Sunshine Through the Clouds

Will--Is That Supposed to Happen?

A great friend, a great friend, a great--

"Boarding group eight, now boarding group eight." The generic voice warbled over the intercom as Will shot up and held out his ticket, ready to catch his flight. He waded through the line and got on without a hitch, which he had to admit was easier than it should've been. Also, why did the flight attendant at the front look like he had one eye? Whatever.

He was going home, anyway, and it would be fine. Will found his seat, 27C, in the aisle. His quiver and bow were lifted up into the overhead compartment, which, for whatever reason, not a single mortal questioned. Not that he was complaining. The Mist works in mysterious ways, he supposed.

"Do you need help with that?" Will turned around and saw the same flight attendant extending out his arm, offering to put Will's suitcase with his bow. He was tall, but not super thin, with sparse brown hair framing his face and covering his eyes. Or eye? Whichever. He certainly didn't make Will comfortable as he wished he'd brought a different weapon in his carry-on. But, alas, he wasn't one to come prepared.

"N-no, thank you, I'm fine, sir," Will stammered out, quickly shoving his bag away before sitting down. There was nobody in the middle seat beside him and a woman in a business suit by the window. The woman wasn't interested in conversation as she tapped away at her phone, which sent Will to relax, if only a little. He leaned back and tried to focus on how amazing his trip home would be: He'd get to see his family, go impress them with his mediocre archery skills, and finally get some damn good barbecue. No offense to Camp, but they had nothing on home-made Texan food.

"Good morning, ladies and gentlemen. My name is Josh, and I'll be your head attendant for today..." The most monotone of monotone voices came over the speakers, and Will didn't even try to listen. He knew more about medicine than any useless safety information card could tell him, and that was when he was half-asleep. 'In case of emergency, the cushion under your chair can be used as a flotation device while we get to safety.' Oh, please. The amount of times Will had to dive into the lake and hurriedly heal somebody was staggering. He'd be fine in an emergency, th-ank you.

For the flight, he'd brought two books and an iPod, which didn't seem to attract as many monsters as phones did. Will wasn't about to risk being attacked mid-air, and his iPod was dead, anyway, so he tried to focus enough to read. Reading wasn't that easy. Even though both books were written in ancient Greek, which wasn't as hard for him to read as English, his attention span was close to nothing. Sure, he was calm, more or less, but that didn't mean he could pay attention to anything. Everything was a distraction.

The hum of the engine out the window. The sound of the air vents whirring. The woman beside him clicking her fake acrylic nails along her phone screen, occasionally muttering something impatiently. Kids were laughing and shouting a few rows down, sometimes running up and down the aisle. There was, of course, a baby crying. There's always one of those on a flight. At that point, he should've tried to get some sleep. He'd gotten two hours last night, what with the last-minute preparations and making sure everyone had recovered from the lava wall incident.

But he knew better than that.

Will was uneasy the entire flight, the whole four hours of it. It didn't help that he kept getting strange looks from the creepy flight attendant, whose name tag read 'Gregor.' Every time he'd look up from his book, Gregor was there. Staring at him from further back, asking if he needed anything, the like. Will knew something was up with him. Even though the mist was playing tricks on his eyes, he still knew that Gregor meant harm, not good. That's why he planned on staying put the entire flight, which would've been a flawless plan. If only he didn't have to pee so bad.