[ the first night annabeth was here, she slept like a log. her entire body is bone tired, aching like nothing before, it was simply too exhausted to do anything other than sleep. it was probably the most restful night she'd gotten in weeks, if not months. ]
[ it doesn't last, of course. demigod nights are not very restful to begin with, and there's a lot that slowly starts to catch up with her after the shock of arriving in abraxas begins to wear off. it gave her a lot to focus on, to put the doors of death out of her head. she knows this would be harder without percy, but after she begins to adjust, it's like her consciousness remembers she's a demigod and remembers where she came from. the nightmares, once again, start to kick in. ]
[ she makes it through the second night, even the third - not without issue, not without waking several times, not without staring into the void of her bed's ceiling canopy for gods know how long. she sleeps in a little later each day, trying to catch up on the rest she knows her body desperately needs, but it becomes impossible to get through the whole night by the day of the castle's party. she has a good time. she learns a lot. she gets to eat olives again. percy whines about getting wet in nott and annabeth tries not to laugh at him. ]
[ but that night is the worst so far. her dreams are full of monsters, of molten skin moving beneath her feet. there are bloodstained orange shirts, and percy's body smothered in wounds, curses from their mere existence as half-bloods. tartarus twists alive again more wholly than it has since she left it. she sees the entity itself rise and knows she is going to die, surrounded by blood-red skies and desperation. ]
[ annabeth jolts upright and wakes suddenly, shoving the blanket into her mouth and biting down on instinct before she screams out into the room. her chest is tight and she is crying. she lifts her knees and buries her face into them, into the blanket, trying to hide the sound of her heaving. she's afraid to open her eyes, because what if she can't see? it's a strange new fear, one she finds comes at most in the night. most of all, though, she just wants to see percy. she wants the reassurance of simply him, alive and breathing and warm. ]
[ without thinking, she slips from her bed, feet landing silently on the floor. the room is quiet. she pads her way over to percy's bed, gently pulling open his curtains just enough to slip herself inside before dropping them, blocking off the rest of the room around them. ]
Percy.
[ she whispers it, but there's an edge to her voice, almost an urgency. she wants to touch him, to wake him, to make sure he's still there even though she can see the shape of him beneath the blankets, but there's a sliver of a shiver in her bones that keeps her rooted to the floor, despite how much she just wants to climb in beside him. her hair is a mess, her face splotchy, her body shaking just so, but it's hardly the worst he's ever seen her. ]
[ When sleep eventually finds Percy, following a tough work-out in Nott and Thorne's fancy party, the last thing he thinks is, Man, this place can't possibly be real. I'm gonna wake up tomorrow morning and it'll be the smell of bitter smoke in my nostrils and the taste of acid on my tongue. I'll see red skies and endless craggy rock, and a monster will be staring at me like I'm breakfast.
It's followed by, I can't believe I had five slices of pizza, and all of it is gonna be fake, before he's finally out like a light.
Like Annabeth, and like any demigod, his dreams are troubling. They're filled with haunting memories of Tartarus and snatches of unfulfilled prophecy lines delivered by creatures with hollowed out holes for eyes, green smoke filtering from the sockets. There are familiar screams, and there are unfamiliar ones, until Percy spends the first hour or so wrestling with sleep like it's one of the monsters in his dreams. Eventually he finds himself staring at the folds in the gossamer curtains that provide him with a veneer of privacy within this shared room and no sense of what time it must be now.
Well. At least it's all real, so that's something.
There are three other beds here, two of which are occupied now by fellow Thornites (Thorners? Thorneans? He hasn't really learned the lingo yet) whom he's probably said a total of about three words to since he'd met them — one of which was 'hi' and the last two being 'good' and 'night'. The last bed across the room from his, of course, should be occupied by his girlfriend, Annabeth. And while he tries to listen for the sound of her breathing, it's the howling sound of the winds outside, and rain pelting against glass and stone that make it hard to hear much else.
He wonders if he'll be going back to Nott tomorrow. He wonders if he'll have his powers back by then.
He barely even notices that someone's pushed aside the curtains for a moment, slipping past them, until he hears his name whispered above the wind and the rain; and he doesn't even have a chance to chide himself for not noticing, for how easily he could have just been murdered if someone wanted to, because he rolls over to meet his visitor's eyes and his heart immediately sinks all the way somewhere in his gut.
With a jolt, he shifts to sit up, meeting Annabeth's miserable expression with one of concern. ]
Hey — [ His voice is soft as he quickly checks her for any signs of injury with nothing more than the night sky to provide the barest of light. No, this isn't the worst that he's seen her, but it's not good either. ] What's wrong? Did something happen?
[ he's awake already. she finds she isn't surprised. annabeth has a moment to feel bad he isn't sleeping, but she's grateful she doesn't have to spend the time waking him. ]
[ it's dark but she can still see him, and she doesn't know if it's because she is used to seeing in the dark or if it's because she's used to seeing him in the dark. both aren't pleasant thoughts. there's relief with seeing him anyway, hearing his voice, and she doesn't wholly process what he says at first, still stuck in her head. she tries to focus entirely on him there, the sound of his concern. the shape of his shoulders, the frown on his face. he is whole. ]
[ she bursts into another wave of tears. her hands reach out for him without thinking, and she's already half climbing onto the bed. ]
Yeah — yeah, of course. Hey — it's okay, it's gonna be okay. I'm here.
[ It occurs to him that while he's seen Annabeth cry, even been the cause for it on more than one occasion (which always feels like a knife-stab in the chest), this is different. This is panicked and scared and it's about something else, something he can guess at, and it isn't because of him.
Well, not exactly because of him.
Percy pulls back the blankets to make it easier for him to gather her up in his arms when she reaches out for him, and to pull her in close like he could protect her from whatever she's warring with right now with his physical presence. (Again, he has an idea of what it might be.) She's shaking a little, and he thinks his heart might shatter.
Instead he swallows. ]
Talk to me. [ A small distraction. A way to slowly get out of her own head and the images that are probably still clinging to her. ] Tell me something, anything.
[ she throws herself into the words and at him, scrambling towards him and into his arms, winding her fingers into his shirt and burying her face against his chest. there's already comfort brewing, a sense of safety from just the fact that he's okay. he's solid, he's grounding, he's got her. she's had nightmares before, far too many to count, but this one felt different. it was visceral in a new way, almost physical like it was going to keep burning her after it finished. ]
[ she's half in his lap and unawares of how much the blankets have been mussed. she shakes her head a little, unsure what to even say. she doesn't want to vocalize it. the room is dark but it still feels tinged with red, a vignette. ]
I had to see you.
[ seeing him is better than seeing anything else, images burning into her eyes because tartarus burns. it's still smouldering. she knew it would be, but she hoped it wouldn't. percy is the coolant. ]
[ Percy presses a kiss into her hair and holds her, thinking on all of the times his mom had comforted him as a kid, the way she could make him feel safe when he'd had one of his nightmares (not knowing yet what those nightmares really meant, or how much worse they'd be) ... and he thinks on the times when he'd wake up from a terrible nightmare to find Annabeth there, hand ready to slip into his and squeeze, to ground him back to reality before he could really let the panic set in.
He doesn't let her go.
The last few weeks (or has it been months now? He can't remember) have developed some real nasty night terrors, the kind of unimaginable stuff that no one — mortal or demigod or otherwise — should ever have to envision, and he and Annabeth had seen it with their own waking eyes. The echoes of those horrors just exist now, scratched into their bones, permanently imprinted onto their souls.
If anyone understands how Annabeth feels right now, it's him. ]
I'm here. [ He repeats, his voice a murmur into her hair. ] I'm here and I'm not going anywhere. Not now, not ever, okay?
[ the truth of it all is percy's unapologetic support and comfort is something she's clung to for a while, different from the circumstantial family and loss of thalia and luke, different from the growing but still strained re-structuring of having a father. she does not want to think about her mother. she just wants to think of percy's unyielding care for her specifically. she knows there is an underside to it, witnessed the vicious side of the coin in tartarus alongside all the other terrifying monsters both literal and figurative, the lengths he pushed himself to for her sake. but his hold is sturdy and strong and that's really all she cares about right now. ]
[ and he understands. he knows why she is here without asking, because he must be seeing it all too. annabeth and percy have always been on a similar wavelength, they're a good team for a reason, but it feels different now. it's neither good or bad, just another evolution of them. ]
[ she draws in a harsh breath, shuddering against him, but it almost feels like an expulsion. her hold on him remains tight and she's not out of it yet, but she doesn't feel as hysterical. not now, not ever. he's here with her. he's always going to be. ]
I love you. [ a mumble against his shirt. something good. it's how they made it through tartarus in the first place, it must be able to help now. ]
[ Hearing and saying the words feels like the release of a breath held in for too long, a kind of mantra that they'd made, and a promise that they kept to pull each other back during the worst of Tartarus. When it felt like things were getting too dark, too hopeless, they'd remind each other that they weren't alone, they would find the Doors, they would be okay — and that was enough.
Honestly, Percy knows without a doubt in his mind that he would never have made it out of Tartarus if he didn't have Annabeth. Some of the things he remembers — he can't even bring them up to the surface without feeling his heartbeat quicken on its own accord, like it was trying to sprout legs and leap out of his throat to get as far away from him as possible.
And besides, Annabeth needs him right now.
He keeps his hold on her, solid and tight, offering her what strength he has. The winds continue to howl and the rain continues to fall, but holding each other like this makes any weather system just a little less scary because they're together. ]
[ her shoulders sink with the feeling of being loved. ]
[ it's one thing that remains true no matter where they are, no matter what's thrown at them: percy loves her. she'd been scared and worried during those months he was missing, only to find out she'd been the one thing he did remember. she loves him so much in return it often hurts. it's how they made it through literal hell. ]
[ there was no getting through tartarus without him. right from the start - she would have died instantly, if he hadn't been there to manipulate the cocytus to catch their fall. he chose to follow her and in doing so saved her a thousand times over. she pushes aside the whispering thought that he wouldn't have been there to begin with if not for her own arrogance and thinks only of his arms around her instead. she shifts, just enough to tuck herself under his chin. if tartarus is going to follow them here, in a magic castle in a brand new world, she's going to fight it off the same way. with him. together, it sometimes feels like they can do anything. ]
I'm - [ she wants to say sorry, but she isn't really, and she thinks percy would ignore it anyway. she's still crying, but it's quieter. percy settles her. ]
I'm glad you're here. [ her voice is a little hoarse. it's selfish, maybe. but she's curled up in his arms and doesn't want to be anywhere else right now. ]
[ It's a little bit of a promise, a fact, and a wish, all rolled into one. At this point in their relationship, after five years of fighting monsters, near-death experiences, and being each other's support (figuratively and literally), Percy simply can't imagine an existence without Annabeth Chase. In fact, he kinda refuses to.
He'd like to think that who or whatever sent them here knew that too.
He adjusts his own position when she moves, making them both a little more comfortable. He suspects that they're going to be here, like this, for the next little while — maybe even by the time daylight starts to break — but the length of time hardly matters to him. They could be here for the next couple of days, and he'd stay exactly where he is until they get through this nightmare together.
(If their roommates have a problem with that, he'd welcome them to try something.)
He leans his cheek against the top of her head now and lets the steadiness of his heartbeat calm hers, his breath slow and steady to take the lead until she feels hers steadying too. ]
[ annabeth has to take it as true, as a fact of the universe(s?). because the alternative is not something she ever wants to experience again. she's here, of course he'd be here too. it's tiring to be dragged into yet another set of problems, but the problems put them together more often than not. ]
[ they fit and move together like anything else, even in a tangle of arms and messy blankets, and she can only hope percy's not too uncomfortable, because she's not ready to move just yet. one hand lets go of his shirt, if only so she can slide her arm around him instead. she takes a deep but steady breath burrowed up against him. slowly, her breathing evens out. her heart slows to match his and the air doesn't feel as hostile, even with the storm rattling at the walls and windows. it's just a storm. it's not acid. ]
[ she's not in tartarus. part of her still feels unnerved, but at least she doesn't feel as unmoored. she's anchored again. ]
Nightmares, am I right? [ she tries for a joke, mumbled, but it falls flat, on account of how tightly she's still holding him and the low, anxious sound of her voice. ]
[ He can already feel the tension in her grip and in her breathing slowly ebb away, and he feels pretty good about that. Like he helped to make that happen.
It's a small point of pride, and a relief in knowing that she's going to be okay too, because he hates it when Annabeth is scared. One of the bravest people he's ever met in his whole life, and it terrifies him when she's afraid.
It means things are really, really bad. ]
Yeah. [ His mouth quirks, latching onto the levity she attempts to bring. He kisses her hair again. ] What would sleep be like if we didn't have them? Do you think we'd be counting sheep? Do you think those sheep would be big and cute and fluffy?
[ she doesn't quite laugh, but annabeth closes her eyes as percy kisses her head again and a smile nearly ghosts onto her face. she feels safe now, and that's really the most important part against the threat of her dreams and memory. ]
The biggest and fluffiest. Maybe they'd jump over the moon and everything. [ presuming they don't turn into man-eating sheep. she had enough of that in the sea of monsters, thank you. ]
[ then she frowns, not wanting to think about the sea of monsters, if only because she doesn't want to think about polyphemus and spiral back into thinking about curses, about blindness. ]
Did you know Iceland has more sheep than people? New Zealand, too. [ why does she know this? doesn't matter! talking about sheep is better than the alternative, and mostly she's just relieved she can form coherent sentences and think semi-properly again. ]
I think that's the cow. Isn't there a rhyme about a spoon having an affair?
[ Not that he's especially familiar with it or anything; while other kids grew up on Mother Goose nursery rhymes, Percy grew up on Greek myths about heroes and monsters and the gods, told to him by his mom. ]
We should visit Iceland one day. [ He kinda likes the idea of being in a place surrounded by cute, fluffy sheep. The water's supposed to be nice too.
Gently rubbing her arm now, he adds: ] And New Zealand.
Ugh, don't remind me of cows. [ she had enough of being haunted by cows for one lifetime. rightly fuck off hera. ]
[ annabeth isn't much better with normal nursery rhymes either, and far sooner in her childhood than later she learned all her own myth stories were very real. ]
[ somehow, the combination of his travel remarks and the soft way he touches her finally brings a slow, tiny smile to her face. it's near imperceptible, but percy makes her feel safe enough to let it slip out. that's all she wanted, when she woke up. to feel safe. ]
A vacation sounds really nice. There are lots of waterfalls in Iceland too. [ she knows you're a little bit fond of water. just a little though. ] We'd have to sail, unless you can pull in another favor with Hermes.
Right. [ He lets out a soft, sympathetic huff of laughter. He knows it isn't actually very funny, because yeah, Hera hasn't made it easy for any of them.
The pettiness of sending cows to Annabeth at every turn is an especially Hera Special™. ]
Well, I do like a waterfall. [ Yeah, sure, water's, you know ... okay. ] And hey, if you're good to sail, it could be a fun trip. Besides, we'd never get lost 'cause of the whole — [ He taps at his temple. ] — knowing the exact nautical coordinates at all times 'cause of Poseidon thing.
[ she supposes it's a little funny in retrospect, but she spent months before the battle of the manhattan spitefully eating as much beef as she could. fucking cows. ]
[ her smile widens a little bit when he taps his temple, just envisioning the simplicity of taking a boat to iceland with percy and his neat ability to know exactly where he is at all times at sea. ]
[ she shifts her head, only enough to look at his face, to take in the softness there even in the dark, trying to find the green of his eyes. ]
It's been a surprisingly useful skill. Yeah. Let's do it. Let's sail to Iceland. We can camp out and count some real sheep. [ it's nice to imagine doing fun things with him for a change. ]
[ That would explain all the steaks and the burgers ... all totally delicious, of course, but definitely a choice and preference. ]
Yeah? [ Percy grins now, also imagining all of the ways of this sailing trip becoming an actual, real thing. They could sleep beneath the stars, swim by the falls, count sheep, maybe even do a little fishing. It all feels so normal.
It feels like the kinda stuff regular people do before they head off to regular college, making future plans while backpacking across a new country. ] Okay. That settles it, then. Iceland here we come.
[ And maybe it doesn't even have to be Iceland. Maybe if they find some cool place here — granted he gets his powers back — they could explore a new area, see the sights and sounds, find sheep here.
Even if it never happens, if none of this really happens, the possibility exists, and for now it feels like enough. ]
[ the smile finally settles in her so deeply all of a sudden she almost feels stupid about it. the normalcy she craves with percy is so utterly grounding despite herself. most of the time annabeth doesn't feel like she is capable of being a normal girl. she's always had that struggle, really, as far back as she can remember, threw herself into into the godly side of herself when the mortal side rejected her so wholly. ]
[ they hadn't gotten the chance to be normal after the titan war. she just wants that chance. ]
[ but even the possibility of it continues to make her feel warm and safe, and isn't that all she wanted after crawling into bed with him? being with percy is never normal by virtue of their lives as demigods, but sometimes he makes her believe it can be. one day. being with percy settles her. ]
[ she reaches up, awkwardly patting his ear before her hand comes to settle at his cheek instead. she doesn't want to leave him tonight. she doesn't want to go back to tartarus. he wants to take a boat to iceland and hike up a glacier holding his hand. ]
Take me sailing, Seaweed Brain. [ she pauses. ] Can I ask one more favor?
[ What is it about her asking him to take her sailing that suddenly has his whole chest filling with warmth? Like it's a non-negotiable request (totally okay with that, by the way) but also an offer of a promise — that this will be something they do together too, another reason to look forward to their future as partners.
For someone who isn't very good at picking up on cues, or hell, even focusing on a single thing for longer than a couple seconds, it has Percy caught up in a moment of distraction.
The pause goes on for a beat too long before he realizes that Annabeth's asked him a question, and he's quick to make up for it. ]
[ his distraction nearly distracts her, mostly because the look on his face is very soft, and she knows it's because of her, in some capacity. ]
[ annabeth isn't a shy person. she doesn't think she has a shy bone in her body. but she does have nerves, and all of a sudden her request makes her feel briefly nervous. which is stupid, because she's camped out next to percy far too many times to count in their multitude of quests. they scandalized the argo ii. she slept beside him in tartarus, woke up with him in damasen's hut, under sheepskin and leather blankets. it's just a bed in a magic castle, far away from home, and she wants to feel safe more than she feels nervous, so she chases it away soon enough. it's normal, really. ]
[ she does drop her hand from his face though, reaching for his hand instead. ]
Would you mind if I just stayed here for the rest of the night?
[ perhaps another time she might have just assumed her place, just barged in, but it's a shared space. it's not like it's his cabin. ]
[ Yes, this is a shared space. No, this isn't his cabin back at Camp Half-Blood. But Percy doesn't care about literally any of that. When Annabeth reaches for his hand to hold, he laces his fingers with hers and squeezes gently.
It's about this.
It's about making sure that the other person is okay, kinda like the way they used to keep watch during their quests. During Tartarus. And no, maybe they don't have to keep their guard up now that they've arrived in this cushy castle with its safeguards and magic and 'civilization' but neither of them really know what this place is about yet.
Maybe some boogie man in a crown will show up unannounced. Maybe one of their roommates might randomly snap and call for blood. But maybe ... for his own peace of mind, he'd also rather the two of them stay together.
[ what a non-issue. what a comfort. what did she do deserve having percy jackson in her life? ]
When you put it that way, maybe it was a little silly to ask.
[ annabeth squeezes his hand in turn, relieved anyway. it's a hard habit to break, after who knows how long in tartarus of staying at each other's side, ensuring safety, playing guard - of course it would be a jarring switch to suddenly have her own sleeping space, no matter how much safer it is here from imminent, immediate deathly dangers. ]
[ but she already feels easier, knowing she's not going anywhere, knowing he'll be right there. knowing they can take on anything even a four-poster bed can threaten. ]
I might have secretly been assuming I'd just stay too.
[ Percy lets his eyes close for a moment, partially to bask in this feeling, and partially because he really is feeling a whole lot better now that they're together. ]
'Cause now that we're like this, I am way too comfortable to let you go anyway.
[ It's not exactly like he'd had an easy time getting to sleep on his own before she came over either — as she probably gathered by the fact that he hadn't even fallen asleep yet. The bed felt too soft, too luxurious, too empty, too big; and the storm outside sounded strange to his ears without the backdrop of screaming souls and gurgling volcanos.
There's something to be said about how truly messed up it is that he's having more trouble sleeping now than he had in literal Hell. But there it is.
He lets go of her hand only so he can wrap his arms around her again, using one of his feet to kick at the blanket, haphazardly flinging it back up a little to cover them. It hits their legs, at least. ]
[ annabeth always feels better with percy. they're a team. she spent enough time apart from him already, and she knows she can't be with him all the time. but now doesn't have to be one of those times. ]
[ percy shifts them a little, and it's easy to curl up into him as he wraps his arm around her. tartarus is gone, for now, and that's all she could have wanted out of reaching for him in the dark. ]
[ she giggles - she honestly fucking giggles - at his attempt to grab the blanket without dislodging her. which, respect, because she's very comfortable too, but it's so absurd in the light of everything else that she doesn't care. ]
Try again. But if you ask nicely, maybe I'll help. [ she wriggles her leg under the blanket. see? she's ready, if he says please. ]
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seaweedbrain) wrote2024-04-05 11:53 am
action | night of the thorne mingle
[ it doesn't last, of course. demigod nights are not very restful to begin with, and there's a lot that slowly starts to catch up with her after the shock of arriving in abraxas begins to wear off. it gave her a lot to focus on, to put the doors of death out of her head. she knows this would be harder without percy, but after she begins to adjust, it's like her consciousness remembers she's a demigod and remembers where she came from. the nightmares, once again, start to kick in. ]
[ she makes it through the second night, even the third - not without issue, not without waking several times, not without staring into the void of her bed's ceiling canopy for gods know how long. she sleeps in a little later each day, trying to catch up on the rest she knows her body desperately needs, but it becomes impossible to get through the whole night by the day of the castle's party. she has a good time. she learns a lot. she gets to eat olives again. percy whines about getting wet in nott and annabeth tries not to laugh at him. ]
[ but that night is the worst so far. her dreams are full of monsters, of molten skin moving beneath her feet. there are bloodstained orange shirts, and percy's body smothered in wounds, curses from their mere existence as half-bloods. tartarus twists alive again more wholly than it has since she left it. she sees the entity itself rise and knows she is going to die, surrounded by blood-red skies and desperation. ]
[ annabeth jolts upright and wakes suddenly, shoving the blanket into her mouth and biting down on instinct before she screams out into the room. her chest is tight and she is crying. she lifts her knees and buries her face into them, into the blanket, trying to hide the sound of her heaving. she's afraid to open her eyes, because what if she can't see? it's a strange new fear, one she finds comes at most in the night. most of all, though, she just wants to see percy. she wants the reassurance of simply him, alive and breathing and warm. ]
[ without thinking, she slips from her bed, feet landing silently on the floor. the room is quiet. she pads her way over to percy's bed, gently pulling open his curtains just enough to slip herself inside before dropping them, blocking off the rest of the room around them. ]
Percy.
[ she whispers it, but there's an edge to her voice, almost an urgency. she wants to touch him, to wake him, to make sure he's still there even though she can see the shape of him beneath the blankets, but there's a sliver of a shiver in her bones that keeps her rooted to the floor, despite how much she just wants to climb in beside him. her hair is a mess, her face splotchy, her body shaking just so, but it's hardly the worst he's ever seen her. ]
no subject
It's followed by, I can't believe I had five slices of pizza, and all of it is gonna be fake, before he's finally out like a light.
Like Annabeth, and like any demigod, his dreams are troubling. They're filled with haunting memories of Tartarus and snatches of unfulfilled prophecy lines delivered by creatures with hollowed out holes for eyes, green smoke filtering from the sockets. There are familiar screams, and there are unfamiliar ones, until Percy spends the first hour or so wrestling with sleep like it's one of the monsters in his dreams. Eventually he finds himself staring at the folds in the gossamer curtains that provide him with a veneer of privacy within this shared room and no sense of what time it must be now.
Well. At least it's all real, so that's something.
There are three other beds here, two of which are occupied now by fellow Thornites (Thorners? Thorneans? He hasn't really learned the lingo yet) whom he's probably said a total of about three words to since he'd met them — one of which was 'hi' and the last two being 'good' and 'night'. The last bed across the room from his, of course, should be occupied by his girlfriend, Annabeth. And while he tries to listen for the sound of her breathing, it's the howling sound of the winds outside, and rain pelting against glass and stone that make it hard to hear much else.
He wonders if he'll be going back to Nott tomorrow. He wonders if he'll have his powers back by then.
He barely even notices that someone's pushed aside the curtains for a moment, slipping past them, until he hears his name whispered above the wind and the rain; and he doesn't even have a chance to chide himself for not noticing, for how easily he could have just been murdered if someone wanted to, because he rolls over to meet his visitor's eyes and his heart immediately sinks all the way somewhere in his gut.
With a jolt, he shifts to sit up, meeting Annabeth's miserable expression with one of concern. ]
Hey — [ His voice is soft as he quickly checks her for any signs of injury with nothing more than the night sky to provide the barest of light. No, this isn't the worst that he's seen her, but it's not good either. ] What's wrong? Did something happen?
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[ it's dark but she can still see him, and she doesn't know if it's because she is used to seeing in the dark or if it's because she's used to seeing him in the dark. both aren't pleasant thoughts. there's relief with seeing him anyway, hearing his voice, and she doesn't wholly process what he says at first, still stuck in her head. she tries to focus entirely on him there, the sound of his concern. the shape of his shoulders, the frown on his face. he is whole. ]
[ she bursts into another wave of tears. her hands reach out for him without thinking, and she's already half climbing onto the bed. ]
Can I - Can I stay here for a minute?
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[ It occurs to him that while he's seen Annabeth cry, even been the cause for it on more than one occasion (which always feels like a knife-stab in the chest), this is different. This is panicked and scared and it's about something else, something he can guess at, and it isn't because of him.
Well, not exactly because of him.
Percy pulls back the blankets to make it easier for him to gather her up in his arms when she reaches out for him, and to pull her in close like he could protect her from whatever she's warring with right now with his physical presence. (Again, he has an idea of what it might be.) She's shaking a little, and he thinks his heart might shatter.
Instead he swallows. ]
Talk to me. [ A small distraction. A way to slowly get out of her own head and the images that are probably still clinging to her. ] Tell me something, anything.
no subject
[ she throws herself into the words and at him, scrambling towards him and into his arms, winding her fingers into his shirt and burying her face against his chest. there's already comfort brewing, a sense of safety from just the fact that he's okay. he's solid, he's grounding, he's got her. she's had nightmares before, far too many to count, but this one felt different. it was visceral in a new way, almost physical like it was going to keep burning her after it finished. ]
[ she's half in his lap and unawares of how much the blankets have been mussed. she shakes her head a little, unsure what to even say. she doesn't want to vocalize it. the room is dark but it still feels tinged with red, a vignette. ]
I had to see you.
[ seeing him is better than seeing anything else, images burning into her eyes because tartarus burns. it's still smouldering. she knew it would be, but she hoped it wouldn't. percy is the coolant. ]
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He doesn't let her go.
The last few weeks (or has it been months now? He can't remember) have developed some real nasty night terrors, the kind of unimaginable stuff that no one — mortal or demigod or otherwise — should ever have to envision, and he and Annabeth had seen it with their own waking eyes. The echoes of those horrors just exist now, scratched into their bones, permanently imprinted onto their souls.
If anyone understands how Annabeth feels right now, it's him. ]
I'm here. [ He repeats, his voice a murmur into her hair. ] I'm here and I'm not going anywhere. Not now, not ever, okay?
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[ and he understands. he knows why she is here without asking, because he must be seeing it all too. annabeth and percy have always been on a similar wavelength, they're a good team for a reason, but it feels different now. it's neither good or bad, just another evolution of them. ]
[ she draws in a harsh breath, shuddering against him, but it almost feels like an expulsion. her hold on him remains tight and she's not out of it yet, but she doesn't feel as hysterical. not now, not ever. he's here with her. he's always going to be. ]
I love you. [ a mumble against his shirt. something good. it's how they made it through tartarus in the first place, it must be able to help now. ]
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[ Hearing and saying the words feels like the release of a breath held in for too long, a kind of mantra that they'd made, and a promise that they kept to pull each other back during the worst of Tartarus. When it felt like things were getting too dark, too hopeless, they'd remind each other that they weren't alone, they would find the Doors, they would be okay — and that was enough.
Honestly, Percy knows without a doubt in his mind that he would never have made it out of Tartarus if he didn't have Annabeth. Some of the things he remembers — he can't even bring them up to the surface without feeling his heartbeat quicken on its own accord, like it was trying to sprout legs and leap out of his throat to get as far away from him as possible.
And besides, Annabeth needs him right now.
He keeps his hold on her, solid and tight, offering her what strength he has. The winds continue to howl and the rain continues to fall, but holding each other like this makes any weather system just a little less scary because they're together. ]
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[ it's one thing that remains true no matter where they are, no matter what's thrown at them: percy loves her. she'd been scared and worried during those months he was missing, only to find out she'd been the one thing he did remember. she loves him so much in return it often hurts. it's how they made it through literal hell. ]
[ there was no getting through tartarus without him. right from the start - she would have died instantly, if he hadn't been there to manipulate the cocytus to catch their fall. he chose to follow her and in doing so saved her a thousand times over. she pushes aside the whispering thought that he wouldn't have been there to begin with if not for her own arrogance and thinks only of his arms around her instead. she shifts, just enough to tuck herself under his chin. if tartarus is going to follow them here, in a magic castle in a brand new world, she's going to fight it off the same way. with him. together, it sometimes feels like they can do anything. ]
I'm - [ she wants to say sorry, but she isn't really, and she thinks percy would ignore it anyway. she's still crying, but it's quieter. percy settles her. ]
I'm glad you're here. [ her voice is a little hoarse. it's selfish, maybe. but she's curled up in his arms and doesn't want to be anywhere else right now. ]
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[ It's a little bit of a promise, a fact, and a wish, all rolled into one. At this point in their relationship, after five years of fighting monsters, near-death experiences, and being each other's support (figuratively and literally), Percy simply can't imagine an existence without Annabeth Chase. In fact, he kinda refuses to.
He'd like to think that who or whatever sent them here knew that too.
He adjusts his own position when she moves, making them both a little more comfortable. He suspects that they're going to be here, like this, for the next little while — maybe even by the time daylight starts to break — but the length of time hardly matters to him. They could be here for the next couple of days, and he'd stay exactly where he is until they get through this nightmare together.
(If their roommates have a problem with that, he'd welcome them to try something.)
He leans his cheek against the top of her head now and lets the steadiness of his heartbeat calm hers, his breath slow and steady to take the lead until she feels hers steadying too. ]
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[ they fit and move together like anything else, even in a tangle of arms and messy blankets, and she can only hope percy's not too uncomfortable, because she's not ready to move just yet. one hand lets go of his shirt, if only so she can slide her arm around him instead. she takes a deep but steady breath burrowed up against him. slowly, her breathing evens out. her heart slows to match his and the air doesn't feel as hostile, even with the storm rattling at the walls and windows. it's just a storm. it's not acid. ]
[ she's not in tartarus. part of her still feels unnerved, but at least she doesn't feel as unmoored. she's anchored again. ]
Nightmares, am I right? [ she tries for a joke, mumbled, but it falls flat, on account of how tightly she's still holding him and the low, anxious sound of her voice. ]
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It's a small point of pride, and a relief in knowing that she's going to be okay too, because he hates it when Annabeth is scared. One of the bravest people he's ever met in his whole life, and it terrifies him when she's afraid.
It means things are really, really bad. ]
Yeah. [ His mouth quirks, latching onto the levity she attempts to bring. He kisses her hair again. ] What would sleep be like if we didn't have them? Do you think we'd be counting sheep? Do you think those sheep would be big and cute and fluffy?
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The biggest and fluffiest. Maybe they'd jump over the moon and everything. [ presuming they don't turn into man-eating sheep. she had enough of that in the sea of monsters, thank you. ]
[ then she frowns, not wanting to think about the sea of monsters, if only because she doesn't want to think about polyphemus and spiral back into thinking about curses, about blindness. ]
Did you know Iceland has more sheep than people? New Zealand, too. [ why does she know this? doesn't matter! talking about sheep is better than the alternative, and mostly she's just relieved she can form coherent sentences and think semi-properly again. ]
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I think that's the cow. Isn't there a rhyme about a spoon having an affair?
[ Not that he's especially familiar with it or anything; while other kids grew up on Mother Goose nursery rhymes, Percy grew up on Greek myths about heroes and monsters and the gods, told to him by his mom. ]
We should visit Iceland one day. [ He kinda likes the idea of being in a place surrounded by cute, fluffy sheep. The water's supposed to be nice too.
Gently rubbing her arm now, he adds: ] And New Zealand.
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[ annabeth isn't much better with normal nursery rhymes either, and far sooner in her childhood than later she learned all her own myth stories were very real. ]
[ somehow, the combination of his travel remarks and the soft way he touches her finally brings a slow, tiny smile to her face. it's near imperceptible, but percy makes her feel safe enough to let it slip out. that's all she wanted, when she woke up. to feel safe. ]
A vacation sounds really nice. There are lots of waterfalls in Iceland too. [ she knows you're a little bit fond of water. just a little though. ] We'd have to sail, unless you can pull in another favor with Hermes.
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The pettiness of sending cows to Annabeth at every turn is an especially Hera Special™. ]
Well, I do like a waterfall. [ Yeah, sure, water's, you know ... okay. ] And hey, if you're good to sail, it could be a fun trip. Besides, we'd never get lost 'cause of the whole — [ He taps at his temple. ] — knowing the exact nautical coordinates at all times 'cause of Poseidon thing.
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[ her smile widens a little bit when he taps his temple, just envisioning the simplicity of taking a boat to iceland with percy and his neat ability to know exactly where he is at all times at sea. ]
[ she shifts her head, only enough to look at his face, to take in the softness there even in the dark, trying to find the green of his eyes. ]
It's been a surprisingly useful skill. Yeah. Let's do it. Let's sail to Iceland. We can camp out and count some real sheep. [ it's nice to imagine doing fun things with him for a change. ]
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Yeah? [ Percy grins now, also imagining all of the ways of this sailing trip becoming an actual, real thing. They could sleep beneath the stars, swim by the falls, count sheep, maybe even do a little fishing. It all feels so normal.
It feels like the kinda stuff regular people do before they head off to regular college, making future plans while backpacking across a new country. ] Okay. That settles it, then. Iceland here we come.
[ And maybe it doesn't even have to be Iceland. Maybe if they find some cool place here — granted he gets his powers back — they could explore a new area, see the sights and sounds, find sheep here.
Even if it never happens, if none of this really happens, the possibility exists, and for now it feels like enough. ]
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[ they hadn't gotten the chance to be normal after the titan war. she just wants that chance. ]
[ but even the possibility of it continues to make her feel warm and safe, and isn't that all she wanted after crawling into bed with him? being with percy is never normal by virtue of their lives as demigods, but sometimes he makes her believe it can be. one day. being with percy settles her. ]
[ she reaches up, awkwardly patting his ear before her hand comes to settle at his cheek instead. she doesn't want to leave him tonight. she doesn't want to go back to tartarus. he wants to take a boat to iceland and hike up a glacier holding his hand. ]
Take me sailing, Seaweed Brain. [ she pauses. ] Can I ask one more favor?
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For someone who isn't very good at picking up on cues, or hell, even focusing on a single thing for longer than a couple seconds, it has Percy caught up in a moment of distraction.
The pause goes on for a beat too long before he realizes that Annabeth's asked him a question, and he's quick to make up for it. ]
— sure. Yeah, anything.
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[ annabeth isn't a shy person. she doesn't think she has a shy bone in her body. but she does have nerves, and all of a sudden her request makes her feel briefly nervous. which is stupid, because she's camped out next to percy far too many times to count in their multitude of quests. they scandalized the argo ii. she slept beside him in tartarus, woke up with him in damasen's hut, under sheepskin and leather blankets. it's just a bed in a magic castle, far away from home, and she wants to feel safe more than she feels nervous, so she chases it away soon enough. it's normal, really. ]
[ she does drop her hand from his face though, reaching for his hand instead. ]
Would you mind if I just stayed here for the rest of the night?
[ perhaps another time she might have just assumed her place, just barged in, but it's a shared space. it's not like it's his cabin. ]
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[ Yes, this is a shared space. No, this isn't his cabin back at Camp Half-Blood. But Percy doesn't care about literally any of that. When Annabeth reaches for his hand to hold, he laces his fingers with hers and squeezes gently.
It's about this.
It's about making sure that the other person is okay, kinda like the way they used to keep watch during their quests. During Tartarus. And no, maybe they don't have to keep their guard up now that they've arrived in this cushy castle with its safeguards and magic and 'civilization' but neither of them really know what this place is about yet.
Maybe some boogie man in a crown will show up unannounced. Maybe one of their roommates might randomly snap and call for blood. But maybe ... for his own peace of mind, he'd also rather the two of them stay together.
He feels more comfortable like this. ]
I actually kinda assumed you'd stay.
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[ what a non-issue. what a comfort. what did she do deserve having percy jackson in her life? ]
When you put it that way, maybe it was a little silly to ask.
[ annabeth squeezes his hand in turn, relieved anyway. it's a hard habit to break, after who knows how long in tartarus of staying at each other's side, ensuring safety, playing guard - of course it would be a jarring switch to suddenly have her own sleeping space, no matter how much safer it is here from imminent, immediate deathly dangers. ]
[ but she already feels easier, knowing she's not going anywhere, knowing he'll be right there. knowing they can take on anything even a four-poster bed can threaten. ]
I might have secretly been assuming I'd just stay too.
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[ Percy lets his eyes close for a moment, partially to bask in this feeling, and partially because he really is feeling a whole lot better now that they're together. ]
'Cause now that we're like this, I am way too comfortable to let you go anyway.
[ It's not exactly like he'd had an easy time getting to sleep on his own before she came over either — as she probably gathered by the fact that he hadn't even fallen asleep yet. The bed felt too soft, too luxurious, too empty, too big; and the storm outside sounded strange to his ears without the backdrop of screaming souls and gurgling volcanos.
There's something to be said about how truly messed up it is that he's having more trouble sleeping now than he had in literal Hell. But there it is.
He lets go of her hand only so he can wrap his arms around her again, using one of his feet to kick at the blanket, haphazardly flinging it back up a little to cover them. It hits their legs, at least. ]
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[ percy shifts them a little, and it's easy to curl up into him as he wraps his arm around her. tartarus is gone, for now, and that's all she could have wanted out of reaching for him in the dark. ]
[ she giggles - she honestly fucking giggles - at his attempt to grab the blanket without dislodging her. which, respect, because she's very comfortable too, but it's so absurd in the light of everything else that she doesn't care. ]
Try again. But if you ask nicely, maybe I'll help. [ she wriggles her leg under the blanket. see? she's ready, if he says please. ]
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