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Genia spent the next few months making her way north. It wasn't hard. Sometimes she'd sit on benches and tell stories to children who would gather at her feet, completely captivated. If she distracted them for long enough, their parents would usually tip her. If that didn't work she'd pick their pockets.
She was filthy, poor, and tired, but she felt alive.
She fought monsters, ran, and tried to forget about Carver and her brief hope of safety. It was useless to wait for Camp Half-Blood to magically open up in front of her, offering salvation. She focused on securing her next meal and transportation to a new sight to see.
The next big monster attack came when she stayed too long at Yosemite.
She'd stayed the night-- breaking into an unoccupied room in a hotel-- all because she wanted to go up Half-Dome the next morning.
They'd attacked just as she exited the hotel, clean for the first time in months. It was a group of dracaenae who'd somehow managed to tame hellhound for transportation.
"There she is!" one of them yelled.
The dracaenae in front sniffed with distaste. "This is just a daughter of Melpomene. I thought you said we were on the trail of a powerful demigod?"
"Sorry, ma'am-"
"Excuse me?" Genia interrupted, sitting down on a bench near the door. If this failed, she'd be able to run back inside and out the back entrance. If it worked, well, she'd go out the way she'd been planning when she woke up. Maybe skipping the hike, though. "Excuse me? I am a powerful demigod. Sit down, and I'll tell you my story."
The monster started to approach, but Genia began to speak. Her words were lilted but never paused, and even if a mortal were listening in, they would have agreed that she sounded magical.
The dracaenae were captivated, sinking to the floor like children sitting around an elderly woman telling stories from her rocking chair by the roaring fireplace.
Genia wasn't worried. It was a song and dance she had done many, many times, believe it or not.
She wasn't actually telling her own story, gods, no, she knew better than that. It'd just make her friends and family back in the small town just north of Monterey a target. She thought back to her backpack, and retold the story of Romeo and Juliet, though added in some modern aspects.
