north

viii, harbors

Hazel is still queasy and Piper still shudders whenever there's corn on the dinner table, but Frank has come into his own as a leader. He is a pillar of command and safety that keeps them grounded, and Hazel's connection with Nico helps ease their spirits, knowing that their friends are at least, alive; it's all they have and everything they cling to. They sail in relative peace, but the quiet stems from tense mourning. Leo spends every waking moment with the Athena Parthenos or the Archimedes sphere--sometimes both. Annabeth joins him, eager to shut out the world with a puzzle.

Percy stares out at the sea and keeps watch for monsters, but his eyes always drift to the shadows in sadness. Piper stares into her dagger, begging for a reflection of something, anything to indicate that Jason's safe.

It's in this state that Annabeth finds her, leaning against the mast, turning katoptris over and over in her hands. "Piper," she greets. When she fails to reply, the daughter of Athena takes a seat beside her. They've all tried, but no one has gotten through to her. "You hungry?" Leo manages to get her to eat every day, which is good. Truth be told, she feels guilty for not coming to Piper sooner. She's been so focused on keeping to herself, trying not to go mad, that she hasn't been a good friend. Piper's kept her from losing her head many times, and she wants to return the favor.

"Had some cereal earlier," she mutters, rotating the blade to what little light the sky offers. Night approaches. A cool breeze ruffles the sails of the Argo II. She frowns at her reflection. Annabeth removes the blade from Piper's shaky hands and sets it behind the mast. Her hands mingle with each other, lost, empty without her weapon. "I haven't had any dreams, I haven't seen anything--it's completely dark. I don't know if he's okay."

"He'll be fine," Annabeth assures her. "Jason is more than capable of protecting himself--and Nico. He'll get them out of there. He'll be back to you before you know it."

Piper lets out a stuttering sigh. The words relaxes her, however temporary. "Thanks, Annabeth." She leans her head on her friend's shoulder, closing her eyes.

"Of course," she hums. The faintest stars speckle the falling dusk. They watch the sun go down as a hush falls over Festus' creaking vessel.

When Piper speaks, Annabeth strains to hear, a guilty whisper near her cheek. "I don't know how to feel about Jason. I miss him, a lot. So much. I care so much about him. But... I don't know if I... if... or how..." She searches for the right words.

Annabeth fills in the quiet blank, "You don't know how you're supposed to feel him?"

The twist of her lips confirm the demigod's suspicion. "I love him, but... I don't think I love him the way I'm supposed to."

"And how are you supposed to, Piper?"

The daughter of Aphrodite shrugs. "Like... like how my mom wants me to. How it should be."

"How Hera wants you to," Athena finishes with a dirty look at the mention of the goddess' name. She heard about it before, not at length, that Zeus' wife gave them fake memories of a relationship that spawned a hesitant real one. Percy and Annabeth had no reason to doubt theirs; in fact, that search for him pulled the duo closer together than ever (though she still hates the goddess with a passion). But with Piper, it was messier. It was born of falsehood, no matter how genuine their actual feelings were, if they could even sort out what was theirs to feel. "That's got to be awful, Piper. I'm sorry."

"I feel guilty for even talking about this while he's somewhere in hell, fighting for his life. And here I am, wondering about what's real or not." She sounds like she's trying to shrug off her feelings, but it isn't working. "I wanted to talk to him about it when he got back, but..."