𝐖𝐀𝐑 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐒 | percy jackson

time to say goodbye

The shrill doorbell of the diner rang effortlessly. It was a sweet noise, compared to the band music that played, glitching, through the radio and converted to speakers. There was something about the impure darkness outside that made it seem cold, and yet the humidity of the air rushed in as the door swung open. 

Neon signs and extra lampshades lit up the inside, to show the owner was disciplined to their '24/7 open' sign. Indistinct chatters echoed, and nobody's eyes cast the way of Ciarda and Percy. The two were practically dry, if not a little damp, and were rid of the dust and blood on them prior to leaving the diner. 

Grover and Annabeth sat at the table, opposing Ares. Their faces lit up when the two returned unharmed, with Ciarda holding both her Achilles' sword and Ares' shield. Annabeth had returned after being diverted from Percy and Ciarda, her shoulders slumped to see they had made such a speedy recovery out of the Tunnel of Love. 

Ares slowly shifted when noticing their faces, hiding his surprise that they were both alive and completed his task. Ciarda could still sense the change in his aura, the unwavering thrill of battle, ran through her too. 

She stayed silent, stone cold, when she threw the shield carelessly on the table, letting the crash and bang resonate. Hephaestus' words echoed in her head. She didn't need to be angry with Ares, not in the moment, she could enjoy the fact that morally, she was so much better than him. And one day, she would be greater. 

Grover stared up at them with awed brown eyes, whilst Annabeth kept her eyes on the shaking shield. Percy took his time in sitting down, along with Ciarda who buried herself in crisps and guacamole. She was starving from the physical and emotional toll of the last 24 hours and needed to refuel. She would return to her normal self in time, she was sure - although her heart pounded with the idea that she wouldn't really ever be the same.

Ares looked down at his weapon, feeling the war spirit radiating off it. He wasn't sure how, but they had retrieved his shield together. How intriguing. 

Percy, his hair curlier from the water, stared across to the war god. "Where's our ride?" He said. 

...

Twenty minutes later, a sixteen-wheeler truck arrived outside the diner. The night air was still humid, and gnats buzzed around in lamppost lights. "You're kidding," Percy huffed, everyone walking behind him lazily. They had eaten, although unnerved by Ares - apart from Ciarda who had seemed to be externally past her emotional episode. She was still inside paying for their food.

Ares cocked his head, clicking his fingers and the truck doors opened. "Get in, don't. I really don't care. But in a few hours, this thing is gonna be at the Lotus Casino in Vegas. Hermes hangs out there. You play your cards right and his personal driver can get you to L.A. in minutes."

The four of them splayed in front of Ares with the same expression. Disapproval with a tinge of hatred. "Here," Ares threw things at Percy, "Clothes. Cash. Drachmas to summon Hermes. I'd wish you luck but what good would it do you?"

"We're not going to fail," Percy shook his head, his navy eyes squinted. Ares' Cheshire Cat smile, one Eros had specially inherited, returned, making Grover swallow anxiously. His eyes dropped to his bitten fingernails, choosing one and nibbling on the gently. 

"Don't worry. Your dad had plenty of kids he stopped caring about once he lost interest. You'll have lots of company." 

Percy strode forward, making his way into Ares' space. It was clear he'd learnt a thing or two from Ciarda about being courageous against Gods. The two were one in the same; the thought sprung to Ares' mind. "We're not gonna fail, and I'm getting pretty tired of you saying it."

"Percy," Grover warned when he noticed Ares' face turn into a petty snarl. "You think you know who I am, but you don't," Percy continued bravely, persisting to walk toward Ares. The god looked angry. However, just like Ciarda, a small amused grin masked it, his head lifting above Percy. 

"And if you aren't careful, you're gonna find out," Percy threatened. Grover and Annabeth rushed forward to pull him back. Ares' eyes turned dark, his head cranking down to size up the son of Poseidon. 

It was a predatorial gaze as if he was thinking about the best way to rip Percy limb from limb. Whilst he opened his mouth to condemn the boy to the Underworld, the grating noise of scratching metal filled the air. 

All eyes cascaded to Ciarda, or rather her Achilles' sword which was being drawn across the tarmac. Hot sparks pinged off it as though the blade was being sharpened. Orange fireworks flew off, dissolving into the air as she continued her path. 

Noticeably, she paused when she stood minorly in front of Percy, looking up at her Dad. Her face was plain - there was no emotion put forth to show Ares how she felt about him. And maybe that's why his heartstrings strummed lightly. He didn't like the feeling. 

It was a feeling he hadn't experienced many times: the unknown. 

Her face was simple. No expression, just her face. Oval, but angled to her chin. A fringe - if not smeared in blood or fairground water. Fierce eyes. Her mother's skin. Scars that ruined the mixture of sun-induced freckles on her nose. It was just her face. 

Nothing was exchanged between the God and his daughter, but her chin was held high. She didn't bow and nothing would change that. 

"So, thank you for the emotional abuse and the cheeseburgers. And the ride. We're going to take you up on that too," Grover conveyed to Ares before shoving Percy toward the back of the lorry. Annabeth had already slipped inside, checking out the space with her beady eyes. Ares said nothing, staring at Percy with a devious smile. He turned to face them when they all perched inside. 

Ciarda was the last to leave her stand, pushing her way to open doors where Annabeth crouched. Her sword stayed at her side, perched on her hip.

"Ciarda," Ares' voice simmered in the muggy air. The sign outside the diner buzzed a static hum that made her feel safe. The heat was like a greenhouse, causing Ciarda to miss the fresh, clean summers at Camp. Homesickness mixed with sweat crawled up her spine. 

Ciarda halted, but she did not pivot to look at her father. Reality sunk in for her, she had turned her back on him, and was not planning to go running, begging, for him. 

"I'm proud of you. For getting the shield," Ares mentioned. The words lay heavy in the air. She stayed staring at the back of the truck. Lights flickered on the sign, the buzz stopping before staring again. 

Ciarda took one slow breath. Then, she moved forward and stepped into the lorry. There were no words exchanged, she didn't look back. She didn't even think too much about what he said. Her rage had escaped her, for the moment. Annabeth helped pull her up with a strong hand, her sword singing in the air whilst she got settled in. 

Ares watched with a humoured smile. Of course she wasn't going to thank him. It was his Ciarda, after all.