༄ ✩ 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 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐧: if we could only tune out the noise ( to the wonder - aqualung , ft. kina grannis )
❝ deianira! ❞
They pushed through the crowd of waiting spirits, who started grabbing at their clothes like the wind, their voices whispering things Percy couldn’t make out. Charon shoved them out of the way, grumbling. “Freeloaders.”
He escorted them into the elevator, which was already crowded with souls of the dead, each one holding a green boarding pass. Charon grabbed two spirits who were trying to get on with us and pushed them back into the lobby.
“Right. Now, no one get any ideas while I’m gone,” he announced to the waiting room. “And if anyone moves the dial off my easy-listening station again, I’ll make sure you’re here for another thousand years. Understand?”
He shut the doors. He put a key card into a slot in the elevator panel and we started to descend. “What happens to the spirits waiting in the lobby?” Annabeth asked.
“Nothing,” Charon said.
“For how long?”
“Forever, or until I’m feeling generous.”
"Oh,” she said. “That’s . . . fair.”
Charon raised an eyebrow. “Whoever said death was fair, young miss? Wait until it’s your turn. You’ll die soon enough, where you’re going.”
“We’ll get out alive,” Percy said.
“Ha.”
Percy got a sudden dizzy feeling. They weren’t going down anymore, but forward. The air turned misty. Spirits around them started changing shape. Their modern clothes flickered, turning into gray hooded robes. The floor of the elevator began swaying. He blinked hard.
When he opened his eyes, Charon’s creamy Italian suit had been replaced by a long black robe. His tortoiseshell glasses were gone. Where his eyes should’ve been were empty sockets like Ares’s eyes, except Charon’s were totally dark, full of night and death and despair.
He saw Percy looking, and said, “Well?”
“Nothing,”
Percy thought he was grinning, but that wasn’t it. The flesh of his face was becoming transparent, letting them see straight through to his skull. The floor kept swaying.
Grover said, “I think I’m getting seasick.”
When Percy blinked again, the elevator wasn’t an elevator anymore. They were standing in a wooden barge. Charon was poling us across a dark, oily river, swirling with bones, dead fish, and other, stranger things—plastic dolls, crushed carnations, soggy diplomas with gilt edges.
