PHILOXENIA ➸ Percy Jackson¹

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SIX—Through the Dark and Rainbows

─── ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽☼☾.* :☆ﾟ｡ ───

Argus gave them a ride from camp to the Greyhound bus station on the Upper East Side, and after sharing the box of strawberries in the car,  Ciaran immediately went to sleep. By the time they re-enter the traffic coming into Manhattan and the sun was disappearing under the mass of skyscrapers, he felt rejuvenated enough to take on the quest.

After ensuring they had their bags and bus tickets, Argus drove off, leaving three demigods and a disguised satyr to wait patiently for the bus. While Grover bounced over to Percy to talk with him about something, Ciaran sat with Annabeth, who was nose-deep in her architecture book, and got out his sketchbook and balanced it on his legs.

He had come to love the rolling fields of Camp Half-Blood, the song of the wind whistling through the leaves, intermixing with the distant bellows of campers as they went through their day. But there was something that could not compare to New York City, chaotic and overwhelming as it was.

Perhaps it was the double-sided nature of it, the fact that you can carve out your own personal space while standing in a crowd and no one will bat an eye at what you're doing or care about who you are, the fact that you can become so suffocated from all the people passing you by to the point that your vision blends the color of their hair and clothing together. But at the same time, you couldn't help but commit a piece of them into a fleeting memory, a glimpse that you will never remember again.

It was what drew Ciaran to art and drawing. He knew that he would never see the same sight before him or glance at the same people dashing by ever again, but maybe they would live a second life in the corners of his sketchbook. 

For a moment, he could pretend that it was any other day in the city for him, drawing while the rush of traffic hummed faintly in his ears. The rows of buildings before him materialized in lines of scribbled graphite, the fire escape zig-zagging all the way down the exposed brick facade, where shop signs of various fonts and colors beckon passersby with promises of authentic food and fresh coffee.

He added the occasional trees that rustled in the sweltering summer breeze, the detailings of the windows, the spindly streetlights, and the simple stick-like figures of those on the sidewalk. He was so focused that he didn't realize he had an audience.

"You really like to draw, huh?" Annabeth asked.

Ciaran's hand jerked at the sudden question, causing the pencil to go off-course and leave behind a jagged line across his sketch, slicing through the buildings and trees. He looked over to see a flash of apology crossing her gray eyes.

"Sorry."

"It's okay." He inwardly sighed and ruffled for an eraser from his backpack. "And to answer your question, yes I do. I started doing it when I was awake at night and had nothing to do. It's just a hobby I like to do in my free time."

She squinted at him. "Does free time include my Ancient Greek class? Don't think I don't see you doodling."

"Hey, I still paid attention, didn't I?" he protested and added the opening line of The Illiad in Ancient Greek, which only served to make her glare at him harder. 

"Can't understand how you're able to learn when you're half-asleep of the time," she grumbled. 
"You better not fall asleep on this quest."