Prophesied Powder, PJO

1.4

╔════⁎⋯☽✧✦✧☾⋯⁎ ════╗

Chapter 4
The Oracle Demands a Quest

Volume 1: The Lightning Thief

╚════⁎⋯☽✧✦✧☾⋯⁎════╝

The next morning, Percy moved into an empty cabin. Pallas had told Pat all about how a hellhound had been summoned during capture the flag, how Percy had defeated it and been claimed in the river. Still, it didn't feel very real until the next day, when everyone murmured behind Percy's back and Percy moved into cabin three.

Annabeth was downright foul considering the Athena-Poseidon rivalry. That said, she was one of the only campers to speak to Percy since she taught him Greek in the mornings. When Percy joined Pat for arts & crafts, all of Pat's siblings changed tables. He told Pat that Clarisse was keeping her distance after Percy broke her spear and that Pallas looked at him like he was dissecting a frog.

"That is just what Pallas looks like," Pat assured.

Percy responded without thinking, slumped on the table, "You literally can't see him." He tensed quickly, "Uh, I--"

Pat's loud laughing cut him off. When he calmed down, he said, "You're funny, Percy."

After a second, Percy asked, "Are you, like, completely blind?"

Pat nodded, braiding three strings together for his new bracelet, "Yes. I have been since I was eight."

"So you weren't...born blind?" Percy was awkward about asking, but Pat had gotten used to the tip-toeing of the sighted years ago. He barely had it in him to be annoyed.

"No," He said, "Monsters came for me as a child."

"And they blinded you?" Percy couldn't hide his shock, but Pat was grateful that he kept his voice down. Not everyone at camp knew that -- not everyone in his cabin knew that. He did like to keep himself to himself.

"In an attempt to kill me, yes," Pat nodded, "I don't normally tell people that, you know. But we're friends. Here," He stopped braiding and held out his right hand. Though he'd never seen the scars, he had felt them; along all of his fingers, most of his knuckles, and a portion of his forearm were three long scars from a sharp and deadly claw. "Battle wounds. Got some on my shoulder too, here," He pointed to the left side.

"Oh," Percy said.

"Don't say sorry," Pat didn't mean to sound tense, but he did. Either way, Percy didn't say it, and Pat felt better with that.

Days passed of Percy being a social pariah, and eventually, Pat was summoned into a meeting when he tried to grab something from his room. It was still early in the day, and Pat had been lounging by the volleyball pit with his brother while Pallas' cabin played the satyrs. The weather was getting bad enough for Pat to worry, even in Camp Half-Blood's climate control borders.

Chiron had called him to stay, and he sat on the floor of the porch with his legs crossed. His water bottle was tucked between his legs, and he played with the string of his walking stick while he waited. Chiron had summoned Percy too. Pat had expected this in the back of his thoughts, but he had ignored it enough to be taken off guard by the sudden conference.

Two people approached, and confirming Pat's suspicions, Mr. D said, "Well, well, our little celebrity."

"Percy," Pat said, "Is Grover with you?" He heard hooves on the porch.

Percy sounded tense, though that was probably hatred of Mr. D. "Yeah."

"Come closer," Mr. D said. "And don't expect me to kowtow to you, mortal, just because old Barnacle-Beard is your father." Thunder shook the windows of the house. "Blah, blah, blah," Dionysus said.