Prophesied Powder, PJO

1.3

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Chapter 3
Percy's Father Makes Some Noise

Volume 1: The Lightning Thief

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Percy was adjusting fairly well if Pat considered the fact that he'd only just learned about the Gods and now had to receive lessons from satyrs, nymphs, and a centaur. Though, that considered, meeting Pallas had gone just about as well as it had gone for Pat two years ago.

"His dad's Apollo," Annabeth muttered to Percy when Pallas stomped off after snapping at Percy in French, "He's got the same ego."

"Has he ever met him?" Percy asked.

"No," Pat said quietly. He sighed, "Pallas doesn't have an ego, he just takes a while to...no pun intended, warm up to you. Just don't spray him with toilet water and you'll be fine."

Unfortunately, Percy wasn't any good with a bow, so that route to getting Pallas to like him didn't work. In fact, Percy wasn't good at a lot of activities. He failed consistently at foot-racing and wrestling, though he excelled at canoeing. When Pat tried to compliment him on the skill, Percy mumbled something about how it wasn't a very heroic skill.

Annabeth was continuously trying to beat Pallas in a game they had revolving around Percy. They were both trying to decide who his dad was, and though the rest of the camp was wondering the same thing, Annabeth and Pallas were being extremely competitive about it. It wasn't anything new for Pat -- Annabeth and Pallas were always competitive.

"Percy, give me the blue beads," Pat said during arts and crafts, "I'm going to make you a bracelet. Luke told me you drink blue soda."

"Luke's a snitch," Percy joked, giving Pat the beads.

"He's a son of Hermes," Pat corrected, "But he's good people. Either way. Do you not like arts and crafts?"

Percy's leg -- which had previously been tapping nonstop -- slowed, and he asked, "Huh?"

"You seem like you're very anxious to get out of this room." Pat said thoughtfully, "It's okay. You can go play weapons with Pallas if you'd like."

"I think Pallas would impale me if I did that," Percy replied.

Pat laughed slightly, threading beads onto a string, "Art isn't very easy for a blind boy, you know? But I am unfortunately my mother's son. All children of Aphrodite have a bit of control over jewelry, clothes, and makeup. We have neat little tricks like that. Nothing like Hercules or-- well, the original Perseus. Still, pretty useful." He explained, "We're also fluent in French."

"You're what?" Percy paused.

"I speak French." He repeated, "Pallas and I talk behind everyone's backs. Not you, of course." Pat said it sarcastically, leaving it opened ended and letting Percy wonder if they really did talk about him. "Sadly, my half-siblings do understand us, so we use it sparingly."

"Oh," Percy said. "I wonder if I have powers like that."

"Well, every demigod has powers," Pat shrugged, "Even if it's just the Hermes kids' ability to steal so well, everyone has them. Once we know who your father is, you'll figure out what you can do."

"Hm," Percy responded.

On Thursday, three days after Percy had woken up, Pallas sat across from Pat in the middle of his card game with Mr. D. In an annoyed but tired voice, Mr. D said, "What do you want, Paisley?"