Disclaimer: I don't own Class of the Titans. I'll throw a few coins in a wishing well next time I see one.

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Ekstasis

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Atlanta swayed on her feet, the contents of her cute carved cup sloshing dangerously close to the rim. She imagined someone had put quite a bit of effort into hollowing out the hunk of wood but she couldn't quite bring herself to appreciate that. What got her was just how quaint drinking out of something that wasn't glass or plastic was. Atlanta took a long sip as her beverage threatened to spill again. No sense wasting it, after all.

She smiled a bit too widely at the celebration going on around her. These people sure like to party, she mused.

They'd been doing so ever since she wandered into their small settlement and someone shoved the cup into her hand. Atlanta had sniffed it suspiciously and finally taken a taste. It was sour, but pleasant, so she swallowed a larger mouthful. She wasn't sure what cup she was on now, but it hardly seemed to matter. Someone always refilled it when it was empty and that was the important thing.

"Hey, Atlanta." The hunter turned unsteadily on her feet toward the voice calling her name. She waved toward another girl who made her own wobbly way through the crowd. The girl bent close, her perfumed breath smelling strongly of her drink. "I just heard they found another one." There was a giggle that turned into a loud hiccup. "The party's really going to get started now."

Atlanta was nodding but her attention had wandered. "You said something about guys. Or maybe not you, but another one of you. Y'know?" She bobbed along to the thrum of stomping feet and the wild call of voices that now sounded a lot more like singing and less like disjointed shouting. "Someone said guys," she said, determined to get her point across.

"Oh, yeah. Guys." Her companion was overcome by a fit of giggling. "Wait until you see! Oh, it's gonna be hot." She fanned her face with her free hand. "Guys!" she squealed and wilted to the ground.

The hero nodded in satisfaction. She was beginning to feel a tad hot and bothered, probably due to all the drinking and dancing – really, how many bodies could be pressed together before it stopped being fun and started being annoying, feet stepping on feet? – and the suggestion of company of the opposite sex had become rather appealing. Atlanta wondered if maybe she should be concerned over the fact she most likely knew none of these men that were on their way but another swallow of her drink made the worry evaporate.

All of the hunter's conservatism and steadfast embodiment of her ancestor's – and, frankly, mentor's – characteristics were quickly withering in the face of a good beat, something sweetly intoxicating, and the suggestion that there would be men around soon to take care of any and all physical wants. Atlanta found herself warming up more and more to the idea, even if the rational side of her mind was protesting as loudly as it could, trapped under the fog of alcohol though it was.

Abruptly, the music and chanting stopped. The bodies around her fell still, and no one bothered to fill the cup in her hand, which was getting dangerously low. Atlanta craned her head around to find some suggestion as to why the party had suddenly stopped, and where were the boys, dammit?

"Attention sisters," a voice shouted. It was familiar. The heroine had met this person before, when she'd first stumbled into camp earlier that day – or was it yesterday? – but the name and face to go with the voice were slow in coming. "We have a new arrival. Not prey." The last was stressed and a ripple of strained laughter drifted through the crowd. "Her name is –" a pause, heartbeat, "Theresa."

Theresa? Atlanta's face scrunched up into a parody of thinking. The name was familiar but alien all the same. Had she known someone named Theresa before? Or had she just heard the name, maybe during conversation…

The voice spoke again. "Since we're all gathered," it called, "let the music flow!"

Immediately, the frozen bodies started moving again. Drums thundered along to the shuffling footsteps of the throng of women, and somewhere the sound of pipes began to trill. Certainly, the whole celebration could hardly be called first class, but no one seemed to mind. They danced as vigorously as they would have in the face of some premier musician. Atlanta danced along with them.

There was a shrill cry off to the left, and the hunter swung around to watch what was happening. A procession of women were carrying a statue and several were hanging off of it as though it were an ancient form of a stripper pole. Atlanta didn't notice as she dropped her empty cup. It clunked hollowly at her feet, but she never heard it. Whether it was the crowd around her of her own feet, the hero felt herself pressing closer to the statue. There was something enthralling about it, some primal force that was barely contained in the stone…

The music cut short just long enough for someone to shout, "Hail Dionysus!" very loudly. The procession stopped and the statue – a man with an ivy crown, horn in one hand and staff in the other – thumped to the ground. Atlanta shivered. She sure had felt that.

She wasn't sure what to expect next, but when the top of the staff began to fountain a stream of dark red liquid that looked very much like what she had been drinking some time earlier, Atlanta figured that this was what she was waiting for. So too, it seemed, had everyone else.

Masculine voices now joined the delighted screams of the women and the music was louder. The hunter threaded through the mass of dancing bodies trying to find one of them. She felt oddly hot, pressed in with all these people, and her head was beginning to feel funny. It wasn't exactly painful but uncomfortable all the same. She winced as a nameless face in the crowd shrieked and began flinging flowers around wildly.

Atlanta drew to a halt in her wandering when a flash of skin – someone's bare chest – caught her eye. There was a guy. Finally! She watched dumbly for a moment before her mind registered that if she wanted him, she really ought to move over there. Swaying with each step, the hunter passed slowly through the press of gyrating bodies. None of the women were chanting anymore, though there was plenty of shuffling footsteps and the trill of pipes continued to play. The hero stopped again when everything started to fuzz around the edges and her stomach rolled violently.

"Ugh," she said softly, wrapping her arms around her middle. "I think I'm going to be sick."

Someone caught her round the shoulders and started pulling her through the oddly moving crowd. Atlanta caught a few glimpses of women being pulled down by men in furry pants. She could hear the wet rasp of skin on skin. Her stomach turned uncomfortably and she averted her eyes skyward.

At first she didn't register the voice speaking to her, or realize that whoever had been pulling her had stopped. Atlanta turned mutely toward the sound, imagining that it must be her name even though she couldn't quite understand the word. "What?" she slurred, looking into a face framed with red hair. "Who…?"

"Theresa," the other girl said. Her voice was pitched oddly. Theresa's face hovered closer for a moment and then pulled away. "Have you been drinking?" she asked.

"I was thirsty," Atlanta muttered in her own defense. "They have great cups!"

Theresa was silent and so the hunter began to hunt around for somewhere to sit. She still felt hot and her head was throbbing in time with the music. As she stumbled toward what looked like a good sitting log it felt like she was moving through water, like someone had tied tiny strings to her body and was pulling at her.

"Atlanta," Theresa began, behind her, but fell silent again. Had the hunter bothered to look back, she would have noted the fighter standing rigid, her face pinched in concentration.

The descendent of Atalanta collapsed gratefully on the mossy log and rested her head between her legs. Even with her eyes clothes, she could feel the world spinning around her. She was beginning to regret losing track of how many drinks had poured down her throat. "I don't want to talk," she mumbled. "I'm too hot."

Theresa's body remained frozen and silent. Her vision had clouded with blue suddenly and, expecting yet another vision, she had stopped. Unfortunately for the fighter, it wasn't ending. As when she had been struck by an arrow in her flight from these strange women, the hero watched herself standing stiffly beside Atlanta, heard the muddled words her drunken friend mumbled. She could turn her vision-self and watch the gyrating bodies that were dancing, drinking, and doing something that reminded her uncomfortably of the Neils, but a little less surreal.

I don't get it, she thought. I'm supposed to see visions of the future, not visions of the present. In spite of herself, she tried to brush the flower petals from her eyes as they fluttered through the air but, predictably, the motion didn't help. I guess I just have to wait it out.

A faint blur of movement caught Theresa's eye as she hovered, watching Atlanta battle to keep her stomach contents in her stomach. In amidst the blue-tinted crowd of women and bare-chested men, faint almost glowing after images were beginning to trail after the dancers. As she watched, the blurs grew more and more defined until, instead of after images, there were full fledged ghostly images of dancers moving beside their corporeal counterparts.

At first, there were only a few of these bizarre double-images, and only for the women. But as the music began to thunder and the fountain from Dionysus' staff grew until it was showering everyone in dark red rain, the doubles grew. To Theresa, it was as if they were all experiencing visions of the present, watching themselves, and she was able to see their vision-selves. But their bodies continued to move instead of falling slack, and their vision-selves danced independently of their bodies' movements.

What the…?

And then the men formed after-image doubles, moving to drift through the crowd of dancers. While their bodies continued with the women they had started with, rolling in the grass, hands wandering in and out of dresses and tunics, their images moved to the images of other women, pulling them close and beginning their dance anew. Theresa quickly turned away as the couple she was watching began to get a little frisky.

Maybe I don't want to know. The fighter turned her attention back to her own body and her friend. Atlanta, at least, hadn't spawned a vision-clone yet although, looking closely, Theresa was sure she could see the glowing quality that meant it was possible. Is it because she isn't moving? Theresa wondered, trying to understand why the hunter wasn't having and out-of-body experience. Are my present-visions caused by whatever is responsible for all of this?

For her part, Atlanta was beginning to feel better. The turmoil in her stomach had receded and now felt distant, and her head didn't feel so tight. She slowly lifted her face from her legs and took a deep breath.

Theresa was still frozen in front of her, her eyes distant. Atlanta frowned. Hadn't she been about to say something, or was that just her imagination? "Theresa?" She stood, intending to nudge the other girl. As she straightened, however, the world seemed to double and split. The hunter felt herself stumble and fall even as she reached her feet. Looking down, she found herself looking at her body that had tumbled to the ground, eyes open and staring blankly. She felt light and giddy suddenly, a smile breaking across her features of its own volition.

"This is kind of neat," she giggled. "I feel like I could fly or something." Her whole body tingled warmly. Whatever this was, felt good.

Theresa's voice, exasperated, broke into her thoughts. "I hope you know what's going on", she said, floating above her body, "because I'd really like to know."

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And the final hero's situation is revealed. This took a long time to write, but I'm pretty pleased with how it turned out.

For anyone interested (and I do hope I spelled it right), the chapter's title means something along the lines of "moving outside one's self." Pretty much leaving your body and moving freely without it. Clearer now why I chose it, I hope.

Note to readers: Last chapter I said I was moving back to university, and here this chapter is after second year is over. I apologize greatly for my long absence. School tends to burn out my mind with its many papers and deadlines, especially when taking multiple English courses per semester. It's an excuse, I know, but that's really what happened.

I picked at this chapter over the course of eight months and have finally completed it. You'll be happy to know that the next chapter has already been started and, with access to Class of the Titans on television now, I should hopefully be motivated to pick up a more reliable update schedule. That said, I am looking for a summer job at the moment. Life is a crazy place.

Anyway, hope you enjoyed this chapter and thanks again for your reviews :)

Next chapter: Everyone loves the Sybil.