Flower Food || [Percy Jackson x OC] || [🎵 included]

Chapter 1: The Girl Who Likes to Shovel Food Down My Throat

The nightmares never stopped. It was always his mother, trapped in the meaty fist of the Minotaur, looking at him helplessly as she kicked and shouted with all her human might.

His mother, the woman who had raised him and loved him like no other, turning to golden dust...

Dust...

"Whoa!"

He woke up with a gasp and the distinct feeling that he'd been run over by a semitruck. Frantic hands were trying to keep him down as he thrashed wildly on instinct, choking on his own spit, only to start calming down when the unmistakable scent of lavendar started to fill the air.

"There we go," said the same voice from before. He blearily watched in confusion as a hand continued to wave a handful of lavendar bushels in his face, the scent so potent that he already felt drowsy again. "Good Hera, you almost undid all our hard work from the night before. How's your pain level from one to ten? Ten being the worst, of course. Is your vision fuzzy?"

"Um..." Percy said, his mouth dry from what had to be his embarrassing habit of snoring as he turned his head and squinted at the figure next to him.

It was a girl.

Correction, it was a pretty girl, but one he had never met before. Her black hair was pinned neatly back from her face with a flower-shaped brooch, and her eyes were a dark brown that continued to sweep up and down his figure in worry.

There was a certain glow or feeling about her that he couldn't say applied to any of the little beasts other people called girls from his school, and he smacked his lips once, twice, before he said, "who are you?"

"It's Calliopsis," the girl said, her voice sweet but her hands preoccupied as she began to check the various wound dressings he had. He didn't even notice them until then. "Hm. Your heartbeat is kind of high... definitely need more ambrosia."

"Cal - Cal what?" He said in a bewildered voice.

The girl seemed more interested in running a hand down his injuries and mouthing silent words to herself as she lightly frowned, but she still indulged him and said, "Calliopsis. It's a genus of the family Asteraceae. Sorry, I know you've had a rough night, but I need you to sit up a little."

What the heck was Asteracae?

Her hands were rough with calluses but her touch was gentle as she patiently supported his shoulders and let him lean most of her weight into her arms as he struggled to sit up.

He was embarrassed by the lack of strength and was even more defeated when she beamed encouragingly at him and fluffed his pillow happily.

"Good! Will and I were worried that you might have had lingering neurological issues after being tossed around like a rag doll, but luckily your brain is still intact," the girl continued to chirp like she didn't just lay a bomb on him that his brain almost exploded. "Okay, yeah - sit up - there you go - now just let me take care of you, okay?"

There was a particular brand of humiliation that applied to this scenario of a pretty, wide-eyed girl who started to spoon-feed him what tasted like buttered popcorn in pudding form.

Even her name, Calliopsis, was strange, and there was always something green that flickered at the edge of her irises as she looked at him and gently brushed aside any strands of his hair when he lapped pathetically at the spoon presented to him.

"At least you have an appetite," Calliposis said, looking pleased as she set down the now empty bowl and spoon on a bedside table with a clink. "But ambrosia isn't always good on an empty stomach. Is there any fruit you're craving? Maybe apples? Grapes? Oranges?"