Sing, O Muse [Percy Jackson]

four

EVERY time Clarion Jung cleaned the space between Michael's bed and the wall (where piles of candy wrappers and dirty water bottles grew like weeds), she remembered crying in the corner of the Apollo cabin, tucked tightly between the bed and the wall. It comforted her to wedge herself in a small space, whenever she was upset; something about the enclosure, almost like she was being squeezed, helped settle her breathing.

When she wasn't upset, she liked wandering around the fields, singing to the strawberries – much to Lee's dismay, they grew fastest whilst she played – and picking flowers with the nymphs, who would titter about her lyre-playing in the typical jealous nymph fashion. Clarion had grown used to it and had quickly learned to ignore them. She wasn't like the young warriors clad in bronze armor they would grow into, clashing swords and pretending to fight enemies. She thought it was like make-believe for older teens.

There was nothing brutish about Clarion, if soldiers were meant to be brutes. She wasn't brave, nor self-sacrificing, nor heroic. She definitely wasn't muscular, but she wasn't a lithe either. Clarion thought there was a longer list of adjectives that didn't describe her (brilliant or strong, those were another two) than ones that did (she was... creative?). In fact, she thought if she looked the word 'warrior' up in the dictionary, the very definition would be: the opposite of Clarion Jung. That girl is hopeless. But then again, her friends did always say she was dramatic. That was the perfect adjective to describe Clarion Jung.

She wasn't meant for the battlefield. Clarion was meant for acting out scenes of epic sword-fighting on the camp stage, clad in costumes she and Faye made only hours before their big performance. She was made for writing poems and waltzing by herself in the small space in her cabin, which she often cleaned because she hated the mess the others made. Clarion Jung would wave at her friends, partaking in lessons she was supposed to be a part of. She was made for weaving flower-crowns and writing the stories of others. If Clarion had to hold back tears each time someone raised their voice at her, how could she endure the sting of wicked bronze?

Along with an indefinite number of adjectives that simply couldn't describe, came an infinite list of things she shouldn't concern herself with. Because Clarion wasn't a warrior, why should she worry about any of the silkily spoken words of the Oracle? She had never heard its voice before, hissing in the back of her mind, and though she shouldn't have given the prophecy any further thought Clarion couldn't help but to think about the lines, no matter how hard she tried to shift her attention to polishing her lyre.

Sing, O Muse, of the story told. The beginning line mocked Clarion, and she immediately tried to push away the lingering voice. She began each of her epics with 'Sing, O Muse,' a nod to Homer and the other epic-writers before her, but it sounded eerily like it was meant for her when the skeletal woman had spoken, especially when Clarion remembered meeting the Oracle's eyes. They were cold and lifeless, swirling with green mist. But for all she knew, that was how the Oracle of Delphi began each of her prophecies. How would Clarion know? She had never heard the woman speak.

As she watched Lee and Michael escort Ellis, who was complaining loudly about his broken arm, to the infirmary, Nico trotted to stand beside her. Clarion didn't know why he had taken such a shine to her. She had given him the camp tour, but his cuteness had quickly worn off, and she found herself becoming easily irritated. He reminded her of Winnie, which only made her want to treat him the same and push him away like a typical older sibling. But then Clarion remembered Bianca, and she couldn't find it in herself to nudge the younger boy away. Chiron followed after Lee, with Connor and Travis on his back – the latter had two arrows sticking out of his helmet like antennae. Nico grinned up at her and tugged on her arm until she looked down, "That was so cool! Was that a real prophecy?"