Calypso Jackson's Story

¢нαρтєя тωєиту: The Reader Of Flaws

"We need to get going."

I looked up, gaping at Jester's slumped form. His fingers curled around his arms, crinkling the fabric of his too-big jacket, his gaze trained solidly on the dirty alley floor.

Ryland's arms dropped from my shoulders as he turned to face him. "What?" He asked.

"We need to get going," Jester repeated, resolutely glaring at the floor, refusing to make eye contact with any of us. "We can't stay here. Demigod blood in the air, plus the scents of all the half-bloods that were here in the past hour alone? Monsters'll be pouring in by the dozen." His hands fell from his arms, instead coming to a rest on the hilts of his weapons. "We need to go before they get here."

I watched as Cynthia lifted her head off of her knees, hair sticking to the tear tracts on her cheeks. Ryland shifted, hesitance pouring off of him in waves. I watched him glance at Cynthia's stricken expression, then at me, then at all of Marc's stuff on the floor. His spear glinted in the dim light. "Jester's..." He hesitated. "... Right." He turned his head to look at me imploringly. I ducked, scrubbing at my eyes with more vigour than what was strictly needed, dashing stubborn tears away.

I didn't know if the fact that my friend was gone would ever truly hit me. Marc was an idiot- a brash, cocky, overzealous idiot who put himself in danger at every possible chance to get as much attention as humanely possible. He liked the spotlight, liked showing other people up, liked wearing his dad's name like a medal of honour. Our friendship ran purely on the countless duels he challenged me to, from the crack of dawn to curfew, growing from legitimate fights to ones spent like a conversation, where he'd talk his ass off about something or other that went on in his cabin or at some activity and I'd listen and try not to get my head lopped off.

He said he was a soldier, and I couldn't have agreed more. He hadn't thought twice about shoving me out of the way of a shot that would've killed me for sure, even though he was barely walking from an arrow to the side. He didn't hesitate when he offered to come along on this stupid quest in the first place, shaking my hand and pledging his commitment with a grin and a "pleasure doing business with you". He hadn't even second guessed himself when he fought me in our very first sword fight, cocky and abrasive as ever even after getting his ass handed to him by Percy.

People said children of Ares were stupid and insane, and most of the time I saw where they were coming from. They rocked the war games and capture the flag, but I never saw their names in the leaderboards for much else. But Marc?

He'd been reliable to a fault. He'd been an amazing cook. He'd been supportive of me, even when I'd lied to him. He'd been a friend. He'd been so much more than a son of Ares stereotype.

He'd been a hero.

And now he was gone.

"Yeah," I spoke up, building off of Ryland's words. I breathed in once, before looking up, pushing fallen strands of hair away from my eyes. I shoved all of the screaming thoughts in my mind to the side, doing my best to file away the pain and grief that had still yet to take over completely. I chalked it up to some silent blessing from him before he... left, a mental pat on the back to remind us to "Keep your damn heads in the game, yeah?"

"Marc wouldn't want us moping around. We should get this quest over and done with." I turned, fetching my fallen duffel bag and tossing the ones that belonged to my friends back to them, watching as each of them caught their own. Marc's things still laid neatly at our feet. No one made a move to pack them up. "I don't know about you guys, but I'm ready for this quest to be over," I continued, slinging the strap over my shoulder.

A moment of silence passed before Cynthia stood, pushing her matted hair off her cheeks and tucking the short strands behind her ears. "We need to make it back to Camp to tell his cabin that he went out fighting, too," she said, shining grey eyes meeting mine determinedly. I nodded once, remembering his request for a kick-ass shroud burning.