MAGIC GIRL , percy jackson

𝓟𝓻𝓸𝓵𝓸𝓰𝓾𝓮

‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗☽𓋪☾‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗

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PECULIAR. If you wanted a word you could perfectly describe Phoebe Verdy with, it was this one.

This fact was one everybody agreed on, whether it was her mean teachers trying to criticize her while staying professional, her friends teasing her, or her classmates simply confused by her unusual habits; they all agreed on one thing. Phoebe Verdy was a very peculiar girl.

Weirdly, the girl never got offended by that description. She found it quite amusing. It was indeed rather flattering when people thought you were special. Or at least special enough for them to think so.

Phoebe Verdy often said she was too pretty to worry about the rules.

Dreamy eyes full of stars, lost, wandering in the distance. Sun-kissed skin from a lifetime spent outdoors. Her nose was gently freckled from the afternoons napping in the sunshine. She wore her brown curls short and often adorned with a few little braids tied with headbands from every color she could get her hand on. Her lips stained orange from sipping on soda all day. Her shorts nails were painted with polish in all the colors she could find, but it was always chipped, because as much as she liked the way they looked, she couldn't stand the feel of it. Hands covered in bandaids in a desperate attempt to cover all of the scratches she got from failing at skateboarding (she still tried though.)

An eternal troublemaker, she sported her signature 'I am up to something' smile. That smile, so innocent, shone brighter than the sun. How she threw her head back when she laughed, letting out a sound so bright, so clear, how like a diamond. She was always laughing, Phoebe, if you asked her about it she would've just said that she had a lot of funny jokes, and she wasn't very good at controlling all the laughter that lived inside of her.

Phoebe Verdy was a patchwork of colorful bandaids, unfinished paintings, sunny afternoons, loud laughs, finger guns, card games, homemade bracelets, and orange soda.

She put on mismatched socks simply because she could never decide which one she liked better. She always wore her beat up running shoes because she never walked places; she always raced. Constantly out of breath because she was perpetually late. She carried a deck of cards in her pocket because she was perpetually bored.

Boredom. There wasn't anything in the world Phoebe hated more, though she was constantly.

She said it was her curse ; the same way Pandora was cursed with curiosity, and Odesseyus with hubris, Phoebe Verdy was cursed with boredom.

She loathed it.This feeling that rooted itself into you- the way it made your bones heavy and made the days blend in together, monotonous, indistinguishable from one another in this whirlpool of time. She spent most of her days staring mindlessly at the ceiling, on her tiny mattresses, in her tiny room, trying to find the slightest distraction, any form of entertainment because if she didn't, she might just go insane.

You would think being a half-blood, that all the adventure,the constant threat of death, and all the near death experiences would help?

Except Phoebe never got attacked by monsters, she never went on quests and she never almost died.

(She must be cursed by the gods or something !)

Her life consisted of being home; going to her boring school, with the boring teachers, with the boring lessons. And then going to camp; with boring card games, boring people, and boring sword fights, constantly waiting for summer to end, just to regret it as soon as it does.

She wanted nothing more than to escape the invisible barriers of her existence, to feel the adrenaline pumping through her veins, fighting to for her life, sword raised, looking death right in the eyes, with a large grin on her face and say- not today.

Every night at the campfire she prayed and begged all the gods for an opportunity, however small, just one chance to get out of that sickly routine that stuck to her like a song you can't get out of your head.

And her prayers were answered.

On a sunny summer day, her deliverance arrived ; small, scrawny, clueless, and with a little bit of drool on his chin, he arrived. And his name was Percy Jackson.

The fates had a funny way of doing things; how could her saving grace, at the same time be the instrument of her destruction?

Gods, thinking about it now she probably should have run the other way at the sight of him. That would've saved her from so much trouble.

But after all, the past is something that cannot be changed.

Yes, meeting him was a bad idea.

But falling in love with Percy Jackson was the best-bad idea she would ever have.