𝐅𝐋𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐒, ᴘᴇʀᴄʏ ᴊᴀᴄᴋꜱᴏɴ

004 ── the legion's forgotten.

        "Can you stop spinning that thing?"

        Percy eyed the reeling gold spear that recoiled his vision, impressions in the metal whittled by hand dividing streaks across the barren pasture. Depicting the patterns was an impossible task; the weapon gained startling speed as it shifted between her lithe fingers, dropping every so often in tandem with her uneven stride. The head of it severed the air in two and played with the tickles of grass. It tugged on his shirt in disheveled ruffles as the disruption made a shiver trail up his spine.

        She looked to him, taking his words in stride, but her fingers only partly slowed their pursuit. They toyed with the grooved shaft, as if they were the briskness that traced his back in mockery. "Why, afraid I'm going to aim it at you?" She fully halted it then; the edged plane brushing the plane of his chest. Her intent was fogged just as his mind was.

        He had no doubt she would impale him on the spot if she saw it fit.

        He only smiled, unwilling to let actuality overcome his face. "I could take it."

        Her lips twitched. It was no kind smile, it was one of gnawing bone and lesions torn through skin, one that infested uncertainty in his bloodstream and had his head reeling and his ears popping. His presence was her dispute, a rogue wave while her waves were calm and the executioner of her turbulent inferno. His persistence fought her solitude with clashing metal and pushing force, and she needed to push back stronger.

        "That's wishful thinking, Jackson." She spun the plium once more, and a step closer allowed the weapon to skim his shoulder and her face to be mere inches from his own. "I could gut you like a fish before you uncap your... pen."

        "You're underestimating me."

        "I'm making an observation."

        "You don't trust me."

        "Was that obvious?"

        "Uh... guys?" The camp's horns sounded, and Frank had approached the two awkwardly. He stood between them, his head turning between the two, eyes slightly wide and a hand reaching to clasp the back of his neck. "I'd hate to break up... whatever this is, but we've gotta go."

        "What? what does that horn mean?" Percy questioned. He looked towards the camp, where bodies clothed in purple moved to corral in a gathering. The sound rang in his ears, but Theia and Frank barely flinched.

        "Roll call." Frank said, providing no more information before he walked away again, gaining speed to save himself a reddened face for tardiness. His probatio necklace weighed a ton around his neck.

        Theia went to follow him while looking towards the huddle of demigods, the brown of her eyes mutating to magma with the sun's influence and freckles vivid like the embers left behind. Even in her moments of calm, where her heart lay pulsing without influence and the wind ushered away the incense of smoke, she was still fire, living and breathing. It was kept in Percy's mind as he moved quickly, his hand catching her bicep and turning her to him. Her glare sparked higher and with scrapes of affluent gold, but he held his nerve well enough.

        "Look, I'm not your enemy." He tried to reassure; it was futile, and he reluctantly knew it. She would never take his words truly to heart. The furthest they reached was it's casing, scarring and scratching stone but never quite reaching beneath.

        "For now."

        "I'll just keep proving it to you." He shrugged carelessly.

        But her face didn't change, the embers refused to die, and her heart went up in smoke. "You can try."