Falling for You

Annabeth: III

Annabeth: III

"Wake up!" Annabeth yelled at the top of her lungs.

The Athena cabin filled quickly with swearing and groans, kids either slamming their heads into the tops of their bunks, or onto where pillows had been taped on to the underside in preparation for moments like this. Annabeth gave it no notice as she pulled an unwilling Malcolm out of bed by his ankles.

"For such a bunch of smart people, you're all idiots! We've slept in! Not one of you set an alarm!" she shouted.

A chorus of 'I thought you were setting one' erupted as sibling turned on sibling accusingly, grey eyes narrowing at grey eyes.

"Why didn't you set one?" came an accusing voice from a top bunk towards Annabeth. Her mind ground to a halt. Uh-

"That's not the point and we're wasting time." Annabeth replied smoothly, "Get ready. We leave in ten."

Annabeth had slept in her clothes, not sparing a single thought to if they were crumpled or not. Her bed was too comfy and familiar for her to care anyway. Though she'd packed her bag the night before, she found herself adding things at the last minute, all her 'just in cases'. She flung in an extra knife, deciding to throw in her entire ambrosia supply, and all the nectar in the biggest water bottle she had. She was about to rejoin the fight against Mother Earth herself; she had a feeling that being healed would be more important in this fight than any fight she might have afterwards. Annabeth's hand hovered for a second over her cork pinboard. Pinned right at the top, above all her rosettes and notices, was one of her favourite pictures. It was her and Percy sat on the wooden jetty at camp, legs swinging, bright grins on their faces. They were about fourteen in the photo, pre-war, pre-Hera, pre-whatever-the-Hades-was-even-going-on-now, just asround when Percy began to catch her up in height. Gods, she thought with a shake of her head, she had loved being taller than him then, but now she couldn't imagine feeling safer than when he had his arms around her, his chin resting on her head. Her five foot nine to his six foot something was the perfect ratio. A resolute nod later, she had unpinned it from the wall, and chucked it in her bag. She pulled on her boots and, in her haste, triple knotted one and only single knotted the other, and had to redo them.

Then she swung her backpack on and stepped out, leaving the cabin in their own personal Athena brand of organised chaos.

Annabeth observed the bustling camp as she strode through; in the forest, Hermes' kids were handing out swords like sweets, the green of the trees reflecting off blades polished to perfection. Aphrodite's were setting everyone's armour just right, nattering to each other as they concealed knives and lipsticks alike in hidden pockets. On the beach, Ares' kids just seemed to be yelling. She heard more than a couple Braveheart speeches as she went past. Their Scottish accents were just... terrible.

She accepted her armour with a quick thanks and put it on with self taught expertise. It helped to calm her mind to do all the clasps and buckles just right. After a brief beat, she asked for Percy's armour as well, that had been taken off the boat to be polished. He'd need it when he got back. She still cursed when she remembered how he hadn't been wearing it when he'd fallen. Tucking it under her arm, she headed down to the shore. All of both Vulcan and Hephaestus' kids had been pulling all-nighters for several days.

And it showed.

The shore was absolutely littered with boats and flying machines. There was a long boat pulled up high on the sand, a vivid skull and crossbones painted on the flag fluttering at the top. Next to it floated a kind of wooden speedboat, full to the windows with what seemed like every pillow in camp. She saw more than enough flags with crude slogans scribbled onto the back of orange Camp shirts, stuff like 'Gaia Sux!' or 'Demigods For The Win!' and even a couple 'Bring Home Jackson Squad'. Naturally, the majority were crossed out and spelt wrong, but it was the thought that counted. She noticed that most of the Romans had opted to build flying machines, or simply deigned to ride a pegasus or a chariot, still averse to sailing on the water. And right in the middle of the impromptu fleet, the Argo II stood proudly, smoking and gleaming in various place. A brunette head bobbed about on the deck.