𝕱𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖓𝖉𝖑𝖞 𝖋𝖎𝖗𝖊 - a Leo Valdez slowburn

Chapter nine

Chapter nine. 

[An ad break for the son of Poseidon]

"Don't wait for the person to come along

to enchant your soul, 

instead enchant it yourself

and enchant everyone's around you."

"Percy Jackson was – hopefully still is, and will be in the future – the greatest Greek hero of the century."

Leah's voice had transformed into that of a storyteller's; it had dropped to a soothing tone, and her way of speaking only incorporated her voice into the story she told. If her relatives could see her, they would've said she sounded like her mother. The posture, the slight bouncing of the knee, the hand gestures – it was like Ana Kovach would've stood before them again. The only difference was their eyes. Leah's were green – hers had been blue.

"He was a miracle for the camp, yet a curse to the gods up above. He was born a son of Poseidon, as a future hero, but most importantly: as a broken promise.

"Poseidon and his two brothers had made a pact just after World War Two, to never have demigod children again. They brought too much destruction, too much pain to the world and to the people on it. This pact has been broken three times since." She held up her two hands, one with two fingers up, the other with one.

"Zeus had Thalia Grace, his Roman counterpart had Jason Grace." She lowered the hand with two fingers up, one child left alone. "Poseidon had Percy Jackson.

"Percy was a troubled child, as the rest of us demigods. He lived with his mom and his first step-dad until sixth grade." She continued her story, covering every detail she could remember. Her eyes glinted as she told Percy's story, happy to share it with the small group of people at her table.

She hadn't realized yet that the whole cafeteria had quieted, hundreds of people hanging onto her every word. But the one who hung most was obvious, having walked over to her table just to catch her expressions and the slight nuances of her sentences.

Aiden Murphy sat crammed on the bench opposite of Leah's, his eyes shining at her enthusiasm. They were hooked: the way she talked was entrancing, her voice was like it subconsciously challenged anyone to tell her wrong.

Her braid was pushed back, but a few wisps of hair had fallen out of it and hung over her eyes. And that thought made Aiden focus on her eyes. They sighed: oh, her eyes.

They were a dark green, but when the sunlight caught them in the right angle they turned a few shades lighter, like bright emeralds. Now was one of those times. Ringlets of forest green, almost black surrounded her irises, and Aiden swore they made her eyes look that little bit bigger.

Aiden's eyes trailed down to her nose, that was wrapped in gauze at the moment. They didn't need to see it to know just how it curved, or to know about the light freckles that speckled it and covered her cheeks too. He'd memorized that when they went to the Eiffel Tower, and they wouldn't forgete it anytime soon.

Her mouth was rapidly moving, explaining forgotten things and details in the story no one would've remembered but her. Her hands moved in the air too, gesturing at invisible problems and solutions, at monsters and campers at the campfire that were so many miles away.

Her tone wasn't sad, but there was a melancholy undertone to it. Maybe no one else heard it, but Aiden did. She missed home. She missed her friends, her family there, the places they were sure she had so many memories.