PHILOXENIA ➸ Percy Jackson¹

τέσσερα

FOUR—Pancakes and All the Blues

─── ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽☼☾.* :☆ﾟ｡ ───

Lux woke with the sun, as per usual.

It didn't matter if her body was screaming at her to rest more, her eyes were wide open as she stared at the ceiling. There was a dull throbbing in her right arm, as if it had a heartbeat of its own. 

She didn't know how long she spent just staring blankly upward, as her mind had yet to actually catch up with her state of consciousness. Shards of her thoughts came back slowly, like puzzle pieces that slotted into place one by one.

She remembered the hellhound listening to Ciaran, and Percy being claimed by Poseidon, the God of the Sea. 

Lux abruptly got up from the bed, which made her immediately hold her head as the room spun around like she was stuck in a whirlpool.

"Whoa there, Lux. Be careful."

She was able to make out a blur of blonde locks in her vision, and as she blinked until the swirls became straight lines again, she saw Will Solace in front of her.

"Hey, Will. You're up early."

"It's nothing I couldn't handle," he said. "How are you feeling?"

"Good enough for someone clawed by a rabid dog."

The corner of his lips twitched at her response. "Luckily Michael was able to get to you in time. You gave us quite the fright."

"What happened to the hellhound?"

"Shot by Chiron. It's gone now, but..." Will bit the inside of his cheek, the events of yesterday clearly still shocking to him. "Everyone's still shaken. The only way that hound could've got through the border is by someone summoning it from the inside."

Lux didn't want to believe in the possibility, for she couldn't think of anyone at camp who could do such a thing. But there was no other viable explanation at the moment. It was a horrible thought to have, and the last thing she wanted was to cast doubt on anyone. Sure, there were the inevitable spats and fights that broke out between campers, but they were all more or less resolved with no hard feelings.

But to actually risk the lives of every fellow demigod in Camp Half-Blood was a motivation that she couldn't wrap her head around.

"How's Percy?" she asked, more than ready to change the subject.

"All healed, there's not even a scar left behind. I've never seen water have that effect on a demigod. But then again, I haven't met a child of the Sea God before. Speaking of which, do you want an ambrosia square?"

"Yes, please." Lux watched as he got up while ghosting her fingers over her bandaged arm, the low growl that promised blood reverberating in her ears. "And my brother? Is he okay?"

"He's not injured. But you know, after what happened yesterday." He paused, as if to choose his words carefully. "We don't know what to think of it."

The single word uttered by Ciaran was conjured like a ghost by her side, a chilling breath that caused a shiver to run down her spine. 

She knew everything there was to know about him. She knew all of his favorite paintings and art, how he preferred Van Gogh's Starry Night over the Rhône over the more infamous Starry Night, how he admired the form sculpted by Canova. She knew the exact temperature he likes to keep in his room, how he plays music so softly that it resembles ambient noise. She knew exactly what he would pick up from a bodega—a pack of peanut M&M's to share, a bag of kettle-cooked chips, the occasional chopped cheese—and his secret to a perfect cup of hot chocolate. She knew that he likes the company of people, but sometimes he enjoys it at a distance.