of the cave, the depths darker than the trenches of the sea.
The entirety of the catacomb thrummed with ancient energy, a constant ringing boom, boom, boom that one could never be sure of which was the cause of the origin echoing. One would be deluding themself if they tried to believe it was merely just the waves of the sea battering the island, for the mausoleum was alive. Drowsy as the earth seemed to be, it pulsated with incomprehensible strength.
One would lose their sanity trying to stay in the chamber, for the earth overpowered everything. It mattered not who stayed - human, demigod, or god. Overnight, even a Titan would drown in the eternity of the place, consumed by the perpetual lullaby that the ground itself hummed.
For they did not belong. Not like she did. Her dreams were malicious and fitful, a product so malevolent that even Phobetor, the god of nightmares, would question reality. Shadows roamed the cave walls, ghastly images of war from all eras. She watched the horror in the pit, where jewels sat upon gems that sat upon minerals that sat upon metals. Oil bubbled, a thick soup of molten heat - a tar pit from hell, rising from the fissure of darkness. A spire rose four hundred feet high, just fifty feet shy of the rock ceiling. It was a swirl of rocky tendrils that jutted like a battering ram from the oily morass. Glowed with heat, bronze, silver, and gold, melded. Oil ran instead of blood and raw diamonds beat for its heart. A human skeleton sat almost peacefully upon the crown of the immense giant, old work clothing eaten away by ravaging time.
All the wealth under the earth. The greediest wishes cause the greatest sorrows. A queen's sacrifice for the first to rise. A new homeland of icy mountains and forests. An army waiting for the gods to divide. Armies to destroy all. Civilization to sweep away.
She sat there, knowing she was only waiting for the end of the world. Deep into her soul, her curse called out. There was no Son of Neptune that would wash it away. She was buried too deep in the endless treasure. For that was what she was, wasn't it? Trash amongst treasure, who would ever be looking for her of all things? No fisherman, no Son of the Sea, not even the horse that she greeted so long ago.
The air was searing hot, which oddly preserved her body more than anything else. Even with all the precious shrapnel that was embedded within her body kept her in stasis, alive for what was to come. Not too far away, a red headed harpy sat much the same way the crow did outside. It was gaunt, not having eaten for eons, but there it sat, muttering phrases over and over again.
"He reminded people of humanity."
"The pit will be the first."
"Name, name, name. My name? What was my name?"
"No one learns from history."
"The angels tread with the dead."
"The Mark of Athena burns."
"The entrails have been eaten."
"If there is a winner and a loser, then it is a game."
"Divinity … means little."
"War is coming. War is here."
"The standard calls."
"No side is completely unjustified."
The beast, clearly insane, pawed at her eyes with her talons. Blood poured from small cuts caused by floating rock chips and her own claws. The harpy wailed deliriously.
"Swear not by the moon, the inconstant moon."
Reyna's Take on the Author Notes
First bloody (actual) scene was 2,655 goddamned words. I've rewritten that … three times. Used to be with a character named Amie. Then rewritten for Aly. Then I added more detail in the rewrite, and now I overhauled it and added even more. 4 times I wrote that, trying to pin exactly what I wanted to explain down pat.
The scenes changed a lot here, hm? Doubled up and altered?
Yep. Well, someone sane and responsible finally taking the reins. Yes!
You know, the author is quite the bastard, making me some kind of angsty wimp. Why'd you have me so easily taken out by a club hit of all things?
Hey! You're saying magical steel hitting your cranium won't knock you out?
No. I'm saying I would have dodged that and gutted Aly with my pilum. And if not, got even closer, too close for her to use her club properly and gut her with my knife.
I spoke too soon about sane.
At least this time you kept out all the shit with my name this time around. I'm not Aly, for goodness sake.
Yeah, I know. Got to represent one of my favorite characters better, you know?
Fine. But no more crying for me, you hear?
Yes.
Favorite, follow, review, PM. That good?
You're supposed to be polite!
Give me Aurum and Argentium, then I might. Or Scipio, for that matter.
Um … all in good time? Someone volunteer and be a good beta please! Or maybe not. Updated 6/22/15.
Edited 7/14/15.
Couldn't you let me have the last word?
Do I need to gut you?
Probably. Rehauled 7/17/2016.
Alternate Title: Romans' Romances
Love's Sorrow. Fritz Kreisler. Rachmaninoff's arrangement for piano.