PHILOXENIA ➸ Percy Jackson¹

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SEVEN—Voices From the Deep

(cw: description of panic attack)

─── ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽☼☾.* :☆ﾟ｡ ───

There was not much to do on the train except to eat, sleep, and talk.

But even when they didn't have to fight, they were unable to relax one bit, constantly wary of any signs of danger or monsters that might appear at any moment.

They coped with it in different ways. Grover slept most of the time. Percy paced the length of the train all the way to the front and back again. Annabeth finished her book and started it all over. Ciaran drew, as usual, the changing scenery from his window providing much inspiration. At one point, he did a portrait of Grover that he was sure wasn't that good—the shape of his face was a little off, his nose was too big, and Ciaran felt that he couldn't quite capture his smiling brown eyes—but the satyr held it like it was a map leading straight to the god Pan and promised to cherish it forever.

The others had also left their mark on the pieces of paper that Ciaran stole from Aunty Em's office and bound together into a makeshift book. Grover drew some trees and dotted the meadows with flowers. Percy doodled simple water waves on the corners. Meanwhile, Annabeth did an elaborate drawing of an owl, something that would take her close to a whole afternoon as she tirelessly went over it with an eraser.

Due to his insomnia, Ciaran became the unofficial night watch of the group, the one to make sure that they got at least some semblance of sleep. He didn't mind it, he had become familiar with the company of night and found solace in the moon and stars. There were times when he peered out of the window and he would catch a glimpse of another world laid upon this own—his world now. One time, he saw a dark beast prowling amongst the field, bigger than any wolf he had ever seen. It moved to stand up on its hind legs, its beady eyes a sliver of scarlet against the argent light. It howled at the moon before disappearing back into the night. 

Grover was the only one who got constant sleep, as both Annabeth and Percy kept on being woken up by his snores and bleats. 

But that wasn't the only thing that had Percy coming in and out of fitful sleep. Ciaran looked up when he heard mumbles leaving the son of Poseidon's mouth, his eyebrows knitted together as his face became contorted with what seemed like distress. 

"No...not gonna help...I won't help you." He turned his head to the other side, his teeth gritted as sweat gathered on his forehead.

Ciaran debated on whether or not to wake him up. It was clear he was suffering from a nightmare, but he wasn't sure if returning Percy back to reality would trigger a worse reaction or not. He decided to gently shake him, but just as he stood up, Grover let out a particularly loud snore that had Percy snapping awake. Annabeth also fluttered her eyes open, and at that point the only one asleep was the satyr shuffling around in his seat.

He kept on tossing and turning so much that his fake foot fell off. Thankfully, Ciaran and Annabeth got his sneaker back on before anyone could notice the goat leg sticking out.

"So, who wants your help?" Annabeth asked Percy when she sat back down.

"What do you mean?"

"When you were asleep just now, you mumbled, 'I won't help you.' Who were you dreaming about?"

"I heard it, too," Ciaran said. "You looked like you were having a nightmare."