Anyone who knows Arya Jackson for more than five minutes knows her opinion of the world, and demigods not so fair place in it. Unfortunately, since the war Arya isn't that easy to get to know. To most she's little more than a legend.
Arya is fine w...
"When does the war end? When can I say your name and have it mean only your name and not what you left behind?"
- Ocean Vuong
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6.
Only in Cabin One
ARYA WAS NEVER a demigod that got a lot of situation filled nightmares. They always tried to enter into her head, but after Kronos spent months on months of forcing his way into her head to send her nightmares as a way of torture, she had gotten decent at being able to tell when someone or something was pushing their way into her head, and stopping them.
It really came in handy.
However, it didn't work so well against the nightmares her own brain decided it wanted her to experience. Those nightmares weren't magical in any sense, instead, those nightmares of the very things and people Arya had spent months trying to get over. They loved to remind her how much she lost, the terrifying things she lived though.
If her brain was using nightmares as a coping mechanism, it was an incredibly sucky one.
Tonight it was Arya in New York, the city was silent like it had been the entirety of the battle of Manhattan. The buildings looked old and worn down, dirty, broken, and looted. Any sign of life, grass, trees, animals looked like it was dead. A fog was clouding her vision, she wasn't able to see more than a few feet in front of her.
Occasionally someone would run at her, all of them faceless or with a helmet, some on skeleton horses. She would take my trident and slash them down and watch the body dissolve.
Arya couldn't exactly feel anything, but she could tell by the way she fought and the state of her clothes, the way she swung my trident, that she had been fighting for a while, and by the looks of it, alone.
As soon as it seemed like she was able to let her guard down, someone else would run at her from a random direction. The yell pierced through her head like a knife.
Mentally, she was exhausted, her body shaking. The adrenaline seemed to have left her long ago. She was fighting purely for survival. Arya kept waiting for Percy or someone else to come help her out, but she was continuously met with disappointment.
Another one ran at her, and she tossed her trident right into their chest expecting them to dissolve like the other had, but instead the force of the throw knocked them to the ground, the trident sticking directly out of their chest.
She screamed in horror as she realized she had killed a person, not a monster.
Her feet stumbled over to the person and she desperately pleaded for them to be alive. As she looked over the body she felt her foot get wet. When she looked down she realized she had been standing in a pool of blood, blood that she had caused.
