Thunderstorm ➪ʜᴀᴢᴇʟ Lᴇᴠᴇsǫᴜᴇ [𝟷]

𝗩 𝗜 𝗜 𝗜

𝙱𝚛𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢 𝚖𝚞𝚌𝚑 hopped up on caffeine. It really started to hit her after the glow of Quebec City faded behind them. Her hands were getting shaky. She might have overdone it, just a little.

She could hear Piper and Jason talking behind her, and Leo was whispering to Festus behind her.

She was on a quest. She was on a quest!

Her first semi-encounter with a god/immortal beings had gone well, too! All she had to do now was successfully survive--probably should figure out what 'filling the gauge' means-- then she'd be on her way to the Great Prophecy! She could scream with joy!

Instead, her stomach growled.

Leo passed back some sandwiches from his pack. He'd been pretty quiet ever since Piper and Jason had broken the news about Khione. Bronte could tell from first glance, honestly.

"I still can't believe Khione," he said. "She looked so nice."

"Trust me, man," Jason said. "Snow may be pretty, but up close it's cold and nasty."

Bronte grinned. "Besides, you've already got a better snow summoner on your team!"

She pointed to herself. Leo looked back. His expression was dismal.

"You can do snow, too? What can't you do?"

"Hmm," Bronte hummed. "Fly?"

He rolled his eyes, but smiled as he faced forwards.

She was tempted to ask him about his own powers. He hadn't said much at the palace, and Bronte still didn't understand why he was hiding it. His mood was affecting Festus, too, who grumbled and steamed as he warmed himself in the Canadian air.

They are their sandwiches in relative silence as the flew. Another thing! Where on earth was Leo getting his supplies? He'd even managed to bring vegetarian options for Piper, and almond butter for Bronte. Eh, they were good enough not to question. 

Bronte remembered what Chiron used to say about secrets. Well, not verbatim, but it went something like secrets will always come out eventually. It probably was a bit more poetic and dramatic.

The moon and state turned overhead. Nobody talked. Their encounter with Boreas had left everyone a bit shaken. Not Bronte though. He'd told them it was a suicide quest? Bronte said no, thanks. They'd get back alive. She knew it.

Her role in the quest was a bit confusing. Not worrying! Just confusing.

The daughter of storm will fill the gauge.

That was her, quite clearly, but how would she fill the gauge. Rain? What was the gauge?

She chuckled. If it was just a big tube, she'd find it really funny.

Her smile faded. Her powers had always been an issue, Chiron had told her, from the time she was abandoned to now. Percy had been able to teach her a bit about the ocean-themed ones, and Thalia about the sky ones, but they were, in their nature, difficult to control.

Natural disasters, after all, didn't lend themselves to subjugation. They fought, were wild, and unpredictable, and—it's even in the name—disasters. For years, they were ruled by her emotions. She got angry, and storms would come. She got sad, and it would rain until she felt better. Once she caused an earthquake when she'd gotten frustrated. She watched a friend die. . . well, you could guess what happened. Several buildings had met their doom. So had many monsters. And even some good guys. Bronte wasn't proud of it.

To fill a gauge. To fill implied to bring the water to the top, all the way to the brim. To fill. Not to go over.

She wouldn't be able to do that. To fill something and then stop. She could start, most definitely, but stopping was a toss of the dice.

She noticed Leo nodding off in front of her. "I'll take over," she said, uncharacteristically gently. "Go to sleep."

He looked back, nodded, and then slumped forward, settling into the warmth of the dragon. Bronte took the reins. He . . . trusted her, just like that. It hadn't been like that at camp for a long time. Bronte couldn't even remember the last time she'd been trusted to do something important without a chaperone.

Probably never. Her powers never really allowed for it. When your toddler can cause storms, and floods, and fires, you can't really leave her alone. It got better, when her emotions got under control (ish). Then, when Silena died, and Bronte went a little berserk- eesh. Everybody looked at her differently. She'd been completely out of control, and she would guess it looked pretty terrifying.

After, hadn't been allowed to drive the flying chariot, or ride a Pegasus, or even participate in chariot races. Too unpredictable, Chiron had said. You could get shocked, and then call down some lightning. No way.

Bronte had argued—of course she had—but even the Athena kids wouldn't see sense. Percy and Thalia kind of did, but they had control. When you're unpredictable like Bronte, it's different. She's powerful, and she's dangerous.

She grumbled and squeezed the reins. Chiron had been proud of her, sure, and supported her learning about her powers. But . . . just once, just one more time, she'd like to let go. It was a constant battle inside her—her powers vs. her brains—and she'd like to remember what it feels like to have her powers win.

She'd let go against the drakon—and half of New York—and it had unlocked something inside of her. She'd been grumbly and snappy after, like always after her powers, but after that, she'd felt better than ever.

The wind grew stronger. Colder.

Stop it, Bronte thought. Brains win. Stop.

It did not stop. In fact, it got windier and colder, as if Boreas was there, breathing ice down her neck.

Jason, Piper, and Leo had all fallen asleep. Bronte was the only one conscious when Festus fell out of the sky.