Wildflowers, Percy Jackson ₁

003, stream hadestown

CHAPTER THREE

₊˚࿐࿔ 𖥧‧₊⚘ ❀༉. 𓏲｡

Sylvie had made it pretty clear by now that she hated being a demigod. Or, at least clear that she was a horrible demigod. Whatever. Those two things were practically the same—tomatoe tomato, or some shit like that.

Not only did Sylvie have ADHD, suck, be dyslexic, and say y'all, but she had to go through the same kinds of dreams that all half-bloods did. Those dreams being, of course, horrendous visions of torture that plagued demigods at night. Sometimes these dreams were coded messages, or sometimes important pieces of information that needed to be used for things like quests. And, sometimes, when the demigod was really unlucky, these dreams could just be plain, simple nightmares; scenes of the past that served no purpose except to traumatize the dreaming teenager.

Think about Sylvie's low level of fortune and guess which she was experiencing right now.

I'm forcin' you! a voice sounded. Go!

Sylvie knew this story; she'd seen this film before. She hated it, and she wished she could switch to a different dream as if her mind was a remote control for television, but she couldn't. This was the same, old tragic ending. There was no other version of this story.

I will stay! I force it! Demeter snapped right back.

The whole scene was starting to materialize before her; slowly Sylvie could make out what was going on (not like she didn't already know). Two figures—an extraordinary woman and a man so devastatingly ordinary—in one field. A lone farm in Louisiana. A promise made and a promise broken.

The darkness is my demon. But—you bring the light. When I'm with you, my brain is quiet, an' all I know is how to love.

The scene shifted. Sylvie knew what came next, because it always came next. She knew, and yet she still always hoped her dreams would show her something different. Maybe this time Conan and Demeter might turn out. Maybe in this universe Demeter stayed and Conan got better and Sylvie—

Keep your eyes on me. Don't look at them. There's no one here but us.

Sylvie Duvall was a fool to have hope for the impossible. There was no other version of this story. There was no other version of this story. There was no other version of this story. There was no other version of this story. There was no other version of this story.

You an' me.

You and me.

From the moment Conan and Demeter's love story began, it had always been fucked. But still, they tried and stayed with all their might. It was a futile attempt, but that didn't make it less of an act of love. Still, it wasn't enough to save them. Sylvie was trapped as a witness, but she let herself watch anyways. The urge to believe in a version where everything worked out for her parents was as fundamentally human as a love so strong that it doomed itself every time.

I'm sorry. I didn't want to leave. But you were breaking my heart.

Sylvie woke up in a cold sweat, gasping and panting and heaving out short breaths. Her mind hadn't caught up with her body yet. She scrambled backwards as if there were an invisible demon she was desperate to get away from—but the demon was her own mind and that was something Sylvie couldn't escape. Believe her, she'd tried.