Under the Water(Fem. Percy)

Chapter 6

I spin and fumble for Riptide. A flash. Fabric rips and tears. A burning line cuts across my shoulder down to my hip. The sword raises for another blow; they step closer. Riptide settles into my hand. They freeze. 

"Oh come on," I glance at the shredded front of my shirt. "I just got this." I shake my head and pick at the fabric. The edges of the cut stitched back together, water caressing and soothing. There's worry in it. My eyes widen slightly. Dad can sense me. If he can sense me, that means he can use the water to drag me back, or freeze me in place to come find me.

If he takes away my mobility during this---

I grit my teeth. Riptide's heavier in my hand as I try to posture, like a predator trying to chase off a rival. I really don't want to fight a person, trying to kill me or not. Demigods are supposed to fight monsters. And---my eyes focus on the second sheath on their hip--they have a knife. Dangerous, sharp, good for if they get inside my guard. Probably not a godly metal either.

Their clothes hide what the shadows of the alley don't. A mask covers the bottom half of their face and their eyes. Other Atlanteans wear them, though I'm not sure why. Pressure maybe. My heart beats too fast, pounding at my ribs to be free.

Adrenaline pumps through me. My hands shake. They lunge. It's a flurry of metal, and I'm falling back step after step to block and parry. I don't want to hurt them. I twitch the fingers of my free hand. A tug forms in my gut.

The water's frantic around me, slippery and wet---which is good for water to be, but not when I'm trying to use it. 

"Dad, you are not helping," I grunt and force some water to slam into my attacker. It hurt, like I tore something inside of me. Worse than cramps, I double over, pressing my arm into my stomach.

I yelp as a booted foot strikes my hand. Riptide skitters away. Shit. I scramble back, not wanting to risk using my powers again. Can I even use them without making it hurt worse? Probably not. There's no telling what's going through Dad's mind, but if I don't do this, I'm going to die.

Danger. The water seems to whisper. I resist the urge to snap at it, and instead lunge. The water thickens, turning syrupy and slowing my moves. The harsh burn of the blade slices into my back. My fingers curl around Riptide and I swing.

Warm, red blood fills the water, gushing, pumping from the deep cut across their stomach. Their sword plummets to the ground. I float, then stand, waiting. Their knees give out, and they bob in the current, kept largely in place by heavy shoes.

Oh thank the gods. I collapse against the wall, running my hands over my face. My body's trembling. Water solidifies around me and then releases. Probably when he noticed I'm not moving anymore.

The blood seeps and spreads, making its ways towards the ends of the walls. I should move, get out of here, or check the body. I opt for the second. Leaving my sword on the ground, I stagger away. Blending in isn't an option now. The salt stings the cut on my back. It's still bleeding. Why isn't it healing?

"Stop." A hand presses against my chest. I blink up at the person who stopped me. A guard with blonde hair. He rattles something off fast, quicker than I can understand. When I don't respond, he repeats himself but in a firmer tone. Does he think that will make me be able to understand him? Why can't I understand him anyway? The first word I knew, why are the others different? Different versions of the language? Or the remnants of adrenaline leaving my ears ringing and my heart the only thing audible?

That. It's probably that. This is probably a situation where the guy wanted my, nonexistent, money, but it rattles me far more than it should. Demigods face death daily. I've literally met Death. But I've never came so close to it with my dad unknowingly guiding it along.

An iron grip wraps my bicep, and I follow obediently towards the towering form of the palace. Not through the front door, no, but through one of the arches near the base of the front steps and down, down, down, into the dungeons.

The guard shoves me into a cell with harsh words. Something about not cooperating. I sit against the far wall, prodding at my belly. The pain from using my powers pulses behind my belly button. It turns sharp when I touch the area. Letting out a breath, I tilt my head back.

This isn't good. 

If this is permanent, I might as well die. A demigod who loses their powers might as well be useless. It's part of us, and like anything to do with our parents, it determines our value and how much monsters are going to want us dead. Stronger monsters come after stronger half-bloods. They won't care if I'm having a bad day or if my powers are acting up. They'll just kill me. And if it'll go away, then I have to worry about it happening again. Dad was trying to keep me from using the water---and it hurts to go against that apparently.

After an hour, there's a bell somewhere in the palace, a guard stands outside the door. "So," he says, "are you ready to talk?"

I run my fingers, feeling out the cracks. It'll be easy enough to break out, I think. These walls are old. What's destroying one thing here when I'd already caused the destruction of most everything else? I glance at the guard. Auburn hair. Why is he everywhere? I shake the thought. The corners are going to be the weakest point, but how to make sure I don't let someone actually dangerous out? 

Dad will just send me after them, so it wouldn't be the worst situation ever. Just more fighting.

"Are you listening to me?"

I'm honestly getting sick of fighting, but I want Dad to tell me what he really wants so I can just get it over with.

"Are you deaf?" He signs alongside his words. "Or just stupid?"

"Are you an adult or a toddler?" I ask. His face reddens. "Because I can't tell with the way you're acting." 

"You murdered a man in cold blood, and you're insulting a guard."

I press my hand over my eyes. Of course, why not. Why not be accused of murder? The day can't get any weirder or any worse. If I end up dead, I won't be around for the day to be worse. "What proof do you even have?"

"We found one weapon at the crime scene that was drawn." It can't have been mine because Riptide's in---Oh. One weapon drawn. Knife still in the sheath. "You were seen fleeing the scene afterwards. If you'd been attacked, you should have sought out the nearest guard, per section eighteen of article twenty-seven in order to report the crime and lead them to the scene so they could secure it. Instead, you refused to cooperate and answer questions. Tell me how that looks to you."

I swallow. He's right, it doesn't look good for me. Maybe I can pull out Riptide and show him that my weapon is still on me. That the sword they found isn't mine. But that won't end well because then I'm an armed prisoner. The water isn't bloodied. There's no sign of my injuries except for ripped clothes that can be from the person trying to fight me off.

This is bad.

"Still not going to say anything?" I stay silent. Do they have a right to a lawyer down here? He sighs. "Well, maybe a stay here will loosen your tongue."

"I'll probably just die of boredom first." He's safe enough to make mad. They're soft targets, squishy and breakable, and surrounded by water. Water which now pulses content in my grasp. It wants to be used, to do what I ask of it. I take a deep breath. Murdering guards will make Dad upset.

It's the wrong thing to say, apparently, because he moves and pulls a wall of solid metal across the bars, leaving me in complete darkness.

I actually got this done earlier but i wanted to get this quick drawing of Triton done before I posted it

So uh, hope you liked the chapter and remember to leave a vote and a comment

See yah