#stormfree

she's not trying to start an argument but she's also perhaps not trying hard enough to stem the tide of unease (and resentment?) that grows every time verso mentions camp half-blood. she's always felt like they were on the same side, a more significant rarity now that her own sister has become enamored with camp life and perhaps that's what fuels the anxiety. what if he also ends up falling for that whole ridiculous song and dance that all demigods seem to fall for? ❝ all i'm saying is that i just think you're over there a lot. ❞

or maybe he's barely at camp and she's just become hyper-sensitive to it's mention. that's a possibility she shoves to the back of her mind as she settles herself against the arm of her couch, body too tense to fully slouch against the pillows.

❝ i get that you have this whole deal worked out with the gods, but you don't owe them anything. i think it's ridiculous that you have to play glorified babysiter for wayward demigods. ❞

verso fills the silence with a terribly drawn out sip from his flask. his eyes scroll over and scrutinize the younger demigod's silhouette, the way he stands, the way his hair is fixed, every minute detail cached in the back of verso's mind. behind his shades, the eldest of zeus' children narrows his gaze. he lowers the silver flask from his lips, runs his tongue across the flat of his teeth, and hums. ❝ so giving shit vision to his kids is a universal factor for zeus, huh ?? ❞ he pauses, bobs his head from side to side, then huffs, ❝ gotta say, little ticked that another sibling went under my radar, but… at least you never got turned into a tree or shoved into a jar so, automatically a win on your end. ❞ / @stormfree

Jason - has no idea what to make of the appearance of another sibling. In that first moment he'd met the realization with instinctual excitement, a draw towards stability - family - that kept him grounded even in the most fraught legs of his journey. Journeys ? Probably ? There are still some memories that he can tell are fuzzy, even after the world's been saved ( again ); surely there are probably more still that are hidden entirely, that he can't even sense.

But with Thalia, it had been like nothing at all. A painful, heartbreaking nothing, but easy as breathing to fall into each other's arms, no matter how long it had been since they'd been together. No matter how much he didn't remember - through Juno's power, or simply through the haziness of childhood. Verso ... well, that's a son of their father. And Jason - he hasn't particularly given Zeus, Jupiter, much thought in all of this.

Should he have ? Reyna would have his ass if she knew the disrespect he harbored.

It's just that, unfortunately, he now knows there are worse things than being smited from on high.

❝ Is it ? I gotta ask my sister if she's wearing contacts. ❞ Still, despite any hesitation, Jason smiles warmly, his hands in the back pockets of his jeans. He curiously takes in Verso - the flask, the flippant edge to his voice, the way he's probably studying Jason right back behind his shades. To his credit, he doesn't wince when Verso mentions the tree. ( you weren't there to protect her; you didn't even know her. some saving grace you turned out to be. )

❝ So - you met Thalia ? Or does her reputation precede her ? ❞ Concern flickers across his face at everything Verso's quip implies. At the memories that spring up when he says it, memories that Jason stuffs back down. Romans don't crack like that. ❝ I'm glad I get to meet you, at least. I didn't think there were any more of us. - Probably a stupid assumption, looking back at it. ❞ Percy, Nico, Hazel, Frank - it seemed that the gods weren't the best at sticking to a vow.

IT HAS BEEN a pleasant change of pace to find an ally amongst the chambers of tartarus -- there are those in passing, of course; charon and king sisyphus, for example, but they understand their posts, and they never come along. zagreus, for most of his quest, is alone. so it is plenty nice to have verso there, although he's certainly... had a fair amount of words zagreus had never even thought about uttering against the olympians. ( no matter. zagreus has come to understanding their circumstances are very, very different. )

verso is searching for his own way to escape -- and yes, zagreus had already consulted the records: there is no law against a soul which was not at all dead to escape. the son of zeus was not assigned to tartarus; he'd been thrown in there like a pig in a pen. verso is alive -- worse for wear with his time in tartarus but still alive, alive, alive. he burns like a furnace next to zagreus as they sit upon a ledge, looking out over the whole of tartarus before them.

" you mean to tell me you find no joy in a realm dedicated to housing the dead, torturing the rancid, and home to some of the worst creatures across all the realms? " zagreus laughs, nudging verso with his shoulder. the canine skeletons clank in what is the souls' attempts at mimicking laughter. " i am very glad we're not enemies, verso. i would be saddened if we were. " and they both linger in that silence, the air simmering with sulfur and strangeness. then, zagreus' eyes gleam like jewels in the night.

Sally has always been good in a crisis. It's been a necessity all her life. She can keep a calm, even head and solve things step by step.

That doesn't mean she stops being shocked by the things that happen. A twenty-something-year-old demigod showing up bloodied at her apartment door, for instance.

Luke watched the flames trying to find something in the blur of orange and red yet came out of it cold. The words he wanted to say, the promises made, all of it would amount to whatever tomorrow came to be. Soon the sleep spell would silence New York and he would be the means to the end to sit the proper King on the throne.

Tonight, his mind was blissfully quiet. Kronos lulled into whatever Titans called sleep as he prepared for the battle to conserve his strength. Luke prodded at the embers and tried to say...something.

A last will ? A forgotten promise ? A thank you for not walking away ?

" There's no going back now. " It came out softer than he wanted it too. Sunk in the back of throat like a whisper. " That's been true for awhile now but. Really. Now. There's no going back. " His shoulders fell and he dropped the stick into the fire so it could burn with the others.

Years ago he had sat with his siblings pressed rib to hip singing campfire songs with marshmallow sticky hands. Before that, Thalia had used the sparks of her fingers to chase away Annabeth's chill with a Ta-Da to their sister's laughter. And before everything was a younger, brighter, vivid May Castellan creating whole worlds out of words with the flame of life still in her eyes.

Her memory brought him back and his mouth flattened remembering who exactly had dulled them.

❝ and this one? ❞ light fingertips gently trace the half-moon outline of a scar etched across verso's forearm as pale blue eyes look upwards beneath dark lashes. she's laying on her side with her weight resting against the propped-up crook of her elbow, head pillowed against her palm. moments of quiet domestic contentment like this, both of them curled up together in her bedroom, have become commonplace for her by now and yet, she doubts they'll ever lose their exhilarating novelty. what was once the fiercely defended singular has ebbed into a tranquil plural:

her bed to their bed. her room to their room. her sanctuary to their sanctuary. the house has become a home in every meaning of the way and it's an evolution so infuriatingly sentimental that she dares never speak it aloud for fear that her past self might haunt her if only to mock and chide for the ways in which she's seemingly betrayed the creed of insularity she's so always professed.

❝ what's this from? ❞ here, in this sanctuary, aurelia feels confident enough to cross boundaries she usually remains at a healthy distance from. if there is one place in which she might stand a chance of traversing the minefield that is her boyfriend's past, it's here in their room.

i'll stop for you. she's relieved when he immediately follows up the drunken declaration with an admission that the claim is an overenthusiastic one. no, he won't. even if he wanted to (and she doubts he does), she suspects he wouldn't be able to stick with the effort for long. and she won't be the person who asks that from someone, who demands change and then demonizes the other when reform inevitably turns out to be impossible.

she won't be her father, won't demand change from verso the way roland aldridge did from khione even if there are moments when she does find herself unnerved by the intensity with which he drinks. ❝ mind is a strong word. ❞ aurelia demurs as she reaches over to fix his glasses until they're again sitting neatly against the bridge of his nose.

❝ gods you smell like you raided a liquor store.❞ thank the gods she has an ample supply of scented candles, one of which will promptly be lit the minute he falls asleep. she's silent for a moment as she reaches forward to brush her fingers through his dark hair, perching herself against the arm of the couch. ❝ do you actually like the taste of booze or do you just like its effect? ❞

this may be the first time she's actually tried to dig into what she privately thinks is an alarming dependency on alcohol and her tone is both quiet and tentative as if treading on eggshells. ❝ not that i'm judging. ❞

khione's most disappointing daughter freezes, arms slack at her side as verso's head falls against her tension-taut shoulder. it's not the first time he's done this but familiarity is a concept she still struggles to grapple with because the line between familiarity and intimacy can become dangerously blurred. best to steer clear of both.

...the problem isn’t verso’s sudden proximity, but the fact that it isn’t as suffocating as it should be. her instinct should be to recoil, not to remain rooted to the spot as she does. her ice-cold touch has always been a shield, a glacier with icicles extended outwards to keep the world at bay so she is still reconciling herself to the fact that there is someone who seeks out the very thing meant to keep them away.

the novelty will wear off eventually, aurelia tells herself. eventually, he will flinch away like everyone else when he realizes that there is no hidden warmth beneath the ice, no secret reservoir of kindness.