Wildflowers, Percy Jackson ₁

051, situationships go crazy

CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE

₊˚࿐࿔ 𖥧‧₊⚘ ❀༉. 𓏲｡

Sylvie didn't really sleep much last night, though that was seeming to become a normal thing for her now.

First, she had a nightmare about how her dad was doing in his ward (it wasn't good, by the way), and then Cedar woke her up by having a terrifying dream of his own. Since it was now becoming an unfortunate routine, Sylvie climbed over into Cedar's bunk. She put him back to sleep telling the same story as always—her mother and father's love story—but at that point it was no use trying to go to bed herself. Sylvie sat in the rocking chair on the Demeter cabin's porch, rocking and waiting for the sun to rise.

Although a small disruption to her routine, Florian finding her outside. He sat himself on the wooden railing protecting the porch, idly growing and un-growing a sapling in his hand.

"Cedar having nightmares again?" he asked.

Sylvie raised an eyebrow again. "Again? He never stops."

Florian sighed. The plant died again. "You don't have to do this every night, you know? One day we're actually going to have to go to war. You're gonna pass out in the middle of the fight out of exhaustion."

Her heart skidded at the mention of going to war. Sylvie could've handled any topic except for that one. Now she was thinking about Percy's nearing birthday. She was thinking about the prophecy. She was thinking about Percy, hitting sixteen for maybe a day before he had to martyr himself for Olympus.

Sylvie was nowhere near done loving him, but that didn't seem to matter to anyone except for her. The Fates were cruel.

"We heard the Great Prophecy," Sylvie finally said, voice strained. Florian couldn't even hide his shock.

"Oh," he said. "What did it... say?"

Sylvie met his widened gaze with a tired and worn-out one. "Nothing good. If that surprises you."

"I wish it did," Florian scoffed. He'd been far dimmer ever since the Battle of the Labyrinth last summer, where his best friend Castor died in his arms. Bad things never happened to Florian, so the loss was weighing down heavily. He couldn't get used to the grief he felt. It was so foreign to him. "Let me guess, we're fucked?"

Sylvie recalled the lines, "The hero's soul, cursed blade shall reap. A single choice shall end his days."

Florian swallowed thickly. "I see. So Percy's fucked."

"So it seems," she exhaled, but her voice was dry and her sigh was shaky. "Just my luck, isn't it?"

"Sylvie," Florian frowned.

"I can lose my sister and my dad and the only person I'm ever going to love, but I can't escape myself," Sylvie ranted angrily. "The one person I actually want to be rid of."