Dealing with Drama

Hatred's Home: Part 1

AN: If anyone wants to join my league in FIFA Mobile, my username is omega09FC, and my league is FIFA Street Dogs. Danke!

Time: A Few Days Later, I guess

Percy stared at Styx, slightly incredulous.

"Yeah, this is the best spot for a picnic, I agree. Singing of birds? Hah, nothing beats the screams of the damned. The poisonous air is medicine for my lungs. So refreshing. 10 out of 10." He tried to keep it under control, he really did, but the words dripping with sarcasm just managed to escape his lips, almost on autopilot.

"Shut up, Jackson." Styx snapped back, "I'll have you know, this is the best spot for a picnic I know of."

"Yeah, because KFC and Burger King weren't metal enough. I know, I like metal, too, but this is taking it to an extreme."

He was on a picnic with Styx. Just to blow some steam off, the last few days were rather hard work for everybody on Olympus. The entire city was undergoing a renovation, with no threat and nobody lording over reasonable spending. Contrary to the entire world's belief, the Olympian coffers weren't unlimited, for some reason, and even with the accounts of those who had suddenly disappeared *cough cough* swelling their funds, it was driving Percy crazy. As the slayer of the previous ruler, everyone seemed to turn to Percy as a leader by default, despite it being a democracy, and the long hours of numbers and finances and shit was driving him off the rails.

With Athena occupied with architecture and all that, he had nobody to shove the work off to. Everyone, except Reyna and Rachel, perhaps, was as hopeless as him when it came to all that.

So, this came a breath of fresh air. Of poisonous air, whichever you prefer.

Why?

Because they were having a picnic by the river Styx, in a desolate part of the Underworld, close to the entrance of Tartarus, a desolate, deserted place where he had been dragged by the goddess of Hatred, the nymph of the river Styx, for a picnic.

Percy stared out at what seemed like an endless black hole, with jagged rocks and crags sure to tear up even the toughest of people. The entrance to Tartarus brought back memories, and even though Percy knew he could waltz through Tartarus without even batting an eye, it was an experience he wasn't eager to relive.

Except for the Annabeth part. He could always relive the Annabeth part.

"I missed this." The Dark goddess in question whispered softly in a nostalgic voice, making a smile break out on Percy's face at her soft tone, as he was torn from his thoughts.

Removing his gaze from the gaping emptiness of Tartarus and his somewhat philosophical pondering on mortality, Percy stared at the smiling goddess.

Such beauty did not belong to a goddess of hatred, he summarized, but then again, he was an even Darker god, and his girls seemed to think that he was the most beautiful thing ever.

Not to be arrogant or anything, but, even if it was the only thing he realised after all these years, it was that Percy Jackson was hot. Even more than the Primordial Eros, according to Nyx. Percy, for his part, didn't understand how, but the world worked in weird ways, and he was too occupied otherwise to make head or tail of it.

Feeling lazy, Percy sauntered over to the blanket Styx had laid out on the rocky ground, plopping his butt unceremoniously, before, inevitably, stretching out lazily on the blanket, folding his arms behind his head to cushion himself.