𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐰𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐦𝐨𝐨𝐧𝐬, p.jackson

𝟏𝟔. mama's boy

sixteen.
( the lightning thief. )
❛ m-a-m-a-s b-o-y. ❜

THE UNDERWORLD WAS LIKE a concert. A large, overly crowded concert with no music or lights, no friendly chatter or shared excitement. Like the whispers of something dark occurring backstage and halting a show. To Percy, that's exactly what the fields of asphodel were depicted to be. The black grass had been visibly trampled by eons of dead and withered feet. A warm, moist wind blew like the breath of the witching hour and huge overgrown trees-Grover told them they were poplars-grew in clumps here and there.

The cavern ceiling ascended menacingly high above them. it might've been a bank of storm clouds, except for the stalactites, which glowed faint gray and looked wickedly pointed. It was tough trying not to imagine they'd fall into the ground below at any moment, but dotted around the fields were several that had fallen and impaled themselves in the black grass. It seemed the dead didn't have to worry about little hazards like being speared by stalactites the size of booster rockets.

The trio of demigods and the satyr were in the midst of trying to blend into the crowds, avoiding security and moving around sharply in an attempt to give themselves a sort of translucency that the spirits had. Percy could see Colette's churn of curiosity as she glanced around-almost succumbing to the urge to look for fallen heroes and campers despite how hard it was to distinguish features. They all looked slightly angry or perplexed. occasionally, a wandering soul would come up and speak, but their voices sound like chatter, like bats twittering. Once they realised it was impossible to understand them, they frowned and move away.

The dead weren't scary. They were just sad.

Still, they crept along, following the line of new arrivals that snaked from the main gates toward a black-tented pavilion with a banner that read:

JUDGEMENTS FOR ELYSIUM
AND ETERNAL DAMNATION
welcome, newly deceased!

Out the back of the tent came two much smaller lines. To the left, spirits were forced towards what looked to be the fields of punishment, which spewed and cracked with hot molten lava over a barren wasteland of endless agony. they could see a pool in the distance and a man trying desperately to reach for the fruit tree above him, forever out of reach and leaving him starved. Tantalus. And then further, they could just make out a tiny hill, with the ant-size figure of Sisyphus struggling to move his boulder to the top.

The line coming from the right side of the judgment pavilion was much better. This one led down toward a small valley surrounded by walls-a gated community, which seemed to be the only happy part of the Underworld. There were marble and golden mansions and villas from any and all ages, from Greek to Roman, medieval to modern. Silver and gold flowers bloomed on the lawns. The grass rippled in rainbow colors. vaguely, percy could hear laughter and smell barbecue cooking.

Elysium.

In the middle of that valley was a glittering blue lake, with three small islands like a vacation resort in the Bahamas. The Isles of the Blest, for people who had chosen to be reborn three times, and three times achieved Elysium. It radiated warmth and eternal bliss. Percy wanted that. And when he glanced to his friends, he wanted that for them too. It was almost painful to remember about Colette's ambitions with the hunters; it would make her immortal, prone to surviving death and never being sentenced to a passing of pleasure and divine mercy. He wondered, from the flicker of thought that flashed across her expression, whether or not she was thinking the same as he was.