Prompt #024 - Family

Prompt # 024 - Family

Tales From Another Broken Home
Time Frame: Pre-Lightning Thief
Pairing: None
POV: Percy

**

“According to you
I’m stupid, I’m useless,
I can’t do anything right.”

-According to You by: Orianthi

**

It’s just another day in the life of little nobody, Percy Jackson. Percy clenches his fists. His mom hangs up the phone, her face looking more tired than usual—which is saying something.

“They reject you again, kid? Surprise, surprise.” Gabe’s sarcastic drawl from the living room makes Percy’s blood boil. That’s all he is to this idiot. Stupid, retarded, mentally-disabled Percy. He hears the slob take a drink of beer and switch the channel. Percy wishes he’d turn down the damn volume. “God, can’t even make it into sixth grade,” he hears Gabe chuckle sadistically and Percy can also make out the sound of a chip bag crinkling. “I vote we kick him out Sally. Looks like he’s not amount to anything anyway. Might as well cut your loses while you’re ahead.” Percy’s pretty sure the guys not really kidding.

His arms are trembling with rage, wanting to hit and kick and break and shatter anything he can get his hands on. Who does this guy think he is? Percy takes an unconscious step towards the living room but a thin hand on his shoulder stops him.

“Its okay, Percy,” the calm manner of his mother’s voice is not only a reassurance, but a warning. Don’t, it implies. “We’ll just have to find another school to apply for this year.”

“If you can find one that hasn’t kicked him out yet,” Gabe’s raspy tones interject from the other room.

“Percy…” the whisper in his ear is the only thing that stops him from sprinting to the living room and shoving Gabe’s face through the TV.

“Why do you do it, Mom? What could you possibly see in that creep?” He is still roiling and writing inside—rage and injustice and hate fighting to the death inside him.

Sally doesn’t look at him. Only lets her long, unkempt hair slide forward to cover her face as she mutters:

“He’s part of the family now.”

“He’s not my family,” Percy spits. “It’s bad enough I have to live with him. If I was related to him I might just go jump off the roof.”

“Then why don’t you, kid? Might save your mother some trouble!”

This time Sally literally has to hold him around the waist to keep Percy in the hallway and away from Gabe.

“Percy! Percy, stop!”

“All right, Mom, all right!” Percy exclaims and twists out of her grasp, stomping loudly towards his room. As he passes the living room he calls without turning his head, “Stay the hell away from me!”

He slams his door, shutting out whatever Gabe’s stupid comeback would have been. Half-blind with rage, Percy’s fist slams into the drywall. Over and over until it there is a decent sized hole in the middle of his wall.

Finally, left with only an aching hand and a hole in both his wall and heart, he sits down on his bed and simply stares.

“He’s part of the family now.”

Yah, right. This dismal little apartment with that awful, pathetic excuse for a father-figure, and his sweet amazing mother run down to a fraction of what she used to be…this is not a family.

A family is people who are there for you, who you love and miss when you’re apart. They feel like part of you, even if you don’t like them all that much. They support you and love you no matter what.

What Percy Jackson has isn’t a family.

It’s a broken, shattered home.

~fin~

Prompt #023 - Lovers

Prompt # 023 - Lovers

Out to Sea
Time Frame: Nine Months Before Percy was Born ;P
Pairing: Poseidon/Sally
POV: None
A/n: Rating is upped a little more. Not graphic or anything. Just slightly mature themes. The prompt is Lovers after all…

**

“I want to swim away but don’t know how
Sometimes it feels just like I’m falling in the ocean
Let the waves up: take me down
Let the hurricane set in motion…yeah
Let the rain of what I feel right now come down.”

-Into the Ocean by Blue October

**

His eyes and his hands and his lips...they are like water pouring over her. She is submerged in the silky currents as sheets and hands alike slide along her skin. The blood pounding in her ears sounds like the waves crashing on the beach, and when she lays her head against his chest, she can hear his heartbeat…a small, simple, yet profound sound that lets her know there is something real and tangible they have in common: a heartbeat.

“I love you.”

Back and forth, love and energy and heat passed between them, back and forth. It crashes upon Sally’s shore, the water desperate to touch the sand, to caress and kiss its warm solid earth. And then the undertow drags the water and sand back out to sea, pulling some of the land back into the cool waters, embracing it.

“I love you.”

It sounds like a sea breeze whipping through Sally’s hair. Like the soft roar of the distant water. Powerful and mysterious and wonderful.

“I love you.”

A soft caress—water surging about her ankles as she wades deeper. Step by step the waves reach up the shore, desperate for contact with that it can never truly have. Step by step, sea and earth and rock is whisked into the water, swirling about it, merging together.

“I love you.”

Step by step…

“I love you.”

…land and sea become one.

~fin~

Prompt #022 - Enemies

Prompt # 022 - Enemies

My Own Worst Enemy

Time Frame: Post-Battle of the Labyrinth

Pairing: None

POV: Luke

**

“The face of the enemy frightens me only when I see how much it resembles me.”

-Anonymous

**

Luke is drifting now—no longer here, nor there. Drifting, he is, in the shadowed world between living and dead, sane and crazy, waking and sleep.

Since the moment it happened, he realized it was a mistake. He had been wrong about everything. Wrong about the gods, wrong about the Titans, wrong about his father and his mother and Percy and Annabeth and Thalia and Grover and the camp and his old life.

Was it so bad, Luke wonders, to be in a place where everyone had something to fight for? Was it really that awful he never knew his father? Was it so bad to have brothers and cousins and a place to stay and train? Was it so bad to have a teacher and friends and a place to call home?

No.

And now because he so focused on what was missing instead of what was there, everything has been taken from him. And now Luke is merely a memory.

Still, for brief moments he can surface, pushing for his new-found allegiance to the first and only family that ever really took care of Luke.

His enemy used to be his past—his father and his family that rule distantly from the clouds. Fueled by hate and spite and vengeance and a broken heart, Luke joined the Titan army and fought for Kronos.

But now his enemy is within him—the ancient evil his father fought against to free the human race. Now he is fueled by love for those he left behind and heroism that would rival heroes of ages past.

Is Luke scared? Yes. Terrified? Certainly. Somewhere in the back of his mind he knows he won’t make it out of this alive. But he knew from the get-go his life would be short and messy and miserable. That’s not the part that bothers Luke now. It is the fact that the enemy he is fighting now is inside him—and Luke was the one who let him in.

And now it’s Luke’s job to take him out once and for all.

He is essentially now fighting himself. Ever pushing back the darkness in his mind, ever climbing upwards towards the light and all those he abandoned and betrayed.

Struggling to regain all that he took for granted so readily growing up.

Fighting to simply be Luke Castellan once more.

~fin~

Prompt #021 - Friends

Prompt # 021 - Friends

With My Friends
Time Frame: The Last Olympian – Chapter 19: We Trash the Eternal City
Pairing: Annabeth/Percy, friendship Annabeth/Percy/Grover
POV: Percy
A/n: I was going to rewrite this as after Thalia was incapacitated, so it would just be the trio, but I’m too lazy, and I got Percabeth in there, so I’m happy.

**

“I'm glad to be with you... here, at the end of all things.”

-The Lord of the Rings: Return of the King (2003)

**

“I won’t go down by myself, but I’ll go down with my friends,”

-I Never Told You What I Do For a Living
By: My Chemical Romance

**

The world is whirling and desperate. My ears have long since given up comprehending each sound it hears—each scream of agony, each clang of swords and armor, each crumbling building. Thalia is with us too, but her presence is not so pronounced to me. It is my trio—me, Annabeth, and Grover that is important to me now.

Annabeth is on my left, Grover is on my right, and together we are making our way towards the center of Olympus.

It started out as us three, from the very beginning.

It only makes sense that at the end of it all, it would be us three together again.

The ground is literally falling out from under our feet as we spring from rock to rock, the stones falling as soon as our weight has shifted off them. The bridge between the gods and mortals is now, literally, disintegrating behind us.

But, then I hear her clear voice ring out behind me.

“Percy!” I dive and snatch her hand, my fingers gripping her forearm. And for a terrifying moment, I felt us tilting, felt Annabeth dragging me over the edge, felt as if we would plummet together to the ground. Her hand, slick with sweat from fighting and adrenaline and fear, began to slip until only our intertwined fingers were connected. And for a moment I could imagine myself, our all too mortal blood painting the streets of my beloved, devastated city.

We’re going to fall, I thought for a dizzying second. I’m going to die without ever kissing her again.

But then, I felt strong hands around my ankles, slowly dragging me up, back onto the solid stone. We lay, gasping, our limbs intertwined, not worrying for a liberating second about apocalypses or complications…simply reveling in the fact that she is here and solid and alive in my arms and silently celebrating the fact that we will live to breathe another breath.

“Um, thanks.” Her voice whispers, breaking me out of my reverie and the gravity of our situation comes crashing down like the stones around us. Grover urges us to keep moving, and we follow, stumbling once again towards the end…of us? of Kronos? The end of something at least.

Finally, after today, it is all going to end.

And here, with my friends, I can think of no better way to end it.

~fin~

Prompt #020 - Colorless

Prompt # 020 - Colorless

Fade

Time Frame: Winter

Pairing: None

POV: Persephone

**

“I see a lily on thy brow

With anguish moist and fever dew;

And on thy cheek a fading rose

Fast withereth too.”

-John Keats

**

The fabric of my skirt whispers almost inaudibly across the dry, cracked ground of my garden as I walk.

It is winter. I serve no purpose to the world above for another few months, so I am exiled back to my husband’s realm for I have none of my own. I touch the non-flowers, the hard, cold rocks that glitter dimly—like half remembered glimpses of the glory that is my springtime.

In spring I am radiant. I know I am.

As I walk through the forests and the fields and simply am with my season, I can feel the energy radiating off me to the sleeping earth, urging it to wake up and feel the sun. And I can feel the flowers: the bright gorgeous flowers giving some of their strength back to me. My dress explodes in every color known to nature, my eyes shifting, constantly straining to reflect the myriad of colors they see. My hair is bright and brilliant and luminous.

I am brilliant as the sun itself, the colors bursting from me.

But now it is winter, and I am but a ghost. Not even the soft white of daisies or Queen Ann’s lace colors my dress or eyes. I am colorless—devoid of all that makes springtime wonderful. Dull and transparent and frail—looking as if I might disperse like fog at any moment.

My winters are spent in this place—this palace with no sky to look up to, no plants to water except that cursed pomegranate tree.

There are only dead gems in my garden. Just like me now—sad remembrances of what they once were: alive and full of color.

~fin~

Prompt #019 - White

Prompt # 019 - White

Frozen

Time Frame: Post-Titan’s Curse, Pre-The Last Olympian: Winter

Pairing: Vague Thalia/Luke

POV: Thalia

**

“Oh…the snow is burying this town.”

-Godric’s Hollow

By: Romilda Vane and the Chocolate Cauldrons

**

The world around me is white. White sky, white ground, white everything in between. White snowflakes dance and float gently to the ground—blanketing the silent, sleeping earth.

I sprint through the frozen forest, my bow secured comfortingly on my back. Among the whirling flakes and crystallized trees, I see more hoof prints and pick up the trail once more. My senses are sharpened and focused due to the frigid air—there is nothing like the thrill of the hunt in winter. I love hunting in the winter far more than any other season. There is just something about the whiteness and the cold and the silence.

I can think out here…far away from the others. I can finally just think.

My tracking goes on auto-pilot as my mind drifts like the silent snow. Drifts stirring up other drifts—revealing distant memories I had not allowed myself to think of in forever.

It was a day like this, I remember. A frozen, beautiful Christmas day: just us three. Just me and Luke and Annabeth, huddled under a frosted pine, warming our hands by the fire, exchanging joking gifts of pine cones and snowballs having nothing substantial to give.

We were cold and hungry and lost and alone but we were happy—forever not knowing what tomorrow would bring, constantly wondering and worrying but together. We lived each day as if it might be our last.

Now, as I flit between the trees, they seem less beautiful to me without my Luke and my Annabeth here. I miss living so strongly and fiercely.

Don’t misunderstand, I love being a hunter. I am free of my duty and responsibility of being a child of the big three. I serve my goddess and lead the hunts. I get to track and stalk and shoot with my sisters.

But I miss the feeling of waking up, not knowing what to expect—of always anticipating the far distant future...how our lives will turn out: me and Luke and Annabeth

I skid to a halt in the powdery snow as it suddenly strikes me that Annabeth will have to be as old as me by now. I remember taking care of her as a little girl. We will look the same age now. My heart grows heavy, suddenly, as I think of how much taller she will grow, how she will become a woman—full of power and grace. I will forever been a fifteen-year-old girl—still slightly awkward, despite my added reflexes, not quite yet grown into my body and, I realize, I never will.

And Luke…ah, my Luke. He is further gone than any I used to know. Luke will never surpass me the way Annabeth will. He will die soon—is already dead for all intents and purposes. Hot tears sting my eyes all of a sudden as I realize I will never get to lay an escape route, or stand back to back in a fight with him ever again. I will never get to whisper my fears to him after Annabeth has fallen asleep, or feel him hold me as I wake from a nightmare in the dark, sobbing like a child.

How far they have come since then.

Annabeth…then—a tiny yet determined child, now—a strong fighter, strong leader, strong girl.

Luke…then—a protector, a wing man, now—a traitor, a puppet, a corpse.

And me…then—a sacrificial martyr, rebellious teenager, now…well, I’m still the same, and forever will be.

As I watch the snow swirl around me, dotting my black hair with specks of white, I can see how I belong in this frozen landscape: I am frozen where I am—solid like a frozen pine needle or fallen twig. If I try to bend, I break. But when spring comes to these woods, the snow will melt and flowers will bloom and Persephone will breathe new life into everything. But unlike this forest, I will not melt when spring comes, I will not change or move or bloom or breathe new life.

I will remain forever frozen as the world progresses without me. A frozen winter just like now—white and still.

I take off running again, if only for the sake of moving my legs and arms again, trying to pump adrenaline into my immortal veins—simply trying to feel alive.

~fin~

Prompt #018 - Black

Prompt # 018 - Black

In Shadow

Time Frame: After Maria Di Angelo’s Death

Pairing: Vague Hades/Marie

POV: Hades

**

“Without black, no color has any depth. But if you mix black with everything, suddenly there's shadow - no, not just shadow, but fullness. You've got to be willing to mix black into your palette if you want to create something that's real.”

-Amy Grant

**

He hasn’t seen the sky for six months—not since the last council. Not since her. Upon his throne of shadows and death, Hades sits, having ordered Persephone away—wanting only to be alone in this blackness this is his and his alone.

She is dead, and it isn’t fair. Sweet, kind Maria.

He glances upwards towards the shadowed semblance of a sky. He is simultaneously furious and empty—Zeus had no right to kill his Maria, attempt to murder his children. If the places had been reversed: a prophecy made about a child of Zeus overthrowing Hades, Hades’ actions would have been shocking: out of line. To kill a son or daughter of Zeus would have been unacceptable.

But because the situations are not reversed, Maria is dead, his children forced to hide, and he is once again trapped in the underworld while Zeus remains no worse-for-the-wear.

Rage floods him, and his pale, thin fingers grip the obsidian armrests of his throne. Just because drew the short straw in the beginning, he is destined to eternity of forever being below his brothers, forever underground while they reign in the world above.

Unfair, he thinks, unfair that Zeus should get the wide open skies as his domain: clear and vast and beautiful. Unfair, he thinks, that Poseidon should rule the immense oceans: blue and open and endless. Unfair, he thinks, that he is forced to remain in this dark black abyss beneath the world of the living,

But it is a necessary job. The death is more important that the sea and the sky, he realizes. For it is their people, their subjects that matter. And it is only death that is a true part of them. When humans fade from the earth, the sea and sky will remain, but death will be a distant memory. And without humans, the gods will fade with them: forever tied to their initiative and ingenuity.

As god of the dead, Hades is more in tune with the human world than his brothers that rule among them.

He is needed, he is necessary…but no one sees.

He is an outcast—the shadow of the gods. He is exiled from Olympus, his children finding no acceptance, his domain feared and hated.

He is cursed to live the rest of eternity in shadow—gazing longingly upward at a black sky.

~fin~