༄ ✩ 𝗽𝗲𝗿𝗰𝘆 𝗷𝗮𝗰𝗸𝘀𝗼𝗻 𝗼𝗹𝘆𝗺𝗽𝗶𝗮𝗻𝘀 ▬▬▬▬
❝ 𝘎𝘌𝘛 𝘑𝘐𝘕𝘟𝘌𝘋 ❞
in which percy jackson meets
the 'insane' daughter of eris,
and is determined to be her
friend, despite what everyone
else says.
⬪ the lightn...
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𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧: tear me in half ( killer - mareux )
❝ because she's a jinx! ❞
"Are you─" Deianira glances behind him at the stairs. "Are you sure? People are usually only supposed to share the prophecy after, I─ are you sure?"
Percy smiles and nods. "Yes, I'm sure. It's my prophecy, and honestly.. being alone in a creepy attic with an oracle doesn't sound all that appealing." His tone is light, but she can see the hope in his eyes. He doesn't want to do this alone.
Deianira had never had to get a prophecy done before, she didn't know what it was like, but she knew that some people who did never came back the same. She couldn't let him face that by himself. He was her friend now, and she knew she'd want him to be there for her if she ever had to do this.
Deianira absentmindedly rubs the bandages on her arms. During the capture the flag game, some of the Ares kids had confronted her in the woods. Maiming was against the rules, but they didn't care. She'd eventually lost them in the trees, she was a fast climber, and that was when she'd heard Percy and Clarisse by the lake.
When she told Bane what happened... let's just say, the Aphrodite girl had lost dessert privileges for a month after, but Bane didn't care much. Silena always gave Bane her dessert anyway, she didn't have much of a sweet tooth.
"Okay." Deianira sighs. "But only if you're sure."
"Yes. Now come on." he smiles and takes her hand, leading her to the stairs.
Deianira's cheeks warm at the contact, but she ignores it. Her legs had started to ache from standing still for so long. She follows Percy silently towards the stairs, his hand warm in her cold one. Four flights up, the stairs ended under a green trapdoor.
Percy pulled the cord. The door swung down, and a wooden ladder clattered into place. The warm air from above smelled like mildew and rotten wood and something else. Reptiles. The smell of snakes. Percy held his breath and climbed. Deianira followed after him, undisturbed by the smell.
The attic was filled with Greek hero junk: armor stands covered in cobwebs; once-bright shields pitted with rust; old leather steamer trunks plastered with stickers saying ITHAKA, CIRCE’S ISLE, and LAND OF THE AMAZONS. One long table was stacked with glass jars filled with pickled things— severed hairy claws, huge yellow eyes, various other parts of monsters. A dusty mounted trophy on the wall looked like a giant snake’s head, but with horns and a full set of shark’s teeth. The plaque read, HYDRA HEAD #1, WOODSTOCK, N.Y., 1969.
