Well, a lot of computer problems and slowness and procrastination led to another slow chapter. Argh, sorry. Also, I'm not promising anything quality or long.
Enjoy!
"Annabeth! Yes, you're here!" The minute Annabeth stepped through the hall, gold-rimmed doorway, a brown blur flew off the embroidered couch and rushed over to her, colliding into her with a cloud of faint foreign perfume and flailing, hug-ready arms.
As soon as they locked around her, her instincts let go and she sank into the familiar embrace, her chin resting against Piper's perfectly smooth forehead and her arms folding easily around Piper's small figure.
And then, just as quickly, she recoiled. Piper's figure felt different. As she pulled back, she gasped and heat rose to her cheeks. Her friend was scantily-to copy what the Imaginary Madame Lark was saying-dressed in only her chemise. No corset, only pale linen underclothes the same color as her shift. To match, her hair was sloppily thrown up on her head, the silky chocolate-colored strands somehow held together by a few pins and mostly cascading down her neck. She didn't escape without some paint (this was the Aphrodite mansion; all the servant girls adored makeup) but her cheeks were a baby bottom flower's pink, not rose red and she only had beeswax to shine her lips.
Piper smirked at her expression. "I look like I just got out of bed, don't I?" She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, and Annabeth realized she was a little self-conscious. That was a shock, she thought Piper was the most confident person in London.
"Yes, you do. But still perfectly fine. How'd you get away with this getup?"
Piper smiled, looking normal again. How does my my opinion matter to her so much? Annabeth wondered. "Well, no one's really awake right now, and the rest of my siblings are out this week."
"Oh. So, this beautiful mansion is yours, then?" She gestured to the gold-lacquered chairs and gilt fireplace and the huge rose-tinted glass windows. Piper frowned. "Essentially." She beamed up at Annabeth. "Well, I will need someone to keep me company."
"What about that nice maid you introduced me to before? I think she was called Sue?" They gravitated towards their seats, and Annabeth had to swallow a happy sigh at the velvet-draped cushions.
"Sue is younger than me, so I can't tell her all the gossip that's happening now." She smirked. "Besides, she has a beau."
"Really?' Annabeth leaned in. Lower-class courting systems were always interesting to her. They were clandestine and usually operated under moonlight, but they had so much more freedom on who to pick. Then her mind started tabulating the ratio of parlor gentlemen and servant boys to ladies. She got a chart for an answer. Alas, their family didn't have to do the politics, reputation, money, land, and children dance with one another. They just simply waited until their eye caught on someone, and then they had a ceremony performed. Rather pleasant, indeed.
"Annabeth?" Piper asked impatiently.
"What?" She blinked. "Sorry, I did not hear you."
"More like you were not listening. What were you thinking about?" She tilted her head, her floppy hairdo sliding to the right dangerously.
"Um, nothing." It was her usual answer for whenever the workings of her mind distracted her. Honestly, no one wanted to listen about that.
"Okay, then," Piper said after carefully studying her with pinkish eyes. Annabeth felt a surge of gratitude for a friend that knew her so well. "What do I need to repeat."
"Um…who Sue's beau is."
Piper sighed and folded her hands under her chin, but she was obviously excited to share. "You will not believe this, but it's a cook's son that works with gardening."
Annabeth blinked, mostly at the shock of a seamstress getting such a choice, not at her beau's lifestyle. "Wow. Continue."
Another grin. "Yes. He knows all the right things to put in food, and the basics, but that's it. However, he apparently knows every garden plant in England."
Sounds like a son of Demeter, Annabeth thought playfully.
"But here's the good part. So, he's not one of ours'. Otherwise one of my sisters would've been eyeing him from Sue's description of him. But once he was invited to our summer palace because ones of our chefs had to spend extra long in France, getting essential oils" she rolled her eyes at this point, "and all kinds of beauty-foods and then figuring out how to pack it on a ship without it sinking. He didn't do too much cooking, since our own chefs are seriously fancy" another eye roll, "and no one eats anything around here. But he helped out with our gardener, and he actually convinced Aphrodite to add some new flowers other than roses and anemones and Adonis flowers. Which is a huge improvement, since those are her greatest loves. And then one day, after mostly small talk and such, Sue collided into him." Her eyes were deep blue, and gleaming. "He was holding an armful of irises, and their petals scattered all over a skirt she was sewing together. She was about to berate him, but it looked beautiful." Her voice grew soft and hushed, and Annabeth's mind subconsciously started painting it out. Sue, with her golden-brown braids flying, a stack of linens in her able arms, blue eyes wide. Her beau, a stocky and tanned boy with ruffled dark hair (her imagination worried her sometimes with its simultaneous creativity), holding a bouquet, proud little irises a vision against his sun-kissed, angular face, looking shocked and braced against this girl. And little petals dancing through the air, coming to a soft stop on the snowy skirt like weary travelers coming home. The purple pieces landed together into a pattern, a figure, something Annabeth was hungrily intrigued with. She zeroed in, her imagination clearing up, and was just about to identify what it was when Piper poked her shoulder. The image flew away like smoke.
"What?" She sputtered, just a little annoyed.
Piper looked crosser. "Stop spacing out on me, Annie! I know that your huge mind only has room for one, but stay with me here!"
"Okay, okay, sorry."
"Want to share what happened then?"
She drummed her fingers on her lap. "Err, I wasn't really—" Piper looked especially impatient now. "What is Sue's beau's name?"
"Markham."
"Right, I was just, um, imagining Sue and Markham."
Piper's perfectly plucked eyebrow went up. "Oh, really? Are you a Jane Austen in the works?"
She sputtered. "No, I don't have too much writing experience. Anyway, come on, is that it?"
"No, no, of course not!" Her hands started gesturing again. "So, they both looked up at each other at the same time, and Sue told me, 'I actually noticed how handsome he is for the firstly time.'" Piper wiggled her eyebrows. That sentiment sounded horribly sweet in Sue's crooked grammar. "And then Markham asked her to meet him on the beach after dinner. They started courting, and you can guess the rest."
Annabeth couldn't fight her smile. "No drama, really?" She asked it hopefully, because it was a rather perfect story.
"Markham never worked inside and my sisters normally ignore their maids, except for their ladies in waiting." They both settled back against the pillows, relishing this tale of light, innocent young love.
"When are they getting married?" She knew her chances of getting invited to this were close to none. In all of her knowledge about serving life- à la Jane Eyre and guessing, servant weddings were rowdy and full of skirt-lifting dances and crashing together wooden mugs. Something she would probably enjoy, or at least she hoped she would, but exclusive to workers only. Standing around in a fine-weave gown and with perfect posture would be a total aberration to the celebration. Still, she wanted to know.
Piper thought for a bit. "Um, that's not entirely decided. There's a scheme going around about getting enough for Markham to buy a plain band for Sue, but they still want to get to know each other. The second-youngest daughter of the cook, she has the brightest green eyes, will be the flower girl."
Annabeth tried not to sigh. This story was just getting prettier and prettier. If only normal society gossip was this nice. Then, of course, old crones and young ladies alike who follow every single possible affair and scandal would lose their only pastime.
Piper leaned over, lightly resting her side against Annabeth's. She smiled over at her and said, "Isn't it just so wonderful? I keep too much tabs on their relationship, but I really hope it'll be successful." She shifted before saying, "So, what about yours'? Annica and Julia?" Her voice was interrupted slightly on "Annica," by a soft crunch. She immediately sat up. "What was that?"
Annabeth raised an eyebrow. "What?"
"I hear something crumple. Or fold. Do you have something on you?"
Annabeth patted herself. "I don't think so." She rummaged around in her bag and the couch, hearing soft repeats of that crunch. Finally, she realized it was coming from her arm. She ran a hand down the sleeve until she felt something shrink under the pressure. With a flourish, she tugged out a piece of paper from under her sleeve.
Even through the wrinkles, she could immediately make out what the paper was. Flushing, she darted it out of Piper's grasp and stuffed it unforgivingly into her receptacle.
"What is it?" Piper gasped excitedly.
"Nothing," she muttered. "Really, nothing. Just, uh, random notecards."
Piper glared at her. "What? That's the least likely thing I've heard yet." She stopped, looked at Annabeth pleadingly. "Come on. I've been to Paris for a week and now you're keeping all these things from me."
Annabeth bit her lip, trying to not succumb to her friend's guilt trap. "I swear, it's nothing. Just something random that I accidentally stuck up my sleeve." But of course, guilt was building up inside of her. Why is it my first instinct to keep things away from her?She wondered.
Piper sighed, looking down. "No, I see. You're allowed to have your own personal life. I don't want to intrude on that."
Annabeth looked her over and realized that her friend was being genuine. Her shoulders were sagging, her hairstyle looked bleak instead of rebellious, and her lips were trembling slightly. "Piper, what's wrong?" She set down her teacup and moved over, wrapping an arm tightly around her small frame. "Piper?"
She didn't respond, only continued to stare at the hem of her plain gown.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to keep things from you—I'm being irrationally defensive; I don't know why. Honestly, I haven't really felt like my old self anymore now, and I just didn't want to share all that with you. And that paper… it doesn't matter. Not to you, not to us."
Piper shifted slightly. Her voice was heavy and unreadable. "Of course it does."
"No, I-it doesn't! Look, I'll give it to you if you want but…" she stopped, swallowed. "Is that really it?"
Piper looked at her from the corner of her eyes. Her eyes were a dark, almost-black blue. "What?" Her voice grew quickly from soft to loud.
She looked away. She was getting nervous. "I don't know. I'm really not trying to hide anything from you, but you don't seem like..."
"No, not that." Piper looked her dead in the eye and took a deep breath. "Why are you asking these-no, why are we actually talking about this? The Annabeth I know, that I thought I knew, never talked about emotions."
Shock burned her. Suddenly she had a memory of an afternoon she wanted to forget and remember forever at the same time. She was wearing a peach-colored dress. The sun and shade slanted across his face in stripes. The grass around them was a pale, dying green, but so vivid, too. And he'd raised his hand, long fingers tan against the light sky, almost like it was about to come down with a force, but instead it hovered right above her hair before dropping down. And then he started whispering questions to her.
The reminiscing took almost no time, but long enough for her expression to almost match Piper's. "I don't know. I just am…doing that." She didn't like his questions, and she liked his voice, quite a lot. She didn't like how they were cautious, but determined. She didn't like how they penetrated her and peeled her apart and made her feel vulnerable. She didn't like how she barely knew him but then she did. He didn't ask more than, maybe, three, but it was enough to change her and look at herself differently. So she looked back up at Piper and said, "Somehow I changed a little bit like that. I believe, with some conviction, that I needed to ask you that. But as of now, it doesn't matter what this or that is. Are you alright, Piper?" She leaned in, took her hand.
Piper sighed, looking exasperated and happy at the same time. "Annabeth," she breathed, her eyes sliding shut. "Finally. As a daughter of Aphrodite, I hated to see you like who you were before, not feeling anything, just a slab of sculptured rock. I knew you felt so much, but you didn't dare to show it. I don't know how you're doing it, or why, but I'm grateful." She opened her eyes, and in the light of the dawn, they were ringed in violet every other shade and closed up with pale red. Annabeth caught her breath. "I think I'm alright. I don't know."
And then she sagged back into the couch, her usually perfectly upright back bending slightly, like a single tulip stem growing weak after a long life. "I can't believe I'm confiding in you with all this. Finally. Paris was great. I loved it as much as usual. But then, my mother and her friends ambushed me about marriage. They told me all about Jason, put all these limits and rules on our relationships, and laid out step by step what our future life was supposed to be like. And they applied as much pressure as a few ladies possibly could. They dug up all the important characters in Jason's family line, all the things they did and all Jason was expected to do. I was feeling sympathy for him by then, and then they started naming his accomplishments and putting them next to my name, which looked horribly pitiful and small. They suggested terrible things to improve my title, to make us seem like the fairytale dream wife and husband. And then I broke down." She leaned her head back against a pillow. "I trashed my room. I threw a gown into the Seine. I ran away into the country and spent a whole night in this rundown inn. Everyone just gave up on me when I came back." She sighed heavily.
Annabeth squeezed her hand and was surprised at the comfort it gave her. "That's terrible. And I know for a fact that those ladies thought it was their 'duty.'"
"Yes, they did. And now I've come back to London and things are different." She glanced over at Annabeth.
She didn't say anything back, only sat there quietly. "Sorry, Piper," she said eventually.
And then they both sat in silence, watching the last few wisps of steam float up from their teacups as they cooled.
After another quiet moment, Piper touched her arm. "What was your week like?"
"I talked to Calypso. She's blending in well, not too much. I'm getting more lessons, now I know all about running a household." She kept her voice free of bitterness and started out the window. "Oh, and I visited the new opera in town." She couldn't think of anything else other than two men, and that was a little bit worrying.
"What else?" Piper's tone was lazy, knowing.
She turned on her side, waited. Suddenly, she blurted, "I don't think I'm getting engaged."
Piper sat up, stared at her. "Why not?"
"Luke is…" she stopped, frustrated already. "I don't know. I can't really. We're just, um, we don't really, I feel like, I don't know how to say this!"
"Like you don't know him at all?" Piper asked.
"I guess. Not exactly. Like we're getting…separated." She whispered the last word, like it was a secret.
Piper looked at her inscrutably. "That's difficult," she said eventually. "I can't tell you what to do."
"Yes, you can," she tried to argue.
"Maybe, but I won't. Why? When did this start?"
She grabbed the edge of her couch. Was it that day, playing croquet? Or walking along the Thames? No, maybe it was the meeting where she hurt her leg? She shook her head. "I don't know."
"So, you think there might be no engagement all at in the future?" Piper cocked her head, trying to figure her out.
"I don't know." And then she was almost shaking with the effort of holding in two words on her tongue. Four syllables. Twelve letters. One space in the middle.
"I think you do," she said softly. "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to."
And then she was inhaling, trying to work up her courage. She tensed and said, "No, I do. This is important to me." Inside her mind, she was soaring across a chasm, still a little bit bended from her crouch that sent her flying. "I think I got a friend during the last two weeks."
Piper raised an eyebrow. "Oh, really? Who? Is this the reason you're…?"
She didn't answer the last part. "It's not—he might not even be my companion." She had no idea how Perseus actually thought of her. She knew what she wished he did, but that didn't mean anything.
Her friend leaned in, sensing that something was happening. A smile tugged at her lips. "Well, that's alright. Who is he?"
She leaned back and turned away slightly, not wanting to see Piper's face when she heard. "Um… Perc-Perseus Jackson."
Piper took in a little intake of breath, shocked and giddy at the same time. "Really? Him? How?"
"I said, I don't know if he's even really my friend."
"Doesn't matter. You're not cursing his name anymore." Then she deftly reached across her for her purse and easily pulled her paper out. Her eyes first found the corner. When she read his name out loud, her eyes were sparkling and she was grinning hugely. Then she studied the picture, and when her light blue eyes found Annabeth's, they were appraising. "Wow. You changed a lot, Beth."
She blushed slightly. "I know. It's not that big of a deal though."
"Not that big of a deal?" Piper exclaimed. "This," she carefully waved the paper, "says the exact opposite. So, tell me, how did this happen?"
Annabeth pursed her lips. The day he apologized to her was one of her most precious memories. She didn't know if she wanted to pass it over. But this was Piper. She desperately wanted to know, and she was the only one who could help her. Besides, she was really somber earlier. So, words spilled out of her mouth. "Low hat", "old William", "hiding behind couches", "laughing hard", "bright eyes", "loud and messy circus", "tiny slice of pie", "careful gloved hands", "Flying Blackjack", and more.
Piper was grinning more and more. She was clutching her skirt in excitement when Annabeth finished, admitting that she liked him in a tiny whisper. When she finished, Piper flew forward and wrapped her in a hug. "I know this was confusing and strange," she said in her ear, "but wasn't it wonderful?"
"Maybe," she said back.
They both started laughing.
When she left for home, she was all smiles, full of pieces of advice Piper had to give, and full of tea and happiness. I'm so glad she's back, she thought, smiling at Piper through her carriage window. She waved one bare hand, and then horses started pulling her away.
-line break-
Annabeth was pouring through a thick book when someone knocked on her door. She opened it to see a cherub-y messenger boy. "Poseidon's estate," he whispered before darting out.
Heart jumping, she took the envelop over to her candle and cracked open the wax. There was a short message inside, messy as usual.
"Are you free tonight? I know you are. Then meet me at 7, in the back of my home. Wear lots of layers and boots. Bring a blanket and an oil lantern. I have something to tell you, and I cannot wait. Percy Jackson."
Okay that's it! Bye! I know, worst cliffhanger ever, I try to not write these but it's late and I don't know what else to do.
Um, I loved all your reviews. They were the nicest thing ever. But I can't reply to them now since it's late and I WILL take forever writing that. So, sorry, just wait for the next chapter. Also, I SWEAR that I will post that within next week, Saturday's the minimum. I don't swear stuff easily, so yeah, hopefully you guys won't have to hold your breaths.
Au revoir,
Pride-and-loyalty.