If you would've told Percy Jackson a year ago he wasn't the only prophecized demigod with the weight of the world on his shoulders, he would've been elated.
Yet now, it was his only and dearest wish.
When Percy Jackson, (in)famous Son of Poseidon...
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trigger warning: explicit gore
˚ ✦ .. ˚. . ✦ ˚ . ★⋆.
CAPTURE THE FLAG HAD OFFICIALLY BECOME Menodora's favourite game of all times. Not only did the adrenaline do it's thing, it also took her mind off the prophecy for a second. The clashing of swords would be louder than all her feral worries.
The main raiding party, led by Thalia, had been running for about five minutes when an arrow zoomed right past Menodora face, leaving a small slash on her cheek.
She turned around and was met with Zoë's determined eyes. Zoë had missed on purpose in an attempt to catch her attention.
"ATTACK!" Thalia yelled out before running into battle.
Menodora's jaw clenched as the fight around her unfolded. Her grip around her sword tightened before she lunged at Zoë.
With ease Menodora dodged her arrows, anticipating each one of them. Zoë's style of fighting felt familiar to Menodora, like she had fought against her for decades.
Zoë noticed it too, and it made her furious. She swung her bow around her torso and took out two daggers from her beltpocket.
The collision of their two metal weapons was harsh and brusque like the unspoken words between the two girls. Their weapons spoke for them; Zoë's attacks were coordinated and precise, making sure not to hurt Menodora. If she couldn't control her own mouth, the least she could do was control her own weapon.
On the other hand, Menodora's attacks were forceful and impulsive, hoping to hit Zoë wherever it hurt. If she couldn't hurt Zoë with her words, the least she could do was hurt her with her weapon.
Gradually, the air around them turned stingingly cold, the micro ice crystals slicing their face. Everything around Menodora became a fusion of turbulent snow and indistinguishable bodies. The icy wind ringed through her ears and made her unstable on her feet. Menodora had to cover her face just to refrain the fierce wind from disrupting her breathing.
It wasn't until she felt her back collide with another that everything became less chaotic.
Aspen yelled out her name and laughed triumphantly, as if they had already won the game.
With Aspen by her side, the mayhem became truly mesmerising. Instead of attacking her, the snow served more as a protector, fighting with her against the enemy.
