Honestly, Annabeth wasn't complaining about Piper's horn-o-plenty or anything. It was a nice change to take a bite of her favorite foods when they had a few minutes on a quest instead of wondering and worrying. Normally her stomach would be growling like a feral cat whilst she wondered if she was going to be able to nab a handful of things from a 7Eleven and that was only if they were lucky enough for the-quest-of-the-moment to take them near enough a city or a gas station… and most of the time they were not lucky enough. So honestly, Piper's cornucopia was great but it held nothing on a home cooked meal. Either that, or Calypso was an exceptional cook. The demigoddess could hardly hold in the sigh that left her as the cool berry compote passed her lips and the fresh cream? It was honestly the most delicious thing she'd ever tasted. Just the right amount of sweet and tart, cool despite the heat of the night and the warmth of the fire. Annabeth ate her fill and then some, not unaware of the was her clothes felt a size or two bigger than they had when she and her friends had begun their quest.
When she was finished, the dishes seemed to disappear. It was a neat little trick of magic, the island cleaning up after itself to ensure it remained pristine. Annabeth's feet rested against the stones that surrounded the fire pit, sectioning it off from the sand of the beach and the forest floor. They should have burned her but they were only warm enough to provide comfort and relax her wary soles. Annabeth's hair was still damp, and she took it between her fingers so she might twist and tie it into two braids out of her face and (mostly) off her shoulders. The end of her second day on Ogygia came to a close with her belly full and eyes heavy. For the first time in who-could-remember-how-long (but probably some time before Percy had first disappeared), she felt safe.
"That was incredible." Annabeth sighed.
Calypso twirled her spoon in her own dessert and gave a small smile in her direction, but from the delight in her eyes, it was humility and humbleness rather than an understanding of her own culinary abilities. "I'm glad you enjoyed it."
"Honestly, I can't thank you enough."
Annabeth leaned forward and gave the other girl's knee a gentle squeeze. Despite the sort of tying her up thing, Calypso had been a gracious hostess. Not only had she offered Annabeth a home cooked meal, but she'd allowed her to bathe in the natural hotspring not far from her home and brought her clean clothes. They were white linen, light and breezy, woven from her own loom and they were not only beautiful, but fit like a dream. In the mean time her salt crusted clothing had been washed, beaten, washed again, and was currently drying on a line. She honestly wouldn't haven't been surprised if she found them mended where the seems had taken a bit of a battering or patched where they were ripped or wearing thin.
Calypso's long fingers closed over her own.
"There is no need for thanks, Annie. Anything you can do to help me leave this island is more thanks than I could ever require."
The idea had been born shortly after she had been freed from the teenage goddess' cave. It had required some vague wording and assumptions, but Annabeth hadn't been sure how to broach the subject of Percy. Or of who she really was. Her father's nickname for her— Annie— sounded strange from Calypso's lips but she wasn't sure how to tell her the truth.
I will, she reassured herself. When the time is right. Besides, it's complicated.
And it was. How was she meant to tell the goddess that she was Annabeth. That Percy really could have stayed with her on Ogygia because there had been another demigod, another child of the Big Three, who hadn't run from the prophecy and would have stepped forth to take his place? But that instead, Percy with all his (sometimes misplaced) loyalty had chosen the save the world perhaps even more than he'd chosen the daughter of Athena. And because of it she had been his choice. The last hero Calpyso had fell in love with had take a raft and sailed towards saving the world and into the arms of another girl. Sort of. It hadn't happened exactly like that— and upon thinking about it, the daughter of Athena wasn't so dim as to expect that in saving the world and accepting a potential destiny, their coming together had been an indirect offshoot and not the actual reason Percy had returned.
Regardless… Percy had not broken his promise to Calypso. He had made the gods promise a number of things, acknowledging their children being just one of them. But then there had been the whole rebuilding of the camps and mourning the dead… there was a lot to consider and a lot to do. Calypso had gotten the raw end of the deal. There had been a lot happening and Percy sort of forgot. And then he'd been made to forget by Hera.
And now? Now he was in Tartarus. Staring at the moonlit Ocean with a full stomach, the night no longer felt so warm or nearly as enchanted.
It was all a mess.
"We'll get you off this island." Annabeth promised and as she stood, she stretched before the fireplace. "As peaceful as it is out here… I should probably get some sleep. I want to be up first light tomorrow to begin working on how we're going to get ourselves out of here."
Maybe it was the dancing shadows cast by the firelight but the goddess' smile looked more sad than hopeful.
The dried sea grass and canvas that made up Annabeth's bed shouldn't have been comfortable enough for her to drift asleep the second her head hit her pillow but she was asleep before she had a moment's contemplation. How long had it been since she had truly slept? It must have been before Percy had gone missing and from that moment she'd been listless, burning the midnight oil at both ends as she scoured any clue to find her lump of seaweed and save him from whatever fate had befallen him. And since they'd been reunited? There had been so much going on… too much to truly take a second and appreciate the other. Then he'd gone and gotten himself wrapped in Arachne's web and here she was, drifting from her body and gazing at the sleeping blonde figure below her that she knew to be her physical form. For a moment she gazed at herself, tucked up under the light cotton sheet. She didn't recognize that girl with the soft features, but why? After all, it was her.
She looks innocent, that's why. And then, after a moment: I'm sorry that I don't know you like that. I don't know who you could be if it weren't for everything else. I don't think you know, either.
The goddess' bed was untouched at the other side of the room. The pillows were still plumped, far too many to be slept upon, and the sheets were tucked in perfectly. Giving a second glance to where she slept, Annabeth's spirit took flight, out of the cave and into the night air. Whatever she needed to see was waiting for her somewhere out there and as she drifted upwards she noticed Calypso with her caramel skin and moon soaked hair staring out across the moonlit ocean with the tide playing tag at her feet. Before she could wonder what she was searching the horizon for, she was gone.
The stars streaked passed Wisdom's daughter and she drifted across the world and across thresholds that should have been improbable. For as long as she could remember, Annabeth had hated dreaming. Maybe it was because some were so vivid that when she pushed the covers aside and placed her feet on the floor, she took the images that had played out on her eyelids at night to be real. The first time she had carried on, telling her father all about the day before's events, wondering when they could do it again he stood, poured himself a cup of coffee and furrowed his eyebrows. In a steady and even tone he'd told her that yesterday had been a school day and her mother hadn't visited, she wasn't around to take her on a ferriswheel or the tea cups— and there wasn't a fairground for them to go on in the first place. He had been hurt at the mention of a mother who had never been there for her, but Annabeth had been positive that it was real. That her mother had visited her with her stormy eyes, strong set jaw, and a beauty that no one could argue that was as much because of the messy updo that kept her hair out of her way for convenience rather than style as it was for her eloquence and brilliance.
Dreams weren't the same for demigods as they were for humans. It had taken time for Annabeth to understood what she was and when she had, she understood that dreaming for was not the same. Things happened when you slept and sometimes it could be confusing to tell the difference: the difference between a dream and reality, or the difference between a dream and a vision or dream walking. When her head hit the pillow at night, Annabeth wished for a peaceful and oblivious night's sleep, that when she opened her eyes again the next morning that whatever images might have played out would drift away forgotten just as quickly as the dark left for day.
The darkness of the horizon gave way to light and soon she recognized the approached shore of camp. Despite the summer months the beach was abandoned. A boat was tied to the end of the pier bobbing in the water, the canoes were untouched stacked up on the beach. The stillness unsettled her; the majority of campers spent their time at Camp Half Blood during the school free months and as she floated along the path towards camp, the scent of smoke caught her nose. Somewhere up ahead there was a fire, and at first she wondered why they were having a bonfire so early and why they weren't having it in the normal spot. When she finally passed the big house, she could see demigods of all ages gathered around while Chiron spoke. Whatever he was saying (because she was too far away to hear and try as she may, she couldn't make herself get any closer) must have concerned them because the littler ones looked as if they had been crying and clung to the older campers. Clarisse wrapped a muscled arm around one of her younger siblings (the resemblance was uncanny).
There was no time because she kept slipping forward and the further she travelled, she was above the woods and over the rivers and creeks that passed through it. A group of dryads and naiads shied away from her spirit as she floated, tending to wounds. One was unconscious, bleeding in the arms of another as a blue skinned water sprite attempted to reattach one of her limbs with vines and mud. She looked away and saw it then, miles off, smoke rising. Somewhere up ahead the Roman legion was making their way towards camp… A fully fledged and trained army.
Annabeth's stomach sank.
THEY'RE COMING.
She might be a floating spirit but the familiar voice is like a rumble inside of her own head.
YOUR CAMP WILL BURN. ROMANS AND GREEKS WILL DESTROY ONE ANOTHER AND YOUR FRIENDS WILL FAIL. WHAT IS THE POINT, CHILD OF ATHENA? YOUR OWN PARENTS ARE TORN BETWEEN THEIR NATURES AND SOON YOUR HOME WILL SMOLDER.
"My friends and I will stop you. Whatever happens back home, we'll save whatever's left."
AND WHAT IF THERE IS NOTHING?
"There's always hope."
That amused the primordial being and Annabeth wasn't sure how, but she was sure the rumbling was her laughter. It echoed in her head even as the scenery darkened and changed.
YOU WILL NO MORE FIND HOPE THAN YOU WILL SAVE YOUR FRIENDS.
A crack of lightening split the dark sky in half as Annabeth hung, confused, and knowing the connection to Gaea had been severed. Half a heartbeat later, thunder clapped so close to Annabeth that her teeth might have rattled in her head. Another bold of lightning is not far behind and it just misses her as it zigzagged across the sky. There was a shriek somewhere nearby but it was carried by the wind and impossible to tell which direction it had come from. Annabeth twisted and turned, the scent of scorched ozone thick in her nose. There's movement beyond the pounding of the rain, but it's difficult to tell until another shock of lightning dances across the sky.
There's a pegasus and gryphons approaching fast on its heals.
"Faster!" The rider upon its back shouts. She shouts over the thunder but the wind swallows her voice as her sword is drawn and Reyna— because that's who it is, Annabeth recognizes her after a moment from the set of her jaw to the hardness of her eyes— shakes her head trying to free her eyes of the unruly strands of dark hair flying in the wind. It was frazzled and a section of it might have been smoldering from where the lightning must have singed it. The pegasus let out a choked wheeze that must have been no duh in response, but from the heaving of the chest and beating to its wings, the dark steed didn't look like he had much left in him. Despite that, the pegasus pushed harder, if that were possible, at his rider's command.
The gryphon at the lead roared a command to its comrades, its lion's fangs dripping in anticipation. Despite the praetor's best efforts dodging and slashing at flying monsters, even using the storm to attempt whatever slight advantage, their claws still found their way to the pegasus' side and one's jaw nearly clamped on his leg. But the flying horse wasn't one to be outmaneuvered and with an adjustment of its wings caught an updraft just as the lion-like jaws snapped shut where his ankle had been only moments before; the updraft took him higher and higher in the storm. Lightning was more frequent here. The scent of burnt ozone was thick while the air itself was thin and the temperature continued to drop the higher they rose.
Reyna wasn't going to make it. She wasn't going to reach the others in time to take the Athena Parthenos and return her to the Greek Camp, putting to rest the feud between the Roman and Greek camps.
Annabeth opened her mouth to shout but the wind went from under her and she plummeted to the earth and then through it towards perpetual darkness.
When she stops falling (and it feels like she's lost a day if not more) the atmosphere was thick and stifling. Humid. Not quite smoke but whatever was laden in the atmosphere was thicker than dust and yet it wasn't ash. There was a sense of sinking, or being smothered, like gravity wasn't content with how far she had fallen and would instead like to draw Annabeth lower still by crushing her into the ground. And gravity would have been the thing because it wasn't the earth that was trying to pull her under. The daughter of Athena couldn't feel anything akin to Gaea's presence. Wherever she was, the earth goddess was no where to be found. No, it was something else entirely. Something she couldn't quite define.
Her spirit— or whatever it was— moved slowly through the atmosphere as if the air itself were made of molasses. As much as she hated dream walking (or even dreaming in general) she always felt weightless and free. At the moment she felt even heavier than if she'd been anchored to her physical body. There was almost nothing beyond darkness around her and yet she could see, perhaps a benefit of not having a physical body meant not having to wait for her eyes to adjust to the dark. It was like Annabeth knew it should be difficult and yet she could see through things anyway, even if the quality of the vision was turned down.
Almost like bad reception or a bad internet connection.
Wherever she was, there was something like static prickling around the edges, or at least that was the best she could explain it.
I may as well see whatever else it is my mother or the gods or the Fates want to show me.
Annabeth regretted it almost instantly when she heard a shriek.