Petals on The Moon || Reyna Ramirez-Arellano x Fem!OC

XII

-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

Hello again.

I don't know if I'm happy that my mother claimed me.

Mostly because I now know that she is working with the Titans and Somnus. That winged goddess I saw in his lair was not just Nemesis, goddess of revenge, but my mother. This was an issue, of course, for many reasons; I had been told my whole life that my mother died of lung cancer, and I don't understand why my father wasn't just honest with me.

Even as I write this, I cannot stop staring at the scales of justice seared into my arm. My tattoo doesn't look like Reyna's. Hers were given to her by the augur, and it is clean and sleek black. Mine was given to me by a bolt of lightning that was clearly sent by Nemesis. Mine is blistered and it burns, the affected area is red, and there are hideous crackles all around it like streaks of lighting. Scars, I presume. A permanent reminder of what happened.

But if I don't see it, I can pretend it's not there. I have covered my arm with a sweater and was been given a burn cream to help with the pain. They sent all of us to bed, because it was three in the morning and we were all exhausted- after the fires were put out, of course. Nobody in the city was hurt, and nobody died. A few were mangled, but they'll live. We planned to have many festivities tomorrow for two reasons; to commemorate the victory over the basilisk, and to reward Reyna and I for receiving our first stripe.

A legacy of Nemesis approached me before we went to bed as a way of "welcoming me to the family". I didn't like her. She made me uncomfortable. She didn't seem to like me and looked at me like I was scum, which was bothersome. And when she "welcomed me to the family", she said it very spitefully, like she didn't want me around. She's the only legacy of Nemesis at the camp, and I'm the only child of Nemesis. Lucky for me, she is in the second cohort, so I don't need to deal with her very much.

When I went to sleep that night, my dream was bothersome. I was in Japan, standing on a beautiful red bridge before Mount Fuji. Sakura blossoms fell through the air, and next to me, I saw two people.

One happened to be my father. He is so much taller than the average person, and way taller than most Japanese men. He is 6'6, and I saw him make the bridge look like a child's toy. He was very thin and pale, with wispy black hair. It alarms me that he has a very stereotypically handsome face. He has always received many compliments, and it bothers me when we go out. Luckily, he has not done anything with me in years.

In this vision, he was wearing a long grey trenchcoat with a nice dress shirt and red tie. He laughed as he spoke with a small Japanese woman next to him. She spoke perfect English, but had Japanese identification hanging out of her pocket. Her hands were tucked into her black coat as she chatted with my father, and I decided to move closer.

"Sometimes I just can't believe it," my father said. His voice is quite melancholy and quiet, with a hint of an empty echo to it. "Can't believe my work visa's about to expire."

"Let's just get married," the woman suggested. "You can apply for a long-term visa."

He leaned over the bridge and rested his hands on it. "Or we can go back to America. They'll naturalize you almost immediately."

"I can't fly in the third trimester." I realized my mother completely tricked my father. How did he not realize that this was a goddess in disguise? I thought he was an intellectual. "And you haven't finished your thesis." She looked at her watch. "Come on. We're going to be late for dinner."