Disclaimer: There's a song in the chapter- Ceux Qui Rêvent by Pomme. And Self Control by Bebe Rexha for the title. Enjoy!
CHAPTER 16: Got No Self Control
5:22 AM
I woke up, pissed as hell. Mig had returned with a vengeance. I ditched Dio and tried out the new bathroom in sperm donor's Cabin. It was lovely… I spent an unhealthy amount of time in the jacuzzi.
Aww, pops, stop spoiling me! C'mon, fucker, I'm tryna not like you. Seriously.
I put my hair in braided coronet, and trust me, it is not easy. Long, thick, wet hair…. I'm a freaking champion. I put on a hideous Camp shirt. Orange! Who the hell'd chose such a color. This is no misdemeanor, it's surpassed it. This is a felony!
Anywho, I got it cropped and the sleeves ripped. There's no need to hide my weapons here. Or my tatts today. Speaking off…
I was in the basement, the mini-arena there wasn't stocked. S'pose you can't have everything. I already had more than enough. "Oi! Get out of there!"
"Hmmph," Marlowe sniffed in obvious disgust and fixed me with a frosty glare. "Really, little one, stealing from the god of thieves!"
I shrugged off her incredulousness. Ha! "I did not steal it."
I slipped on the leather sandals and started lacing it up. I hope George and Martha's word was as solid and true as their appetite. (I was grounded, had to clean out the Big House basement. It was horrible, the rat and roach colonies down there…blugh! The two snakes feasted till they were bulging.) They promised the gladiator sandals were friction-resistant and long-long lasting.
"It is not called borrowing, if you plan on keeping it permanently," she growled.
"I did not borrow it, either." I go through so many of these. And my combat boots are a bit clunky for Summer. I swear if the two snakes were lying…
"Oh, really?" She hissed, gato-stylo. "So you want to convince me you actually bought it?"
Man, her not trusting me hurt. "As a matter of fact, yes. Yes, I did buy it, you overgrown, furry, lizard pair of mittens," I threw at her in a monotone voice with narrowed eyes and a straight-face.
I rolled out a twice-my-height tire. That shit was heavy to roll. I let it flop to the side in the sandy arena, coughing through the dust and sand cloud. I completely ignored Marlowe's… whatever she's doing. And yes I did pay for the godly sandals. Hermes was also, indirectly the god of speed, so he had to have good shoes to go with it. I paid twice the price of a normal pair, plus the rats and roaches.
"Hey, Marlowe?" I called the frothing cat- "Stealing is what's going to land the world in another World War! And then you go steal? Do you not care for consequences?" No, not really…- who was busy throwing a tantrum. Immortals… always so impatient. "Could you time my laps?"
She stopped abruptly, "What are you doing with that tire?" Her snowy eyes were wide. Can't blame her really. I would gawk too if I saw someone- not moi- tie a flaming whip around a monster-tire and the other end around their waist….
"Training," I grunted as the piece of black rubber moved an inch. I was towing it around the arena. For a piece of rubber, this sure is heavy. Shit.
6:37 AM
I was a panting and sweating mess. Hauling an African Elephant's weight around in circles for the better part of the hour was more or less slave work.
On the bright side, I went from crawling to walking-slightly-not-upright. Progress, people. But my calves were burning like hell.
I glared at the giggling, blue pnévma. "What?"
"Nothing~," Ana sang. Riptide was a wide, bronze cuff on my shoulder sans-tattoo. The gemstones encrusted like outlines, holding the bronze in the middle. She and Marlowe were playing backgammon. "You're just too cute," she cooed, Marlowe nodding in agreement. She then growled at Marlowe, who apparently had lucked out with the dice and was moving white pieces around. She won, Ana flipped the table.
I glared at them both. I struggled a bit- a lot- with lifting the tire to roll it back into whichever corner it came.
"Aaaargh!"
I spun around so fast I barely had time to duck out of certain decapitation. I rolled and came up with Riptide faster than a blink.
Block, thrust, parry, jump, swing, kick, push, thrust, block, parry- and shuffle-repeat.
Adrenaline was pumping and the exhaustion of the tire was thrown to the back of my mind. I ignored the pain in my arms, legs and lungs and kept pushing. I jumped and parried. I gave a round-house kick that was barely avoided and swung Riptide in succession.
Clang, swish, bang, urgh, swing, clack, scree, huff, bang…
I know at a moment like this one would say they saw red at the prospect of a surprise attack. But not moi.
I saw blue.
7:08 AM
"Not bad, Percillia. You have great reflexes and reaction time. And your trust in your instinct is truly admirable."
"Not bad, little one. Not bad at all," Marlowe hummed in agreement. "You do, however, need to work on your swordsmanship. It's adequate at best, mediocre at worst."
Now, if I had my hands available I would be choking the life out of Marlowe, and I would find a way to choke Ana. But seeing as my head was shoved roughly in the sand, I could barely breath and that's not including the heaving I'm doing, and Ana with a surprisingly strong grip on my arms and a phantom-y sword that was actually cutting through my neck, my hands were tied at the moment.
Riptide was shoved in my destroyed coronet. And, did they say… "Mediocre? Excuse me," I gritted through the sand and my teeth.
"Yup, you're okay with a sword. But okay is not good. You need to be best, sweetheart," Ana hummed happily. I think her age is catching up to her, half her brain cells are probably dead- if she had any to begin with. Marlowe was prowling in circles around me, amusement acrobating in her eyes. Bishes.
I shoved Ana off of me with all the strength I had. I grunted as I dumped the water- thanks, cat bish- on my bleeding neck, healing it.
I walked and grabbed Riptide. "Now I can't settle for mediocre, eh?" My face twisted in a vicious grin as I turned and faced my shield and sword.
Appear weak when you are strong, and strong when you are weak. And there is no way in Hell I'll show these crusty, dusty dinosaurs how much it hurt, what they said. I've never stopped looking over my shoulder since I was five. I am good, best, but to them not good enough.
But, you know, immortals gotta immortal.
8:23 AM
Again, I was tired. I haven't been this beat up since Mom was training me in the art of daggers.
I took another shower, rebraided my hair and geared up. My arms and hands were decked in accessories and rings- read: in weapons-turned-jewelry. My colts were in thigh holsters over my jean short shorts, Kýma was in a sheath, horizontally in the back of my shorts. I put the 'mortal' glocks in my shoulder tattoo-inventory-purple-pouch, remember the thick, black stripe above my elbow? Good.
I had the orange felony on, with the godly sandals- there were tiny wings near my ankles.
I made it look good. Scratch that, I made it beautiful. Like me.
Marlowe was napping on my shoulder and Ana went back to circlet nestled in my braid. And-
Bang, bang, bang!
Fuck! Can't someone ignore door knocking in peace. I want to admire my beauty, people.
"What," I hissed as Grover stumbled back when I yanked the door open. "What is with you and banging on doors," I demanded. "What do you want?"
He bleated. I sighed.
"My bad, G-man." I gestured outside. The Cabin locked itself behind me. Good. "How ya doin'?"
"Mr. D wants to talk to you and you didn't show up for breakfast," he mumbled. "I'm worried, Perci."
I smiled at him, "No need, G-man. I was just training and getting to know my Cabin."
He nodded, "Is that where you found the cat?"
"Nope." I didn't elaborate. He just shrugged, he knows I'll tell him eventually. I always do.
I smirked, "How's your girlfriend?"
"Juniper's not my girlfriend," he blushed. Sure, sure. I totally believe you.
"What makes you think I mean Juniper?" I questioned innocently.
He groaned, "You're evil, Perce."
I hummed. He leaned his head on my shoulder. I patted his back consolingly. We walked in relative peace, ignoring the pavillion morning chaos.
"You thought on it?" I gave him a serious look.
He swallowed, "Yeah, I did."
I raised an eyebrow, "And?"
"I'm with you all the way," he sighed dramatically. I smiled. He shook his head.
"Good." I looked up at the porch. No one was there. "You head to your girlfriend then, G-man." He was already backing away, shaking his head and mumbling about evil female best friends. "And pack light!"
I spent the next twenty minutes snooping in Chiron's office. I looked at records of campers, past and present. And, holy fuck, if I didn't know better I'd think I was in some trauma-center, government-research-facility.
Now, let me rephrase that. I already read through them my first day here. At the moment, due to the lovely escalations, I have another objective, that is not my curiosity. Shit's gonna hit the fan, I just want to be prepared for it as much as I can. 'Cause there is no stopping it.
If only the damn folders weren't in fucking Polish… It's like- ugh- German on steroids!
I went up to visit Sabrina. I needed to hijack the alcohol I left under her wrathful gaze. Bitch scares the shit outta campers.
After I secured the bottles in my tatt-pouch, I faced Sabrina.
"Well, no hello? No how do you do?" The Oracle of Delphi didn't move an inch. "I mean, I get you're dead and cursed and all… since you didn't change bodies… at least that's what the archives say about ya… but you could at least, I dunno? Wink or something?" The hippie mummy still did not move a centimeter. "Okay so that's how it's gonna be between us?" I huffed, crossed my arms and shook my head. I was disappointed. Not even a nanometer.
As I was leaving I threw over my shoulder, "Fine, your choice." I opened the trapdoor and was preparing to jump- it was probably safer than the termite-infested stairs. "I won't be telling you about the Lightning Bolt quest anytime soon."
Bang! Click…
One second I was jumping through the door, the next I'm wrapped up in tendrils of poison green smoke, rooting me to the spot. I was facing Sabrina. The same green smoke was slithering behind her clear, glassy eyes. And- is that hissing?
Yup, so on top of the rat and roach infestation, they got vipers hiding in the attic? Anywho-
"I am the spirit of Delphi, speaker of prophecies of Phoebus Apollo, slayer of the mighty Python. Approach, seeker, and ask…"
You know? Now I can't find one shred of sympathy for her saggy boobs.
I was developing a headache of epic proportions, holding on to your magic, keeping it in a chokehold, is so not easy. I could let it go, but… First, I know it'll get me nowhere. Second, I kinda asked for it.
Though I'm pretty sure I did not ask for green, smoky snakes to slither all over me like moving ropes, leaving freezing cold, frost trails in its wake. Nor did I ask for the Conjuring set-up. Everything went black except for the green smoke and the glowing hippie. And the snakes were still squishing me.
I could hear Marlowe trying to get through the door. I left her on Chiron's swively chair.
"Well?" I raised an eyebrow. "What do you want me to fucking do?"
No answer. Her unhinged jaw still pouring the green tendrils.
"If you wanted me to slit my arm for you as a sacrifice then I heavily apologize to you, oh, mighty fuck." I was sneering, and my power was dying to lash out at the grossness of this all.
Still, no answer.
I snorted. "Didn't take you for the nosy type, hun," I bared my teeth and hissed at the smoke snake wrapping around my throat. "The Lightning Bolt quest? I s'pose a few tips would be nice."
And- hallelujah!- that seemed to do the trick. As she began speaking, all my ropes coiled impossibly tighter, more than you can think possible. It was squeezing the life out of me. I didn't bother struggling- it would only waste my power and energy. To appease my wild core, I began building up the power to release it if necessary. (The Oracle is notorious for the high insanity and death rates of visitors as much as it was for the fucking plot-twists out of fucking nowhere.)
The smoke from her mouth condensed into something I wished I'd never have to see in my life ever again.
Irina Sokolova- the only motherfucking bitch that left the catacombs after my Mama's visit. The bitch who I hate so fucking much, I want to cry.
She stood there, her beautiful cruel smile, white blond hair, vicious, dark blue eyes, and all that tall, elegant confidence… I hate her. I hate her so much. I threw my own tendril at her, like the one she was holding at an emaciated, bloody and young me.
I kept throwing it all at her. I was breathing hard, and she was fucking smilling. It did not cross my mind that she can never be here, she's a human. Hell, seeing another me didn't do the trick. I just kept at it. Again and again and again. I was near fainting, the smoke like a noose around my neck, like ropes chafing against my clammy skin. Just like the last time I saw her.
I went limp. The ropes, the only thing holding me up, adrenaline was keeping me awake. I gave up way too quick… the memories were too much.
Through my haze, I could see Irina. Her hands tugged at the chains around younger-me's neck. The hissing was too loud. Young me whimpered. She put her mouth next to my ear, and whispered a command.
Young me's mouth opened immediately. A voice that wasn't me hissed-
"You shall go west, and face the god who has turned,"
It was old and ugly, and exactly how I felt.
With one last smile, Irina and young-me disappeared in a puff a smoke. I was getting my shaking under control. But, naturally, it all went to hell with the next image.
An ethereal, heartbreakingly gorgeous women appeared. She was wearing a grass green gown, and was barefoot- like always. Her long, scarlett locks were fluttering in the thick humidity of the attic. Her eyes- the entirety of them, pupils, irises, whites- were blue. A tiny nose in her pale face. Her ears were long and pointy. And the bitch was decked in jewelry.
The Seelie Queen, in the not-flesh.
Same like Irina, she was holding a younger me. A five-year old me. Little-me was smiling at me, sweetly and innocently- it was oddly genuine and reassuring. Little-me was a bit different however. She had slightly pointed ears, only barely. And she was glowing like the queen beside her. She had a flimsy, sheer dress wrapped around her. And like the queen, she was wearing a lot of gold and precious stones. But the most shocking aspects were the fluffy black cat ears and tail, and the set of fangs and claws they came with. Oh, and my naturally kohl lined eyes… they were pronounced, more feline. More devastatingly beautiful.
The queen was slightly stroking little me's long hair. I could almost feel it. She looked almost tenderly at me then Little-me, for second I was almost fooled. But the cruel sheen in her eyes, quickly, brought me back to my mind.
Little-me screamed- it was silent, only hissing could be heard- as the queen yanked her head back, almost breaking Little-me's neck. She wouldn't care either way if she did. She snarled viciously in my ear, still looking agonizingly beautiful as ever. Out of my screaming, open mouth came-
"You shall find what was stolen and see it safely returned,"
Little me's face still twisted in pain and a satisfied, poisoned-honey, fanged smile on the Seelie Queen's face were the last I saw as they poofed into even more damned snakes.
I was moaning in pain by now. I remember throwing something, other than words that'll make a sailor blush and stutter, at her. I was drained. Wait, correction: I was being drained.
The green smoky snakes had their fangs in me, sucking my power and energy. It was a miracle I was still up, not gonna say not dead 'cause a couple vampire snakes are not the way I'm gonna be kicking the bucket.
Silent tears were streaming down my face. I moaned and whimpered. Let it all out… no one can see you. I moaned again, sticky blood was drenching my collar. I was beyond reason and I was struggling like a mad man. I closed my eyes and shook my head- whiplash was the least of my worries, Hell, even the nausea and blood loss. My fucking braid was coming out! I put too much effort in it and-
I moaned louder this time and whimpered hoping to drown out the sound of the hissing. I closed my eyes, I didn't want to see who's next. I didn't want to see someone else who hurt me.
"You shall be betrayed by one who calls you a friend,"
I was sobbing. No, no, no, no, no, no, no…. Blood was dripping from my nose and ears. The Oracle's ancient power was a terrible pressure against my head. It was smothering me. It wanted to be heard, not ignored. It was retaliating. Why… Why was I fighting against it. That's so stupid. Fuck!
Survive, survive, survive.
Push, push, push.
I was growling, and I was sobbing. My claws were tearing into my mangled palms. I was a fucking mess, in short. And no matter how much I wanted to ignore it and for it to all go away, my head snapped up. Not only was it Delphi's ancient hissing, but my dear, dear, dear grandfather's hissing somehow made it through.
"And you shall fail to save what matters most in the end."
His golden eyes bore into mine. How the hell did he get here? Oh, he definitely did. A tiny sliver of course. But just enough, that combined with the Oracle's ancient powers…. I could finally put a face to the voice. Not a good thing, considering.
He, like my dad and uncle's… and myself, had black hair, it was long to his shoulders and wavy. He was in a golden toga. A wicked scythe was in his hands. A sickle in his belt. The ancient fucker was ripped. And he absolutely oozed everything old and bad and hateful and wrong.
I was lightheaded, so maybe his scrapping-chalkboard's laughter wasn't real. No one's here my ass.
The ropes let up for a bit, I slid to me knees. It tightened again, abruptly. Worse than before. The cold was burning and blood was everywhere. The hissing drowned my sobbing and sounds of pains.
How the hell is this thing in a place full of children? Family friendly my pretty little butt.
"What do you want?" I moaned out pitifully. I didn't even try to recognize my voice. The hissing only got louder. Louder. Louder.
The darkness was suffocating. Not even a sliver of the morning sun. Only poison green. I was hyperventilating. And hallucinating, it seems.
I began to sing. Singing is nice. I like singing. I like music. It's nice.
"Mes nuits blanches ne sont pas blanches, à peine claires
Semées d'étoiles
Petits trous dans la toile étanche
Tristes strates sur le voile
Et moi, envoutée de ténèbres
Je passe des heures infinies
À compter les moutons funèbres
Qui tapissent mes insomnies,"
I took a deep breath and forced the words out. I refuse to die in this place- an abandoned, filthy attic. So through my sobbing, growling and heavy breathing and through the hissing and darkness, I sang,
"Ah minuit est là
Ah je ne dors pas
Et moins je dors et plus je pense
Et plus je pense et moins j'oublie
L'immense impasse, l'espace immense
Qui s'étendent au fond de mon lit
C'est inouï tous ces silences
Qu'il est cosmique cet ennui
Dois-je recourir à la science?
Anesthésier l'insomnie?"
I was calming down, my voice was getting stronger. The hisses louder, more urgent. It didn't want to be ignored. Oh, well. Too bad, fucktard.
"Ah minuit est là
Ah je ne dors pas
Et puis passé minuit je danse
Au rythme des tachycardies
Et tout s'emballe et tout balance
Et tout m'étale et tout me fui
La lune est un fruit un peu rance
La vie est une maladie
Ceux qui rêvent ont bien de la chance
Les autres ont des insomnies
Ceux qui rêvent ont bien de la chance
Les autres ont des insomnies
Ceux qui rêvent ont bien de la chance
Quant à moi j'ai des insomnies,"
Maybe it was all too much, but I swear, through my closed lids, there was blue. A beautiful blue-green. Sea-green.
"Ah minuit est là
Ah je ne dors pas
Ah minuit est là
Ah je ne dors pas
Je ne dors pas
Je ne dors pas
Je ne dors pas,"
At first it was hard to get the words out. I was breathing hard and sobbing, but I began to calm down. I closed my eyes and buried my head in my lap. But by the end, the ropes were barely holding.
Mama would sing this to me before I slept. I smiled, not the best choice for a lullaby before sleeping, a song about insomnia. She was efficient in many languages, but she always said French came easier to her. I miss her so, so much.
I remembered Marlowe's words, "Your voice is a powerful weapon in your arsenal, Percillia. Do not forget that." Speaking of her… Where the hell is she? Seriously she's shit at her job.
Anywho. That explains how a lightshow of blacks and greys and whites was tango-ing its way into my vision. I drained my power. Lovely, just freakin' lovely.
But at fucking last, I saw the light, or so to speak. A ray of sunshine. It was nice, warm. I thought I'd go blind from the dark.
But it just got brighter and brighter. Hello, blindness, my old friend. It hurt. And I was tired, dammit.
As the light got brighter, I realized a couple things.
1. I was still crying.
2. A god decided to grace me with all his holy fuckery at the fucking moment.
3. I got my prophecy for my quest.
4. I ain't dying in a dusty attic.
5. I was still singing. And I kept repeating the last line. Je ne dors pas. I don't sleep. I can't sleep.
"Je ne dors pas… je ne dors pas… je ne dors pas…."
And quite contrary to what I was still singing, I was passing out. A-fucking-gain. This place holds a record for how-many-times-Perci's-fainted! I scoffed.
Fuck you, you sonuvabish.
"Je ne dors pas… je ne dors pas…."
The Oracle fucking attacked me. I wanna know why. And is that how you're paid for kindness? With fucking torture.
But like they say in Egypt, aemil elkhayr w ermeeh fil bahr. In other words, 'Do good and throw it in the sea'.
"Je ne dors pas…."
But for how long will it stay in the sea? Nothing stays hidden forever, afterall. And the Oracle, out of 'em all, should know.
I glared at the figure in the light. I glared with everything I had.
The hell they'll all pay when I'm up.
"Je ne dor pas."
And with the final, closing pirouette, the black dots settled across my vision.
Sooo... my girl's got PTSD... oops. What eles am I gonna throw at her? Anyway, she's got a prophecy now...finally some *beep* action!
Remember how everyone dreaded the talk with the oracle 'cause not many survive it? Well, go big or go home, and since I'm already home, we're going big! I have a major part of the quest planned out... but, as always, I am open to suggestions...
Oh, and thanks for the reviews, they really made my days... School's been kicking my butt.
Hope you enjoyed!
-3anona, out!