in my dreams.

i : the echos of screams

I.      ANYA   !
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the echos of screams

          Meditation wasn't helping Anya's anxiety. And it certainly wasn't helpful everytime her friends went in to check on her, even Jason. Especially Jason. How could her best friend be the last person she wanted to see? For hours she felt a horrible energy around her since they started nearing Camp Jupiter. Her friends put it down for her nerves. She always had a way to turn things negative. After hearing all the stories of Greeks and Romans going to war, of course the mind reader would be anxious. But that wasn't it. Some being was on the ship and for once her friends didn't believe her. She was surrounded by crystals and soft music played through her ten-year-old walkman Leo had fixed a billion times for her because she refused to get a new one ( fell out of the sky three times six months ago, one would think Anya would get a new one ). Sitting down on her carpet trying to clear her mind because maybe, just maybe, her friends were right.

There was no hope. Her mind was clear as day. Of course it would be, she was Psyche's daughter, her entire life she was meditating go to keep her mind clear. A clear mind for her meant stronger powers. And she needed as much strength as she could muster up.

Anya did all she could. Nothing could stop the bad energy from entering her brain and it was soon going to be her downfall if she didn't get it under control. Anya stood up from her meditation circle to blow out the pine-scented candles she lit. She felt a chill run through her body as soon as the fire went out. How could she ignore that? She didn't exactly have a choice. In only a few minutes they would soon be over Camp Jupiter and she needed to be up on deck with the rest of her crewmates.

So Anya flattened out her black skirt and navy short-sleeved top, a simple outfit she decided on considering it matched well enough with the one pair of shoes she brought — her blue Converse. Putting her thin cardigan over her arms to try and convince herself she actually was just cold and not feeling a presence, she checked herself in the small mirror above the desk. Her dark hair had half tied up in a white ribbon, her cheeks rosed mostly from the makeup she put on. Hidden underneath her shirt was her gold necklace, worn by her for remembrance but never to be shown to people. Looking in the smallest mirror in existence hung up on her way, she saw her eyes were black. Great. Everyone was going to know something was up with her because she had no control over the color of her eyes.

When she arrived onto the deck of the flying warship known as the Argo II, she saw several things. Anya saw her friend, Annabeth Chase, passing and checking ( probably double-checking ) the ballistae to make sure they were locked down. She confirmed that the white "We come in peace" flag was flying from the mast. When she saw Anya had returned from her meditation, she reviewed the plan with the rest of the crew— and the backup plan, and the backup plan for the backup plan. She was planning a backup-backup-backup plan but Anya assured her their luck wasn't as horrible as Annabeth made it out to be.

Annabeth was always prepared. Anya liked knowing her thoughts the most because they were always collected. She saw them filed in an organizer she would look through before saying anything. In short terms, she was one of the people Anya never got a migraine from reading. They were pretty close, especially considering Anya's photographic memory was as good as Annabeth's intelligence. They worked hand in hand all the time. And she was also the only one who didn't think Anya was crazy about the mysterious chill, because she felt it too. Annabeth couldn't exactly avoid the conversation. A single thought about it and Anya would've immediately known. It was nice knowing someone didn't think she was crazy.