and the story of us looks a lot like a tragedy now
𝖎𝖓 𝖜𝖍𝖎𝖈𝖍 two forbidden kids
find solace within each other,
despite their father's wishes.
[ percy jackson x oc ]
[ percy jackson & the olympians ]
[ the lightning thief - the last olympian ]...
Hoppla! Dieses Bild entspricht nicht unseren inhaltlichen Richtlinien. Um mit dem Veröffentlichen fortfahren zu können, entferne es bitte oder lade ein anderes Bild hoch.
The least the Oracle could've done was walk back to the attic by herself. Instead, Bronte and Percy were elected to carry her. She didn't figure that was because they were the most popular. Though, Bronte didn't mind, because she wanted to be as far away from Thalia as possible.
Did she really think she was that much better just because she was older? Bronte thought that they had bonded over their bad parentage and even worse childhood, but apparently Thalia didn't.
The only good thing about their walk was Grover constantly saying something to make up for the awkward tension hanging in the air.
"Well I still think that you guys had a smart plan," he said with a shrug.
"Grover," Bronte warned, her tone very obvious that she wasn't in the mood.
"What? I'm just speaking the truth. You guys had a good plan— watch her head!" Grover warned as they went up the stairs. But it was too late.
Bonk! Percy whacked her mummified face against the trapdoor frame and dust flew. "Ah, man." He set her down and checked for damage. "Did I break anything?"
"I can't tell," Grover admitted.
Percy and Bronte hauled her up and set her on her tripod stool, both of them huffing and sweating. Who knew a mummy could weigh so much?
Bronte assumed she wouldn't talk to either of them, and she was right. She was relieved when they finally got out of there and slammed the attic door shut.
"Well," Bronte said with a shiver, "that was gross."
"What will Chiron do?" Percy asked to no one in particular. He really just wanted an answer.
"I wish I knew." Grover looked wistfully out the second-floor window at the rolling hills covered in snow. "I want to be out there."
"Searching for Annabeth? Yeah, me too," Bronte sighed. "I just wish someone would let us do something, y'know?"
Grover had a little trouble focusing on Bronte. Then he blushed. "Oh, right. That too. Of course."
"Why?" Percy asked. "What were you thinking?"
He clopped his hooves uneasily. "Just something the manticore said, about the Great Stirring. I can't help but wonder... if all those ancient powers are waking up, maybe... maybe not all of them are evil."
"You mean Pan."
Percy felt kind of selfish, because he'd totally forgotten about Grover's life ambition. The nature god had gone missing two thousand years ago. He was rumored to have died, but the satyrs didn't believe that. They were determined to find him. They'd been searching in vain for centuries, and Grover and Cooper were convinced they'd be the two to succeed. This year, with Chiron putting all the satyrs on emergency duty to find half-bloods, neither of them had been able to continue their search. It must've been driving them nuts.
