ON THIS SPRING DAY
━━━━━ chapter nine
━━━━━ THE SIX WERE crossing the Potomac when they spotted the helicopter. It was a sleek black military model just like the one seen at Westover Hall. And it was coming straight towards them.
Violet peered nervously out of the van's window. "They know this van. We have to ditch it."
Zoë swerved into the fast lane. The helicopter was gaining.
"Maybe the military will shoot it down," Grover said hopefully.
"The military probably thinks it's one of theirs," Percy said. "How can the General use mortals, anyway?"
"Mercenaries," Zoë said bitterly. "It is distasteful, but many mortals will fight for any cause as long as they are paid."
"But don't these mortals see who they're working for?" he asked. "Don't they notice all the monsters around them?"
Violet shook her head. "We have no idea how much they see through the Mist, and there is no telling what they do see," she said. "And chances are they don't care, even if they know the truth."
"Sometimes mortals can be more horrible than monsters," said Zoë, her eyes hard as she watched the road.
The helicopter kept coming, making a lot better time than the van was through D.C. traffic. Violet couldn't help but think how convenient it would be for Camp Half-Blood to have their own airplane. Someone knew how to fly one, and someone had to know how to build one.
Thalia closed her eyes and prayed hard. "Hey, Dad. A lightning bolt would be nice about now. Please?"
But the sky stayed grey and snowy. No sign of a helpful thunderstorm. Violet tried not to curse the Lord of the Skys in her mind.
"There!" Bianca said, leaning forward in her seat to point out the windshield. "That parking lot!"
"We'll be trapped," Zoë said.
"Trust me," Bianca insisted.
Zoë shot across two lanes of traffic and into a mall parking lot on the south bank of the river. They left the van and followed Bianca down some steps.
"Subway entrance," Bianca said. "Let's go south. Alexandria."
"Anything," Thalia agreed.
They all bought tickets and got through the turnstiles, looking behind them for any signs of pursuit. Bianca lagged behind as Violet tried to help the lieutenant of the Hunters fumble her way through the turnstiles.
"This is ridiculous," Zoë hissed, slamming the ticket down. "There is a much simpler way to design this! Did a man design this?"
Bianca looked panicked. She kept looking past the metal gates, looking for any signs of the General and the skeleton warriors. "Zoë, it's simple. Here—"
Before she could try and help, Violet ripped the ticket out of Zoë's hand and shoved the paper inside the slot of the turnstile. The bars blocking the Hunter's path loosened and Violet pushed her through.
"There," she said, handing the ticket over. "Now, come on!"
Zoë gave her a haughty look, hurrying ahead. Violet rolled her eyes at the way the lieutenant didn't even bother to give any thanks. Bianca nudged the daughter of Eros's shoulder, sending her a grateful smile.
A few minutes later, they were safely aboard a southbound train, riding away from D.C. As their train came above ground, they could see the helicopter circling the parking lot, but it didn't come after them.
Grover let out a sigh, slumping down in his seat. "Nice job, Bianca, thinking of the subway."
The girl looked pleased with herself. "Yeah, well, I remembered that station from when Nico and I came through last summer. I was really surprised to see it because it wasn't here when we used to live in D.C."
Violet frowned and leaned forward in her seat. This hadn't been the first time she had heard Bianca or Nico say something odd like that. "What do you mean 'new'? That station looks really old."
"I guess," Bianca said with a shrug. "But trust me, Vi, when Nico and I lived here as little kids, there was no subway."
Thalia sat forward, her elbows on her knees. "Wait a minute. No subway at all?"
Bianca nodded.
Violet will admit, she knew practically nothing about D.C., but she knew enough there was no way a whole subway system could be built in less than twelve years. She guessed everyone else was thinking the same thing, because they looked pretty confused.
"Bianca," Zoë said. "How long ago ...?" Her voice faltered. The sound of the helicopter was getting louder again.
"We need to change trains," Percy said, standing up quickly. He grabbed Violet's arm, pulling her out of her seat. "Next station."
Over the next half hour, all the six thought about was getting away safely. They changed trains twice. Violet had no idea where they were going, but after a while, they lost the helicopter.
Unfortunately, when they finally got off the train they found themselves at the end of the line, in an industrial area with nothing but warehouses and railway tracks. And snow. Lots of snow. Violet was happy she had taken the lion fur coat from Percy after all—even if it totally clashed with her outfit.
Bianca stepped in line with Violet, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. Her teeth were catering slightly. "I just wanted to say thanks for helping Zoë through the turnstiles back there. She can get pretty heated about mortal stuff."
Violet tried to smile. "I could guess that."
"But Zoë's cool," Bianca said, as if the girl beside her had made an attack on the lieutenant's character. "Just rough around the edges."
She peered at the new hunter. "Is this some second attempt to get me to join the Hunters?" she asked, her voice taking on a teasing tone to it.
Bianca smiled. "No, no," she said quickly, shaking her head. She waved her hand, as if trying to summon the right words. "It's just ... I guess I also wanted to ask why you went on this quest."
Violet found the question odd. She found it odd that Bianca would care any, it wasn't like they were close. Sure, the daughter of Eros had been hanging around the edge of Westover Hall for the past few months but she had never become friends with the di Angelos. That was always suggested to campers going on expeditions; be friendly, but it's best not to be friends—it'll hurt worse when they die a horrific death before you can get them Camp Half-Blood.
Instead of answering honestly ( there were too many possible replies rolling through her head to answer honestly ), Violet deflected. "I could ask you the same thing. You haven't been a Hunter very long."
Bianca nodded, like she expected that answer. "To prove myself," she answered easily. "I know it's silly, but—"
"It's not silly," Violet cut her off, her expression suddenly solemn. "I get it. You feel people underestimate you all the time, for anything; for being a girl, for being young, for being ..." She trailed off. "Well, people underestimate me for being a daughter of Eros. I don't think they'll underestimate you because of that. I think I'd know if you were my sister."
Bianca bumped her shoulder. "People underestimate you for being a daughter of Eros?"
"All the time. You should hear Mr. D. He's, like, the biggest asshole ever."
"Why would they do that?" Bianca asked.
Violet shrugged. "Eros is a minor god. He's a god of love. They always just assume love is pointless and can't do any real damage. I'm their minds, at least."
The Hunter raised her eyebrows. "Really? That's ... crappy. Aren't most, like, Ancient Greek wars started by love or something?"
Violet tugged the fur coat around her shoulders tighter. "In one way or another, yeah."
Bianca's eyes locked on the beaded, leather necklace around Violet's neck. "What's that for? The beads look ..." She trailed off, her eyebrows furrowing together.
"Weird?" offered the daughter of Eros. "The beads represent my number of years at Camp. Each bead is handed out at the end of the summer. It'll be my third year at Camp at the end of next summer."
"That's cool!" said the black-haired girl, peering at the two beads closer. "Why do the beads have those designs?"
"The design is chosen based on the most important or memorable event from the summer," Violet explained, holding the necklace out further for Bianca to see. "This bead represents the summer Percy arrived, being a son of Poseidon and all. It was my first summer at Camp, too. Then this bead represents last summer when the Golden Fleece was found to save Camp."
"Do you have to stay the entire year to get the bead?" asked Bianca curiously.
Violet shook her head, letting the necklace lay flat on her collarbones. "You have to stay the summer to get the beads, but there are some year-round campers."
"Are you year-round?"
Violet tried not to flinch. They were approaching dangerous topics. She never liked talking about family, and always tried to avoid it as much as possible. "Yeah, I stay year-round."
Bianca seemed to notice her vague and simple answer. She nodded and forged ahead, figuring it was best to let the conversation die than to make Violet any more uncomfortable than she already was.
The six wandered through the railway yard, thinking there might be another passenger train somewhere, but there were just rows and rows of freight cars, most of which were covered in snow, like they hadn't moved in years.
A homeless guy was standing at a trashcan fire. They must've looked pretty pathetic, because he gave them a toothless grin and said, "Y'all need to get warmed up? Come on over!"
They huddled around the fire. Thalia's teeth were chattering. She said, "Well this is g-g-g-great."
"My hooves are frozen," Grover complained.
"Feet," Percy corrected in vain.
"Maybe we should contact Camp," Bianca said. "Chiron—"
"No," Zoë said. "They cannot help us anymore. We must finish this quest ourselves."
Violet gazed miserably around the railway yard. Somewhere, far to the west, Annabeth was in danger. Artemis was in chains. A doomsday monster was on the loose. And they were stuck on the outskirts of D.C. sharing a homeless person's fire.
"You know," the homeless man said, "you're never completely without friends." His face was grimy and his beard tangled, but his expression seemed kind. "You kids need a train going west?"
"Uh—" Violet glanced at her five quest-mates, they all seemed just as nervous as she was. "Um, yes, sir, we need to head west. Do you know any trains heading that way?"
The homeless man's eyes turned colder when she spoke. He sneered at her, as if she had personally punched his firstborn, and pointed a greasy hand. Violet blinked with shock, wondering why he would give her such a look. Half of her wondered if her expression gave him the impression that she disliked him; she didn't have a very good poker face.
Suddenly she noticed a freight train, gleaming and free of snow. It was one of those automobile-carrier trains, with steel mesh curtains and a triple deck of cars inside. The side of the freight train said SUN WEST LINE.
"That's ... convenient," Thalia said. "Thanks, uh ..."
She turned to the homeless guy, but he was gone. The trashcan in front of them was cold and empty, as if he'd taken the flames with him.
🌷
An hour later, they were rumbling west among a plethora of luxury, expensive sports cars.
Zoë and Bianca were crashed out in a Lexus on the top deck, with Grover in the back seat, trying to impress them with his worse-than-average reed pipe skills. And Percy and Thalia were talking ( or arguing, it was a little hard to tell from where Violet sat ) in a black Mercedes SLK.
Violet sunk in the driver's seat of an Ascari KZ1 ( or at least that's what Percy told her the car was, she didn't know shit about them ). She stretched out her arms, spreading her fingers. She hadn't noticed it before, but her heart felt heavy since the museum; her heart felt like it was coated in an extra-thick layer of lead since she saw her arm disappear within the shadows. It was the silence of the luxury car that let her mind wander.
There was no way the powers were connected to Eros. Was it right to call it a 'power'? It didn't feel like any power—it felt like a burden, an omen for something. Eros was the God of Love, not ... darkness.
Violet wasn't supposed to be able to fit her body inside voids of darkness. Despite the fact she had no idea she could do it, it was a horrible feeling. It was heavy and burdensome; a cold, scary feeling. People were afraid of the dark for a reason, she shouldn't go poking around in it. But she couldn't help but wonder—sue her for her curious nature, alright?
Demigods had abilities stemming from their godly parents; Violet was a skilled archer like her father, Eros; Annabeth had a knack for plans and craftsmanship like her mother, Athena; Percy had powers over waters like Poseidon; Thalia could control lightning like Zeus, God of Lightning. However, as far as Violet was aware, having powers that didn't concern their godly parents wasn't a thing—like, at all.
Sure, the gods could bless a half-blood. Perhaps the blessing could include giving them a few extra powers, maybe helping them become a master at that god's weapon of expertise, or something like that, but the gods didn't do it very often. The half-blood had to be special, and important, or do something to save the gods. And—well, Violet didn't fit that. She was plain, average, and just 'another daughter of love'.
"You look like you're at someone's funeral," a boy noticed with a teasing tone.
Violet flinched and looked up. Percy stood at the passenger's side, one hand on the open door. He gave her a tight-lipped smile and motioned to the empty seat in front of him.
"Can I sit?" he asked.
The daughter of Eros shrugged and so he climbed inside, closing the door behind him. This strange silence settled between them, something Violet had never witnessed before. It was like they were both waiting for the other to speak, something important on the tips of their tongues.
"Why'd Thalia kick you out?" she asked, ignoring that feeling.
Percy rubbed the back of his neck, an embarrassed look crossing his face. "I talked about Luke and Annabeth and the Hunters."
Violet nodded. "Did she tell you about Zoë and what she said about Luke?"
He nodded. "How do you know about it?"
"Annabeth told me," she said. "Well—she made vague comments about it when I talked about the Hunters once. I just assumed the Hunters didn't have anything nice to say about Luke 'cause he's a guy and all, you know? Annabeth told me some of it later."
"Did you know about Annabeth wanting to join?"
Violet stared at him, debating what kind of answer to give. "... I did. But I get why she wants to."
Percy slumped in his seat. Violet felt bad for bringing up Annabeth, knowing how horrible they both felt about what was happening. His eyebrows furrowed and he looked at Violet. "What do you mean 'you get it'?"
She blinked. "What do I mean ...?" She shrugged, having gone silent for a moment to gather her thoughts. "I guess it has something to do with me and Annabeth both growing up in ever-changing houses. Both of us had pretty tumultuous family lives. Being a Hunter would bring that stability. You're immortal, with a band of girls around to always be that family. Not much would change."
Percy's eyes locked on the two beads lying on Violet's neck. She had a pretty good idea what question he was going to ask next.
"You don't have a good relationship with your mom?" he asked.
"It's not ... horrible," she supplied. "My mom's not as bad as Annabeth's parents by any means, but still ... We stopped talking after I ran away; Mom would send letters, but I never responded. Then she stopped the letters altogether after some time."
She wasn't going to admit she kept all ten letters from Dahlia Beaumont, opened and read ( multiple times over ) in her trunk back at Camp Half-Blood. She wasn't sure how to admit it, or what exactly it meant that she kept them all.
"But you were at Camp when I arrived," Percy pointed out.
The daughter of Eros nodded. "I was. I first arrived in early April that year, it was my new school's spring break or something, but after I left Camp after a week, my mom basically said I would never be allowed to go back. So in May, I ran away. I figured since we lived in Manhattan it wouldn't be too hard to get there on foot."
"After I ran away, my mom sent letter after letter. She wanted to talk about Camp and how she thought I was becoming 'too violent' from all the training, but I knew if I went back she wouldn't ever let me out of her sight again. Eventually ... she gave up."
"What?" said Percy. "Is she some helicopter parent?"
"I don't know if I would go that far." Violet shrugged. "But it had always just been me and her. Since I was little. We moved every year, like clockwork. Most times, it was even close to, like, six months."
"Really?" he asked.
The daughter of Eros nodded.
Percy crossed his legs together, sitting on top of them. "I moved schools a lot," he said, in some attempt to try and relate to her. "I always felt so ..."
"Stupid?" Violet offered. "Yeah, me too. They never said anything, but you always just knew."
He nodded. "Hey," he nudged her, "I'm sorry about your mom—about not talking to her anymore."
Violet shrugged. "S'okay. We both made our choices. We'll live."
"But maybe you should try and talk to her," said Percy and she looked at him sharply. He held out his hand, a motion to tell her to wait and let him explain. "Just talk. You don't have to forgive or anything. Just send a letter to her and explain how you felt. If your mom doesn't seem to want to listen, then don't send another letter. Just test the waters, you know?"
Violet tugged at a charm bracelet on her wrist. Percy had just noticed it for the first time. The bracelet was silver and thin, instead of having a multitude of charms on there to tell a tale of her life, there was one singular charm clipped on; a small purple stem of flowers.
"What is that?" he asked.
The girl looked at him, and he pointed to her wrist. Violet looked to where he was pointing and seemed to notice for the first time what she was doing. As quick as light, she placed her hand over the bracelet. She frowned down at her hands.
"It's a bracelet my mom gave me for my twelfth birthday," she admitted with a small sigh. "A couple of days after I came back from Camp in April. I figured it was a peace offering because we had a fight the day before."
"There's only one charm on it," Percy noticed.
"Yeah ... I never had the chance to get any more on there." The girl licked her lips. "It's a larkspur. My favorite flower."
"That's—" The boy raised his eyebrows; Violet wasn't sure how to read his expression. "I mean, that's kind of specific. I've never heard of Lardspear before."
"Larkspur, Percy," she corrected. "My mom's a florist, I'm expected to know that kind of stuff."
He nodded slowly. "Then ... why still wear it?"
Violet's eyebrows furrowed. She seemed to be getting lost in old memories. "I don't know," she admitted, her voice so quiet Percy had to lean closer. "She's still my mom at the end of the day, and I still love her—even if I don't understand the things she does."
That strange silence settled between them once again; the silence that felt as if they both had something important at the tips of their tongues. Violet shifted, pulling her knees to her chest and wrapping her arms around them. She stared at the small purple charm, her mind churring with sad memories and confusing questions uncontrollably.
She opened her mouth, taking a small breath. "Those dreams," she broke the silence, "have you had any new ones recently?"
Percy frowned at her. "What dreams have you been having?"
Violet debated whether to tell Percy about the latest dream she had. The dream about Artemis in Celestial bronze chains, Annabeth and Luke, and that booming deep voice. It wasn't like it was going to hurt anything. If anything, Percy could help. Maybe he knew something she didn't.
But, before she could speak, a third voice spoke first; "Oh, there's no reason to be afraid of dreams."
Violet jumped in her seat and spun around; the homeless man was in the middle of the Ascari backseat. She wasn't surprised, not really, there was something off about the man. His jeans were so worn out they were almost white. His coat was ripped, with stuffing coming out. He looked like a childhood stuffed animal that had been left and forgotten.
"If it weren't for dreams," he said, "I wouldn't know half the things I know about the future. They're better than Olympus tabloids." He cleared his throat, then held up his hand dramatically.
"Dreams like a podcast,
Downloading truth in my ears,
They tell me cool stuff."
Violet blinked at the homeless man. She glanced at the son of Poseidon beside her, his expression pretty sour.
"Apollo?" he guessed.
The god put his finger to his lips, winking. "I'm incognito. Call me Fred."
"A god named Fred?" asked the black-haired boy.
"Eh—well ..." Apollo shrugged. "Zeus insists on certain rules. Hands off, when there's a human quest. Even when something really major is wrong. But nobody messes with my baby sister. Nobody."
"Can you help us, then? Er—Lord Apollo," Violet said, figuring she had to be extra nice to him considering he didn't like her.
Apollo's eyes flashed. She figured she might as well pretend she didn't exist, maybe even get swallowed by her seat if possible.
"I am helping," the god said coldly, picking at his dirty fingernails. "Haven't you been looking outside?"
She glanced outside. The landscape was moving faster than anything she had ever seen before. Everything was a blur of dark skies and snowy grounds.
"The train," said Percy. "How fast are we moving?"
The God of the Sun chuckled. "Fast enough. Unfortunately, we're running out of time. It's almost sunset. But I imagine we'll get you across a good chunk of America, at least."
Violet swallowed, risking asking another question. "Do you know where we'll get to?"
Apollo didn't look at her this time; maybe that was a step in the right direction. ( The right direction; not getting blasted to a pile of ashes by the God of the Sun. ) "As far west as I can get you," said the god.
"Then, where is Artemis?" asked Percy.
Apollo's face darkened and Violet feared Percy asked the wrong thing one final time. "I know a lot, and I see a lot," said the god, "but even I don't know that. She's ... clouded from me. I don't like it."
"What about Annabeth?" Percy asked.
The god frowned. "Oh, you mean that girl you lost? Hm, I don't know."
Violet frowned at the god. She tried not to get upset, knowing the gods had a hard time taking mortals seriously, even half-bloods. To the gods, they all seemed insignificant; they lived such short lives and couldn't accomplish even a quarter of what the gods could.
"What about the monster Artemis was seeking?" asked the son of Poseidon, his brows furrowed. "Do you know what it is?"
"No," Apollo said. "But there is one who might. If you haven't yet found the monster when you reach San Francisco, seek out Nereus, the old man of the sea. He has a long memory and a sharp eye. He has the gift of knowledge sometimes kept obscure from my Oracle."
"But it's your Oracle," Violet protested. "Can't you just tell us what the prophecy means?"
She paled and clamped her mouth shut. Apollo looked at her coldly, as if looking at a piece of gum on the bottom of his brand-new Gucci shoes. She was about to get ready to grovel and apologize—only to keep her life—when the god sighed and swept back his greasy hair.
"That's like asking an artist to explain his art, or ask a poet to explain his poem, Daughter of Eros." He said Eros like it was some bad disease, but Violet didn't care, she was just happy to be alive. "It defeats the purpose. The meaning is only clear through the search."
Percy glanced at the girl; he seemed tired of this conversation. "In other words, you don't know."
The god smiled cheekily and checked his wrist, even though there was no watch there to be checking. "Ah, look at the time! I have to run. I doubt I can risk helping again, but remember what I said! Get some sleep, you two. And when you return, I expect a good haiku about your journey!"
"I'm not making a haiku," Violet protested.
"Oh, no," Apollo said. "No, you're not. That would be a disgrace to the names of all poets!"
Before the daughter of Eros could get offended, the God of the Sun snapped his fingers. And the next thing Violet knew, she was closing her eyes for sleep.
🌷
In her dreams, Violet was wearing silk robes. She had no idea where she could've gotten them, either. Pure, real silk robes were not easy to come upon these days. She saw a singular dark braid flowing down her back.
Safe to say, Violet was not Violet in this dream. But she had no idea who she was.
"Hurry!" she said, her voice full of fear. "He will find us!"
She was pulling a man behind her. He was tall and well built, but not too stocky; a black-haired young man that looked to be only seventeen, maybe even eighteen. He wore an old-fashioned Greek tunic and laced leather sandals. The Nemean Lion pelt was wrapped around his back like a cape.
It was nighttime; at least a million stars blazed above them, something Violet had never seen before. The two were running through tall grass, and the scent of a thousand different flowers made the air intoxicating. It was beautiful, wherever they were, yet, Violet wasn't stopping to pick any flowers. She was running for her life, she could tell; she could hear the blood rushing inside her, nothing else was on her brain than getting away, she was fueled with adrenaline.
"I'm not afraid," the guy tried telling her.
"You should be!" she said, giving a tug at his wrist.
They raced up the side of the hill. She pulled the guy behind a thorn bush and they both collapsed, breathing heavily. The place almost seemed peaceful, whoever was after them hadn't quite reached them yet.
"There is no reason to run," the guy promised Violet. He sounded confident—too confident—but she figured he was a guy who had been praised for every single thing he ever did. "I have bested a thousand monsters with my bare hands."
That possibility made a lot of sense if he was a Greek hero.
"Not this one," she argued, shaking her head. "Ladon is too strong. You must go around, up the mountain to my father. It is the only way."
Violet—whoever she was in the dream—sounded hurt. It was obvious she cared for the guy, even if he seemed a little full of himself.
"I don't trust your father," the guy admitted.
"You should not," she agreed. "You will have to trick him. But you cannot take the prize directly. You will die."
The man chuckled. "Then why don't you help me, pretty one?"
"I ... I am afraid. Ladon will stop me. My sisters, if they found out ... they would disown me."
"Then there's nothing for it." The guy stood up, rubbing his hands together.
"Wait." Violet shot her hand out; her fingers were shaking.
She seemed to be agonizing over a decision. Then, her fingers still trembling, she reached up and plucked a long white brooch from her hair. A hair brooch Violet hadn't even known was there.
"If you must fight," she said, "take this. My mother, Pleione, gave it to me. She was a daughter of the ocean, and the ocean's power is within it. My immortal power."
She breathed on the pin and it glowed faintly. It gleamed in the starlight, catching and reflecting every twinkle made by constellations.
"Take it," Violet insisted to the man, holding the brooch out to him. "And made of it a weapon."
The guy gave a hearty laugh. "A hairpin? How will this slay Ladon, pretty one?"
"It may not," she admitted. "But it is all I can offer, if you insist on being stubborn."
He reached down and took the hairpin from Violet's trembling fingers. And as he did, the brooch morphed into a sword she had seen before. She had seen Percy Jackson use that very same sword—countless times. But how had he gotten ahold of it?
"Well balanced," he said. "Though I usually prefer to use my bare hands. What shall I name this blade?"
"Anaklusmos," Violet said sadly. "The current that takes one by surprise. And before you know it, you have been swept out to sea."
The words Thank you never once came out of the man's mouth. She knew to not be surprised. But maybe the words never came out of his mouth by the trampling of grass nearby them. Violet looked around the garden in a panic, looking for any sign of whoever was chasing them.
Violet started to get up from the ground, telling the man, "Too late! He is here!"
🌷
Violet woke to the sound of a quiet car. The only sound besides the constant hum of the rumbling freight train was Percy's grumbles. He was sleep-talking. She sat up in her seat, using the steering wheel to look outside. The metal curtains to the train were already rolled up, and the outside were snowy mountains dotted with pine trees. The sun was rising red between two peaks.
The daughter of Eros opened her car door, poking her head out to get a better look. The SUN WEST LINE had come to a complete halt. Apollo had helped them all he could. She spotted Grover clopping his way over, chewing on his bottom lip.
"Hey, Vi," he said, greeting her without much morning enthusiasm than she felt. He took a second glance at her face. "Are you okay?"
"I'm fine," she said, closing her car door. "I just ... didn't sleep well."
The satyr nodded like he understood and opened the passenger door to the Ascari. As she descended the freight train, she heard him say, "Percy, it's morning. The train's stopped. Come on!"
Thalia, Zoë, and Bianca had already made it off and landed on the snowy grounds. They were all looking around, squinting from the sunlight, trying to shake the drowsiness away. Violet landed beside them, rubbing her arms. Bianca smiled back at her, her teeth clattering together.
The daughter of Eros didn't extend her courtesy too much besides a half-smile. Her mind was too preoccupied with the dream. Percy never called his weapon Anaklusmos, only Riptide, but Violet knew that's what the weapon is supposed to be called.
Instead of solving any more questions, she had more to add to the ever-growing list; whose eyes had she been looking through during that dream? Who was that Greek hero? Who were they running from? And how the hell did Percy get his hands on Anaklusmos?
🌷 APR. 10TH, 2023 / i really enjoy writing salty apollo ngl he's so petty and i love it
i have a love/hate relationship with this chapter - i just feel like vi and percy's convo doesn't flow but idk how else to write it
also vi and bianca >>>>
i know a lot of people don't like bianca but i love her <3333 she deserves everything and more
and to be honest,, she's one of the better characters (even tho she didn't really get too much characterization)
(also,, here's a hint; the larkspur charm is very important)
anyways,, thoughts?? opinions??