𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐖𝐄𝐀𝐏𝐎𝐍𝐒! percy jackson

xii. Little Talks

━━ chapter twelve
little talks
✿✼:*ﾟ:༅｡.｡༅:*･ﾟﾟ･⭑

    SAM STILL felt as though he had eaten a thousand ghost peppers and spent the day throwing them up in the Argo bathroom. He felt sluggish, he had a headache, he felt like he would never taste anything the same again without getting a slither of that poisonous, stupid green plant. 

     He couldn't sleep that night after, his mind alive with thoughts as to what awaited them in the House of Hades. The god of farming━or Trip━as he preferred, warned them of a poison that could kill them unless they ate barely. If they did that, it would only affect them. Now, Sam was determined to figure out what that poison might be. It kept his head away from thinking about his father, that was for sure. Anything was better than that. 

     He had migrated outside onto the deck; even in the dark, Sam used to see just endless ocean, but now, they were surrounded by Italy and Croatia on their way to Epirus. He thought the night air would make him feel better━it didn't work as well as he thought it would. 

     Sam sighed, slumping and tugging at his big jumper sleeves. He had a Camp Half-Blood one that he wore even in Summer because Sam would never feel comfortable in those tight shirts. He'd see himself and remind himself of a person he wasn't was━a body he felt trapped in. He ruffled his brown curls. Most children of Athena had blonde hair, which sometimes made Sam feel even more detatched. But unless he wanted to dye it (which he has considered━ice-white tips? Uh, awesome?), he was stuck with the strong Flora genes, apparently. 

     (Maybe some blonde highlights? That could be cool ...)

     Hearing the drift of the ocean made Sam think of Percy and Fiona, and his mood went downhill again. Automatically, he fished out the pugio. He felt sort of stupid━and that was a horrible feeling for a Athena kid. He didn't know what he expected attacking those cows like that, but it was a horrible strategic choice. All he had thought about was how Nico and Hazel where in danger, and ... he just acted, with no strategy, no thought━just the impulse. And then he ended up having to be saved anyway. 

     Fiona once told him that this knife was supposed to give victory to whoever brandished it, and Sam didn't believe that━that was stupid, because he hasn't won anything so far, at all. But she seemed to have. When she hurt her knees, when she couldn't run anymore, she had done so anyway━Sam didn't think he deserved to keep this knife, but he couldn't find himself giving it away to anyone but her when she came back, either. 

     He sighed yet again, hugging his small frame underneath his large jumper and jeans. Sam glanced up and his frown deepened. He expected it━he was always up there, not sleeping, staring out with his sword leaning up beside him. Sam sometimes watched him when he believed Nico wouldn't see him. He looked like a crow upon that mast; a lone crow with no one to sit with him, and Sam used to think he preferred it that way, but he has come to realise there were a lot of things about the son of Hades he had judged far too quickly. 

     Sam was bitter. He wanted appreciation for what he did. He wanted someone to applaud him, to say thank you because he had been capable. And maybe that was his fatal flaw, but for some reason, he wanted to hear it from Nico more than anyone else, and that was what frustrated him the most, because he refused to give it to him. And here he was, after sort of saving his life again, and Nico didn't even glance at him once he returned from his prison of being a corn plant (long story). Didn't say a word, didn't offer a hand to shake. Sam was nothing more than a ghost in the background to him ... not even that.