madness and ecstasy // leo valdez

-Unidentified Flying Breakfast-

Leo had designed the mess hall's walls to show real-time scenes from Camp Half-Blood. At first, he had thought that was a pretty awesome idea. Now he wasn't so sure.

The scenes from back home—the campfire sing-alongs, dinners at the pavilion, volleyball games outside the Big House—just seemed to make his friends sad. The farther they got from Long Island, the worse it got. The time zones kept changing, making Leo feel the distance every time he looked at the walls. Here in Italy the sun had just come up, light filtering through the porthole above the kitchen sink. Back at Camp Half-Blood it was the middle of the night. Torches sputtered at the cabin doorways. Moonlight glittered on the waves of Long Island Sound. The beach was covered in footprints, as if a big crowd had just left.

With a start, Leo realized that yesterday—last night, whatever—had been the Fourth of July. They'd missed Camp Half-Blood's annual party at the beach with awesome fireworks prepared by Leo's siblings in Cabin Nine. Teqi always said it was 'just another excuse to have a party, but she wasn't complaining'.

He decided not to mention that to the crew, but he hoped their buddies back home had had a good celebration. They needed something to keep their spirits up, too. Especially as the Romans got closer each day. He remembered the images he'd seen in his dream—the camp in ruins, littered with the bodies of his friends and family; Octavian standing at the volleyball pit, casually talking in Gaea's voice.

He stared down at his slightly burnt French toast. He wished he could turn off the wall videos.

"So," Jason said, bringing over the bottle of maple syrup for their breakfast [it was his turn to cook, so Piper had been directing him from the couch all morning], "now that we're here..."

He sat between Hazel and Nico. He had stepped up as the makeshift leader since Rome, but the head of the table had remained empty, along with the chair next to it, and the one beside Leo. He pretended not to notice how much emptier everything felt. Having been praetor back at Camp Jupiter, Jason was probably used to leading groups of demigods; but Leo could tell his friend was stressed. His eyes were more sunken than usual, and he'd left his glasses in kitchen. His blond hair was uncharacteristically messy, like he'd forgotten to brush it.

Leo glanced at the others around the table. Hazel was bleary-eyed, too, but of course she'd been up all night guiding the ship through the mountains. Her curly cinnamon-coloured hair was tied back in a bandana, which gave her a commando look that only reminded Leo of Nyssa, and another wave of homesickness washed over him. 

Next to her sat Frank, dressed in black workout pants and a shirt with an angry looking racoon holding a machine gun on it. Frank's old centurion badge was pinned to his shirt, despite the fact that the demigods of the Argo II were now Public Enemies Numbers 1 through 8 back at Camp Jupiter.     

Then there was Nico. He sat back in his leather aviator jacket, his black T-shirt and jeans, that wicked silver skull ring on his finger, and the Stygian sword at his side. His tufts of black hair stuck up in curls like baby bat wings, only upping his whole vampire look.

The only absent demigod was Piper, who was taking her turn at the helm with Coach Hedge once she'd grabbed a plate of Jason's French toast.

Leo wished Piper were here, he needed his best friend. And she had a way of calming everyone else down with that Aphrodite charm of hers. After his dreams last night, Leo could use some calm.

On the other hand, it was probably good she was above deck chaperoning their chaperone. Now that they were in the ancient lands, they had to be constantly on guard. Leo was nervous about letting Coach Hedge fly solo. The satyr was a little trigger-happy, and the helm had plenty of bright, dangerous buttons that could cause the picturesque Italian villages below them to go BOOM!