hi :)
updates will no longer be scheduled regularly; i'll post a chapter when i've had enough time to write at least one ahead
i truly hope this is compensation enough 😔
also, C/W: injuries & blood
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Water acts in peculiar ways.
It provides life and shelter while being able to cause death and catastrophe. Its waves are able to cease their movement to the utmost stillness yet can touch the clouds and join the skies. And its depths—which may often be perceived as bright and lovely—always have their potential of suffocating the light in its dark, terrifying grasp.
It is the epitome of contradiction.
To experience all of its potential can be a great misfortune.
(Y/N) closes her eyes against the sun's light, its refraction on the expanse of waves blinding and unwelcomed. Percy pulls her into his chest, allowing the shade from his body to offer some comfort in her weakened state.
Her lungs, though full of oxygen, still manage to feel empty.
Percy's arms around her, while gentle and caring, give off the illusion of constriction and restraint.
The light shining through her eyelids, appearing orange instead of white, drags her mind back under the sea, where glimmers bounced around the water before disappearing into its depths without a trace.
A soft kiss on her hair brings her back. She opens her eyes, blinking away the discomfort and looking across the waves.
The waves that are blue, not the grey of storm clouds and glass that they were previously. Not the black of the deep that kept its iron vice on her body and took her close to her death.
But blue. The blue of roses and wooden beads and soft t-shirts.
Of Percy's eyes, which always find a way to become indistinguishable from the nearest body of water. Which look down at her with concern and relief and indescribable amounts of affection.
(Y/N) lifts her head from the crook of his neck, sitting up straighter and giving him a gentle smile. He returns it, glancing at the other two uninterested demigods on the lifeboat before planting a soft kiss to her temple. (Y/N) presses her forehead against his for a brief moment, pulling away and standing on shaky legs.
At the consequent rocking of the lifeboat, Annabeth turns her head, keeping the Thermos of Winds pinned down on the stern's small deck. "Need help?" she asks, watching as (Y/N) holds her arms out to ensure she remains balanced.
After a moment, the daughter of Persephone shakes her head. "All good." She takes careful steps over to the bench closest to the stern. Raising an eyebrow at her best friend's tired arms while sitting, (Y/N) asks, "You wanna switch out?"
"I'll do it," Percy interjects before an answer is given, getting up from his bench to take the Thermos from Annabeth.
She pats his shoulder in gratitude, checking the compass inside the Thermos' lid to make sure Percy is positioned properly. Glancing at Tyson, who reaches over the side of the lifeboat to dip his fingers in the water, she steps over the bench to instead sit on the bow's deck.
(Y/N) leans back against the lifeboat's side, resting her elbows on the edge and closing her eyes as mist occasionally sprays onto her cheeks. She takes a deep breath, trying to calm her quickening heartbeat at the feel of the rocking boat. It could tip over, it could throw her into the water, she could sink once more without hope of escape, she could leave her friends and won't be able to ensure their safety—
Someone's gaze fixes on her, silently willing her to open her eyes in her moment of anxiety.
Light and color seep back into her vision, her focus instantly zeroing in on Percy. She no longer sees the blue of the waves.
Almost as if he has control over them, his irises are their typical sea-green, brighter and clearer than the surrounding water. The color pulls her away from her mind, from the sea, and brings her back to stability once more.
He keeps eye contact with her, inclining his head slightly. 'Are you okay?'
In any other circumstance, her answer to his wordless inquiry would be along the lines of how '"okay" is a relative term'. But for the sake of moving on from that ordeal, all she does is nod.
During the next few hours on the water, the teenagers remain bored out of their minds.
When they don't snack on the protein bars and fruits that they brought in their backpacks, none of them find anything to keep the entire group entertained.
Annabeth tries to provide some form of conversation by talking about the lifeboat's structure and how it could be improved, but her architectural thoughts falls only on Tyson's interested ears (he nods enthusiastically during her tangent and attempts to contribute his own ideas for a snack compartment and cup holders, but Annabeth just shrugs, muttering a, "Yeah, maybe," before slumping back in her sitting position).
Excited that she even considered his words, Tyson grins, looking back over into the water and gasping as a tiny fish's scales get caught in the light. He sticks his fingers back into the waves, creating small Hippocampi of water that jump and swim with the fish.
Percy and (Y/N) pass the time by switching out steering duty and making funny faces at the other, both trying to outdo each previous expression until (Y/N) concedes. Percy chuckles at her dismissive wave, letting out a long exhale before adjusting how he sits to better hold the Thermos of Winds.
Another silence falls over the demigods until Tyson's Mist-provided eyes blur and swirl around on his skin, melding into his one large, natural eye. He doesn't seem to notice, but Annabeth jumps a bit, startled, when she glances over at him.
"Oh, um," she starts, catching his attention and gesturing at her eyes, "you might want to reapply."
Percy and (Y/N) look at Tyson as his face falls. "It wore off?" the Cyclops asks, feeling around his eye in the hopes that two, rather than one, will be there.
Annabeth purses her lips while nodding, and Tyson frantically digs through his backpack.
(Y/N) hums in thought, still leaning back against the side of the boat. "I think it'll be fine," she says, and Percy nods in support of her words. "I mean, we're going to the Bermuda Triangle, anyway. Humans won't be near that place, and if we face Polyphemus, it shouldn't be a problem."
Annabeth shrugs, trying to appear indifferent about the situation as she clenches her jaw. Tyson, however, pulls out the perfume bottle of Mist and shakes it before turning it to his face and pressing down on the nozzle.
It makes a squirting noise, the bottle empty.
Tyson's eye widens. "Oh, no," he groans, dropping his hand and looking down sadly at the bottle. "I'm sorry for using it all," he apologizes to Annabeth.
She shakes her head. "It's fine."
(Y/N) looks at Tyson, tilting her head at his mood. "Hey," she starts, catching his attention in an attempt to cheer him up, "it's just one less thing to worry about."
He nods, flashing her a tiny smile while returning the bottle to his backpack. His dejectedness lessens, but he still looks down at his shoes, upset.
Percy folds his lips inward in hesitation before motioning for Annabeth to toss him the Thermos' lid. He closes it, letting the lifeboat bob gently on the waves as he turns in his seat. "You wanna steer for a while?" he asks Tyson, holding the Thermos out for his half-brother to take.
Tyson reaches for it, looking at Percy's small, yet warm, smile with a hint of surprise. "Thank you," he says, returning his brother's smile and looking back down to the Thermos of Winds. "Nobody who's seen . . . this"—he gestures around his eye—"has ever trusted me with anything before."
Annabeth raises an eyebrow, her attempt to fake oblivious kindness coming out as an awkward, "Is that because of your lack of depth perception?"
Percy sighs as Tyson goes quiet. "Is it because they're scared of you?" he asks, gently.
(Y/N) frowns as Tyson nods. "When I first got to camp," he starts, rolling the Thermos between his hands, "I was looking for someone to help me—oh, this was before I found the Big House—and, uh, I passed by a group of kids without my sunglasses on. They were maybe middle school age . . . and they, um . . . they took one look at me and screamed. They ran. And I'm pretty sure I smiled."
Tyson's shoulders slump, Percy's eyes softening.
"People look at me without the Mist and they see a monster," Tyson says. He shrugs, turning his attention to (Y/N) as she rests her forearms on her knees. "Sometimes, I think that maybe they're right."
Percy shakes his head. "You're not a monster."
Tyson scoffs.
(Y/N) gives the Cyclops a tiny smile. "The world isn't black and white, Tyson. It's not fair if you put yourself into a category of people just because you look a certain way." Tyson doesn't appear convinced, prompting (Y/N) to sit up straighter. "Look, I met you a few days ago and already know that you would never do anything wrong to someone who wouldn't deserve it. There are so many people out there who have committed unimaginable horrors to the innocent. Those are the real monsters. Don't be so hard on yourself."
Annabeth shifts in her seat uncomfortably.
Tyson lets out a light chuckle, smiling in disbelief. "It doesn't stop them from putting me in that category, though."
"What they think doesn't matter," Percy says, making the Cyclops look at him. "What matters is that you know you're good."
"Easy for you to say," Tyson mumbles, looking back down at his hands.
Percy furrows his eyebrows. "What do you mean?"
Tyson smiles gently—sadly—while returning his attention to his brother. "You never doubt yourself or think you're less than you are." He shrugs. "People praise you for what you've done while they don't even give me the chance. It's easier for you to believe in yourself than it is for me."
Percy shares a glance with (Y/N), not sure about what to say next. He doesn't know whether he truly wishes to confide in Tyson the worries that he only ever shared with (Y/N).
(Y/N) gives him a reassuring smile, tilting her head as if meaning to say, 'Tell him if you want.'
Percy spares a look in Annabeth's direction, noticing the daughter of Athena watching their conversation with hidden distaste. He turns his focus back to Tyson, waving him over to the stern's deck. "Come 'ere."
Percy stands, making room for Tyson and showing him how to properly hold and open the Thermos. When the lifeboat starts moving again, (Y/N) makes small talk with the Cyclops, Percy stepping over benches to join Annabeth at the front of the boat. He sits next to her on the deck at the bow, taking note of the glare she sends to Tyson's back.
Annabeth grits her teeth when Percy raises his eyebrows at her in questioning. "I wouldn't have trusted him with a normal thermos," she says, her angered expression shifting over to (Y/N) for a brief moment before she looks at Percy.
He ticks his tongue, sighing. "He seems okay. I mean, I really don't get what your problem with him is."
Annabeth tilts her head down to her shoes, her jaw setting as the grey of her eyes becomes stormy. "You don't know what I know about them."
Percy stiffens at the slight choke in her voice.
Annabeth swallows thickly before looking up with a bitter chuckle. "A Cyclops killed her," she says, allowing Percy to see the fury and trauma in her gaze. His breath catches at the revelation, his gaze moving between Annabeth and (Y/N). "His kind killed Thalia, and we were just kids."
(Y/N) lowers her head, exhaling sadly as she overhears Annabeth's heartbroken words.
Trying to get rid of the stinging in her eyes, Annabeth blinks furiously, shaking her head. "That monster murdered her in front of us and laughed," she chokes, her throat bobbing.
Percy reaches for Annabeth's hand, squeezing it in the hopes of providing comfort. "I'm sorry," he breathes out, now understanding her frustration towards (Y/N) for showing kindness to Tyson. "(Y/N) told me what happened, but not . . . I never knew."
Annabeth scoffs quietly, limply pulling her hand away. "Yeah, well, it's not something I like talking about. And anyway . . ." she sighs, looking out across the water, "it was a long time ago."
(Y/N) snaps her eyes upward at a distant rumble of thunder, a powerful roar of swirling wind echoing it. In the distance, nearing with each second, clouds darken and gather ominously, blocking out the sun's light and casting a shadow on the waves for as far as she can see.
Percy's sharp hearing picks up on it, too, and he glances at (Y/N) worriedly before turning his head. Annabeth takes note of his sudden action, looking in the same direction.
"What is that?" Percy asks, standing to properly seat himself on one of the benches as the waves begin growing rougher. Annabeth does the same, taking a shaky breath.
"That," (Y/N) starts, not daring to take her eyes off of the sky as they get transported into the storm clouds' shadow, "would be the Sea of Monsters."
Annabeth looks around in confusion when the boat slows significantly, "Why are we stopping?"
(Y/N) has to refrain from rubbing the bridge of her nose when Tyson turns around, nervously holding his hands out; they remain empty apart from the Thermos' lid, and a measly group of bubbles in the water just behind him acts as evidence of where the rest of it is.
"I should have used two hands," Tyson says, cringing when Annabeth's throat rumbles in a frustrated growl.
"Ya think?" Annabeth snaps, and Percy rubs his temples while (Y/N) sighs.
"Are you mad at me?" Tyson asks, worry and apology flooding his voice.
Annabeth glares at Percy. "No, not at you."
Percy opens his mouth to respond before cutting himself off, squinting his eyes at what appears to be a shark fin cutting through the water, nearly a yard away from their inflatable lifeboat. (Y/N) fingers her dagger as another appears on her side of the boat, seeming to rise out of the water, only growing and not giving way to a shark's body.
"Tell me those aren't sharks," Annabeth says warily, and Tyson inches away from the boat's edge.
(Y/N)'s eyes widen as more large, pointed teeth appear on either side of them, moving uniformly as two concentric circles. "Those aren't sharks," she breathes out, looking around for the lifeboat's spare oars.
Percy finds them, tossing one to Annabeth (much to (Y/N)'s chagrin) and beginning to frantically paddle in the hopes of freeing their tiny boat from the rough waves and large teeth of the monster. (Y/N) whirls her head around, her eyes widening at the humongous whirlpool that resides encircled by the rings of teeth.
"That's a really big monster mouth," Tyson whimpers.
"Yeah, sharks would be better," Annabeth whines, frantically paddling to help Percy.
(Y/N) keeps her eyes on the mouth, seeing more teeth cave in towards the center of the whirlpool, and she backs away from the edge. "It's Charybdis!" she shouts over the raging water, causing Percy to groan and give up on his oar.
"Carby-what?" Tyson asks, looking around for something to hold onto.
"Charybdis. She guards the Sea of Monsters," Annabeth explains, breathless with fear.
"At least it's not Scylla!" Percy tries to comfort, earning an incredulous scoff from the daughter of Athena.
"Either one means that we get eaten, Percy!" Annabeth retorts, exclaiming in fear when their boat begins approaching one of the largest teeth in the inner ring.
(Y/N) snatches the oar from Annabeth's hands, leaping onto the front deck and slamming it against the side of the tooth to push the lifeboat away. They return to the middle of the rows, and (Y/N) looks back at Percy while keeping the boat an oar's distance away from each tooth that passes by. "Stop comparing monsters for one minute, would you? You'd better do something, Percy, or we're all gonna die here!"
Percy nods, breathless. "Right, right." He holds his hand out over the water, closing his eyes and screwing up his face in an attempt to gain control of the waves.
He feels nothing, his power lost.
He groans, snapping his eyes open. "It's not working!"
"Lovely," (Y/N) mutters, nearly losing her balance on the bow's deck before she steps off onto the floor of the lifeboat. A lurch from the waves sends her onto her knees, next to Annabeth and pressed against the boat's side, her face dangerously close to the sharp edge of a tooth. The lifeboat crosses in front of it, taking them past the inner ring and incredibly close to the main section of the whirlpool.
Annabeth pants, shaking her head. "The Sea of Monsters might not be in Poseidon's domain."
Percy's eyes widen when he sees where the lifeboat is, about to be carried by the swirling water into Charybdis' mouth. They are almost completely horizontal, angled so that the open part of the boat faces the inside of the whirlpool, moving so fast that the teenagers could get thrown into the hole at its center and fall victim to Charybdis' third set of teeth.
"Hold on!" Percy shouts to the other three demigods, turning around and grabbing tightly onto the handholds of rope along the top edge of the boat's side.
Annabeth and Tyson mirror his actions, but (Y/N) rolls her eyes and turns onto her back, pressing her feet against the inside edge and stretching her body to the other side. She grabs a handhold with one hand and presses her second underneath the nearest bench, easily remaining put and not dangling over the mouth like the others. Percy, Tyson, and Annabeth scream their heads off, but she just holds her breath in anticipation, scrunching up her nose when drops of water slap her face.
As the boat rights itself in the swirling water, now heading in a straight path towards sharp teeth and certain death, the demigods end up with their legs under the boat's benches, each of them holding onto whatever they can for dear life. (Y/N) closes her eyes as the boat rockets over a tooth, following the rush of water into the throat of Charybdis.
"Please don't hurt, please don't hurt, please don't hurt," she mumbles calmly, surprising even herself with her composure.
Percy, Annabeth, and Tyson continue hollering in terror.
(Y/N) opens her eyes, watching as they pass through a tunnel of sorts. Light seeps through in multiple muted colors, interrupted by the dark webbing-like pattern of the inside of this monster's skin. Her stomach seems to lift as the water takes the boat down a sharp decline, tossing it into the air and sending it flying forward.
It lands on the base of Charybdis' gut, bouncing to a stop as Annabeth's, Percy's, and Tyson's screams quiet.
(Y/N) throws her hands into the air, "Whoo!" She laughs, pushing herself into a standing position. "That was like a roller coaster!"
The sons of Poseidon and daughter of Athena look at her with incredulity. "You're insane," Annabeth says, her voice slightly hoarse.
(Y/N) chuckles, placing her hands on her hips as she looks around. "That's very true. Where do you think we are?"
Percy scrunches his nose in disgust as he stands next to her, "Smells like the stomach."
The demigods carefully step out of the boat, taking in their surroundings. (Y/N) has to admit that for a stomach—all things considered—it's quite beautiful.
The skin is a medley of blues and pinks and purples, divided by the same dark webbing as before to create a pattern similar to cobblestones; colored light seeps through like a stained-glass window, the skin rippling as the large organ gurgles, scattering thin beams of light.
The area itself curves in to form a cave-like tunnel of sorts, divided by large pools and rivers of seawater and littered with kelp, wrecked boats, and what appear to be decaying bodies—human and fish alike.
Tyson crouches to the skin that curves in from the wall next to their boat, sticking his fingers into a collection of blue slime. He picks it up, rubbing it between the tips of his fingers and holding it up to the light. "What is this stuff?" he asks, standing. He loses his balance on the slick surface, falling to the side and into the puddle of goo.
Annabeth clamps her mouth shut to keep from vomiting at the stench that surrounds her and the sight of more unknown substances.
"I don't think you wanna know," (Y/N) responds, kicking a bone into the water as she moves beside Percy.
Annabeth takes a deep breath, nearly gagging, before letting it go and repeating the action, trying to get accustomed to the horrible scent that surrounds her. It becomes slightly more tolerable, and she hugs her arms to herself while saying, "This has to be the worst way to die ever."
Percy nods, trying to properly catch his breath. "Yeah, everything that disappears in the Bermuda Triangle, well . . . this is where they end up. I always thought it was some sort of magnetic field, but this?" He shakes his head, Tyson standing up behind him and trying not to fall over once more. "I was very wrong."
(Y/N) hums in acknowledgement, opening her mouth to speak before a distant voice cuts her off.
"Oh, come on!" a female yells from another part of the stomach, causing the group to whip their heads in the direction.
Annabeth steps forward, "That sounded like Clarisse."
Percy's eyebrows knit together at the assumption, and he shakes his head. "No, no, it couldn't be her. How could it be her? She would've—"
"You ridiculously stupid morons!" the voice interrupts, and Percy's eyebrows lift in surprise.
"No, it's her," he says.
"Definitely her," (Y/N) echoes.
Percy gestures for Annabeth and Tyson to follow as he and (Y/N) lead the way through the stomach, doing their best to avoid disgusting and unstable piles or remains of what Charybdis decided to eat. "There!" Percy points at an ironclad warship (the CSS Birmingham, according to the name painted on its side) at the opposite end of the stomach, holding a hand out to help (Y/N) jump over a particularly wide patch of water.
She jogs over to the ship, taking note of the rusted chain that keeps it from drifting down to the far end of the stomach, where the main destruction and digestion of Charybdis' food evidently takes place—it seems to have its own mouth of sorts, covered in spikes and currently closed, keeping the demigods somewhat safe.
"You idiot!" Clarisse reprimands one of the figures on her ship, and Percy winces at her tone when he moves to stand by (Y/N). "You'd better keep my electrical grid up and running or I swear I will plug your head into it!"
Her words echo over the sounds of buzzing tools and clanking metal, the ship clearly battered after (and quite possibly before) its journey into the stomach.
"Clarisse!" Percy yells, trying to get the girl's attention. "Hey! Over here!"
He and Annabeth wave both arms to help Clarisse see them in their dimmer surroundings, and the daughter of Ares leans over the railing while squinting her eyes.
"Jackson? (Y/L/N)?"
Percy smiles sheepishly, and (Y/N) gives her a tiny wave.
(Annabeth scoffs, crossing her arms. "Rude," she mutters.)
"What are you doing here?" Clarisse finishes, more confused than frustrated.
"Mind if we join you first?" (Y/N) asks, grateful for Clarisse's responsive nod. The demigods hurry to the ladder that curves over the side of the boat, trying not to let their hands slip on the soaked algae and rust that coats the metal bars. "Thank you," (Y/N) says when her feet hit the deck, Clarisse giving her a dismissive wave.
"We got swallowed up, just like you," Percy answers her previous question, walking behind Clarisse as she strides past him. "Nice ship."
"Yeah, my dad's got tons of this stuff left over from wars throughout history," Clarisse explains, gesturing around. "It was either this or a Huey from Vietnam. I figured that after upgrading it a little, a boat would be a bit more practical."
The ship lurches, prompting Annabeth, Tyson, and Clarisse to grab onto the deck's rail to keep their balance while Percy and (Y/N) adjust their stances to stay upright. "What's going on?" Percy asks, looking at the water.
Clarisse lets out a sharp exhale. "Pretty much exactly what you think goes on inside of a stomach."
The demigods watch as the pitiful lifeboat gets carried past with a sudden, prolonged burst of water, heading to the far end of the stomach. Other objects closer to the exit get obliterated when they reach the spiked digestion entry point.
(Y/N) nods breathlessly, glancing at Annabeth. "You were right, Annie—"
"—That really is the worst way to die," Percy finishes the thought, staring wide-eyed as their lifeboat vanishes from view.
Clarisse brushes past them, and (Y/N)'s ears twitch at a slow, metallic creaking.
"Reardon!" Clarisse shouts, catching the attention of one of the surrounding figures on the ship. "What the hell is going on with my grid? Is it ready yet?"
To Percy's surprise, it is not a person, but a human skeleton that steps into view, its old-fashioned clothes fairly intact apart from what appear to be three bullet holes with complementary, rotten bloodstains. "Almost, ma'am," the skeleton says, making Annabeth cringe and scoot closer to (Y/N). "They're working on it."
"Wait," Percy breathes out, trying not to stare at the skeleton (who hasn't bothered to close its bony jaw) as he addresses Clarisse, "your crew is . . . skeletons? The undead?"
The skeletons working around the ship pause their actions, machinery going quiet as they look over to Percy in what can only be interpreted as offense.
Clarisse sighs, pushing her bangs out of her face. "Technically, but they prefer 'dead Confederate sailors whose lives have been given in tribute to Ares'."
The three half-bloods' faces contort in disgust at the mention of the Confederacy.
"But," the skeleton named Reardon lifts a finger, bringing attention to him, "'skeletons' and 'the undead' are fine."
With the continued rush of water that carries objects and carcasses to Charybdis' intestines, (Y/N)'s bitter muttering about how 'They should've stayed dead' fails to be heard, but she again catches onto a prolonged squeak of metal. "Hey, Clarisse?" she starts, warily, "I think a link in that chain might have an issue!" Her words become an exclamation of surprise when the chain keeping the ship stationary snaps, causing the ship to be rushed downstream with the rest of Charybdis' food.
Clarisse slams into the side of the deck, grunting in annoyance before yelling, "Reardon! Gun! Faster, now!"
The skeleton rushes to approach her, his movements unsteady due to the ship's rocking. "Gun is hot, Cap'n. Locked and loaded."
"Aim it at that meat grinder!"
A skeleton begins adjusting the large turret, and (Y/N)'s brow furrows. "Wait, wait. You wanna shoot that thing with this?" she asks, and Clarisse turns to her with wide eyes.
"Well, do you have a better idea? 'Cause now would be the time."
(Y/N) nods, firmly. "You remember that tactic we used before?"
Clarisse furrows her eyebrows, shaking her head. "What tactic? What—?"
"Attack from the inside because there aren't any defenses there," (Y/N) interrupts, speaking rapidly to preserve valuable time. "It worked with the Drakon; it'll work now. We'll escape through the gut and get to the surface."
Clarisse takes a moment to think before gritting her teeth. "Yeah, it might work. If it doesn't kill us first!"
(Y/N) glances at the nearing end of the stomach before back at Clarisse. "Can you steer this thing?" she asks.
"No, I just finished driver's ed," Clarisse responds, her tone seeming to ask if (Y/N) needs help with her intelligence.
(Y/N) ignores her attitude, snapping, "I'm being serious. Can you steer this thing—yes or no? Because if you can't, I'm getting Percy to."
Clarisse rolls her eyes. "Yes, of course I can steer a ship! How do you think we got this far? A dolphin-pulled chariot?"
(Y/N) lets out a sharp exhale. "Well, then, let's give this thing a stomachache. You steer, I'll shoot."
Clarisse looks around, still unsure, before giving (Y/N) a determined nod, which the daughter of Persephone returns. "All hands below deck!" Clarisse orders, prompting Reardon to pass the order on, causing a flurry of motion and chaos as the crew begins moving to safety. She pauses before jabbing her finger at (Y/N)'s collarbone. "Don't even give Jackson the idea that he can touch my wheel."
"Now I don't have to," (Y/N) retorts, grinning cheekily before she and Clarisse part ways. (Y/N) rushes to the rungs leading up to the turret, beginning to climb up when she hears her best friend's voice.
"Good luck, (Y/N)," Annabeth says, Tyson behind her and Percy at her side.
(Y/N) smiles, giving them her two-finger salute before gesturing for them to go. Tyson returns the salute, running after Annabeth as Percy stays behind.
When their friends are out of view and the skeleton crew mostly cleared away, Percy strides forward, cupping (Y/N)'s cheeks and pulling her in for a kiss. "Be safe," he whispers, pressing his forehead against hers.
"I will," she says, kissing his knuckles and nudging him away before she completes her ascent to the upper deck. Another set of rungs takes her to the large gun, and she swings herself into the attached seat and steering wheel, trying not to think about the fact that a Confederate soldier's skeleton was sitting there just a few moments prior.
Clarisse runs into the small captain's station, making sure everything is in order for their great escape. "It's still my quest," she mumbles bitterly, yanking on the steering wheel to remove it from a stuck position as she begins to direct the ship against the water's path. "Do not screw this up for me, (Y/L/N)."
The spiked opening to what could only be Charybdis' large intestine slams closed with a guttural, almost roar-like noise, its close proximity to the warship pushing it farther away with a burst of water. Clarisse gets thrown back at the sudden motion, letting out a surprised, "Fuck!" and grabbing the station's doorframe to keep from falling.
(Y/N) remains unfazed, turning her own wheel and directing the gun to point at the multicolored skin on the side closest to the ship. "You should really watch what you eat," she says, clenching her jaw before adding on, "bitch."
She begins firing, the gun—just as she expected—tearing through the skin easily and allowing water to rush through. Charybdis' roar of pain shakes the entire stomach, and Clarisse instantly begins steering towards the hole that provides their escape. (Y/N) fires another shot out of pure spite before deciding to get herself to safety. She pushes away from her seat, flipping in the air to give herself the angle she needs to land on the upper deck. Hitting it running, she crosses the short distance to the captain's station easily and hurrying inside to join Clarisse.
"We're not buddies or anything just because we're using your plan, by the way," the daughter of Ares hisses over her shoulder, fighting against the rush of water that only pushes the ship away from its exit.
(Y/N) rolls her eyes as she pulls the heavy door closed, securely locking it before stepping forward. "Yeah, I know. I know."
Clarisse glances at (Y/N) in her periphery, furiously spinning the steering wheel to the right when she has the opening. "And if we die, don't forget that this was your idea," she pants, and (Y/N) raises an eyebrow.
"If you wanna get technical about it, you came up with the basics of it four months ago," the daughter of Persephone responds.
The small windshield suddenly cracks under the pressure of the onslaught of water, and Clarisse gasps while (Y/N) blinks, each of them startled.
Clarisse shakes her head, easing the wheel to the left as (Y/N) looks at the side windows warily. The ship rips through Charybdis' skin, disturbing a school of fish and beginning its ascent to the water's surface at a painstakingly slow speed. "I said we couldn't get past that Drakon's scales," Clarisse corrects (Y/N)'s statement. "You were the one who said we should throw a grenade—"
"It was a flash flame."
"—yeah, whatever; I don't care. All I know is that you said to throw an explosive into its mouth!"
"You're the one who actually threw it."
"Again, I don't care! I almost died doing that!"
"You volunteered!" (Y/N) exclaims in incredulity.
"Yeah, and I very much regretted it after that creature nearly bit off my head!"
(Y/N) shrugs, turning slightly at the sound of the window next to her cracking. She stares at the glass for a moment before shaking her head. "I think this is the first time you don't want credit for a successful plan, Clarisse."
"Your idea got Drakon guts all over us," Clarisse scoffs, but (Y/N) can see her fight a smile due to their amicable banter.
Water sprays through another split of many in the front windshield, and Clarisse gasps, leaning away. (Y/N) jumps in surprise, moving her body to shield Clarisse and blocking her own face as the side window becomes a spider web of cracked glass, a good two-thirds of it exploding in her direction and raining shards across her body. Her palms, forearms, and cheek sting when they get cut, and Clarisse yelps as water begins pouring into the small room, the rest of the window close to breaking completely.
(Y/N) quickly creates a woven board of vines and thick leaves between her bloodied palms and forces it against the rush of water, blocking it and the remaining glass in the broken window. She ignores the splinters of glass that dig into her skin, looking through the windshield as the water outside becomes lighter.
Ten more seconds underwater and there would have been another destroyed window.
The boat lurches as it breaks the surface, and Clarisse lets out a relieved exhale, leaning on the steering wheel and laughing in disbelief. (Y/N) lets her makeshift shield fall, the previously-unnoticed tension in her muscles relaxing.
"I told you it would work," (Y/N) breathes out, moving towards the door.
Clarisse doesn't say a word as she glances at (Y/N)'s hands, the skin covered in saltwater and blood, and she gently pushes the daughter of Persephone away from the door, opening it herself and letting (Y/N) pass through.
Reardon opens the door from below deck right as Clarisse slides down the ladder to the lower deck, him and the rest of the skeleton crew taking orders from their captain. (Y/N) moves around the side of the deck, cradling her hands as Percy, Annabeth, and Tyson exit from another door that leads to the hull's interior.
"Oh, my gods," Percy breathes out when he sees (Y/N), running over to her. Without saying anything else, he swipes his thumb across her cheekbone, pulling it back to look at the blood there before he sees the mess that her hands are, as well. He frantically looks around for usable water, his gaze focusing on the slippery deck under his feet.
"What happened?" Annabeth asks, her eyes widening at the red that coats her best friend's hands and trails down her cheek. (Y/N) barely winces when Annabeth begins picking out the larger glass shards in her palms, glancing concernedly down at Percy as he crouches to the floor.
"A window exploded," is the simple response, and Tyson gets on his tiptoes to worriedly look over Annabeth's shoulder while keeping his distance.
Percy closes his eyes, touching his fingertips to the water on the deck, and it brings him great relief when it moves towards him, gathering to coat his fingertips. He stands, holding out (Y/N)'s hands and directing the water onto her skin.
"I thought that didn't work here," Tyson says, his head cocked to the side.
Percy hums in acknowledgement, too focused on healing (Y/N) to turn his head. "I can't control the Sea itself, but I guess the other stuff is fine," he says, shaking his head as he moves on to healing a few cuts on (Y/N)'s forearms. "I don't care about the logistics as long as it works."
(Y/N) chuckles softly, watching the glass splinters get washed away from her hands. Percy gently takes ahold of her chin, tilting it to the side. The water cleans away the blood on her cheekbone, healing the thin slice at the corner of her eye before the vitakinesis dies down, leaving her skin healed and, to her annoyance, slightly wet. Percy's hand remains dry even after the water rolls off, and (Y/N) wipes her cheek on her shoulder and hands on her jeans, shaking them off after. "Thank you," she says, earning a smile in response.
(Y/N) looks him over before Annabeth and Tyson, "Are you guys all right?"
Annabeth scoffs, rolling her eyes. "Typical. We're obviously better than you were two seconds ago." (Y/N) chuckles, sending a playful punch to Annabeth's shoulder.
Percy just nods again, and Tyson grins. "That was amazing! I was terrified, but it was amazing!" the Cyclops exclaims, his brother gently nudging him in the elbow.
"You gotta have faith, right?" Percy echoes Tyson's words from before, at camp.
"And a cannon," Tyson says, looking up at the gun before down at (Y/N). "And a (Y/N)."
The girl laughs, shaking her head in amusement.
Tyson smiles reassuringly at the half-bloods. "We'll find Grover." Percy and (Y/N) return the gesture as Annabeth glances away, and Tyson suddenly looks around him in confusion. "Hey, where's Ichneutae?"
Clarisse lets out a bark of incredulous laughter, waving off Reardon and approaching the other four demigods. "Oh, now you miss Ichneutae?" she asks, (Y/N) and Percy turning to face her properly. "Well, before we ran into Charybdis, we got the luck of meeting Scylla—that sister guardian, multi-headed Hydra thing—yeah, you know what I'm talking about."
(All four teenagers were nodding along to her words: Tyson in fear, Annabeth in interest, (Y/N) in dismissal, and Percy in understanding.)
"Felt a lil' bad, honestly, seeing what Circe did to her. But anyway, he was all like, 'I got this!'." Clarisse pauses for a moment to scoff, rolling her eyes. "Famous last words."
Reardon runs up to Clarisse, his fingers clacking together unnaturally due to a loose metacarpal joint. "We've nearly restored full power, Cap'n," he tells Clarisse. "Heading?"
"Northwest."
Percy furrows his eyebrows, his attention focused over the deck's railing across the water. Stepping closer, he watches as beams of turquoise extend and intersect with each other, stretching out towards the distance. "Are you sure about that?" he asks Clarisse, keeping his gaze ahead of him.
Clarisse crosses her arms at his turned back. "Yes, I'm sure about that. Why? Do you have a problem?"
Reardon's skull turns to Clarisse before to Percy. "Yeah, do you got a problem?"
(Y/N) narrows her eyes at the skeleton before she moves over to the deck railing, standing next to Percy and glancing at him in inquiry. Percy shakes his head, watching as more rays curve and extend, creating a compass on the water that only he can see. For some stupid reason, he understands exactly what it means.
"Well, I think your Confederate warship is heading to . . . West Palm Beach, Florida," he says, pointing northwest.
Clarisse shares a confused glance with Reardon (who just turns his empty eye sockets to her), but Annabeth's eyes widen in understanding. "Perfect bearings," the daughter of Athena mumbles, her best friend catching on to the words.
"Of course," (Y/N) breathes out, looking between Percy and Clarisse. "Percy, what is it that you're seeing right now?"
Percy glances at Annabeth before (Y/N) at his side, gesturing at the water. "It's kind of like my dyslexia. But- but instead of being able to read Greek, I can see map lines."
"Nautical coordinates," (Y/N) says in understanding, and Percy points at her with excitement.
"Yes, exactly!" A shift in his periphery prompts him to look back at the compass, numbers appearing now. "There's—hold on. Thirty, thirty-one, seventy-five, twelve," he reads, his brow furrowing at their familiarity.
"Those are the numbers from—"
"—from the crazy, eyeless taxi drivers, yeah," Percy complete's (Y/N) sentence (though, granted, in a far more brash way than she planned on finishing it). "Thirty degrees, thirty-one minutes north; seventy-five degrees, twelve minutes west—that's it!" He turns around to look at Clarisse properly, pointing at the water behind him. "That's where we need to go; that's where Polyphemus and the Fleece are."
Clarisse looks at him for a moment, appearing somewhat impressed, before looking to Reardon. "Change course," she instructs, nodding at Percy. "Southwest."
Reardon nods, lifting his skeletal hand in a salute, his index finger sagging on its loose knuckle. "Aye, aye!" He turns, nearly bumping into Tyson, before freezing. Somehow able to see with his empty eye sockets, Reardon hurriedly drops his hand from its salute. "Oh, sorry," he apologizes to the Cyclops, pointing at his own empty eye sockets. "But to be fair, I also don't—"
"Reardon!" Clarisse snaps, and the skeleton jumps to attention.
"Sorry, Cap'n!"
Clarisse glances at her watch before she looks at the other four demigods. "Because of that Charybdis setback, we'll get there in a few hours, at least. Probably by early or mid-evening. Tell the crew if you need anything."
Upon receiving nods of acknowledgement, she begins to make her way to the captain's station when a muffled explosion rocks the ship, causing surprised yelps and screams to echo on deck. Percy holds his arm out behind (Y/N) to cushion her back, his own digging forcefully into the rail before the ship straightens itself out on the water.
"What the fuck was that?" Annabeth asks, letting go of one of the rungs leading to the upper deck. Clarisse begins shouting for an explanation as the ship stops moving altogether, and (Y/N) squeezes Percy's hand in thanks. He waves it off, rubbing away the soreness in his lower back. Tyson stumbles when a screeching sound rings out, his eye widening in fear.
"And what the fuck was that?" (Y/N) echoes Annabeth's question, Clarisse shaking her head in response.
A different skeleton runs up to Clarisse, and she moves towards it, the other demigods listening to their conversation.
"What just happened?" Clarisse asks, eyes hard. "It sounded like something exploded."
The skeleton shakes its head, arms pressed against its exposed ribs (the soldier's shirt appears to have been ripped in half due to combat, worn as an uneven crop top of sorts) at attention. "Looks like hydrolock, Cap'n. From when we were underwater."
Clarisse crosses her arms. "That doesn't explain the explosion or what sounded like the sharpest nails ever just scratching down a chalkboard."
The skeleton's bones rattle as it shudders at the thought. "The amount of water came in as too much to prevent damage and too fast to control. The old and rusty engine parts were—are, really—vulnerable, too. With the engine running, it just caused . . . boom." If the skeleton had eyes, they would be wide and scared to support the hand gestures provided for emphasis.
Clarisse sighs, rubbing the bridge of her nose. "So it did explode?"
"Not really, ma'am, no. No fire, just engine failure and a little bit of smoke. And a burnt-out starter. And some broken connecting rods and crankcase damage. And probably some other stuff we haven't found in the past minute."
Clarisse covers her face with her hands, letting out a frustrated groan. Tyson steps forward unsurely. "I might be able to help," he offers, and Clarisse turns to look at him. "Back- back at camp, Mr. D. said that I should 'shoo out of his office and go explore the forge' because us Cyclopes are good metalworking. Maybe that'll come in handy if parts need to be repaired."
After analyzing him for a moment, she sighs, nodding. "Johnny, take him to the engine. Get everyone working on this. I need maximum efficiency."
Percy blinks in surprise at her civility.
"I want updates when they're relevant and time estimates every hour. You find a problem, you notify me, you get all hands on board to fix it. How long will the repairs take?"
The skeleton's jaw opens, as though hoping to answer, before it closes again with a 'clack' of its teeth. Clarisse taps her foot expectantly before it opens its mouth again. "Long."
Clarisse crosses her arms again, looking at the skeleton as it just stands there and waits for her to speak. After a moment of silence, she furrows her eyebrows. "What are you waiting for? I said maximum efficiency, now get on it, dumbass! All of you maggots, start moving! Fix my engine, stat!"
Percy feels a small amount of relief to know that she hasn't become a completely different person.
The skeleton gives her a quick salute, hurriedly showing Tyson the way to the damaged engine, the Cyclops following behind with excitement to help.
Clarisse sighs once more, turning to look at Percy, (Y/N), and Annabeth. "Okay, well, it'll be a long while until we can even get moving because we don't wanna manually row our way through this . . . stupid, stupid sea, so you three can each take a cabin down below. Mine's the first on the right, it's off-limits. But since the crew doesn't need anything like it, the spares are available. It's possible we won't make it to the island until tomorrow."
(Y/N) nods, "Thanks, Clarisse."
The daughter of Ares waves it off with disinterest (she also reinforces how, "As long as you stay away from my wheel, don't bother me, and don't wreck my ship, I will not give a shit as to what you do.") before walking away. (Y/N) chooses to explore inside the hull while Percy climbs the rings to the upper deck, hoping he can get a good view of everything.
Annabeth stays by the railing, leaning her forearms against it and pulling out a handkerchief from her jacket's inside pocket. She had previously folded it into a square, which she undoes now, to protect the small pine branch that she picked from the base of Thalia's tree.
Carefully pinching the branch in her thumb and index finger, she holds it up, watching as more of its dark green spines grow brittle and flutter into the water below, dead.
Annabeth stares at the branch sadly, returning it to the handkerchief and placing it back into her pocket.
Before, during their argument, (Y/N) had said that they needed to get moving as quickly as possible. That making a plan in their moment of desperation would only hinder their efforts to find Grover and help save the camp.
Annabeth now realizes just how much truth that statement held.
They were being held back by things that couldn't necessarily be controlled: Charybdis, engine failure, the rising and setting of the sun—and they needed to control those situations if they wanted to ensure the safety of Thalia, Grover, and Camp Half-Blood.
(Y/N) was right.
They had barely any time to begin with, and they were wasting far too much of it. The clock was ticking, and here they were, stranded in the middle of the sea.
Annabeth grits her teeth.
What an utterly cruel trick of fate.