"With all the pain,
with all my chaos,
I somehow feel
myself being calm
when I'm next to
you, Percy."
IN WHICH
AELLALINA WALL IS THROWN BACK INTO HER
...
.・゜ ✧ ˚ . ✧ ╔═══.✾. ══════╗ IП MΣDIΛƧ ЯΣƧ part i ╚══════.✾. ═══╝ ✧ ˚ · .
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"YOU NEED ANY HELP?" Miguel asked, standing at the doorway with his hands in his pockets. He watched her movements carefully, as if he'd miss something important if he looked away even for a second.
Aellalina stood by her new wooden desk, which sat in the corner of her new, small square room, in her new apartment—her new home. They were on the fifth floor of a big apartment building somewhere in Upper-East Manhattan, walking distance from her new school (yeah, apparently going to school is something she has to do now), and two bus stops away from her fathers work.
Argus dropped her off after her father and Chiron talked over the phone for an oddly long amount of time, where her father shared his exact address and information. She almost told Argus to pack it up and zoom back to Camp, but her father was waiting for her by the apartment entrance, and when they met eyes, she knew there was no turning back.
Aella didn't hug him, or expressed how much she missed him; she didn't make a special speech or plan to forgive him immediately. She looked him up and down, clenched her jaw, and before he could explain how much he missed her or how joyful he was to see her okay, she said, "lead the way."
She didn't know what kind of reunion he was expecting, but an aura of fallen hope seemed to follow him since she arrived. Talking on the phone with him was probably the most emotion they would ever display with each other. Maybe he was just like that, though— all gloomy. How would she know? She hadn't seen him since, well...since she was too young to remember.
Aella shrugged at him, awkwardly setting her backpack on the desk chair. "I don't have much." Despite the bag having an endless bottom, she had little to unpack into the barren room. It was oddly empty, like Miguel had stripped the walls of all decorations to prepare for whatever she might bring. It was thoughtful, but he was going to be highly disappointed.
He smiled, which made her look away. A lump formed in her throat whenever he looked too much like her Abuelo. They had the same unmistakable kindness in their perfect features. He looked nothing like her. "Aw, come on," he humored, trying terribly to lighten the mood, "no posters or little knick-knacks or anything?"
She raised her thin eyebrows and unzipped her bag, pulling out a shiny hunting knife and setting it on the desk casually. Miguel began blinking widely when she pulled out throwing knife after throwing knife, genuinely trying to find anything that she could decorate with. "Um..." she dug a little more, "oh, here," she pulled out a magazine that she's had for years, dirty and worn with a beautiful red 50's Chevrolet on the front. She smiled and set it on the desk neatly, aside all the knives. "Knick-knack."
