[2] 𝐈 𝐀𝐌 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐀 𝐖𝐎𝐌𝐀𝐍 𝐈𝐌 𝐀 𝐆𝐎𝐃 , 𝗉𝖾𝗋𝖼𝗒 𝗃𝖺𝖼𝗄𝗌𝗈𝗇

𝗇𝗂𝗇𝖾 | 𝗴𝗼𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗱𝗼𝘄𝗻 𝘁𝗼𝗴𝗲𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿

.・゜゜・——— I AM NOT A WOMAN I'M A GOD !

GOING DOWN TOGETHER

THERE WERE SO MANY UNSAID words that interfered between the tension of the two demigods that stood on the black sand of the underworld, one of them ruffling his raven hair while he spoke reassurance to Annabeth on the other side of his flip phone and the other sharpening a stone against her sword to carve a small shank.

A small silence passed through them, the seemingly loud ring of the dial tone ringing through Regina's ears. She took a moment to look at the point on her new weapon, and wondered if her powers could work on a makeshift stone shank. She squinted her eyes and stared at it, thinking thoughts like small dagger, small blade, small dagger, small blade. Then her ears began to burn like they were being held against molten lava, and she almost looked away to stop the pain, until she felt the end of the stone in her hands shift, as if it was being carved from thin air. It transfigured into a small, stone blade like it was made out of clay. The carvings on the hilt of the blade made up the same patterns that were on Bloodthirst; small swirls and geometric mandala configurations that branched from the middle of the sword, and outwards like a tree. Her dirt stained fingers trace over the fine point she created with her mind, and it nipped at her finger with only a hover.

"So, how did you discover you could do that, then?" She heard a somewhat distant voice speak. She thought he was miles away, but when she looked up, he was only a few meters in front of her.

She rubbed her lips together in thought, thinking about the sleepovers and long night discussions about her powers she had with Annabeth over the end of the summer last year. How she told her to be patient with her powers, and how Regina told her patience wasn't a word in her dictionary. She remembered Annabeth telling her to close her eyes and perhaps imagine she was the weapon herself. Regina told her she didn't really have to imagine. And somehow, with that observation and acceptance, the powers came easier to her. But not so easy to control.

"I kind of committed mass murder on over one hundred people in a nursing home." Regina deadpanned, spinning the dagger between her forefinger and her thumb.

Percy's face dropped. "Like ... literally? You literally killed them?"

"I mean, indirectly." She told him defensively. It wasn't like she intended to slaughter one hundred and twenty dementia patients. And it wasn't like it was her fault anyway: she was having a very hard time that day controlling her anger, and some old lady coughing in her face made it a little bit worse. How was she supposed to know she was suffering from a deadly virus and accidentally weaponised it to the rest of the nursing home? She concluded it was their fault that they had such weak immune systems. "Let's just say, maybe if they had a jab before-hand, they'd be alive."