Goodnight Moon ↣ P. Jackson + A. Chase

2.18

Art was something that every child of Apollo happened to have an eye for. Sure, they all had their own perspectives, their own interests and attitudes toward art, and Kassandra had always had an interest in the depictions of divine beings like those of the Renaissance. She loved the nature of the skies and sunsets, the clouds that the deities would lounge upon.

She would watch the heavens, would search for the same colours and arts, would look for the beauty that wasn't destruction or damnation, would look for the brilliance that would spark admiration like a tiny star burning in her chest, a miniature sun that bloomed like a golden flower.

The sight of Olympus, the sight of the divine center of the gods, their untouchable headquarters, Kassandra couldn't help but wonder why she had never snuck her way into the lace before simply for the opportunity to look (she had never been around when camp decided to take their field trips, and she could only regret not coming sooner when she lived in New York, lived in Queens and went to school so close to Manhattan. She looked upon the building so often when she passed, had gazed upon it from a distance).

Its beauty was not something that could easily be described. Torches and fires made the mountainside palaces glow twenty different colours from bloodred to indigo, bright and lively, as if the place was never meant for sleep. She supposed that it wasn't.

The twisting streets were full of demigods and nature spirits and minor godlings, roving around the mountain riding chariots or sedan chairs carried by cyclopes. The scent of flowers reached her even from a distance, gardens were in full bloom. The music, oh the music, was better than she had ever heard in her life, better than she could have ever possibly imagined with lyres and harps, reed pipes and enchanting voices.

The music alone was nearly enough to have her swaying off the back of Lugo the pegasus.

But lightning and thunder swirled around the air, around the biggest of the palaces.

"Where are we, uh, going to land?" Kassandra asks gently, turning to Percy.

They make a few laps around Olympus before Percy must say something to the pegasi that have them landing in the inner courtyard before giant silver gates.

"Thank you," she says to the pegasus, patting his neck as she steps away, putting her left hand in her pocket to keep from that feeling of tugging at her shoulder as it hangs limply at her side.

The pegasi left, leaving them to stand side by side facing the doors to the hall just like they had what feels like years ago at Westover Hall. She looks to her friends, fingers flitting to her side where her flute should have been.

She curls her fingers into a tight fist, shoving them into her pocket too.

To enter a room full of people that she hated, a room full of things that she despised the idea of... Kassandra would never be ready as she followed them into the throne room.

There were twelve giant thrones fitted for twelve giants gods. They were at least fifteen feet tall each, all looming and powerful in their positions of overbearing power in the exact placement of the cabins at camp.

Quickly, faster than she could think, she flits her gaze over the twelve of them, taking in the ones that she met and the ones that she didn't. She made sure to keep from looking at where she knew her father was. She didn't have the strength she needs to look at him just yet.

Artemis looked at them with an openness that did little to put her at ease. "Welcome heroes."

She doesn't smile as she seeks out someone familiar.

Mr. D sat upon his throne twirling a grapevine between his fingers looking utterly bored and done with the entire thing. It was a comforting sight, an expression that she had seen so many times before, day in and out, that it chased the anxiety and fear that settled in the pit of her stomach. He was a god, yes, but a god that didn't lie to them, one that had at least humoured her with games of pinochle when she had badgered him enough.