You know, a lot of people have been asking for a Calypso chapter lately, and I couldn't answer them because that would give away the surprise, because I actually already had this written, they just had to hang in there for a few days.
Piper (guest): Awww, you told your friend about my story? I feel all fluttery and rainbow-y inside now. And yes, you can feel rainbowy. It happens. :) I really love how much you've been reviewing lately. And I wish your story of how you met Hazel would happen to me-but no one my age really reads these books except for my friends, and I'm the one that introduced them to the books in the first place. Also, I live in Indiana. In the south. The land of uneducated bumpkins (except for the occasional wonderful person). And yes, I like One Direction, although I had never heard of Dr. Who until I got into the whole fandom thing, and I'm still not entirely sure what it is.
Hazel (guest): New reader, yay! Here's the new chapter, sorry to keep you waiting, and for the trick Piper played on you. Also, no, I am not Rick in disguise, although that subject has been discussed at length, several different times.
cherryblue92: Awww, thanks! I like you too.
drinkingthestarswithbob: Your Easter sounded really fun! I wish I had a youth group like that, but our church is really big and the kids that do go to youth group usually end up breaking off into smaller groups with their friends, and...well, it ends up being kind of not fun. But church itself is always great. I wish you could send audio, I'd love to hear that kid sing.
Smile: Don't worry about not reviewing the last couple chapters, it's okay, really. But don't ever stop reviewing when you can. :) I'll reply to the rest of your review down at the bottom, since a lot of people asked the same thing.
Random Person (guest): Thank you very much. :) And you are very welcome!
Leoiscool: Planning on it. It's on my to-do list, but that is a very long list, so try not to be mad if you don't see too much of it for a while.
Divergent-R-Us (guest): Of course I'm staying awesome! And of course I'll keep eating blue cookies! I'd be completely mad not to! Oh, and thanks for the compliments.
Nobody (guest): Jeesh, give me some time to catch my breath. I do have school, you know. And Mondays are library days; it's when I do the majority of my Greek/Roman research. But here's the update now, so...yeah.
Whew. Finally. I love you guys so much, and don't stop reviewing, really, but man is it getting difficult to reply to all of them.
Chapter LVIX
Calypso
Calypso hammers determinedly at the metal, causing sparks to fly into the air, letting the loud clang of each blow ring forth across her island. She's no longer worried about scaring away the birds, or making a mess. She's only concerned with finding a way to get off this accursed island-and getting back to Leo.
And if she can't leave, then she's determined to make it as easy as possible for Leo to be able to find his way back. Screw the gods. Screw Gaea. Calypso wasn't going to be a prisoner anymore. She wasn't going to let the Fates control her life ever again.
Hot sparks fall onto her bare feet, causing her to curse and drop her hammer. She lifts up her foot to inspect it more closely, sighing at the sight of all the new burn marks on the top of it.
"That's it." She mutters, stalking away from Leo's makeshift forge-now hers-and back to her cave. She didn't have any shoes except for sandals, and they really weren't practical for work in a forge, so she'd decided it was better to go barefoot-especially after her favorite pair got caught on fire. But going barefoot was barely better than wearing sandals, even if she was now only burning the tops of her feet instead of the bottoms as well.
Point is, she needs boots. Or tennishoes-although she's only ever seen them on Hermes; they're the shoes he usually wears now instead of sandals. She hadn't been particularly impressed by them when she first saw them, especially since she prefered it when her feet weren't covered, but now they seem extremely practical.
She really doesn't like the idea of her feet being encased in shoes, though, she can't even sleep with her feet under the blankets; it's always been something that bothered her. But compared to the alternative, which is to continue getting the tops of her feet burned, she'd rather have the new shoes.
She marches into her cave, grabs the things she'll need for the shoes, and gets to work. She makes sturdy, breathable, fireproof fabric on her loom and uses her magic to do the rest, until she's left with a decent-looking pair of tennishoes that fit her perfectly. She spends another minute making a pair of socks, and when she's finished, she slips them on and gets ready to try out the shoes.
She puts them on and ties the laces, taking a few experimental steps, and is surprised at how light and airy they are. She could almost forget she's even wearing shoes.
"Much better." She says, satisfied, and walks back out to her forge on the beach, not even pausing to glance at her garden. When she gets there, she goes immediately back over to what she'd been working on before, but then pauses, glancing over at the Celestial bronze mirror. She stares at it longingly for a few seconds, then turns away from it, sighing.
No, I can't let myself get distracted. Otherwise I'll never get anything done. She scolds herself. But she can't keep her gaze from wandering, and she finally has to give in when she smashes her thumb with her hammer.
She strides over to it and touches it lightly with her fingers, looking at her reflection in the bronze. She has machine oil smudged on her cheek and forehead, and she looks like she hasn't slept in days-which is true. Her hair is falling out of its braid, and her once-white T-shirt is covered in grease stains, mostly because she keeps wiping her hands on it when they start getting too dirty.
But seeing herself looking so horrible doesn't bother her as it once would have, surprisingly. Actually, it kind of satisfies her. She's never been afraid of getting her hands dirty, but she usually wouldn't let her clothes-or her hair, or the smudges all over her face-get as bad as they are now. But that doesn't really matter to her anymore.
She wraps her knuckles against the bronze mirror, smiling slightly, and then stoops down to reconnect the wires again. One of them is completely fried, and she has to replace it before she can do anything else. Then she has to untangle a knot in the wiring-honestly, how it could have gotten so bad in just a few days is a complete mystery to her. Finally, though, she's done, and can connect the last two wires. Which then results in her fingers getting zapped by the electric sparks that fly from the joined ends of the wires.
She jolts up in surprise and pain, causing her to hit her head on the edge of the mirror, and then sits back in the sand, rubbing her head and swearing. When the pain in her fingers and head finally ebb to a dull throbbing, she stands, still muttering uncomplementary words under her breath, and glares at the mirror for a few minutes.
After a while, though, she sighs and gets ready to sing, even though she's in even less of a mood to sing today than she was the first time. But she takes a deep breath and starts singing anyway, filling the air with the words to the ancient lullaby that always makes the birds fall eerily silent. Even the waves seem to quiet to listen to her song, but that just serves to irritate her today, for some reason.
Finally, the mirror starts to flicker, and she stops singing to watch it.
A wavering image of Leo appears in the air above the bronze, and she's slightly surprised to see he's not in his engine room this time-he's in a different room, one with white cots lined up in neat rows on either side, and a counter and sink at the far end, beneath a round window. Two of the beds are occupied, one by a dark-skinned young girl with hair similar to Calypso's own-Hazel, Calypso thinks-who appears to be unconscious. Two other girls-one that Calypso recognizes as Annabeth, and another she's knows from Leo's descriptions as Piper-sit on the second cot, which they've moved closer to the other. Leo is attending to all three of them, grabbing supplies from the cabinet, water from the sink, etcetera, and bringing it back to them, mostly to Annabeth, who seems to be the one who's best with the whole healing thing.
Calypso squints closer, and starts to see their wounds-Hazel has a huge bite wound in her left shoulder, and a deep cut across her thigh, where blood is soaking through a rip in her jeans. Annabeth has a similar bite wound on her calf, and she's holding herself gingerly, wincing whenever she moves, which leads Calypso to think she probably has a few broken bones, a couple ribs, maybe. Probably a few deep muscle bruises too.
Piper seems to be the least beat up, with just a bad cut on her sword arm and one on her forehead. Both are bleeding profusely, but they're nothing compared to the other two's bite wounds.
Calypso watches Leo proudly as he takes care of the three girls, pouring nectar over their wounds, making the conscious two eat squares of ambrosia. He even trickles some nectar into Hazel's mouth, taking care not to pour too much or jostle her hurt shoulder.
After that, he says something to the other girls, and Annabeth nods, answering for them both. Calypso can't hear what they're saying this time, for some reason, so she's confused for a bit. But then Leo rushes to the sink, and to the cabinet again, grabbing armfuls of towels, bottles of antiseptic, and a pair of-tweezers? When he walks back to the girls, he gives half the supplies to Annabeth and Piper, and then sits next to Hazel on her cot. He gently pulls the denim away from the wound on her shoulder and starts to clean it, being as careful as possible.
While he does that, Annabeth and Piper mostly take care of each other, and Calypso supposes that's what Leo asked them-if they could help each other while he helped Hazel.
Calypso wonders where the others are-Leo said Percy was part of their quest too, and two other boys, Frank and Jason. She hopes nothing's happened to them, but judging from Leo, Piper, Hazel, and Annabeth, that's not the case, otherwise there would be signs of strain, of stress-of grief. No, they're probably fine. Maybe they're still fighting on deck, or they had to go somewhere else.
A part of her is relieved to see Annabeth, because it means that they must have made it out of Tartarus-surely if she survived, Percy did as well? But another part is bitter, and doesn't want to acknowledge her relief.
She shoves both feelings down and peers more intently at the images wavering in the warm air, but even as she does, they vanish, and the mirror goes dark, leaving nothing but a harmless-looking circle of Celestial bronze.
Calypso vaguely hopes that it might show the future again, but nothing happens, so she turns away from it, hugging herself, and stares at the horizon.
The waves are lapping quietly at the shore, the sea tranquil and calm for as far as she can see. Shhhh, shhhh. They say. As if trying to reassure a crying child. The white sand is as pure as always, sparkling in the light of the setting sun. The only place where it isn't completely immaculate is where Calypso's standing, her forge, where the ground is littered with scraps of metal and stray bolts. Spilled machine oil has soaked into the sand in certain places, turning it black and sticking it together into irregular clumps.
Calypso sighs and uncrosses her arms, kicking at the dirty sand with her feet to scatter it, lessening the effect of how it makes her island look diseased. Then she walks around and tries to pick up some of the scrap metal and put it all together in a pile, instead of just leaving it lying around all over the place. If she did leave it, she'd probably end up tripping over all of it and breaking something. For some reason, she is most definitely not as graceful when she's working in a forge-being a mechanic, which she's actually pretty good at, surprisingly. Although like she said, she's definitely much more accident prone. But that seems to be normal for mechanics. After all, look at Leo. He had scars all over the place. And there definitely wasn't any shortage of incidents while he was here.
She smiles, a little sadly, and starts walking back to her cave, eyeing the setting sun. She's been getting up several hours before dawn lately, and she doesn't sleep very well in the first place, so she's been going to bed earlier than usual. Before, she would have at least waited for the moon and stars to rise.
She pauses in her garden, looking out over all the plants and flowers. Some of them are starting to look a little neglected, and weeds are trying to take over. She really ought to work on that.
But then she shakes her head. No. She shouldn't. If she's going to be getting off this island, how her garden looks won't matter.
She enters her cave and goes into her room, kicking off her new tennishoes and peeling off the socks, before laying down in her bed, still wearing her jeans and T-shirt. She pulls the blanket over herself, making sure her feet aren't covered, and turns to face the cave wall before closing her eyes and trying to sleep.
Then she reopens her eyes and stares, wide awake.
The most frustrating thing about it is that she can feel how tired she is-well, how tired her body is. Her arms are shuddering with exhaustion. But her brain is buzzing with energy, her thoughts flying faster than a hummingbird's wings.
Finally, after at least an hour of just laying there, waiting for her thoughts to quiet, she kicks off her blanket, completely fed up, and stands, pacing around her room.
She stops pacing, running her fingers through her hair, which has fallen out of its braid completely and is now hopelessly tangled. She glances outside, where the moon and stars have risen, and just stares for a moment, looking at where her moonlace flowers are glowing in the silver light.
Then she sighs, grabs her blanket with her hand, and starts to head out. Then a thought strikes her, and she pauses, looking back at her loom-or more accurately, what's hidden behind it.
She knows it'll just hurt her more, but she grabs it anyway and hikes back out to her forge on the beach, the exact area where Leo always slept. In fact, the blanket she'd finally given him when he'd started to grow on her was still there, half-buried in the sand. Other than that, there wasn't much there. Leo hadn't been fussy about where he slept.
Calypso digs it out of the sand and spreads her own blanket out on the sand before sitting down on it, cross-legged. Then she pulls out the other thing she'd brought with her from her cave and lays across her lap.
It's an army jacket. Exactly like Leo's down to the very last detail. She'd woven it the day she first tried using the mirror-and succeeded. The day she'd decided she was going to see him again, no matter what she had to do. She couldn't resist.
She strokes her hand across the fabric, remembering how Leo looked in his. It made him look tougher, less goofy and ridiculous-it reminded her more of his past, that he wasn't as carefree as he'd have liked everyone to think.
She puts it on, loving the way it makes her feel closer to him-even if he'd never worn it. Then she curls up on her blanket, hugging Leo's blanket to her chest, breathing in the smell of bonfire and machine oil-Leo's smell. She turns her face to the stars and finally, finally falls asleep.
Okay, peeps, a lot of people asked about the flying snakes...and the hieroglyphics...so, this is my answer. You mostly asked either: Is it a reference to the Kane Chronicles? Or a hint of something to come?
To the first: Yes. Most definitely. And to the second: Maybe, and maybe not. You never know what could happen. :)