𝐖𝐀𝐑 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐒 | percy jackson

to the dumb kids

"Okay, God of Travellers. What kind of car does the God of Travellers have?" Percy tossed the keys in his palm while the four trundled through a car park. Ciarda's mind ruffled past the idea of stealing the vintage Porsche, decorated in dark green paint. 

"Guys, I gotta say, so far, this quest is really exciting. Really hoping we find that car," Grover smiled dopily. "Finding the car isn't the quest," Annabeth explained rashly with firm eyes. Ciarda smirked, her mind nodding to the memories of her friend's impatience throughout their childhood. 

Recalling their summers growing up together, Ciarda grinned when images of a youthful Annabeth angrily trying to hit Ciarda with a wooden sword came to mind. Ciarda was six when she realised she was naturally better at sword-fighting, and picking up the more violent skills, than other children. With a childish competitiveness, she had risen to any challenge proposed, including the older campers. Annabeth had offered, believing that brains outrode brawns. 

In a long battle, maybe that was true, but Ciarda was trained in all aspects, not just brutality. 

And her looks too, perhaps. Clarisse and Ciarda had always put the younger twin's appearance up to good fortune. It had always seemed peculiar that Clarisse's sheer muscle made her look buff and boyish, whereas Ciarda's had enhanced her fierce beauty. It made sense to her now. With the secret of her mother being out in the world. 

"There's more?" Grover seemed surprised. "Jeez," Percy huffed after peeking at Ciarda, whose chocolate eyes were glazed off, "We'll explain it to you on the way. We're in a bit of a hurry." 

"We're late?" Grover queried. "Very, very late," Ciardsa snapped from her daydream and hurried her dragging feet. "Are we late because of me?" Grover requested truthful answers, turning his glossy eyes toward Ciarda instead of Percy. She stopped, staring at him. 

"Is she always this scary?" Grover twirled his neck back to Percy, who nodded subtly. "We're gonna be okay," Ciarda answered. The meaning was more vulnerable than the sentence seemed, and nobody caught it except herself. She then resumed her walk to where Annabeth stood, leaving Grover to ask Percy about her intimidating expressions.

Percy and Grover muttered about his near-finding Pan whilst Ciarda seized the ground between her and Annabeth. "What if it's dangerous?" Annabeth pointed. Surprised, Ciarda grabbed the piece of paper stuck on the windscreen without hesitation. "My favourite." 

"Guys," Annabeth called the boys over, warily eyeing the paper in her friend's hands. 

"Hermes drives a cab?" They asked sceptically. Percy's eyes skated to Ciarda's silhouette, noticing the scratchy scars that littered her brown knees. Her long navy shorts barely covered them, leaving them in public view. She didn't seem to be bothered, instead, more interested in the letter between her fingers. 

"And he left us a note," She added. The lights in the car lot flickered gently. "How do we know that's for us?" Percy countered efficiently. He'd gotten used to asking important questions and keeping the dumb ones inside. Ciarda turned the letter without saying anything, analysing the back of the package. Grover nodded thoughtfully as he and Percy read 'To the Dumb Kids' on the front of it. "Nice." 

"Should have known the God of Thieves notices getting his pocket picked, "Annabeth sighed while Ciarda opened the envelope. Her bruised knuckles brought out a stark white sheet of paper. "Back door to the Underworld, magic word, map in the glove box. He says we'll become travellers when we're on the road, and then the car will take us wherever we wish to go," Ciarda summarised. 

"Okay, so one of us just has to drive it out of the garage?" Percy guessed. They all looked at each other. Annabeth's eyes slunk to Grover, who was older than them all and probably had some idea of how to handle a manual car. "Oh, I'm still not 100% sure what we're doing here, which seems disqualifying." 

For the first time, Ciarda's eyes moved up from the paper in front of her. Eyes twinkling with humour, she said "I nominate Fish Fingers." 

...

With a rare laugh from the Daughter of Ares, Percy hit the concrete pole. "I think you broke Annabeth's neck," She chuckled hoarsely, gesturing to the girl sitting in the passenger seat frightfully. "My fault. That was me," Percy took accountability. 

"No shit," Ciarda cursed with a broad smile. It was a Cheshire Cat smile, nothing pleasant or warm about it. "How do you make it go backwards?" Percy mumbled to himself. Annabeth only stared forward like she would rather be anywhere else. 

The car reared backwards with a surge of gas under Percy's foot, leading the car to smoke from the back end as it hit another column. "You're doing great," Grover stated sarcastically with a grim face. At least he was trying to sound positive about the poor driving skills presented. "Try aiming for the middle?" Annabeth offered sound advice. 

"I still don't know why Ciarda isn't doing this. She seems like she would know what to do," Percy tried to move gears. Some time during Percy's stay in Camp Half-Blood, the infamous stories of Ciarda and Luke's adventures into Long Island had been spilt. Overaxaggerated stories of the pair driving a double-decker bus into oncoming traffic, and casually meeting the president in a diner, came from gossiping lips.

"She would kill us in seconds," Annabeth replied without a second of hesitation. "For the shits and gigs," Ciarda nodded. She sucked on a few hard-boiled sweets she had stolen from the Lotus Casino, knowing it wasn't the food that was the cause of Grover's memory loss. 

She was starving, thirsty, and severely sleep-deprived. When they reached the Underworld, she would be asking Hades, politely, to stay for the night. 

 The engine revved loudly and the tyres squealed against concrete as Percy tried to map through the parking lot. The wheels screeched when Percy slammed on the brakes, which he had just found with his shorter legs, as a car zoomed out in front of them with a blaring horn. "That guy didn't even slow down," Percy huffed in stress. He checked the rearview mirror to see Ciarda cracking the bones in her neck. Percy then honked his horn to show annoyance at the careless driver. 

"I'm having a blast," Ciarda mentioned from the backseat with a finger in the air. "Okay, keep going. Up to the street." Annabeth instructed with the nicest tone she had yet used. "You've got this. Just think of your friends Nemo and Dory," Ciarda was thoroughly entertained while producing more fish jokes, with Grover's help, in the back. 

"Siren?" The oblivious Satyr offered to her growing list of jokes. "Mmm, they're too pretty. I need ugly deep-sea creatures." 

Percy rolled his blue eyes while turning a corner. He smirked at his flawless three seconds of driving, and arrogantly shifted his head to see Ciarda, to prove a point. Before he could open his boasting mouth, a string of unpleasant squeaks ripped through the air as the side of the taxi frictioned against a wall. Light pinged off the metal as heat. A plethora of posters ripped from their staples in the brick. Percy, manically, tried to steer and consequentially pulled them into rows of orange cones. 

Panciking, he raced through a traffic bar with a bleating crash, before entering the Vegas streets. A blinding flash of headlights from an oncoming lorry made Percy's heart leap into his chest before everything faded and the sound of calm waves crashing entered his ears. 

"Where the fuck are we, Ariel?"