𝐏𝐘𝐑𝐑𝐇𝐈𝐂 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄, 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐲 𝐣𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐬𝐨𝐧

12 - two simps and a cult ritual

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪

EMBARRASSINGLY ENOUGH, Percy's first thought when he woke up was 'I want to go home'.

Anyone in his shoes would wish the same thing, though. He woke up feeling like he was still on fire, his skin stinging and throat dry. When he gathered enough strength to open his eyes, he saw blue sky and trees above him and heard a fountain gurgling nearby.

Something flashed through his mind, those familiar blue eyes that twinkled in his dreams. Shit. Elia was going to kill him. 

Percy tried to push himself up, but it felt like his bones were Jello and his muscles were melting. A gentle hand reached out to push him back down. Is that...?

"Stay still. You're too weak to rise."

He knew it wasn't her. This voice was too smooth, too even. It didn't have the rasp and melodic quality that hers did. But, oh, how he wished it did.

The stranger laid a cool cloth across Percy's forehead before trickling some nectar into his mouth, warming his veins with the taste of his mom's cookies. Then, the girl's face appeared above him. 

She had almond eyes with flowing caramel hair that was plaited over one shoulder, and looked around... fifteen? Maybe sixteen? He couldn't quite tell. She began singing, and Percy shifted uncomfortably. Her words were too smooth, all falling together into a dreamlike sound that made him wish for another song, another voice. 

"Who...?" he managed to choke out, his voice rasping in his throat. 

The girl brushed her fingers across the crease between his brows, and the memory hit him so hard he flinched away. Not her fingers. Not her voice. 

"Shh, brave one," the girl crooned. "Rest and heal. No harm will come to you here. I am Calypso."

When Percy woke again, he was in a cave, but this cave was like a fucking mansion. The ceiling was speckled with multicolored crystals, reminding him of the northern lights in a soothing way. When the son of Poseidon pushed himself out of the bed he was lying in, he glanced down to see he was dressed in a white linen shirt and soft cotton pants that he hadn't been wearing when he flew out the volcano. 

Who the fuck changed him?

Riptide and the dog whistle sat safely in his pocket, and he stood to walk over to a mirror on the other side of the room. When he caught a glimpse of himself, Percy's eyes widened. "Holy fucking Poseidon," he muttered. 

His hair was a rat's nest, what was left of his singed waves falling in limp strands over his forehead. He needed some wavy hair shampoo and a deep condition, holy shit. He'd lost nearly 20 pounds that he couldn't afford to lose, leaving him looking like he did when he was thirteen and hadn't discovered puberty yet. 

With a sigh, Percy turned away from the mirror, stepping out of the cave and into the daylight. He saw a lake straight ahead, framed by soft, grassy meadows; all in all, the place looked like a paradise. Percy was immediately on guard because if there was anything that he'd learned in his years of being a half-blood, it was that paradise is usually where everything goes to shit. 

He spotted the girl, Calypso, standing near the water, talking to someone. He couldn't see over the glare of sunlight to see who it was, so he began to walk towards her slowly, stumbling as he tried to gain feeling back in his stiff legs.