madness and ecstasy // leo valdez

-the whale shark is cat-fishing-

Leo rubbed his eyes and sank into one of the empty chairs, pulling rubber bands and little bolts out of his tight curls. They really needed a wash, he noted, feeling the ash and dirt in his hair that surprisingly wasn't from the makeshift bombs that had deployed around him.

There were still remnants of the potassium nitrate and charcoal on his clothes, which were ruined beyond repair once again. Hopefully Piper had a few more Barbie tops to spare.

She might be annoyed at him though... It was his fault she had ended up duct taped to the control panel with socks in her mouth for at least half an hour before the dwarves had made their way to the security cameras and projectors after all. If he had only checked again before he sat down for breakfast that everything was okay, he wouldn't be using a nylon rope to hold up his pants, his belt lost somewhere in the treasure [stolen shit] piled in the top room of that ancient stone tower. Alas, the thieves were now on their way to New York, armed with a map to Camp Half-blood and instructions to fuck with the canvas tents full of teenagers on the mountain crests, led by a skinny blonde and a hoard of dissected teddies.

The smell of soup slowly wafted from the kitchen to the rest of the mess hall, which was really living up to its name. Dirty and chipped dishes were in the bin now, after the mess the dwarves had made, but there were still hoodies over the back of chairs and couches. Muddy shoes were stacked by the door, and weapons laying on every free surface like morbid blood stained decorations.

Leo felt the hot prickling behind his eyes again, and closed them for a moment, resting his head on his folded arms. He could no longer tell if the aching he felt everywhere was because of exhaustion, bruises, or the other thing. Still, he yawned and sat up, running a shaky hand through his hair and watching as a scrap of aluminium foil fell onto the table, nearly landing in the bowl of pumpkin soup Piper slid in front of him. He smiled tiredly at her in thanks and dug in.

As Hazel helped Jason stick band aids [teenage mutant ninja turtle ones] onto the scraped along his arms from the ropes he'd been tied up with that morning, Leo avoided eye contact. It had become his tactic for meals. If people didn't engage with him, he didn't have to pretend to be okay.

Piper patted Franks shoulder absentmindedly as he sat down, handing him a bowl. "Don't worry, no cream."

"Thanks Pipes," he smiled, and Nico wandered into the room, dumping his brown jacket on top the ever-growing pile on the green beanbag by the coffee table. Leo reminded himself to screw it down again later. Some of the bolts were coming loose.

Jason stood up and stretched, his joints popping and a stray band aid falling to the ground. He moved to the corner of the room, where a large bucket was placed, one of the magic plates from Camp Half-blood placed in the bottom. He bent down and touched it with fingers.

When he withdrew them, they were dripping with a thick blood that he quickly washed off.

The dinner was eaten in silence, staged conversations quickly dying as everyone got lost in their thoughts. Leo was hoping that mindless chatter could distract him for a while, before he went to his empty room and laid in the dark for a few hours until he'd inevitably get up to fix that coffee table and make his way through the never-ending pile up of odd jobs.

A few minutes later, there was a heavy creak in the hallway, and the door to the mess hall was nudged open. Leopard padded across the room to the bucket in the corner, shoulder blades sticking up like the blades they were named after underneath velvet-like spotted fur.