🌷 "We're Greek, Percy. We're all born with tragedy in our blood."
The only thing Daphne could ever be sure of was that she was not meant to be alive. Whatever you wanted to call it - a gut feeling or just some serious anxiety, she couldn't shake th...
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chapter III
🌷 Daphne wondered what flowers she would choose for her tombstone.
It was actually a question she pondered quite often, especially when she felt like she was seconds from her death. But she supposed now that she had been studying the Ancient Greek customs, she would think of what design her shroud to burn would be. She really didn't want her cabin mates who were mainly kids of Hermes or unwanted children to make it for her, so she decided on just focusing on the reality of the situation! I mean, how likely was it that she was actually gonna die?
She looked down at where the seat belt should be and saw it replaced with a thick black chain. Daphne gulped.
The cab sped around the corner of West Broadway, and the gray lady sitting in the middle of the front at the taxi screeched, "Look out! Go left!"
"Well, if you'd give me the eye, Tempest, I could see that!" the driver complained.
Wait.
Wait, wait wait.
Give her the eye?
Daphne didn't have time to ask questions because the driver swerved to avoid an oncoming delivery truck, ran over the curb with a jaw-rattling thump, and flew into the next block.
She grabbed at the black chain desperately and tried to hook it over her and Annabeth.
"Wasp!" the third lady said to the driver. "Give me the girl's coin! I want to bite it."
"You bit it last time, Anger!" said the driver, whose name must've been Wasp. "It's my turn!"
"Is not!" yelled the one called Anger.
The middle one, Tempest, screamed, "Red light!"
"Brake!" yelled Anger.
Instead, Wasp floored the accelerator and rode up on the curb, screeching around another corner and knocking over a newspaper box. She left Daphne's stomach somewhere back on Broome Street.
