Goodnight Moon ↣ P. Jackson + A. Chase

interlude ii. at noon

For someone who's the offspring of the god of prophecies, Kassandra found herself surprised far too often for her own food.

Of course, there were moments of knowing, moments of careful guessing and feeling that were more than just knowing. There were moments where she got a creeping feeling at the back of her neck, a pinch at the back of her eyes that screamed at her to look! To pay attention!

Those were never the same as precognition, never the same as intuition. Those things never prepared her for the things that came to strike her out of the blue, things that bowled her over and pinned her with the growing sense of what the Hades.

Kassandra had only just dragged herself in through the front door after school, had kicked off her shows as she elbowed the door shut. Her bag was hanging off her elbow as her flute case thumped against her thigh. She was biting down on a chocolatine that she had picked up on the way home as a snack, eyes darting to the ridiculously stylized clock that her parents had hung above the television in the living room.

Her mother was home already. She always had her schedule planned around her basketball games, always taking the evening off whenever possible. Queenie was already starting on a quick meal for them to munch on before she had to hop back over to the school for pregame practice.

Queenie waved to her, the landline pressed to her ear as she prepped a head of broccoli to steam with the grilled chicken (because they always made her some sort of ridiculously healthy dish before a game and Kassandra preferred chicken over beef).

"Your friend called," Queenie tells her, holding the receiver away from her ear. "The girl you never stop talking about."

Kassandra stills, hesitating in place where she was beginning to round up her stuff to drag to her room. "Clarisse?" she asks in confusion, worries creeping through her at the possible reasons.

"No, not Clarisse," Queenie supplies, rolling her eyes despite the gentleness to her knowing tone. "Annabeth. The pretty blonde that we met picking you up from camp."

Somehow, the knowledge doesn't help her relax in the slightest as her shoulders tense and fear begins to creep up her throat despite the burning that flared through her cheeks.

"Did she say why?" she asks, pulling her bag back onto her shoulder as she kicks her dress shoes into a neater placement.

"Something about needed to call in a favour," Queenie mentions. "She asked if I could apologize on her behave for calling last minute."

"Last minute?" she repeats softly, brows furrowing.

She hears her mother put the knife down, moving so that the receiver was covered completely. "Do you think it's demigod business?" she whispers, almost fearful.

Kassandra shakes her head quickly, moving quickly on nylon-covered feet. "No, definitely not. If it were something that serious then Beth would have shone up hear instead of calling. Did she leave a number to call her back at?"

Queenie gestures to the notepad by the receive, quickly ending whatever conversation that she was having so that Kassandra could make her call.

She pats her head as she passes, pressing a quick kiss just above her ear as she passes the phone over and leaves to give her privacy.

Rolling her finger up in the cord, she quickly dials the number and corresponding extension left with it.

It rings one before it's abruptly answered. "Hello?"

"Uh, hi, I'm looking for Annabeth Chase?"

"Kassandra? Hey! It's Thalia!"

"Thalia?" she says, grin slowly growing. "Hey, what's up?"