the story of us ✷ jackson¹

★ 𝒙𝒍𝒊𝒊. 𝒅𝒐𝒆𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 𝒂𝒔 𝒂 𝒇𝒂𝒎𝒊𝒍𝒚 𝒓𝒆𝒖𝒏𝒊𝒐𝒏?

The thing about flying on a pegasus during the daytime is that if you're not careful, you can cause a serious traffic accident on the Long Island Expressway. Percy had to keep Blackjack up in the clouds, which were, fortunately, pretty low in the winter.

Bronte felt herself slowly drifting off to sleep from time to time, her head resting on Percy's shoulder blade and her arms wrapped lazily around his waist. She wanted to stay awake for the sake of the quest, but drowsiness was beginning to overcome her.

She felt at peace being up in the sky. No matter how many times she tried to deny her parentage and pretend she was just a normal kid, the gods seemed to find a way to show her the truth. So she was a child of the sky? That doesn't mean that she felt more powerful further up in the ozone layer (even though she did). That doesn't mean that her eyes spark every time she watched lightning strike the ground (even though they did). That doesn't mean that she is her father's daughter (even though she is).

Bronte had a hard time getting her father's voice out of her mind. Most of the time it was easy, but now with Thalia acting as if she was so much better, it just made it worse.

"Chiron thinks we're gonna die," Percy said out of nowhere, making Bronte stiffen.

"Oh! Uh, wow, that's... blunt," she said, lifting her head off of his shoulder and instead looking at the world passing by quickly. "What makes you say that?"

"Besides my amazing ability to read between the lines, uhhh, the fact that he told me," Percy sighed.

"Perce, I hate to tell you this, but you can't read people to save your life."

Percy gaped, turning around slightly. "Rude. I'm great at reading people. I can read you like an open book!"

Bronte winced, sucking in cold air through her teeth. She patted Percy, saying, "Yeah, you keep thinking that."

Percy rolled his eyes, looking away. "Whatever. Chiron thinks that you, Thalia and I might be the ones to die on the quest. You know, because we're 'forbidden' or whatever."

"Well, the Oracle said only two people were going to die," Bronte said. "So, you better start praying, cuz I'm not going down so easily."

"Well my dad doesn't hate me, so I guess it's you who should be praying," Percy retorted. It was true. As much as Percy didn't want to admit that Poseidon played favorites, he did seem to be on the sea god's good side all the time.

"What?!" Bronte smacked his shoulder lightly. "That's a tough card to play, Sharkboy. Besides, I don't think my dad hates me. Mildly dislike... maybe. Hate... gods I hope not."

Percy laughed and Bronte could feel his back rumble against her chest. Her cheeks flushed, and she brought her face to his shoulder to hide herself even though he couldn't see her.

The two darted around, trying to keep the white Camp Half-Blood van in sight. And if it was cold on the ground, it was seriously cold in the air, with icy rain stinging Bronte's skin. They lost the van twice, but Percy had a pretty good sense that they would go into Manhattan first, so it wasn't too difficult to pick up their trail again.