Mortals Meet Percabeth

Eric Blofis

Rick Riordan owns PJO, HOO, TOA, and most of the character in this story. I only own the plot and the people meeting Percabeth.

It's beautiful outside today, clear skies and the bright sun hits the white snow making it dazzle like a billion crystals.

"Daddy, do they live there?" my daughter Alexia asks in her British accent pointing at a quaint mansion out the window.

"No, darling," I swallow, "they don't."

"Then where do they live?" My thirteen-year-old son asks, "You said they were poor, that is most definitely a poor persons' house," he comments.

My wife, Francesca, pats his shoulder in a reassuring manner, "Phillip, sweetheart, they live in an," she shakes her head in disgust, "in an apartment," she finishes wiping her face as if wiping off the dirty word she had just uttered. 

"Oh, Daddy! How could you make us go there?" Alexia says putting her hand to her heart.

"We haven't seen them in years, darling. I figured we should pay them a visit so you may see how not to live your life," I inform her. She nods, satisfied with my answer. I knock on the glass separating us from our chauffeur who was driving our least prized limo in case one of those thugs decides to break in, "How much longer, James?" I ask him.

"About forty-five minutes, sir," I sigh. 'At least I have a while to prepare myself,' I think.

"This is the perfect time for you to brush up on your table manners, Alexia. And you Phillip, to study the latest, futbol scores so you have something to discuss with Uncle Paul. While Aunt Sally and I work on our needlepoint in the parlor," she orders our children in her posh British accent. I didn't have the heart to tell her that I doubt Sally even had parlor much less did any kind of needle work.

My family, fortunately, has never met Sally or Paul. I doubt Francesca's parents would have let me marry her if they knew about him. We just hadn't gotten around to it. We missed their wedding because it was during our time share in Buckingham Palace. We are trying to get Alexia into the High Society in England so she can marry off to someone who is rich l and possibly even royal, so we could not bear to miss such an important event. I know it sounds bad but in my defense, it was a very crucial party! Paul and I were never very close so we weren't invited to his birthday balls or his dinner parties. And whenever we made an effort to see one another something just always came up. I figure now with Alexia and Phillip both in their teenage years, fifteen and thirteen respectively, they can now deal with poverty my brother and his wife live in.

I am snapped out of my thoughts by a cold gust of wind and snow blowing into the limo, "We are here, Sir," James adds as if it were not already obvious enough. 

I step out of the limo first and look up to the highrise building. I offer my hand to Francesca and Alexia and help them out of the car. Phillip hops out on his own refusing my help. Francesca pulls her fur cape tighter around her shoulders, while Alexia does up the last buttons on her coat. I look down at the slip of paper in my hand and lead my family over to a panel of numbers on the wall out side the apartment building. 17b. I click the button and a crackling of electricity comes over the speaker. 

"Sally and Paul's apartment how may I help you?" A young voice says over the line.

"I'm Eric Blofis, with my wife and children, I'm here to have dinner with the Blofis'," I tell the person.

"Come on up!" The door clicks and I tug it open and hold it for my family before letting it slam behind me with a cold breeze.

The lobby is dark with only one elevator at the end of the foyer, "It's rather dark, isn't it," Alexia comments, looping her arm through mine as Phillip presses the elevator button.