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🍦— 012. leave them be.
VIVI, ANNABETH AND PERCY were on their way out when Percy spotted Vivi's father in a side courtyard of the palace. He was staring at an Iris-message in the mist of a fountain, his face that of distraught. Percy glanced at Annabeth and Vivi who were laughing and smiling, deep in conversation they even hadn't realized the boy had stopped walking.
"I'll meet you at the elevator." Percy said.
"What?" Vivi asked, smile dropping a bit as she looked to where Percy's eyes were trained at, "Oh, okay. Tell him I'll Iris-message him later."
"Sure,"
Hermes didn't seem to notice the boy approach. The Iris-message images were going so fast Percy could hardly understand them. Mortal newscasts from all over the country flashed by: scenes of Typhon's destruction, the wreckage our battle had left across Manhattan, the president doing a news conference, the mayor of New York, some army vehicles riding down the Avenue of the Americas.
"Amazing," Hermes murmured. He turned toward the boy. "Three thousand years, and I will never get over the power of the Mist. . . and mortal ignorance."
"Thanks, I guess."
"Oh, not you. Although, I suppose I should wonder, turning down immortality."
"It was the right choice."
Hermes looked at Percy curiously, raising his eyebrow as he looked the boy up and down, as if he was some kind of an interesting creature, "I hope you make my daughter happy." he said, glancing at the boy's eyes before returning to the Iris-message.
Percy's eyes widened and he felt warmth rushing to his face. It was weird how fast the god had figured his adoration for his daughter, something that took the boy some time, which he regretted.
"Look at them." Hermes said, "They've already decided Typhon was a freak series of storms. Don't I wish. They haven't figured out how all the statues in Lower Manhattan got removed from their pedestals and hacked to pieces. They keep showing a shot of Susan B. Anthony strangling Frederick Douglass. But I imagine they'll even come up with a logical explanation for that."
"How bad is the city?"
Hermes shrugged. "Surprisingly, not too bad. The mortals are shaken, of course. But this is New York. I've never seen such a resilient bunch of humans. I imagine they'll be back to normal in a few weeks; and of course I'll be helping."
"You?"
"I'm the messenger of the gods. It's my job to monitor what the mortals are saying, and if necessary, help them make sense of what's happened. I'll reassure them. Trust me, they'll put this down to a freak earthquake or a solar flare. Anything but the truth."
