nyctophilia: (n) love of darkness or night
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╰┈➤Irene Astrea Potter-Black's life is anything but normal, and the Fates making people watch her life proves that.
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In which the Great Hall and a group of powerful...
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Seven days before the solstice, their train rolled into the station. They hadn't eaten since the night before, and they hadn't showered since Half-Blood Hill. Irene's spells could only do so much, and unfortunately, it didn't remove the grimy feeling that came with not washing properly.
"We should try to contact Chiron," Grover said. "Tell him about what happened with the river spirit."
"I thought we couldn't use phones?" Irene asked, confused.
"I'm not talking about phones," Grover clarified.
"Guess you don't know everything, Miss. straight A student," Draco teased. Irene rolled her eyes.
"I knew a lot, I never said I knew everything."
The trio wandered through downtown for nearly half an hour, the two demigods following Grover without a clue for what they were looking for until they stopped at a do-it-yourself car-wash. Grover took them to the farthest stall from the street, and they watched for patrol cars.
"What exactly are we doing?" Percy asked as Grover took out the spray gun.
"Seventy-five cents," The satyr grumbled. "I've only got two quarters left. Either of you got something?"
Irene checked her pockets and Percy shook his head. With a sigh, Irene crouched and grabbed a rock from the ground. A quick look ensured no one but Percy and Grover were watching her in confused fascination. She slipped her wand from the sleeve of her hoodie and tapped it against the rock with a mumbled spell, transfiguring it into a shiny new quarter.
"One quarter." She said, handing it to Grover. "Better be quick. I haven't figured out how to make it last longer than a few minutes yet."
"Excellent," Grover said. "We could use a spray bottle, of course, but the connection isn't as good, and my arm gets tired of pumping."
"Still don't know what you're talking about," Irene ran her fingers through her curly, dark hair with a frustrated look on her face. This quest wasn't going as simply as she hoped it might.
"When does it ever?" Grover asked sarcastically, taking a bite out of a tin can that Irene didn't know how he got.
He fed the quarters into the machine and set the knob to fine mist.
"I-M'ing."
"Instant messaging?"
"Iris-messaging," He corrected. "The rainbow goddess Iris carries messages for the gods. If you know how to ask, and she's not too busy, she'll do the same for the half-bloods."
"The gods carry messages for you?" A Roman demigod asked, a bit incredulous at the thought. It seemed they did far more for their Greek children than they ever did for their Roman ones.
