-in which raven marenwell
comes to realize her reality is
masked under many layers
of deception, and it's up to her
to figure out the truth. ｡･:*:･ﾟ★
[fanfiction]
[percy jackson x fem!oc]
[November 14, 2021 - ???]
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CHAPTER 8 | PERCY IS A HORRIBLE BUS DRIVER
—YOU'D THINK BEING A DEMI-god, they would pay attention to signs by now instead of just hoping for the best.Turns out Grover's suspicious sniffing wasn't nothing at all.
Right as the bus was about to leave, three wrinkled old ladies boarded. And not the 'bake you some cookies' old ladies, Raven's talking 'scary and on the verge of death' old ladies.
And seriously, who dressed them, their three-year-old grandson? Their outfits were a whirl of mismatched items that looked seriously ancient. Like a crayon box and flower garden had thrown up all over them.
It was obvious that they weren't actual ladies, no.
They were the three Furies. Hade's torturers. Yeah, those fuckers.
And Raven had a feeling just why they were visiting.
She repeatedly slapped the boy sitting next to her on the arm. "Percy, look." She hissed.
He noticed them and scrunched down in his seat. "Aw, shit." He grumbled.
The bus pulled out of the station, and we headed through the slick streets of Manhattan. Raven was too focused on the Furies to even look out the window, which was a tragedy. Those stupid raisin-ass bats had too ruin everything.
"She didn't stay dead long," Percy said, his voice quivering slightly. "I thought you said they could be dispelled for a lifetime."
"I said if you're lucky,' Raven said helpfully. "You're obviously not."
"All three of them," Grover whimpered from the seat across from Raven and Percy's. "Di immortales!"
"It's okay," Annabeth said, obviously thinking hard. "The Furies. The three worst monsters from the Underworld. No problem. No problem. We'll just slip out the windows."
"Annabeth, you can't gaslight yourself." Raven pointed out.
"They don't open," Grover groaned.
"A back exit?" Percy suggested.
There wasn't one. Even if there had been, it wouldn't have helped. By that time, we were on Ninth Avenue, heading for the Lincoln Tunnel.
"They won't attack us with witnesses around," Percy said. "Will they?"
"Mortals don't have good eyes," Annabeth reminded him. "Their brains can only process what they see through the Mist."
