ᴄᴀᴠᴇ ᴄᴀɴᴇᴍ: ᴘᴀʀᴛ ɪɪ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴇʀᴄᴀʙᴇᴛʜ/ꜱᴏʟᴀɴɢᴇʟᴏ ᴘʀᴏᴊᴇᴄᴛ

ᴠɪɪ | ᴀɴɴᴀʙᴇᴛʜ ᴅᴏᴇꜱ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴍᴀɪɴ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀ ᴛʜɪɴɢꜱ

CW: Referenced SA of a minor

Annabeth's nightmares always start in the same dark alleyway. She's seven years old again, itchy from a constant fear that spiders may be lingering on her arms and face. Her arms are weak from dragging a hammer behind her, and her legs are cold because her pajama pants are too small.

It's at this moment—both in her dreams and the chilly day it happened—that she resigns herself to a hiding spot behind a garbage can, with a pizza box for a roof. That's why the smell of onion and pepperoni pizza makes her a little uneasy, although she's not sure why someone would ever order a flavor combination that smells so similar to body odor.

She's exhausted, so exhausted that her fear of the monsters tracking her down is almost outweighed by her drowsiness, but she can't go to sleep. She can't rest until she's safe, or more likely, dead.

But even a pizza box shelter and a hammer for a weapon can't protect her from every monster. That's why she has her wits. With a few carefully selected words, she can trick a monster into letting her live a little longer.

Even wit has its limits though. The Greek stories she stole from her father's study had pictures of all kinds of different monsters, and so did the Norse ones too, but never had she seen a monster that looked so human.

She should have trusted her instincts that night; 'no more monsters' means no more monsters. Annabeth was exhausted, and her wits weren't about her, which is why she trusted the monster's deceit with no questions and even less hesitation. We could use a fighter like you. What sane person says that to a little kid?

And this is only how the nightmare begins. Sometimes, he gets straight to the point, but most of the time, it begins like a cleverly placed trap she can never avoid falling into, no matter how lightly she steps.

His appearance is a little inconsistent. This time, his eyes are gold and his cheek is intercepted by a massive scar he got on the one measly quest he was granted. It's not accurate, but then again, this is a nightmare.

"I'll tell you what, Annabeth," he says. "You're pretty fierce. We could use a fighter like you." Again, who the fuck thinks that's an okay thing to say to a kid who should be in the second grade?

Obedient to the nightmare, she asks, "You could?" Her voice is filled with childlike wonder because—she cannot stress this enough—Annabeth is a child.

And then his voice turns a little more sinister. Well, more sinister than usual. "I could also look for a human sacrifice so you can be whole again. A strong demigod should do."

"Yes," says Thalia, who never speaks in these dreams. "But you have to remember we only have a week left to carry out this task. I need more beasts. The monsters you give me can hold off the others. While we pursue-"

"Your beasts fail every time," Luke continues.

Annabeth is so fucking confused right now, she isn't even having a panic attack. She tries to use her voice, but something's stopping her. Maybe this is one of those dreams where she can't talk, or maybe there's this voice in her head telling her that this information might not be a figment of her subconscious.

"A trick," says Thalia. "You do know who could be convinced to aid our cause."

"I do," Luke says, resigned.

"So swallow your pride," Thalia insists. "You know he owes us."

"But he's so... so uncontrollable."

"If we don't have the advantage by the time the demigods get to Prague, we're—what is it people say nowadays?—Ah! Screwed. We'll be screwed."

It's like when everyone at the lunch table has an inside joke they won't let you in on because it would take too much time to explain, but you've got to know anyway because what if they're making fun of you? Annabeth just wants to scream, WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?