𝐚𝐳𝐚𝐞𝐥𝐚; percy jackson

𝟎𝟔 | their ways parted

Percy stood frozen in place, his mind reeling.

Bimbo?

Just moments ago, this girl—who had materialized in his mind without warning—had the audacity to call him a Bimbo.

As if all the chaos that had unfolded was somehow his fault.

"Hey, bud, you look like you just got struck by lightning," Luke's voice broke through the fog in Percy's thoughts. There was a hint of amusement, a light chuckle to soften the words, but Percy could detect the undercurrent of concern.

"Yeah, well, it feels like I might've been," Percy muttered, still grappling with the whirlwind of strange events.

"As much as I'd love to hear about whatever went down," Luke continued, clapping a hand on Percy's back to steer him forward, "we've got bigger fish to fry. We need to figure out your talent before evening practice starts."

"My talent?" Percy frowned. The words didn't make sense. "Wait—practice?"

Luke nodded with an easygoing grin, though there was a sharpness behind his eyes. "Yeah. Your schedule's packed for the next few hours, my friend." He led Percy through the camp, moving with purpose through the winding paths, the rhythmic hum of activity surrounding them.

Campers were scattered across the area, practicing, sparring, training—all of them focused on something greater.

"But why do I need to find a talent?" Percy questioned, his confusion deepening with every passing step.

Luke's expression shifted then, growing serious, a subtle tension threading into his tone. "It's all about glory, Percy. The kind of glory that will make you stand out. The kind that keeps people like Clarisse from messing with you. Glory can make you feared. It can make you untouchable."

Percy raised an eyebrow, his thoughts still muddled. "How do you even know about the thing with Clarisse? That was... what, twenty minutes ago?"

Luke shrugged nonchalantly, but there was a flicker of something calculated in his gaze. "Rumors spread fast around here. Especially when it's a new kid, and someone like Clarisse involved." His voice dipped lower. "But right now, we're talking about glory. That's your way in."

"Glory," Percy repeated, tasting the word. "So... if I get this glory stuff, my dad... he'll notice me? Maybe even claim me?" His voice rushed with sudden, reckless hope. This was his chance. His chance to make his father see him—not just as a pawn, but as something more. Maybe even bring his mother back.

Luke put a hand on his shoulder, slowing him down. "Hold up," he cautioned, his voice laced with a touch of restraint. "That's not exactly how it works—"

"I'm in," Percy cut him off before he could finish. His voice was firm, driven by the surge of urgency that ran through his veins. "I'll do whatever it takes. If glory's the way, then let's get to it."

•

Meanwhile, on the other side of Camp Half-Blood, Meara was lost in thought, her mind a hurricane of confusion and frustration.

How dare Percy disrespect her like that? After all she had done for him, she couldn't believe he had the gall to accuse her of intruding on his mind. Again.

"You tormenting that poor boy again?" A voice called down from above, breaking through the storm of her thoughts. Meara looked up, her gaze catching sight of Aire, perched high in her usual spot on a tree branch, grinning like the sun itself.

Meara barely spared a glance upward, her thoughts still tangled. "You scared me," she muttered, her voice distant, distracted.

"Scared? You don't look scared." Aire teased, winking mischievously, then motioning for Meara to join her. "Come on, get up here sometime."

Meara's lips twitched into the smallest of smiles, but she remained planted on the ground. "You know I'm terrible at climbing," she replied, her eyes lingering on the tree's towering height, the thought of the drop making her stomach churn.

"Terrible? No, no. You just haven't had my expert guidance yet!" Aire's grin was impossible to resist. "Trust me, you'll be up here in no time. I'm committed to getting you up here, remember?"

Meara sighed, casting a glance over her shoulder.

Despite Aire's sunny demeanor, a shadow of paranoia lingered in Meara's chest. After the altercation with the Ares kids earlier, she couldn't shake the feeling that someone—or something—was watching her. "I'm surprised you even know what commitment means," she laughed playfully.

"Oh really?" Aire tossed a pine cone down toward her while grinning brightly.

Meara flinched instinctively, raising her arms to shield herself, but when she lowered them, Aire was holding her nose, wincing with confusion.

"Ow—okay, that's harsh. How'd you do that?" Aire asked, rubbing her nose with exaggerated care.

"Do what?" Meara blinked, genuinely unsure of what had just occurred.

Aire stared at her, eyes wide. "The wind just... changed courses. Did you feel that? The pine cone just hit me instead." She trailed off, shaking her head as if trying to dismiss it.

"That's weird." Meara looked around, the wind seeming completely normal.

"Never mind. Let's focus on you. Why are you always walking instead of climbing? So boring!" Aire scoffed playfully. "Up here, I'm closer to the sun. Have you seen my tan?"

Meara snorted at the absurdity while shaking her head. "I'm pretty sure that's not how it works. Anyway, come down. I'm really not risking falling out of a tree today."

Aire sighed dramatically before descending the tree.

When she landed, she crossed her arms, turning her attention to Meara with a probing look. "So," she began, her tone shifting to something more serious. "What's up with you and the new kid? Heard you stood up for him."

Meara's face tightened at the mention of Percy. "I don't know. I stepped in to help him, and what do I get in return? Accusations. He called me out for getting inside his head." Her hands clenched into fists at her sides. "If I could do it all over again, I would've let Clarisse deal with him."

Aire raised an eyebrow, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Oh, sure. You'd totally do that."

Meara rolled her eyes but couldn't suppress the faint smile that tugged at her lips. "Do you dare to debase my words, Miss Mintz?" she said with mock severity, adopting an exaggerated accent for flair.

Aire laughed, perfectly mirroring her tone. "Oh, I most certainly do."

Meara's expression softened as she turned her gaze to the ground, her frustration momentarily melting away.

But then, just as quickly, it returned, sharper and more determined than before. "That kid is nothing but trouble," she muttered. "I should stay away. It's for the best."

Aire tilted her head, narrowing her eyes in thought. "Is it, though? Doesn't seem like it's working so far."