THORNS [heroes of olympus]

3-daytime nightmare

AFTER THE SHOCK WORE OFF, it was quiet. Uncomfortably quiet for the average person, but Lydia felt unbothered by the awkwardness that crept in due to the revelation of the missing person. She shrugged her shoulders and started forward to follow Butch to the chariot.

       Lydia understood that a missing person, especially someone meaningful to you, like a boyfriend, was a devastating blow. But she'd been missing people all her life, most notably her mom, so there wasn't much of a shock factor there for her. Also, Lydia didn't know this Percy Jackson guy so what was the point of getting all worked up over him? She'd let the people who knew him do that, while she tried to make sense of this messed up day. 

       After a couple confident strides, Lydia remembered how Leo was using her for support earlier. Without slowing down or showing any indication of caring on her face, she glanced quickly behind her. Leo was walking with the other two, sort of hunched like he was still in pain, but fine none the less. He must've been more aware than Lydia had assumed, as he caught her looking back and shot her a crocodile grin. Lydia just rolled her eyes and sped forward. She should've known not to give him anything he might perceive as her actually liking him.

       The chariot was off the skybridge as soon as the last person, Jason, stepped on. Just in time, too, Lydia observed. Looking down as they rose into the sky, she saw the museum doors had been worked open, the kids looking up at the chariot with glazed eyes.

       With a smirk, Lydia waved to them as they disappeared into the clouds.

       With every bump of turbulence, everyone gripped the sides of the chariot in order to avoid falling out of the back. Except Jason, who didn't seem to be affected by the winds at all. He stood in the center of the chariot, completely calm and completely silent, staring out into the open sky in front of them.

       Lydia's two-handed grip on the chariot was probably the tightest of the group, her knuckles white and growing whiter, the scars across them stretched thin and emphasized. Her grip was the only clue to her complete distrust of the chariot as a safe mode of transportation, the rest of her body calm and face back to its ever-present blankness.

       After a particularly rough patch of turbulence, the chariot seemed to hit a pocket of calm air. It was still incredibly freezing, Lydia hugging the black jacket around herself now that she felt comfortable enough to let go of the rail with one hand.

       In the calmness, Lydia also took the opportunity to express her aggravation.

       "Okay," she started. "Is anyone going to tell us where we're going, or, I don't know, what the hell is going on?"

       The blond girl, Annabeth, turned back towards her, some form of curiosity touching her features. "We're going somewhere where everything will be explained, and it will all make sense. A safe place. The only safe place for kids like us. Camp Half-Blood."