hiraeth

nine

A/N: reunion timeee !!

ix. Nia

L.A. reminds Nia of New York in a lot of ways. After all, underneath the glamor and famous musicians and high hopes for a successful career, it's just a city. Still, she enjoys walking around. Sunset Strip is beautiful, palm trees and colorful billboard signs lining the streets. On the other hand, Enne says she prefers New York, chaotic but with a tight knit community.

To their surprise, they encounter their third person in Beverly Hills.

"This place screams 'wealthy,'" Enne remarks.

Nia stares at the Teslas veering past them. "No kidding."

The compass, having flashed the city's name for the past hour, turns off as if it ran out of battery. The person is close. Nia is glad for this, the soles of her feet aching. But despite having no problem with meeting new faces, she feels minor trepidation and fiddles with the beaded necklace she wears. Her worry extends beyond concerns about whether or not they'll be an asset or a liability: she has a hunch that whoever they are, they're important, but in what way - she can't voice it.

Okay, so maybe it isn't minor.

Enne adjusts the strap of her quiver and twists her head to check on Nia. "Where to? I was thinking we should - Hey, you okay?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Nia, you're trembling."

Oh. Is she? With a jolt, she realizes her hands look like they're having a seizure, and the back of her neck is slick with sweat. "It's probably the weather. Haha."

"Oookay then," Enne says, clearly unconvinced. She drops it, thankfully. "If we're searching here, we might as well visit landmarks, you know?"

This gets Nia cracking up. "Just tourist things. I'm in."

It's how they end up in Beverly Gardens Park, sprinting.

Contrary to popular belief, Nia isn't always itching for a fight. Sometimes, when she's stressed out, she likes to take long walks. Sometimes, when she needs peace of mind, she likes to stop and smell the roses. And sometimes - only sometimes - when a monster shows up uninvited, she likes to consider a list of ways to avoid the confrontation altogether.

Today, some demigod idiot makes it impossible.

He turns up like a hero from a novel, blonde hair shining in the sun and ocean eyes filled with a nobility she can't help but scoff at. He wields a sword with a golden hilt, and gods - what is he wearing? He's dressed in some sort of brown tunic with a white, flowing long-sleeved shirt underneath. Random pieces of armor cover his body such as a shoulder plate, but his legs are bare, like he lost a few parts or forgot them at home.

It's funny, the way she feels called to loathe him for no reason.

Nia scans the area for a place to hide. "He looks like a pretentious prick - I mean, prince."

"You literally just saw him."

"Exactly. I'm not getting a good first impression."

Both girls slip behind the large Beverly Hills sign, watching the new demigod duke it out with an armed cyclopes. Nia has to give him credit for his fighting skills, studying how he uses the environment to his advantage. He staggers onto the stone edge of a fountain brimming with waterlilies, leaps off, and strikes upwards. A deep gash bleeds gold from the monster's neck, the spot unprotected. The boy wastes no time and presses on, jabbing and sneaking cuts and bruises that add up.