𝙄𝙉𝙁𝙇𝘼𝙈𝙀𝘿; heroes of olympus

cold warmth

CALYPSO
CALYPSO WAS NOT HAPPY WHEN THE BOY RUINED HER TABLE.

No, it wasn't enough that Percy Jackson had sworn to let her out of this wretched place. It wasn't enough that she had gone through lover after lover, only to be abandoned. It wasn't enough that she only got news of the real world from stupid boys that loved her for a week.

No, all of that wasn't enough for her eternal punishment. The gods could laugh, and she would remain isolated and slowly driven insane.

So, when he landed, she knew she was already half dead.

She squared her shoulders. She prepared herself. She put up that wall, even though she knew it wouldn't help.

Nothing ever did.

 She found him in a crater in the sand. A few yards away, a column of thick black smoke roiled into the sky from a much larger crater. The surrounding beach was peppered with smaller pieces of burning wreckage―wreckage of her table.

Not that she cared very much. It was good to have things to do.

The boy himself was smoking and stumbling around the beach, clutching something to his chest. He looked completely delusional. His curly dark hair was matted to his brown skin. He was thin, and his ears were slightly pointed, like an elf.

All in all, not what Calypso expected.

She sighed, swallowed her pride, and walked down the beach.

―

HE SPOTTED HER HALFWAY DOWN TO THE SPOT WHERE HE WAS HUNCHED, clutching a sphere in his hands.

She had skirted the craters and the wreckage, careful not to singe her dress. But as light-footed as she always was, he heard her when her bare foot landed on a smoking piece of wood, and she yelped.

He turned, eyes widening. "Who are you?" he demanded, his position already turning defensive.

She sighed, shoulders slumping. She didn't really want to tell him her name, on the chance that he knew her myth, so instead, she said, "Who are you? You are on my island, after all."

His eyebrows furrowed. "Your island?"

She nodded. "That's what I said."

His eyes roved over her figure. She didn't have anything to be self-conscious about, but something about his gaze swallowed her whole.

Finally, he said, "Er, my name is Leo. Leo Valdez. And I have no idea how I got here. So if you're not going to kill me, could you point me back to my ship?"

She blinked. "I'm not going to kill you, idiot. What ship?"

"My ship." He waved his hands vaguely, one still clutching his stupid sphere. "I was on my ship, talking to my friends, and then―boom. This ice goddess Khione probably hurled me into the sky, and I woke up falling. Any more questions?"

"Plenty," she retorted. She let out a sigh, resigning herself. "You look bad."

"Gee, thanks. Can I get a map now?" 

Calypso huffed. "I don't have a map. I don't need a map. This is my island!" She stomped toward him, and he cringed, as if ready to get beat up. She held up her hands. "Relax, I'm not going to hit you. Let's get you some food, and some new clothes, because you smell bad. And, like I said, you look bad." She wrinkled her nose.

The boy shook his head. "Um, no. You'll probably just poison me."

"Leo Valdez," she said sternly, "if I wanted to kill you, I would've done so by now, as you are incredibly annoying." She quirked up an eyebrow. "Any more hesitations? Would you like to just sit here and starve?"