Part III
Demigods are known for their extreme resilience, bravery, and other characteristics British literature teachers would list under epics, the long and supposedly exciting poems henceforth.
Screw that, wielding a sword is the last thing I'd want right now. Only because it's another dream.
Cue black inky thingy fading to white. A lot of white.
White is the color of many things, such as snow. New York gets its fair share of bad weather at that time of year, but the snow in my dream has never melted.
Sinking waste high, I scraped myself free from the frozen embankment, prodding through the cold layers for stable, uncovered ground.
Dream-me wore clothes suited much farther south. While not a hurricane, the calm flowing winds and floating snow were just as deadly. I give it a few minutes before I become a Percy-cle.
There's a shed jutting out from the rest of the monotone landscape. The old wood showed signs of decay, but cold conditions preserved what little structure remained.
Footsteps, three pairs. A bronze leaf-shaped blade beside tire tracks. Up-turned mud mixed with snow. Cavalry spatha and longbow on the other side.
I almost died here, yet the longingness of the place is peaceful—morbidly tranquil.
Checking the invisible watch on my wrist, I counted down until something would happen. Timekeeping isn't my job, but I'm bored, and dreams get repetitive after a while when they only show future events or warnings or conversations with people who are awake.
Imagine a game show for demigods, stuff like jeopardy or wheel-of-fortune but for dreams. I bet Hephestus TV could make tons of revenue based on how random demigods are. There could be categories for dreams, fighting styles, who people would bet on in a fight, who would survive a run-in with the Hunters, Greeks versus Romans, Romans versus Gre—
"You!" A child's voice screamed.
Now, I'm no daycare worker, but leaving a kid to their own in the Last Frontier goes like a pack of orcas in a kiddie pool. What's gonna happen? I know it won't end well.
The child appeared in a flurry of rocks. Moss and bark formed protective layers around her small frame, blending in with the surrounding environment with each minute of snowfall. Her stoney, poisoned eyes were graciously hidden by clenched eyelids.
"Me?" I pointed at myself.
"You!" she affirmed, pointing at me.
"Me," I confirmed.
Little Gaia marched on top of the shifty surface, evanescently floating to not disturb nature's beauty. She cast her hand towards the ground, a small pebble flying to her hand. Expectedly, a rock came for my face but missed. Gaia simply summoned more stones for target practice.
I don't know whether to be glad for this surprise exercise. On one hand, I'm moving which would keep me warm a little longer, but on the other is sweat and more of that formidable wind chill.
Then, against all odds, Gaia didn't miss.
She nailed the same spot she'd already cut in her duel. I would take offense, but Gaia's a sore winner as much as a sore loser.
"I gave you soooo many chances to let you live," Gaia huffed, tired from throwing tons of rocks.
"I wouldn't consider killing friends and family for my life," I responded, wondering if she was blind. That would explain the lack of accuracy.
Another rock sailed right over my head. Had I not dodged, that would've added another bruise to the motley collection.
"Curse you!"
"Sorry Dirt-Face, there's a line for that. Waiting time's approximately…for eternity."
Gaia moved closer, the scowl only worsening with less distance. I tried moving back. She tossed me into the snow, grabbing my neck.
She was trying to choke me. I struggled to toss her off, but her stone grip refused to budge. Gaia released the pressure, only to start punching my blue neck.
Gasping was an understatement. Every breath was interrupted, teasing my lungs for precious air.
As fast as she had launched herself upon me, it stopped. I was reduced to a hacking fit, discoloring the snow with hues from cherry to crimson. Kronos was a politician, taking jabs when he needed to. Gaia wasn't afraid to get her hands down and dirty.
"Get up, hero of Olympus," she ordered, kicking me down every time I tried to match her.
It's not real. It'll end soon.
The torment finally ended, Gaia sinking a sword in front of my face.
"Tch, if only our fight was honored."
I tried to talk back, probably about her impeccable timing with the sword. All I could say was faint creaking, forcing me to question if I was saying what I thought I should be speaking.
I realized I couldn't feel the pain. It wasn't from adrenaline, it was numbness from the cold!
They took you to a warm bed, safe within the camp's borders.
"Everyone knows what keeps you restrained. Your fears."
A wave of snow rose from the embankments, swallowing the shed and surrounding objects with disinterest. I was next in line, but Gaia was nowhere to be seen.
"A final gift from me. Goodbye, Perseus Jackson."
It's Percy!
My heart was pounding. Not from lack of breathing room or fear, but rather because it was constricting. Something was squeezing it through my dense layers of sarcasm and intelligence.
It was enough to see the mosque halls and vintage foyer of the ferryman.
The blinds were shut, and no light peaked through the slits. It didn't smell like the sea, so where the Hades' dark depression am I?
My cabin did not have this much space. Or this many bodies. Either someone stuffed me in a different cabin or I'm hallucinating.
Something stuck to my arm with tape with numbness around the affected area, well, not anymore. The bed was a sleeping bag on stilts, made for low cost, functionality, and comfort in that order. Sure it was dark, but I think the common color was petrifying light once light lit up the place.
It didn't take long to notice the smell of sweat or the massed body heat. The room reeked of death.
"How are we doing on medical supplies?" an old voice asked, clopping closer than two feet.
"We'll need more. A lot more. So much more, that we—"
"Say, I forget that you and the—ahem—post-auger were related."
The voices entered the room, blasting the lights, waking those who could bother to find out what interrupted their peaceful sleep. Or painful sleep. You never know if those groans were from exhaustion or pain.
In came my favorite teacher, loaded with boxes, bags, and other containers all marked with the red plus in a white circle. Will took Chiron's saddlebags off, easing the discomfort on the old trainer.
"We're sorry for the intrusion, but Will insisted on early morning check-ups," Chiron stated, covering for the coward whilst we dealt with non-alcoholic-hangover.
"At early o'clock?!" one of the demigods asked calmly.
"He did insist," He quelled. "How is everyone this morning?"
Chiron expertly took every answer as one, reminding himself to never ask for a crowd's answer all at once. His picks to respond to ranged from whatever to a string of potentially harming words. For his age, he should've heard all that's to be said. It surprised us when he was surprised at our new dictionary.
Then the blondes attacked.
In streamed scrub-clad professionals all in the surgeon attire. Each of them stopped by the Pony Express—don't let Chiron know I said that—maneuvering to assigned beds armed with magic, materials, and that gag-worthy, day-brightening cheery smile plastered behind their masks. Ok, maybe not all of them, but it helps to make fun of someone else.
"Percy, my boy. Pardon me for my…slight ignorance, but how are you feeling today?"
Would you look at that, Chiron didn't hear me with his super centaur hearing. I blame it on the other people, not the fact that I didn't say anything.
"Would 'great' cut it?"
Chiron chuckled, "If only that's how it worked."
A glass of chilled gold entered my short attention span. My nurse popped in a straw and mini beach umbrella, adding a few drops of blue food coloring for either my enjoyment or comedic relief. Hey, you never know with me.
Someone to my right required additional Cabin 7 members, frantic commotion between orders and actions took center stage in the infirmary. One of them rushed out, retrieving a white blanket to lay over the still patient. They dispersed back to their duties.
"Percy, your nectar will get cold," Chiron said, prepping his medic bag.
"Yeah. Right."
After my experiences with ambrosia, I'm not surprised to find my tropical drink turn into vinegar, bleach, and sawdust puree. Don't ask how I know. Seconds into the treat, the foul flavor vanished, though not from toleration.
"Better?" Chiron asked, removing the cup from my hands.
"Like I could punch someone across the Pacific, no, the Atlantic," I downplayed.
Chiron caught on. I figured admittance to the infirmary required a plausible reason. Back when Thalia was a camper, a third of all those entering were a result of her alone, I was among those unfortunate enough to join that blacklist.
"I wish you all a better day. For those who are interested and able, we are fixing damage and burning shrouds until lunch."
I started to escape the nerving comfort, only for Chiron to stop me from half stumbling. "Give it a rest Percy. Visitors are allowed at eight, and sunrise isn't for a few hours."
"Sir, I can see the sun rising," I said.
"Drat, I thought you wouldn't notice. Either way, no walking for you. Your body has had enough exercise for the past few days I assume," he supplied, folding his rear legs into his wheelchair disguise.
There has to be some way around that. Chiron said no walking, right? Come on Percy, what do you use if you need to get around without using your legs? It has to be practical and fast, something Chiron would approve of because he knows how they work.
You see, this is why I have Annabeth. Sure, I have my moments of non-seaweed brilliance, but most of the time I'm focused on not dying for the day. With schedules filled moment to moment, it's a wonder I don't make a mess of myself more often than not.
"What if I don't walk?" I asked, finding inspiration in his choice words. "What if I went around in a wheelchair?"
"What did I say?"
"I quote, 'Either way, no walking for you,'" I repeated, mimicking Chiron's old dialect.
For once, I outsmarted the wisest man I knew. Chiron tried his best to counter his words but knew better than to go against them.
Defeated by a mere mortal, Chiron asked one of the attendants to acquire my mode of transportation, "For the record, I am against this. You should know medical care here is top-notch."
"It's the only medical care here."
True to their standards, the mechanical marvel they brought surpassed any standard wheel machines you'd find on the market. Now Celestial Bronze is expensive, but the uniform external welds on the steel frame outclassed the hefty construction of the camp's strawberry van.
It even came in blue.
When I transitioned from bed to chair, I nearly crashed into the next bed if it weren't for the magical properties that brought it to a controlled stop. Awkwardly dizzy, the wheels rolled without much force, probably another enchantment among a list of things I've yet to discover.
"Percy, while I'm not stopping you, I do not agree to this." The centaur finished filing paperwork and handed it to one of the staff, rolling out of the way to let the doctors swarm me.
Some of them strapped bags to the sides and back, then slapped a few more on top of that. Others filled them up with endless amounts of medical supplies. One of them pulled several IV lines from my back and arms, applying antiseptic and fish-themed bandages.
"Take a pain killer when you need to. We needed other medication delivered to our released patients, so we're letting you do that, 'K?" one of the Apollo campers ordered, shoving a list that spilled to the floor.
"Uh…okay?" I said, inching my way to the door. They kept shouting instructions as I kept my back to them.
"Don't forget to IM me after—" I would keep listening, but the door happened to close as I left.
Oh wow…Camp's changed.
We had several smaller cabins before, but there's a city block's worth of cabins dotting the valley below. If I had a brochure of cabins and their patronage, I could tell you the first 14 from memory before giving up once I realized how many titty-bitty names they stuff on the list.
If that doesn't spell majestic, the blanket of forests glittering from the morning sun's glow peaking above the Long Island Sound horizon perfectly describes any nature scene in fiction books. Yes, it gets blinding, but you learn where you can view the picture-esques without retina damage. By the looks of progress, more demigods will enjoy the view than last year.
Home has grown, faster than I'd ever thought. Perhaps they'll get to enjoy camp after Dionysus finishes his sentence. How I'd envy them. To think saying bye for good would ever happen. College in New Rome, a job near the ocean, voting, et cetera.
I wonder what this year's bead will be. With so many events happening at the same time, I'd be surprised if everyone agreed on the design. I'm sure they'll have discussions and seminars over that.
"Don't you get to see this every morning?" Thalia asked, gazing beyond the waters.
"Do you get up in the morning to see the morning?"
"Touche. What's with the wheels?"
"I wanted to play lazy basketball."
"Chiron?"
"Chiron."
Yep. Nothing like sitting on the hill, chatting away, and having nothing to worry about. Except funeral pyres burned bodies en masse and the ever inconspicuous signs of construction didn't agree with the conspicuous serene.
Did I mention the smoke and dust? Well, I do now because the view doesn't exist anymore.
"I can get you down there if you want," Thalia offered, stealing my bags.
I'm sure this wasn't negotiable. I tried stealing my bags back, starting a short, one-sided game of keep away. "You can't take my stuff!"
"You can't walk with your stuff," she countered. To prove her and Chiron wrong, I took one small step for a demigod and one giant faceplant for demigod-kind. "Well…I stand corrected."
"Why don't you hold my legs and whack me down the hill. It worked on Nico."
The winds picked up, not the normal kind that drowns you in the after-storm ozone, but the fresh forest breeze that masks footsteps. The one with too much mint.
Poseidon's underpants I'm floating! Why am I floating?!
"I can fly?!"
"You wish Aquaboy," Thalia strained, straining her hands out Jedi-style.
It's just like those dreams where you're free-falling. That subtle breeze wrapped around the area, a limbless arm hugging the terrain. I could move about in the air, but no doubt it was moving me back to a sitting position, and with Thalia's grace, returned me to my enchanted chair.
By the end of it, Thalia swiped the sweat off her brows and took hold of the handles behind me.
"You know, I'm glad I got to you this morning."
"How so?" I said, not expecting an encounter with the wild Thalia anywhere near the Big House.
If she wanted to say something, she would've argued until Athena settled her differences with Poseidon. Thalia, meanwhile, kept her peace, keeping men from rolling down at break-neck speeds, not that she would love my neck broken.
Come to think of it, couldn't they have motorized a wheelchair instead?
"Oh, I almost forgot!" I remembered, searching my pockets with full confidence that the medical professionals didn't pinch anything in my pants. "I got this while looking for you."
I handed a black coil over my shoulder, waiting for Thalia's inspecting response to the color-coded leash.
"What's this for?" she asked, finding the loop intriguing.
"I can't be with you, mostly due to one minor rule, but this can."
"No schist Sherlock."
"You attach the clip to your choker."
"Oh, so I'm Thalia the peaceful and clueless pet?"
Oh Thalia, how thou poignant speech pains me. "No, it's a token to reel yourself in now and then."
"I think this will make a better restraint for the male neck," Thalia replied, "Who knows? Maybe I might make you my bitch."
Yippee, Thalia has entered the 'Elated Hunter' mood, then swung back to the doting and confusingly irritating mood I like to call over protectiveness.
What can she possibly know that I don't? What's next, she's gonna volunteer me for the hunt?
"Are you doing better?"
What is with everyone babying me today? The only answer anyone expects from me will be 'fine.' Hades, I don't need to sit in a wheelchair all day, the way I see it needs two chariot races and a run with the dryads and—
"Hey!" Thalia rapped, tapping her fingers as politely as she could care about my head, "Still got kelp in there?"
"It's the only thing I have." What did she expect, a brain worth her dam time?
Oh. Still no remark. That's new.
Matter of fact, usual conversations between Thalia and I end up worse or better for one or both parties. To think Thalia is keeping her mouth shut and thinking about what she's gonna say is, frankly, very disturbing.
"Thals?"
"Wuh, yeah?" she jumped, nearly testing how well I can time my jumps.
"What's on your mind? You seem out of it." Again with the silence. I contemplated letting her collect her thoughts or facing her at the risk of The Glare.
"Oh, right. Look, I'm sorry for what—"
"If this is about yesterday, you did nothing wrong."
"Percy, that was a few days ago."
"Nevermind that."
Thalia cackled, losing the calm composure to kelp-for-brains. Very few could not love my idiocy, even fewer who would crack back.
"Oh Kelpy, I'm gonna miss you when you're gone."
"I'm not going anywhere," I argued, motioning to everything waist-below. Ok fine, that was a lie. Sue me for having a life.
"Yeah, I hope so," she sighed. "Look, Lady Artemis wants me back before noon. Take care ok? I have not permitted you to die."
Gradients transitioned to crowds of workers milling about. "Kill some monsters for me?"
I expected some sort of response over the noise. I looked back to see if Thalia had some weird, unexpected expression. All I got was no one.
Perhaps Thalia was using her sneaky huntress skills to hide any trace of her presence bar looking at her, but no. At best, she was on the hill we just came from, her small form disappearing over its crest.
She never looked back. I guess the hunt is where Thalia belonged. Shame she couldn't stay for the fun.
But she heard me, she wouldn't have it any other way.
Before I became a heap of magic, metal, and Percy by a speeding log, I rolled myself out of the builder's traffic. Only then I had rolled into the thick of traffic. Not just double-decker logs, but yellow caskies, chariots with side-chariots, and open-topped testudo formations hogging up some random stretch of campground.
I hope some of the older ones knew basic road rules, so I inched into the walkways, causing a wing of centurions to run wide.
"Hey! We're marching here!" the lead screams.
"Well I'm walking here!" I retorted.
"Well get outta here!"
So goes safe and slow.
Now, I know engines can rev faster than you can turn the handle on a quarter-candy machine, or a ceiling fan faster than a can opener. What If I told you the wheels of a wheelchair spun faster than NASA's top cavitation performance of a centrifugal water prophylactic which was NOT used on Apollo missions to the moon (Thalia confirmed that with Artemis).
Don't believe me? I wouldn't either, yet here I was leaving rubber trails in the dirt. Don't ask me how I did it, I don't know myself, but it sure got me away from the highway.
I've been told that Lord of the Wild was a title given to the satyr responsible for directing the nature spirits, but acting as the camp's traffic officer is ridiculous. Grover used his high and mighty powers to wave the masses along—a different type of battle dance better suited to Grover without the hunger side effects.
"G-man!"
"Huh—Per-r-r-rcy!" Grover bleated, raising his arms as he dashed towards me, accidentally causing a minor traffic accident. No bother, they'll sort themselves out.
Speaking of sorting, it turns out I'm still bad at sorting limbs, Grover's goat appendages are nearly indistinguishable from mine or the wheelchair. Yes, I'm that much of a seaweed-brain.
"Bro…lessen the super goat or you'll crush the wheelchair."
"Oh man, I heard what happened to you yesterday! I tried to calm down, you know, going through tons and tons of cans until Juniper—"
"I get it man, but calm down!"
"—Then I started eating the scraps along the floor until I rambled with my mouth full!" Some things die hard, unlike aluminum cans. On the quiet side, Grover ran out of—
"The pieces got so small that I was breathing out powdered cans!"
"Grover!" I screamed, shaking him out of his rant. I don't fall under Hephaestus classification, but any sorta fine, unknown powder isn't good for your lungs. On that note, I also don't know what aluminum powder can do for the lungs.
It's pretty and all in the lazy sun rays, but that's beside the point.
"First of all, I love you man, but don't go around showering people with crushed cans."
Hold up, the list of surnames under 'U' included Grover's. "Did they stick you to mobile pharmacy?"
"Yep. Hold up for a sec, the list has everyone on here," I paused, waiting for the endless list to stop creating traffic bounds.
Udell…Ulysses…Underwood…Ulrick…Usilia…
Ah! Underwood. Is to take satyr-grade cough drops often. Administer orally only. Packaging is satyr friendly.
Oh, my magical bag of medicinal awesomeness, where art thou magic cough drops? I was afraid the bag would swallow my arm whole, only to find different fears when the bag went sideways instead.
"How deep is that thing?" Grover questioned, joining the rummage for his prescribed goods. A few more seconds of massive traffic pile-ups and behold the nature-themed baggie for kids.
"These are for you, and you should probably get back to work."
Grover, in a very satyr way, gobbled the bag whole. He finally realized how much damage he'd caused by not paying attention. A few exaggerated gestures later and the pile-up never happened.
Let the records state that I am not a licensed pharmacist. Finding a person's name takes too long and the medicine is sketchy at best. And that's not getting started on the signatures!
Forget it, hospitality is going to kill me one way or another.
"Percy!" Oh look, it's Piper. Little miss beauty queen ran over with stacks of papers, probably stuck as secretary for volunteer work. "I heard what happened yesterday."
Not again…
"Piper, I don't know what you heard, but it's not as bad as it sounds."
"Annabeth told me."
Oh. She didn't say too much, did she?
"She told me how great of a sword you made against a camera, and won." Piper graciously hid her mouth, changing cover from hand to innocently filled papers, though it didn't hide the rest of her face from color change.
This may take a while.
Checking the patient list, Piper did not abstain from the small chuckles threatening her dignity and my pride. Thanks to her boyfriend's status, it's easy to take her for a cute fit of rage for some unspeakable crime no one knows about.
Perhaps Piper would order me to do the kind of embarrassing thing that would boost my reputation beyond legendary for all the wrong reasons. Perhaps she might sick Thalia Jr to keep her hands clean whilst sipping the cup of revenge. Perhaps she might even stab me.
But alas, I'm stuck with a daughter of love taking it upon herself to mortally wound me.
"I—I'm sorry! I thought Annabeth was telling a joke," she giggled. I'm no psychologist, so I'm not sure who she was counseling.
Piper McLean - Nectar, Ambrosia, Acetaminophen, Ibuprofen, and Paracetamol. For her to distribute; not necessarily for her health.
"Why do you need 15 bottles of painkillers?" I asked, wondering who designed the Hercules-brand bottles.
Piper perked up at that. Concerning.
"I don't need them. They're for someone who will," Piper deadpanned, tearing the fibers of paper in her hands.
She snatched them before my hand left the bag, all 15 of them. Again, no psychologist, but I think this has to do something with Jason. Why give someone mortal medicine when simple ambrosia squares can produce better results for less, that is unless you plan for pain.
"Oh, speaking of Annabeth, how close are you two?" she quizzed, letting her inner Aphrodite get the best of no one's business.
And the way Piper's mood can change! I will never understand girls or their bipolar tendencies.
"What do you mean?"
"Like, have you…you know?"
I could imagine a bust of Percy Jackson in my place, never losing the staring competition no one started. There are a few things I could guess to what Piper was referring to, but a conclusive answer nonetheless. Piper, the love fangirl she is, scrunched two fists shaking in excitement to hear the results, of which I don't know if there's a right one.
"Piper, I seriously pray you haven't fallen like your siblings," I exasperated, wondering if escape was a possible solution.
"Oh no, goods forbid! I'm only asking on your behalf."
Time for one of my favorite lines, "What?"
"Well, everyone at camp knows that you and Annabeth are dating. What I want to know is, are you ok?" Piper soothed, her face trodden with concern.
She's never gonna let me go until I tell her.
Do I want to get someone involved? Sure I can trust Piper to watch my back, but her advice is a little sketchy at best. I'd rather not open my life story instead of the problem, but that voice is just so endearing…
What did they call it?
"No. I miss Annabeth. I want to cuddle with her regardless of what's going on. I never want her to leave my side." I spilled, wondering since when was I so possessive of my Wise Girl.
Nah, I was always this protective.
Piper's laced face smirked at the situation. "Why do you need her now?"
Her words washed over my muddled mind. It was the kind of soothe-saying that a philanthropist-posing mad man would speak to lure one into spilling their secret—
Charmspeak! No wonder I've got loose lips!
"Piper…" I growled, drinking in the fear flashing through her.
"Hey, calm down Percy. I-I was doing it for you?" Piper piped, meekly cowering away from my half-intimidating gaze.
Piper crept backward. I crept forward. She tripped on a rock and fell on her back. I rolled over the rock and crushed it.
"Piper, please stop playing matchmaker," I sighed, offering her a hand, one that anchored the daughter of Aphrodite until she could stand.
"Annabeth commissioned me."
"Owl-head bribes now?"
"I don't get paid."
The younger demigod checked her stuff, swiping off dust so thin that you'd think it was a show. Perhaps Piper has that little perfectionist somewhere in her, aiming to get all the plates lined up and every sword polished hand for an exact amount of time.
But things go awry at the end of the day. Blades roll dull, plates chip and shatter, and feelings stay in limbo.
You want razors the size of swords? Ask Cabin Nine. Need more plates for kitchen duty? I'm sure Cabin Six can spin those wheels. Romantic advice? Nah, don't even stroll anywhere near Cabin 10.
Of course, that doesn't do you much good when Cabin 10 comes strolling towards you.
"—Hopes that you won't…Hey!" Piper screeched.
Such a loud voice attracted much more than a single pair of eyes. Piper's dark skin took on a red hue, but not from sunburn. She quickly loaded up her gear, stuffing the papers in my hands, and grasped the handles to make a run for it.
"Hold on!" she warned, booking across the upturned grounds with unkempt agility.
Did I mention the magical suspension? I was sure I'd feel every rock, stone, and pebble jolting through the rigid frame. Just like mortal magic, the suspension didn't exist. On the bright side, I can safely say I am the camp's terrain detail geologist expert.
Our little flight had taken us behind the arcs of cabins, though a rectangle would better describe it. Piper, in her probable adrenaline state, drifted us behind the pinkest cabin.
"A daughter of Aphrodite that doesn't want to be looked at? What would your mother say?" I chided, mentally fuming and laughing over her petulant actions. I'd have to wait until night to pay
"Quiet! I could say the same about you?" Piper pouted, stealing her items back.
"Fair."
"Were you listening to me earlier?"
"Nope."
"Look, Annabeth told me to tell you that she hopes you won't mind her staying on Olympus for a few more hours," Piper stated, staring in an attempt to hypnotize me with those dizzying kaleidoscope-colored irises.
"I've missed her for months on end, I can miss her for a few more," I shot back. Piper smiled at that, moving into my personal space.
Two surprisingly strong arms wrapped around my torso, the strength behind them lifting me off the chair and straightening my back.
"I knew you two would make such a cute couple," she squealed, releasing me from my prison of nature-themed perfume.
I swear the light blush persistently remained, though I what form is a mystery one can only fathom answers to.
"I almost forgot! Annabeth said she's going to smite you later for not taking immortality," Piper add—wait what?!
When Frank told me the First and Second Legions built a castle in a day, that impressed me. If you told me the Legion with nature assistance repaired a battlefield in a few hours, I might've been impressed.
Lo and behold, maybe I was impressed.
"Heroes!" Chiron announced, banging his hoof over the clamor, "Thanks to our new allies and family, nearly everything was the way it was before!"
A cheer erupted throughout the pavilion. The powerful clamor threatened to permanently change the stability of the land, if not the hundreds of portable tables brought out. It's easy to tell who was who apart from the orange and purple. The Romans managed a cohesive marching chant. The Greeks screamed their lungs dry, took a swig, then kept screaming.
Chiron stomped again. "I know this past week was nothing but recuperating toil. Today, I thank you all for your work and dedication to all of us. To the gods!"
"TO THE GODS!"
Loud 'n' Stumpy took over the celebratory announcements. "Let the festivities…begin!"
There's a party?
Today's menu was applewood-smoked brisket served with heaping sides of cheesy mac and heat-waved vegetables. Of course, I just had to have my blue cherry coke. And for those of you who are wondering, it's not purple.
Then a line started.
The Greeks were the first to scramble from their chairs, civilly dropping their choice portions into the burning brazier. The Romans marched up as the last Greeks left their chairs, forming a Romanly straight column. Much to the gods' disappointment, each legionnaire spun their plate and let off whatever corner they landed on.
"Percy!" Hazel chirped, running behind my preferred field of vision and shoving my plate of sweet, sweet barbeque in my lap.
"Hazel! What brings you to the lonely table 3?" I responded, releasing the brakes to let the daughter of Pluto kidnap me to who-knows-where.
She brought me around the diminishing line, forming up with her militaristic training. "I thought you could use a pair of legs."
Well, sweeeeeet Hera! Finally, someone who—
"Annabeth sure worries about you. I wasn't sure if she'd vaporize us from glaring." How many people did she tell? And since when did she get emotional to this degree?!
"That…yeah, that sounds like her," I sighed, waiting for the baby treatment to end. Where are the rude demigods I know? Can't they just punch me, say a snide comment, and leave?
"Hey Prissy," Clarisse spat, punching my shoulder. I'd be worried about falling back, but Hazel's Centurion Stance helped and harmed me. I didn't fall over, but the blow wasn't cushioned. "Let me know when you need another ass-whoop'n."
"Love you too," I called, rubbing the sore and possibly fractured joint.
A hand popped into my vision, offering a piece of ambrosia, and by offered, I mean shoved into my mouth. A little barbaric, but effective at choking me. Sidenote: ambrosia does not relieve the airways of obstructions.
"Better?" Hazel asked, slamming a fist on my backside. The impact cleared the congestion in the wrong way, shooting the cardboard-tasting crap down the hatch. Suffice to say, my shoulder feels better.
"S'pose so."
The little miss wielded the cart like it was Black Friday. If there's one thing Romans don't know it's comfort. Stomp this, bash that, perfect formation here and there, and let's have a meeting every day!
Ah right, I have a job.
Hazel Levesque - Lemon flavored candy to be taken at her leisure. Don't ask, we're testing placebos.
Sweet.
I wanted to eat barbeque. All these years of flattering the Olympians and volunteering for free meals as long as we stay alive to do their next bidding. Just this once, I'm going to indulge myself.
Instead of offering the choice portion, I gave them a little bit of everything. For my favorite Olympian, I handed a strawberry to the fire tender.
"Percy, you just wasted a strawberry."
"I know."
Swinging on back to Poseidon's, Hazel snatched for own plate from the Hades table, dragging her brother in tow. The demigods from down-under took to my flanks, a few others noticing this outrageous defiance of the rules.
And it wasn't just them that took action.
Mr. Head-of-the-nature department strolled up with Juniper stuck to his arm. Ms. Corpse-worm-breath managed to headlock two sandy blonds and drag them by the hair. The current head of the camp's medical efforts lugged what I can only guess is more medical supplies.
Commando Lou Ellen snuck her way over, shimmering in and out of sight then tactically rolling into an open Cabin Three seat. The tallest Chinese-Canadian baby-man lumbered over, nearly squashing some younger campers. The sober son of Dionysus, Cabin Nine's Mason, steady second-in-command Malcolm.
This was different from the Argo II. This was different from all those years of camp.
"I…aren't you guys breaking the rules?"
"Shut it Prissy before I break something else of yours," Clarisse spat, burying her face in her food. Literally.
"Juniper told me to do this!" Grover bawled, munching on a metal taco supreme.
"She dragged us here!" the Stoll brothers complained, their shoulders creaking under the weight of Clarisse's hands.
"I'm here for Hazel," Frank stated, hugging his girlfriend.
"I'm here for Nico," Will stat—hold up.
If Will knew what he was saying, his face didn't show it, his body did. He sat next to Nico, rubbing fingers over the ghost king's shaking hands. Nico finally learned to blush Thalia-hard, stuffing fork-fulls of food into Will's mouth.
To say I was shocked isn't true. It doesn't apply because this cousin will not shock you, kick you, shock you again, then toss you out of bed across the Long Island Sound.
No, I was spooked.
Talk about reversal, I was the pale one and Nico was the live one.
"Y-you know what? You guy's gotta tell me about how…this became a thing later," I muttered, about to have a taste of freedom when the fork disappeared from my plate. "Hey!"
Lou Ellen had the missing fork in her hand, savoring that sweet, sweet freedom. "Pollux! Help me run her over!"
I kicked myself into reverse and the paragon camper punched the gas, running circles around the table in hot pursuit of the barbeque thief. The chase was too close for us to apprehend the subject but too annoying with her ability to magically pop away before magically becoming a pancake.
Eventually, Pollux couldn't handle the long work shifts, letting me spin uncontrolled into the plate of freedom, but it was freedom at last!
The texture, the savoy marinade, the rub, the stares everyone is giving me. Oh, wait, not that last one.
The looks shot my way varied. It didn't matter because by the end of it we were all laughing it out.
Other than my cop impression, lunch passed by like any other day's routine. The next task on hand was dictated by the cabin counselor.
Delivering medical items, dam it.
Would you expect me to have serious writing skills? I know I wouldn't. Yet here I was experimenting with Riptide's other form: the humble disposable ball-point pen.
Did you know Riptide can change forms? Sure, I'm stupid after some historical insight years ago on a train, but what I'm talking about is the type of pen.
The humble economy guise is completely stripped away to an elegant instrument of fine writing all while keeping the same function of a perfectly balanced monster killer, as all weapons should be. Too gilded? The girthy grain of a wood body should drive home that craftsman feel.
It wasn't just the looks, but the feel of ink gliding across the paper was comparable to the custom blue wheelchair's enchantments. Shame the pen has more spring than the chair.
Whatever magical ink this pen runs on is truly phenomenal. No runs, feathering, bleeding, texture—it appears on the surface and it's there to stay. If only it could work without reliance on gravity…
Regardless, I've spent countless seconds scribbling and doodling on paper, balling it up, and targeting any poor passerby who dares challenge the no-walk-zone of my windows. In case they take refuge at the door, I've got an ammunition dump of decorated balls to form a wall of paper.
In case they didn't the memo, the sheer weight of letters written by yours truly will make a ponderous statement. And the stamp bills they have to pay.
"Per—"
"Target acquired!" I shrilled, locking and loading my best pitch.
The target ducked out of the way as a speeding ball shaved a little of the top, popping up to recycle another employing his teeth as shredders.
"What I ever do to you?" the tame Grace cried from behind the door.
I didn't close my door all the way, just enough to appear locked. Whoever was outside was probably concerned at all the shuffling I was doing inside.
"Perce, I'm coming in!" Jason hollered, busting the door open like any civilized demigod.
"EAT PAPER!"
Jason reacted with diplomacy, diving towards cover. He attempted to fight back with something other than his gold coin, flipping it too high as a cannonade of projectiles carried it out the window.
"Dude, I surrender!" he surrendered with projectile-catching hands. "How tight did you crumple those things?"
"Really? You're not gonna ask how I have his much paper?" I pointed, trudging through the sea of paper. If only it was that easy for me years ago.
"Nah, I know better than—"
"—To question your elders?"
Jason gaged when I pulled the Chiron voice, "I was going to say ask too many questions, but everyone knows younger fighters are better."
Thank Bufford the Story-telling Table, "I see, what would Lityerses say?"
"Damn grandpa, you don't have to rub it in…"
Sweet and naive Jason, there are things only I and Thalia can do to you. "So what're you here for? I assume it's not target practice."
"First off, I see names written all over these sheets. I assume letters?"
Darn, the little Grace unveiled my dastardly plans!
He's got a point, I've got letters written out to nearly everyone I know. The big mess was all the failed attempts at writing professionally. Problematically, the longer pieces required meticulous grammar and at least three different types of editing.
The level of intellect increases drastically for one letter in particular: the one addressed to Annabeth. She'd expect less of me but I want her to know I'm capable of forming proper, coherent words without a dictionary.
"Yep. I found out my sword can change into any pen I want, soI decided to see how comfortable my hand can get."
"This…this is in Greek. It looks beautiful, but I can't read it."
"Don't worry, they're not addressed to you."
Imagine Jason ragdolling where he stood looking at the wrinkled paper. That's what I think he'd do if he had the flexibility of his sister.
"Ouch. A-anyway, how did you and Annabeth become a thing?" he swallowed, brawling with his pride as he asked that
"Well, my young Legionnaire, we have quite the history to go through."
I started with my warning about demigods realizing who they are. I went through five major events that I could recall that forged our relationship. Our first court case, his sister's life-hanging sheep vacation, my girlfriend's strenuous workout challenge, our first kiss, and grumpy gramps—my life story all under an hour and a half.
That was just the nutshell version. Jason wanted details. "That about sums it up. I'm guessing this first question spawns from Piper."
Aww! The little Grace is learning to follow the big Grace's example!
"W-what makes you think tha-at?" he sputtered, doing what he could to hide the manly blush.
"You know, Piper got to me first," I winked, drinking in his reaction, "Look, as long as you don't keep anything from her, she'll be finding herself unable to think of going places without seeing you at least once a day."
"I don't see Annabeth doing that."
"Is Piper a goddess? Didn't think so."
"But how did you guys get to this level of trust? How do you know that—"
I tackled him into the sea of paper, slamming his head on the ground with my arm on his windpipe. "There are some things we don't talk about. I don't mind you asking for advice, but know that Annabeth is my responsibility."
I tossed him to the other side of the cabin, patting away the fibrous dust spreading throughout my cabin from our minor inconvenience. "Trust me, nothing screams I've got your back like a life-or-death situation. Anything else you wanted to ask me?" I finished cheerfully.
"Bro, did you have to treat me like a child?" Jason groaned, rising from the deathbed of balls after slamming into the wall. "Thanks. I guess?"
He escorted himself out of my cabin, swiping a few sheets of paper along the way.
"Finally, he's out," I sighed, collapsing on a clean bed.
The muscle cramps were back. Amping myself for that fight was completely necessary. Sure my hand was burning from the sheer number of pages I wrote, but now the rest of my body gets to experience the burn of rapid motion.
It's only been a day since the accident and I'm already spent. The heat was naturally unbearable despite the cooling, breezy weather. And yes, the numbness was included.
With the evening taking its leave, I figured it was time for my prescribed medication…and Jason's back.
"I almost forgot, did you have something for me?"
Let's see, Jason Grace - low electrolytes. Administer tablets with each meal with a strict Gatorade hydration regime.
Hand in, a plastic orange bottle and red liquid in a plastic bottle out. Jason caught the 'medicinal grade' products, though I suppose aggressively targeting him may've not done him favors.
"Do you need anything else?"
"No. You need assistance rolling to the mess hall?"
"If I can toss you across my cabin, then I can run you over with a wheelchair."
"Please, I throw a frisbee faster than that."
"We'll see Grace, we'll see," I teased, seeing him out.
Finally, peace and pain. With all the prescriptions I've handed out, you're probably wondering what's my prescription. From the excessively elaborate description, I've narrowed down the culprit to water and nectar. I'm not sure which one though.
I've tried water, I've tried nectar, and I've tried a combination of the two. To say the results are promising isn't very promising. Evry gulp down the hatch leads to a second longer in throwing up down the toilet. After realizing my mistake, my throat was raw from gallons of stomach acid and blood.
Nothing a full meal can't fix. Of course, it's not complete without dessert in the form of blue chocolate cookies. If you ask me, I think ambrosia works because you have a favorite food you can't live without. If ambrosia doesn't work, then there's something wrong with you.
Speaking of cookies, I smell cookies. Or is it something else burning? And where did all the paper go? Why is there a goddess smiling—
"Milady!" I jumped, clawing my way up.
It was our local fire tender. I mechanically did my best to knee before her despite her protests. My embarrassment for the ones I respect—a fair trade if it makes sense in my mind.
"Enjoy your night, oh hero," Hestia soothed, flashing out afterward. On that bright thought, I now know where all the trash went.
"And you want these on timed delivery?" the dusty all-weather traveler asked, jotting down any last notes he missed.
More importantly, the special circumstances of this mail-order had some unwanted costs, unavoidable of course. However, thanks to my extensive relations, I managed to cut a deal of only five envelopes a coin for insured first-class delays. Yes, it could've been cheaper if I went with standard rates, but I want everything done to the letter just this once.
"Yes, everything should be set bar the payment," I stated, running over the receipt again for any monetary inconsistencies like mail registration. "Hermes, what's registration?"
"The recipient has to sign for the mail to confirm the delivery or attempted delivery; extra service, extra charge," the divine mailman explained, summoning a twin-ink stamp. Each erratically placed postage stamp received a mark of two entwined snakes about a stick—the cancelation caduceus of postage.
"I think this should cover it," I smiled, passing a pouch of golden goodies into his possession.
"You want change for that?" he raised, counting his payment.
"Nah, we'd be here all night." Ok fine, I'm either too lazy to count how much was owed or my ADHD couldn't stand waiting for him to count how much was owed. It's not my fault Hereme's guise is the UPS who exclusively details in English within domestic borders.
"If you say so," if let off, waving each bundle of paper one at a time to whatever mail system he uses. "Thank you for choosing Hermes Express, we hope your experience was great."
In the tell-tale sign of gods preparing to flash out, the room grew exceedingly bright. I don't know about the next demigod over but I have had enough blindness for the time being, so I just turned around and wheeled off to bed.
Once it was safe, I tossed myself to the bed, instantly regretting the decision from the rare phenomenon so rare it's seldom. I'm willing to make a bet you won't guess what it is. Oh, you already know? Well too bad, I never wagered anything.
Yep, just me and I resting. Someone might notice my absence from dinner, but that's a small oversight to the masses of campers and legionnaires.
Admittedly, I could be doing more.
Sure, handwritten letters to a degree of perfection might do the trick for when I can't reach them, but it's not…courteous. I could spend time tracking down each recipient to chat with them, but that doesn't cut doing something for them.
Sure, they told me their aspirations if they survived. Now they've survived, what am I to do? Do I help them with their dreams or let them relish the accomplishment that may never happen? The question is 'what can I do,' not what are you doing.
This is giving me a headache thinking about this. Forget thinking, I have to do something! Call Savior of Olympus and what do you get, someone completely inept at their title, someone you could kill and get away with it. Maybe not that last bit, I know too many people who might get pissed at my murder.
This…uselessness is infuriating! I can't accept this! I should've stayed up when I could walk to dinner, table jumping throughout then rousing about the campfire and relish what I've fought to hold dear.
What a dream, what a flaw, what a curse! My body doesn't respond anymore, breathing is sketchy at best, and I'm positive my heart has irrevocable damage. The only thing that works is my great mind.
"So oh great and mighty mind, can you think of a way to fix this?" I'm talking to myself, aren't I?
Why can't someone think for me? Annabeth would know what to do, she always does. Plan or no plan, there's always something to do with that intellect of hers.
Remodeling Olympus…only Annabeth, no one else. A few opinions here and there but who's better at this job?
Oh, what about college? Stupid, she's a goddess. Everything taught is reclaimed at her will, not to mention witnesses involved with the history of her side dream. Annabeth's set for immortality.
"Seaweed Brain, kelp is used in productive diets."
"A-Annabeth?"
Glowing princess curls blossomed from the drab interior. Her Californian tan showered the room with its lively glow. Annabeth's hand rose to my face, cupping it in the only way we knew.
It was chaste and comforting. It wasn't a sign of how close we were, it's how we trusted each other. No other kiss I've shared with Annabeth could ever top this one regardless of my input.
"Wipe that stupid grin off your face," she whispered. "You don't look so glorified, hmm?" What can I say? The girl of my reality came when I needed the most with extra sides to that order. If only I could invest more without surprise fees and cancellations.
Annabeth left my fixed vision, solving that problem by propping me up against the wall. It wasn't much, but it was satisfactory for her to gently force water down my mouth. The cup went away and back to bed I laid.
That cup was a major relief, refreshing the old and sore self down to the bones. It was only a cup, but it'll last the night.
"I missed you, you know?" I wheezed, watching her illuminated face for clues.
It was, beautiful. Some people can describe laughter from their loved ones as a chorus to ears, a symphony to others. No, it's simply Annabeth's laugh, something I can distinguish over the deafening sounds of war.
"Really? Did I mention you were missed for months?" Annabeth countered, running her fingers in vain through the black mop of whatever sat on my head.
"Touche." Annabeth took it back to staring and theorizing what happened to Percy Jackson. "Hey, have you been telling people about what happened to me?"
That brought her out of the calculating trance, "I want to know who's spreading those rumors. I've narrowed it down to someone in Cabin Seven."
That's one mystery I'll never know the ending to.
"I'm sure you deal with them."
"I might kill them."
"Fair."
"Hmm…no, that's generous from me," she finalized, brushing her perfect hair out of her face. I would've seen the lock of grey hair by now.
"Come here, I've got something for you," I said building up the last reserves of energy. A random choice, yes, but there's one thing about the children of Athena you can work around: their curiosity.
I could see the gears whirring in her mind to predict the outcome. Before she could get comfortable, I sprung the trap.
Annabeth stiffened in response to lurching forward. It was too fast for her, to stop, observe, plan, and act in retaliation. Then I played the ace.
I kissed her, not the super long ones filled with emotion or passion, the acceptable ones. It was a simple kiss, mirroring the first time in that little bubble. It wasn't long before I collapsed from exhaustion.
No matter. Annabeth was stunned I could still do wonders upon her, or she was completely stunned. I still got my charms!
"I—you—always surprising me," she conked in. "I'll let you know when we can go to New Rome. You wanted to show me the city, no?"
Yes, New Rome…a place where we can finally start our lives.
"It's late out. Mother is expecting me back." My girlfriend left my side, on her way out of lonely Cabin Three. "Good night, Percy."
A golden flash snuck through the covered windows. Annabeth hadn't noticed my face streaking with tears.
"I'm sorry, Annabeth…thank you…"
Fin