Goodnight Moon ↣ P. Jackson + A. Chase

2.14

There was a story that mortals seemed to love of a boy that flew too close to the sun and drowned. They like to make grand tales of how the sun had burned him, had melted apart wings because it was kinder to give death than what had awaited him. They liked to pretend that the sun had set fire to wings because he was jealous that the boy loved the sky just as well.

There were a lot of tales that mortals loved and did not know the truth of Icarus was truly just a boy that didn't wish to listen to his father and that Daedulas was a kin murderer.

At this moment, however, as she clung to the leg of a metal statue, wrapped around them and seated on their feet, she wondered if that boy had been this scared when he took the sky with nothing but breaking wings and hopes of freedom because Kassandra was absolutely terrified that her arms that felt like jelly would give out and she would slip into a free fall over farm, town and highway.

She would go splat if she fell. Her father was not the sky or the wind, he was not a mighty bird that could capture her. He was the sun that she cursed as he made the metal of the statues warm under its blaze and would have burnt her fingers had it not been for the frozen winds that whipped past her.

Eyes closed, she wondered what they would do if she actually fell. Would they try to catch her? Likely. Percy at least would reach for her, she knew. She trusted that he more than anyone else would try to save her.

Just as she had trusted him to jump the first place around.

(Though, it wasn't like she had much of a choice in the matter when she was surrounded by unkillable monsters regardless of what Athena was trying to pull by making her miss her chance at a lift that wasn't murder on her arms and on top of the feet of a statue.)

"Where do you want to be set down?" Hank, the name of the angel she was told, asks.

"There," Zoe suggests. "By the Embarcadero Building."

"Good thinking," Chuck says. "Me and Hank can blend in with the pigeons."

Kassandra laughed weakly, wanting nothing more than to get down.

"Kidding," he says. "Sheesh, can't statues have a sense of humour?"

She saw the ground coming closer and closer and she simply let go the moment that she knew that she wouldn't hurt herself. She landed shakily on her legs and then dropped to her behind with a small whine to stretch her arms out.

"My arms," she says mournfully. "I'm broken."

Someone pats her head. "You shouldn't have spent so much time in the gift shop," Percy says.

She narrows her eyes, looking up to glare at the underside of his jaw as he joined in thanking the statues and saying farewell.

"Oh? Is that so?" she asks slowly. "I'm sorry. I didn't realize you were going to ditch me."

His eyes fall to hers quickly, most likely to search her expression to see how serious she was about her statement. "There wasn't much of a choice."

"I know. That's why I jumped off the Hoover Dam."

He curls fingers through her hair and tugs as if he was a child. "You sure it has nothing to do with trusting me?"

Kassandra snarled, finding herself to be suddenly very much brimming with energy, as she swiped his legs out from under him with a kick. He lands hard, pulling her hair by accident.

"Stupid, Prissy," she groans, untangling her hair from his grip. "If I didn't trust you I would have stopped listening to your stupid plans much sooner."