gambler: percy jackson²

005

in which; politics and teenagers
don't mix. at all.

Sleep did not come easy to Minho, a few hours spent tossing and turning resulted in drifting between awake and asleep. It's not until he gets the dream that Minho truly realises he's clocked out (at least, he's never had a demigod dream while awake, so it's his best guess).

He stood in the field of mars, marred with the aftermath of a battle, bloodied armour and discarded weapons littering the ground. The city of New Rome had crumbled, fine architecture reduced to rubble. At its centre, the forum lay desolate, sculpture and fountains left in piles of stone and marble, the once beautiful and lush vines had browned, no longer ripe with fruit. The senate house had collapsed in on itself, domed ceiling looking more like a shattered egg shell rather than the glorious white stone it was designed to be. Minho's favourite bakery had a dim fire crackling through the smashed window.

In the light of dusk, it looked grim. Like the end times.

Beside him, a woman rose from the destroyed field, emerging from a crater that crackled and smoked with the dying embers of an explosion. The earth clung to her from, falling in loose robes of shifting dirt. A thin veil of dust fell over her pale face, but Minho could still make out her features. She looked at peace. The sleeping face of Gaia made the earth rumble as she turned to face him.

When she spoke, her mouth didn't move, instead her voice echoed in Minho's mind: Young demigod- such a loyal warrior to Rome. Yet your efforts will be futile. Look upon the city you rush to defend. This journey will not be kind to you child. Take your leave- have you not earnt it?

Fury bubbled in Minho's mind. How dare she. To enter his mindscape, a place he controlled to preach her message. To convince him to abandon his home and his people. Minho growled. The sky turned Purple. His right hand curled around empty space as air flickered, his Thyrsus reacting to its summon and materialising in his grasp.

"You will not threaten my home. You will not make yourself comfortable in my mind- my domain, and act as if you are on my side." Each breath heaved his lungs and the earth clung to the soles of his boots in a weak attempt to drag him down.

Gaia smiled in her sleep, as if his anger amused her: Very well child. Embark on this death quest of yours. Shed blood where it needn't be. The waters await you, foolish warrior.

She melted back into the earth, and Minho's breath stopped.

His mouth filled with water, pooling past his lips. He hacked up mouthfuls of the water, coughing and spluttering as he fell to the ground. On his hands and knees, Minho choked- no, drowned- on waves and waves of water as the mud churned beneath him, pulling and climbing up his limbs. Minho dropped his Thyrsus and it sank into the mud, swallowed by the earth. His hands wrapped around his throat, nails clawing at the skin. His lungs were filled with water. He could feel it. He knew they were. Minho was drowning, again.

He smashed his head on the bunk above him when he woke.

"Ow." Minho's breathing was ragged as he brought a palm to his hairline. He scowled at the bar that would no doubt leave a red mark on his skin. Sitting up on the mattress' edge, Minho took a moment to steady his breath, as the fresh morning air settled into his lungs.

From the other side of the barracks, Dakota snorted into his flask of morning kool aid. "Haven't seen you pull one of those in a while."

"Shut up." Minho grumbled, checking the time on his watch. 7:09, meaning they had just under an hour to scoff breakfast and head to the senate house for the meeting. All senate meetings were morning ones, at least not the emergency ones. Given that he hadn't been roused from sleep at the crack of dawn by an ill-tempered Octavian, Minho assumed it was safe to aim for eight-o'clock.