𝑰𝑵 𝑾𝑯𝑰𝑪𝑯; Loralai Fotia, an undetermined demigod with a cursed mother learns to tolerate Percy Jackson.
fotia, Φωτιά - fire
ⓒ eustelia, rick riordan
percy jackson x female oc
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IN A WAY, it's nice for Loralai to know there are Greek gods out there, because she has somebody to blame when things go wrong.
For instance, when she's walking away from a bus that's just been attacked by monster hags and blown up with lightning, ruining one of her favorite shirts, and it's raining on top of everything else, most people might think that's just really back luck; when you're a half-blood, you understand that some divine force really is trying to mess up your day.
So, there they were. Annabeth, Loralai, Grover and Percy walking through the woods on the New Jersey riverbank, the glow of New York City making the sky yellow behind us and the smell of the Hudson reeking in their noses. Loralai was struggling to keep up, she was pretty certain she had sprained her ankle. Annabeth had put an arm around her, supporting her weight.
Grover was shivering and braying, his big goat eyes turned slit-pupiled and full of terror. "Three Kindly Ones, all three at once," he muttered. Percy was strolling next to him, in shock himself, the explosion of the bus windows still rang in his ears.
But Annabeth motivated everyone to carry on. Despite Loralai's burnt clothes and sprained ankle, despite Grover's complaints about New York City's light pollution and trauma from the Kindly Ones, and Percy being a total bum. She kept on pulling them along, saying: "Come on! The further away we get, the better."
"All our money was back there," Percy grimly reminded them. "Our food and clothes. Everything." Loralai swallowed. "My pins, as well," she mumbled. That was her proof that she hadn't just sat there waiting for her father to claim her, she had taken action.
Twenty-three different demigods, twenty-three different places, and twenty-three reasons for her to be worthy of her father's acknowledgement.
Her expression suddenly turned sour as she replayed the events of the fight. "Maybe if you hadn't tried to be a hero and distracted them-"
"What did you want me to do? Let you and Annabeth get killed?" Insulted at the idea, Loralai spat, "I don't need your protection, seaweed brain. I would've been fine." Percy glanced at Annabeth for help who put her hands up in surrender. "Don't drag me into your stupid fights."
"Sliced up like sandwich bread," Grover put in his two cents, "but fine." Loralai groaned. "Shut up, goat boy," she commanded. Braying mournfully, Grover said, "Tin cans... a perfectly good bag of tin cans."
They sloshed across mushy ground soaked with polluted rainwater, through nasty twisted trees that smelled like sour laundry, and bushy leaves blocking their path. After a few minutes, Loralai fell into step with Percy.
Loralai's lips turned into a line, playing with the hem of her shirt cheerlessly. "Look... you're brave, Percy, I'll give you that," her voice faltered. "Thank you, okay?"
Percy pondered these words for a moment. "If you let me help you, I'll let you help me?" He suggested, looking into the distance. Loralai scowled at the fact that he still wouldn't make eye contact with her, her eyebrows scrunching together.
