CHAPTER 003 ✷ Girlhood is A Spectrum.
― Act One: Ship of Theseus

We are all chained to the mortality of our lives. Jason thrives in this domain—immortalised with the ever saving grace of flying until he can reach the sun like Icarus. But unlike the mortal eternal, he won't fall into the sea with the golden melted on his skin. He wonders what it would be like to fall from this height, to fall with his heart beating loudly against his chest to the point of feeling the blood of his god oozing out of each pore from his skin until Jason could finally feel clean enough to start sweeping up the mess Hera had made out of him.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "What if we get spotted?" Piper asked, her voice being drowned out by the wind but the girl behind heard her clearly. She tries to avoid the burning of Robin's fleeting gaze, nervously focusing on her composure to keep herself from cracking. Their conversation was still fresh in Piper's mind.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "We won't," Robin doesn't bother to help her in any way to calm the nerves of what Piper doesn't know about the unknown.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "The Mist," Jason elaborated, shifting in his seat to get a better view of Piper. "It keeps mortals from seeing magic things. If they spot us, they'll probably mistake us for a small plane or something."

Piper turns her head at the sound of his voice, heart out of rhythm at the sight of him being bathed in the softness of the sun's light. Jason's eyes are crystalised as he squints in the light, small lines forming in all the right places. He looked regal in this view and a small part of her wanted to reach out, to just trace the outline of his nose down to the corner of his lips but she was well aware of how her heart had been led to a certain doom that ended in the false belief of what love was supposed to feel like.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ She lets a small smile slip through the facade anyway, kaleidoscopic colours muting into the shadow that forms on her face. "You sure about that?"

Here, Jason should've felt his eyes flutter under her stare that was piercing the stranger soul inside of him but all he could fathom was the emptiness of what should be between them.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "No." He admitted, frowning in thought before nudging Robin's leg with his. "It's the mist, right?"

Jason waits for an answer, gazing down at her expectantly. Her braided hair is a mess in the wind, worn-out red ribbon dancing along with the cool breeze, and all the loose strands framed her face in a way that makes it more delicate to the eyes if you were to ignore the small faded scar resting on her right cheekbone.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "Whatever you say," Robin hummed absentmindedly, not wanting to be mentally present at the moment. Her nudged leg twitches, reminded of the pinnacle fall from beneath her.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "Alright then, it's the mist." he nodded, eyeing her behaviour consisting of clenched fists and gasping breaths. "We're making good time. Probably get there by tonight."

Piper's eyes fell on the old picture grasped in his hand. Coffee stained and dust remained, love makes the muse of even moments captured in stills. It's old, maybe two or five or even a decade had passed since the picture had been taken but the eyes of love cannot go unnoticed by the daughter of Aphrodite despite never having felt and seen by her naked eye.

She catches a glimpse of him folding the polaroid, creasing it in the process of having a dark-haired girl be the centre of all his attention. Piper swallows the lump in her throat, forcing herself to face the front to not watch his eyes memorise the details of what the dark-haired girl possessed.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ She wonders if the girl was someone he loved—Piper thinks of love as something heavy and worshipped and she wants it for herself. "Where are we heading?"

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "To find the god of the North Wind," Jason said. "And chase some storm spirits."

They had all gone quiet now, with Leo and Piper taking a nap with the promise of waking up in an hour's time. Jason drowns himself in the remembering in the meantime, trying to claw his way out of the labyrinth of lost memories and desperately holding on to every moment that left just as fast as it came and he was like a dog chasing a bone with no victory as company.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "Where's Gleeson Hedge in all of this?" He was the residue of the childhood she had before everything that could go wrong went wrong. The satyr brought her and Theo to the place that became their salvation and ruination.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Jason cringed to himself, memories resurfacing at the reminder of what had happened. "He got taken by Ventis."

He sees the mist of her breath blow away, disappointment etching on every corner of her face, replacing the dwelling youth from moments before which Jason had preferred to look at.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "We'll get him back," He doesn't promise her the certainty of his words.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "If he's even alive by the time we find him. Who knows what those things did to him."

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "Venti,"

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "What?"

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "Those things were Ventis."

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Robin's brows furrowed together. "Don't you mean Anemoi Thuellai?"

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ He shrugged. "Don't you think 'venti' is easier to pronounce?" She gave him a blank look. "Your version is a mouthful."

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "You're no Roman, Dory. It's Anemoi or nothing." Jason is reminded again that there is nothing for him here. No familiarity. No comfort. He curses himself for being affected by her words that meant no harm. Robin notices the picture in his hand, breath hitching at the version of Luke she no longer remembers. He was happier then, full of hope and promises. The anger in her taints the kindness of what Luke was. "It's bad luck to carry the dead with you."

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ His eyes fall to the burnt edges, thumb wiping away at the remaining dust. "He's not the one I carry,"

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "Does it matter?" The mantle of what the world is made of does not look for company in the bluest horizon of his eyes.

Icarus. The original myth had two parts. He flew too close to the scorching of Apollo's rays and he paid the price in Poseidon's domain. Icarus drowned in the sea. Bathe in the sun and drink in the briny deep then crawl out of the waters unburned and alive. Icarus is kissed by the sun but he was never chosen to be enveloped in the sorrowful embrace of Apollo's golden tears like the girl in front of him.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "Did he mean something to you?"

He watches as his words form a fissure of incandescent burning of bridges and homes on her face. It transcends, ascends, and falls into depths of spiraling and Jason marvels at the contortion of her facade.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "It doesn't matter anymore," Robin denies it. She denies what he meant to her. She despises the closing of her throat at the topic of the monstrous form that came in the shape of past platonical jagged-edged blond boys who were never satisfied. "It didn't matter then, anyway." He dies over and over again.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "You don't just wake up one day and decide that,"

Jason pushes her closer to the extremity of the past. He wants a piece of someone else's story to cancel out his own desolation.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "Well, he did," Robin admits to the abandonment. To Luke's leaving and to his selfishness. "He left everything behind as if it meant nothing to him. His selfishness knew no bounds, and now we're left picking up the pieces of everything he destroyed."

His eyes follow the harsh clenching of her jaw up to the forceful bite of her tongue to keep herself from cursing the boy in the picture. There is anger simmering in her eyes with every thought of him flashing in her mind and every betrayal and every hurt Luke had inflicted comes boiling inside of her.

He allows Robin to sit in her own hurt and to just coexist with her in the counting of each bird that flies past them.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "Do you miss him?"

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "Jason, he's gone." She snapped. "It's nothing now (but it was everything back then)."

Robin couldn't stomach what he had become. Luke Castellan is the bird free-falling in the sky and she still isn't quite sure if the bird had intended to kiss the clouds goodbye or was coerced to fall from its grace and clip its wings to never reach anything higher than the ego of titan lords and manipulated hearts of now dead kids. He dies in the plummeting over and over again. Luke was doomed. Luke was the worst person she ever met. Luke is gone and she can't remember the kindest semblance of his face.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "I'm sorry," He sighed, tucking the photo back into his pocket. "It's just. . .I can't remember what it's like to miss someone."

There is something in him that needs to grieve and he is being denied the knowledge of what or who or why he must mourn.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "Isn't that better than knowing what it's like to miss somebody?" She asks him and for a moment, he would've agreed just to satisfy her enough to see the melancholic sobriety of her eyes light up. "I'd do anything to forget."

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "Wouldn't that make you lonely?".

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "It would," Loneliness is boundless. "But you won't know what you're lonely for."

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "Yeah," Jason doesn't tell her how his body had not escaped the emotional burden of missing something that no longer existed in him. "I'm supposed to know how to love."

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "What are you talking about?"

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "Piper," he tells her, watching the sleeping figure of the girl lay her head on Leo's back. "We're supposed to be these kids in love—at least that's what Hera had attempted to do. She messed with her head too."

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "Why are you telling me this?"

She knew what love was. Robin Holloway might look like winter fall tragedies but she felt like the summer sun of lemonade glasses left to bathe in the warmness of the daylight. Jason subconsciously leans into the warmth of her sixteen summers to stop the fifteen lost winters of him from freezing.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "Is it wrong to not feel love?" Jason's question brings her back to standing at the edge of a new world. She is thirteen in her memory and the rain pours heavy on the porch. Rain's heart is in her palms, showing Robin all the ugliness of her whole being. "To not feel anything for someone when you're supposed to?"

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "It's not normal," She is sixteen now and Rain's heart is rotten. There is love for the children of her gods and there is fondness for all the lovers her best friend had. Jason flinches at the brutalisation of her voice, a sharp inhale tightening his chest. "But normal isn't always the same as right or wrong. Feelings aren't always clean-cut."

Robin can still feel the shaking of Malcolm's shoulders as he wept into the arms of a girl whose own lover leaves her for the blasphemy every time they find each other over and over again.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "We all have our own timelines," Robin continues. "There's no right way to feel, Jason."

She wants the recollection to stop but everything keeps coming back to her in waves until it is her moments with Percy that returns with her to land. The son of Poseidon tells her to multiply her anger by a hundred. He reminds her of how Justice should've stood where she was if His love for her was sincere. Percy reminds Robin of all the moments where he left her for the sacrilege.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "Have you ever been loved?" It repeats. Where were you nurtured, what is your nature?

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Her lovers were made of gutted flesh and broken bones. Theo Holloway's body is laid to rest beside Rain Kielman's fuselage. "I don't like talking about love."

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "It's nothing you look for?" He frowned. "Tell me, that boyfriend of yours—"

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Robin blinks once, twice, then thrice. She stills in the moments of her youth when her fondness for the boys she loved gets left behind in every place where they left her first. "What boyfriend?"

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "Malcolm?"

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎MALCOLM PACE, 5 short months ago / I won't leave you. You are horrible but people will love you anyway.

It is an acknowledgment. It is a confession. It is a promise. She cries to Malcolm and he tells her she's got it backwards.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "He's not my boyfriend," she tugs at the red ribbon, Rain comes back to her. "We're just friends."

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "Ah, I just assumed since. . ." Jason trails off, remembering the cursory of their eyes and touch. "How'd you guys become friends?"

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "He didn't like me very much," Robin's eyes glinted in flashbacks, golden in the sun. "We argued a lot growing up. Mal didn't like how I was stealing all of Annabeth's attention." She chewed on the inside of her cheek, hesitating to scratch the itch at the tip of her tongue. "I would've been thirteen—wait no—Fourteen when he started dating my best friend."

It's fleeting for Jason but the cool breeze kissing his fevered brows brings him to the quiet stillness of her voice, listening intently to every aching wound she's saying.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "It must've aggravated you," He says. "Having your best friend date someone you hated."

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "It did," Memory blurs over time. "I don't. . . I don't really have nice things to say about the time they were together."

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "Why? Did it end horribly?"

Love never came easy for girls like Rain Kielman. It's arms out of sockets and knuckles bruised when she tries to fall in love with things she was not hardwired for. Rain is damaged in every crevice of her own violent body and she was made of sawtooth notches like a rabid dog whose only purpose was to bite everything that comes too close in instinct to protect its own spine from breaking. She's spent her whole life running away from people. Familiarity never breeds contempt. Friends after friends, memories fading, constantly slipping away with all the warmth it had once provided and Rain is unable to find her place among all these people who had taken her under their wing and called her a friend of their own. They treated her with so much kindness and gentleness and she was the selfish one for not being satisfied with it once again.

Rain doesn't know what love is. She doesn't know anything about staying, always one foot out the door of people's homes just in case they no longer serve her what she wanted. No matter how much she changed, no matter how far Rain had strayed, she always crawled back to the comforting presence of the friends she left for new ones when it felt too much for her. She goes back to her roots, to the calloused hands of the kids with nothing to lose but each other. Growing up, Rain had always walked away from them, wanting nothing more but to find better and kinder friends to fill up the inescapable void within her. But like a disease, she always runs back to the Holloway siblings and repeats the process of leaving them again.

They welcome her back each time. Chances after chances and she wondered why they had let her walk back into their lives once more when it was clear to all of them that they never needed her in the first place.

Perhaps it was their method of dealing with all the loss they had gone through in both the years they knew Rain and the years they didn't. Maybe it was the begging to have something familiar in the chaos and not just each other. To have someone to hold when the other is gone, to believe that there is a world out there outside of each other.

Walk away today, come back tomorrow. That's what Rain does and what Robin could remember from her after all the years of the silenced reasons for her leaving, questions left unanswered on their doorstep and the doorbell ringing the next with her standing there, all their words failing them just like every time she crawls back.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "She didn't love him," Robin had continued to ask Rain through the months of shared blankets and hushed tones if she loved the boy and her answers differed every time. "At least in my understanding. She was always so lost when it came to love. I don't think she was ready for it."

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "Where is she now?"

Robin held Malcolm as Rain's mortality came to an end (to be loved is to pass away). She had sharpened her knife at the sight of the blood still dripping from the open wound (to be loved is to endure the blade of your oldest friend's betrayal).

It is Leo's voice that breaks the barrier of peace in the air when he wakes up from his nap, all heads snapping in his direction at the suddenness of his words and Piper's hand reaches out to him in question.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "It's nothing," he shook his head, sobering himself up from the high of his thoughts. "Long night. I think I'm hallucinating. It's cool."

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "You've got to be kidding me,"

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "Just joking!" Leo says quickly, sensing the distaste radiating from the brunette. "So what's the plan?"

Jason's voice is firm in his talking, laying out his plan. He tries to sound confident and authoritative, though there's a slight tremor in his tone that hints at his uncertainty about the hastily formed plan.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "Your plan is lacking in every department. Are you aware of how horrible it is?" She snapped her head to look at him. "And I know horrible." Percy Jackson had the mindset of a fool whose only motto was to fuck it and ball.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "uh... well, maybe it needs some work," He rubbed the back of his neck.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "Work? That's an understatement."

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "I'm trying," Jason insisted, his voice tinging with frustration. "You know I don't have all the answers or ideas right now, but I'm doing my best here."

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "Trying and failing, clearly," Robin doesn't give him time to pick himself up from the mess that he is.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ His jaw tightened, looking down at her. "Look, I didn't ask for your commentary," Jason's brows raised. "But if you have something constructive to say, I'm all ears."

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ The angle forced her to arch her neck, tilting it slightly to meet his gaze. "I do have very constructive things to say, especially against your bright ideas—"

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "Guys," Piper's glare faltered at their proximity. "It's not that serious, okay? We'll just figure it out as we go."

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ALABASTER TORRINGTON / Tell them about how you're never really a whole person.

Sick in the head. Fucked in the head. Alabaster is gone.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "Wow, what a team." Not her quest. Not her problem anyway.

Jason's voice is echoing in the background once again, repeating the events that happened at the Grand Canyon and the retelling of their plan to find Boreas and who the storm spirits' belonged to.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "So you want to look for Dylan, the nasty storm dude, on purpose," Leo repeated, casting Jason a quick glance before focusing on the sky once again. "The guy who threw me off the skywalk and sucked Coach Hedge into the clouds."

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "That's about it," He nodded. "Well. . . there may be a wolf involved, too. But I think she's friendly. She probably won't eat us, unless we show weakness."

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "What wolf?" the Mclean girl asked, having never heard him mention anything about the animal. She knew it wasn't his obligation to tell her everything about what he knew and remembered just because she believed there was something between them. It stung her to know none of their memories were real. They weren't real.

Jason repeats the same dream in his head, details coming back to him when he talks about it more and more.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "But you don't know where this place is."

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "Nope,"

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "There's also giants," Piper added, remembering the lines from the oracle. "The prophecy said the giants' revenge."

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "Hold on," Leo held up his hand. "Giants—like more than one? Why can't it be just one giant who wants revenge?"

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "I remember in some of the old Greek stories, there was something about an army of giants."

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "Great," Leo muttered. "Of course, with our luck, it's an army. So you know anything else about these giants? Didn't you do a bunch of myth research for that movie with your dad?"

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "Your dad's an actor?" Jason asked.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "I keep forgetting about your amnesia. Heh. Forgetting about amnesia." Leo laughed to himself, savouring the innocent joke. "That's funny. But yeah, her dad's Tristan McLean."

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "Uh—Sorry, what was he in?"

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "As if you'd know," Robin interjected, her tone dismissive. "Movies aren't exactly top priority right now."

Jason cleared his throat, a sudden warmth spreading across his face. It's the quickening of his heartbeat, the subtle shift in movement, and the momentary stumble of his words that made him stop talking to recollect himself from the spotlight.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ The girl went quiet before continuing. "Uhm uh. . . The giants—well, there were lots of giants in Greek mythology. But if I'm thinking of the right ones, they were bad news. Huge, almost impossible to kill. They could throw mountains and stuff. I think they were related to the Titans. They rose from the earth after Kronos lost the war—" The air stills at the mention, Piper pausing to glance at her. "—I mean the first Titan war, thousands of years ago—and they tried to destroy Olympus. If we're talking about the same giants—"

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "—then we better watch out," Leo finished for her. His hands were still blackened from working on the engine, but he wiped them on his pants and tightened his hold on the reins. "Because if they're coming back, it's not for a tea party."

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Robin was not having a good time being with people who were already friends. "Right. Because offering a giant a biscuit will definitely distract them from smashing Olympus."

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "Chiron said it was happening again," Jason remembered. "The last chapter. That's what he meant. No wonder he didn't want us to know all the details."

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Leo laughed, whistling nervously. "So. . .giants who can throw mountains. Friendly wolves that will eat us if we show weakness. Evil espresso drinks. Gotcha. Maybe this isn't the time to bring up my psycho babysitter."

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "Is that another joke?" Piper yelled over the strong wind.

Leo tries to tell them everything without revealing all his old wounds for them to witness the most monstrous parts of himself he had rejected for so long. He doesn't tell them about the grotesque details of his own mother's death and how every good bone in Leo's body still blames himself for the killing of her mortality despite knowing he would've never done it on purpose. He loved his mother and all the cities he remembers visiting with her. It is still her smile he thinks of when he is under skylights and it is her face that flashes when he remembers how his light destroys cities.

There is something wrong with him and Leo is scared to find out the sickness in him would be incurable after spending years wishing for it to go away.

His hands tighten around the reins once more, bitterness is all he can taste.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "She chose us," Jason says after a while. "All four of us. We're the first of the eight who have to gather for the Great Prophecy. This quest is the beginning of something much bigger."

They were pawns. Animals fed for the slaughter to rid the gods of their savagery.

Jason wouldn't stop talking. "Chiron also talked about worse forces stirring on the solstice, with it being a good time for dark magic, and all—something that could awaken if Hera were sacrificed on that day. And this mistress who's controlling the storm spirits, the one who wants to kill all the demigods—"

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "Might be that weird sleeping lady," Leo finished. "Dirt Woman fully awake? Not something I want to see."

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "But who is she?" Jason asked no one in particular, already knowing none of them had the answer. "And what does she have to do with giants?"

History heard from Luke Castellan's tongue is bloodier than it was years down the line of when he first taught her what it meant to be somewhat godly in the forsakenness of the greenest grass and the liveliest song played in forest fires. He tells her how her organs are marked for scattering and her blood is dirtier than a human's ill wills but it is still holier than blessed waters that were older than they were. The destroyer of worlds tells her of the ferocity of Mother Nature and all her wrath that are cracks splintered on the grounds she walks on, tremors cultivating through the bones of the world with each cacophony of thunder and roaring winds in between heralded destructions. Vines and roots are twisted and gnarled like the fingers of a colossal beast, lashed out and rabid with too much violence and too little beauty like humanity had assumed.

The wind smelt like sulfur and ash now, just like he had told her all those years ago. Luke (destroyer of worlds) makes her remember how Mother Nature is not kind and she is just a foundation built from wildfires of devoured forests and barren wastelands.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "Do you know anything?"

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Robin shook her head. "Never heard of her," Luke points out how the colour of her eyes is the very depth of Mother Nature's ending. "But it's bound to be catastrophic."

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "Chiron didn't say anything that could help?" Jason pressed, hoping for any clue.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "I don't talk to him," heart heavy and ribs aching, she answers Jason. "Just keep your eyes open, alright?"

They tell her she's fussy when it comes to love and its violence of countless faults. Icarus died from the fall after reaching for the brightest star and Robin can tell you how she is certain she had not reached the heights he flew but she had already plummeted into the sea to drown in the step-backs of betrayals and the cowardice of the tongue. It is an old story where touch is something clammy to her skin and it burns hot and bright like the melted wax on Icarus' sunkissed skin. For years, flesh to her felt like a bullet wound in her chest ( She is not making sense but there are no right words to describe the catharsis of her disgust ) where she can't pinpoint the wound nor its exit. Robin doesn't whine when hunger sawed her body in half but she will cry out like a child when she is touched in the weakest points of her isolation.

His forehead droops to her shoulder, head in an uncomfortable angle and hair sharp on the ends while he inhales softly in his resting that lasts hastily before she recoils at the pressure that jerks him away from her tirelessly. It would've been the fifth time since that happened. Robin would nudge him awake repeatedly, wiggling her shoulders to shake him off of her.

Maybe it is the exhaustion that fuels the retaliation in Jason, constantly shifting in his seat whenever the girl in front begins to lean back in instinct to rest. His movements were deliberate in the hours that passed. His shoulders would nudge hers, elbow softly digging into her side in the process.

They both ensured that neither of them could find some kind of semblance. 

"Jason, seriously," Robin muttered for what felt like the hundredth time, giving him another sharp nudge. "Keep your head up. You're not using me as a pillow."

Jason blinked, eyelids heavy and head aching. "Weren't you doing the same thing five minutes ago?"

The bickering would wake Piper up from another bad dream. She is kissed by the setting sun and her heavy eyes travel to look behind her, witnessing Robin harshly elbowing Jason while he attempts to keep a hold of her arm with a tight grip.

"Hey, what's going on?" Piper questioned groggily, eyes still adjusting to the harshness of the wintered air.

"It's nothing," Jason tells her, his grip on the girl's arm loosening enough for her to pull her arm free from his grasp. "Just a misunderstanding."

Piper's gaze trails to Robin, whose annoyance seeps through the barriers despite her efforts to stay calm. Her hands were restlessly convulsing in a way that showed she wanted to reach out to the closest thing to take out the irritancy. Piper wonders if this is what it takes to be part god.

"Nothing?"

"It's not a big deal," Robin answers.

Turning back with a frown etched on the soft features of her face, Piper started to feel uneasy in her own skin. She knew she was being unreasonable with her feelings, too self-centred in her world to not let her aching chest go unnoticed when she saw Jason being animated with a girl he barely even knew while he had dropped her hand with no second thought. He had been confused and lost on the bus, disoriented and amnesiac, and she understood that on a rational level. Yet, having seen him latch his hand on Robin's hand to defend himself against the bony elbows and the beset strikes made her feel small and insignificant even when she and the blond were nothing more than strangers too. Everything held little to no comfort.

She feels hollow in her jealousy, uncertainty crawls in the first layer of her skin before it is replaced with the chilling impression that there is no solution for whatever her problem may be. This is where she shakes Leo awake to not be alone in her misery, lips pursed and hands reaching out to heal her from her thoughts. Leo is good company. She thinks. Leo is enough.

Girlhood is just a notion of picking apart the petals of plucked flowers and to repeat the same thing over and over again until all the corollas are gone: He loves me, he loves me not. Piper's happiness depends on the feelings of others and if one couldn't reach for the stars, she would be at rock bottom.

Leo Valdez is company and if he is happy, then she is happy.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "Tell me that's Quebec and not Santa's workshop," Leo asked out loud, sitting upright to let the view sink in. He rubs his eyes, fingers combing his hair to rid himself of the tangled curls.

Fifteen and charred on the inside, this view reminds him of the fire that burns everything in its wake and it is alive and thriving within him (his light could burn cities and Quebec would be no exception).

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "Yeah, Quebec City," Piper smiled a toothy grin at his excitement. Leo is good company. "One of the oldest cities in North America. Founded around sixteen hundred or so?"

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "Your dad do a movie about that too?"

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "I read sometimes, okay? I don't waste my free time doing nothing."

It is a never-ending spectrum of needing to be better than the beauty that lies outside. Girls are wistful and they are beautiful.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "So you know so much, what's that castle?"

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "A hotel, I think."

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Leo laughed, shaking his head. "No way."

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "The North Wind is staying in a hotel?" Leo said. "That can't be—"

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "Heads up, guys," Jason interrupted, coin in his hand ready to strike. "We got company!"