COLD AS ICE.

𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐔𝐑𝐕𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐒 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐂𝐓.  those  who  have  never  held  a  weapon  think  that  they’ll  be  the  first,  and  they  are  wrong;  those  who  have  waged  war  more  than  they  have  held  others  think  they’ll  be  the  first,  and  THEY  will  be  wrong;  the  most  stubborn  daughter  of  khione,  a  goddess  who  he  has  no  great  love  for  but  who  is  RAPIDLY  (and  quietly)  growing  to  occupy  SECOND  PLACE  on  his  loathsome  divine  hitlist,  is  RIGHT.  nothing  survives  first  contact.  not  monsters.  not  young  demigods.  not  her.  

her gaze is inclined to stray stubbornly towards the horizon, despite the stagnant scenery of waves upon waves of murky ocean water, but there's a moment where her blue eyes briefly flicker towards the tendrils of electricity that snake close enough to provoke her silent ire. to chide him for something she's almost sure he'll insist he's not even doing will only backfire and make her look petulant so save for the sour twist of her lips (as if she's swallowed a lemon). gods, one of these days, she'll find a way to get back at him. she may not be able to turn him into an ice sculpture (yet) but she can sure as hell make sure every hot drink he tries to enjoy on this ship becomes ice-cold.

❝ oh please, they'd prefer a chimera as a teacher over me at this point and frankly, the feeling is mutual! ❞ maybe it's the bruised and bewildered only child within her that makes her uncomfortable around groups of kids. there's always bouts of laughter caused by unknown origins and stupid inside jokes and you never know if they're aimed at you or about you. always on the outside looking in. even as an adult (does she actually qualify as an adult though?).

❝ and i don't even think they listen to me half the time.❞ as for his comment about the absence of younger demigods, she doesn't deign to dignify what she deems to be a flippant lie with a response. they both know this cruise is practically a playground for both younger demigods and monsters.

❝ hey! if you think you know all the rules then i would love to see you try teaching them how to use a bow. you wouldn't last five minutes! ❞ she retorts, lips curling into a scowl as if he hasn't just helped to tame the wind but rather inflame it. ❝ maybe the wind should stop being such a pain in the ass!❞ the pointed glare makes it evident, if her emphatic tone did not, that she's referring to more than just the wind. ❝ i bet you couldn't even hit a target, with or against the wind. ❞

and then, because she's already held her tongue once and finds that doing so a second time is asking too much, she adds with a terse reprimand, ❝ and how many times do i have to tell you not to call me that?❞ is it said as a mockery? an insult? something else? it's impossible to be sure but its annoying.

and  then  she  spoke  to  him,  and  suddenly,  he  felt  like  he  needed  to  clear  things  up.  he  needed  her  to  see  him  for  him,  because  there  was  something  about  her.  magnetic,  with  a  pull  that,  try  as  they  might,  he  couldn’t  get  away  from.  he  knew  she  hated  it.  knew  it  irked  her,  and  that  HE  irked  her.

but  she  doesn’t  irk  him.  she  makes  him  laugh.  keeps  him  on  his  toes.  provides  banter  in  areas  most  people  would  choose  to  disembark.  SHE  IS  A  THRILL  he  wants  to  keep  experiencing.  

“i  like  your  version  of  normal,  then,”  he  retorts,  head  shaking  as  she  keeps  talking.  he  interjects  at  points,  (an  unhelpful  ‘i’m  not  LIKE  most  people’  here,  a  “i  don’t  want  you  to  change,”  there),  until  she  finishes,  words  all  tied  up  under  a  neatly  wrapped  insult  shaped  bow.  

this conversation is not aligning with expectation and aurelia finds herself unsure whether to be pleasantly surprised or annoyed. only this son of poseidon would have the audacity not to conform to her adamant assumptions. her lips press together in a tight line as beringed fingers interlink themselves and idle uncertainly in front of her. she wishes he would offer something to make her scoff or offer the cold contempt that comes to her lips so easily in the company of most.

but regrettably, percy jackson is not most people and she is clearly the fool for thinking that she could be immune to his charms. ❝ well—❞ the word hangs in the air for a moment as if time itself is suspended. can she really afford to let him have this victory? because that's exactly what it will be: triumph and she the defeated. she shifts her weight as if entertaining a silent debate over the merits of fleeing the scene. ❝ i suppose it wouldn't kill me to keep you around.❞ it's an innocuous enough response, but it has her feeling as though the admission is a trophy she can only reluctantly bring herself to hand over.

❝ for a little while. ❞ a hasty amendment meant to bolster her characteristic obstinacy. she's granting him the pleasure of her company, not the other way around and its important to her pride that she emphasizes as much.

❝ you really are a pain in the ass, you know that? ❞ the sighed words are laden with exasperation but there is a moment where she cannot stop the corners of her mouth from fleetingly tilting upwards in a faint crescent of amusement. she can almost concede to herself that she is begrudgingly impressed. most people tend to back down when faced with either her cool fury or icy disdain and its inevitably a reaction that she welcomes for it permits her to live the insular life she values but in percy, she sees a reflection of her own stubbornness and its a quality she admires.