The Half-Blood Project

33/3/ Boiling

Annabeth Chase 

He almost didn't make it. 

We sat in the little living room, Geryon had Eurytion tied us to the chairs and Tyson didn't seem to want to even try and break from the ropes, kept eyeing the growling and glaring at the three of us. 

"Sorry darlin', nothing personal." Eurytion gave me a sympathetic look but I didn't care. 

"Because selling me to a Titan warlord that is going to destroy Olympus is nothing personal," I mumbled and Eurytion gave me a pained, saddened look before turning his attention to his boss. 

Geryon took a seat across from us and cracked open a cold, old looking root beer, and sipped it carefully like he was expecting for there to be poison in the drink. 

"Now, your little water friend better be quick because I have been missin' killing as of late, not much demigod meat to get these days." Geryon grinned and downed his root beer quickly, crumpling the can in his bare fist and dropping it into the brown and red-stained carpet. 

"You better have a plan Annabeth, the chances of Percy coming back are real low," Tyson whispered to me. 

"Dont worry, Percy will come back." 

"That's pretty unlikely." 

"Don't underestimate the guy. He'll come back." 

Tyson didn't know Percy all that well. And that was okay, I didn't expect the guy to. And besides, Percy had been somewhat avoiding his monstrous half-brother. And I didn't expect Percy to be all brotherly towards Tyson. 

Percy was good at walling off his emotions, replacing them with artificial ones. Being a leader, that wasn't fake, that was all-natural and it came easy to the dark-haired boy, and I saw that. But showing love and happiness? It came harder for the two of us, well any of us. Showing emotion like that would leave you vulnerable and that got you killed. 

Emotions tied us down. 

They stopped us. 

They dragged us. 

They hurt us. 

Geryon got up from the old splintering chair and left the room, mumbling something about more root-beer 

Eurytion sat across from us. The stocky cowherd leaned on his fist and looked at us with curiously reddish eyes. They seemed older, like something of an immortal but lesser, not the light I saw in them as I saw in the gods,  but a darker, sadder depth to it. 

"You're immortal aren't you," I spoke softly and Eurytion seemed surprised, his eyebrows shot up to his hairline and his eyes widened to the size of dinner plates. 

"Five hundred and fifty-four years," Euyrtion said quietly, sadly, his eyes cast down to the floor and his shoulders slumped. "Son of Ares. No point in killing me after the World War, I was already bound to Geryon for a three hundred year service for stealing his cattle. But I enjoy the work." 

That sounded so incredibly sad it took a short shot at my heart. How could someone be tied to another, a slave for three hundred years for only attempting to steal cattle? It was horrible. Immortality sounds like being tied down and forced to live, watching friends, family die all while you stayed tethered to the world of the living. 

"I'm sorry," I whispered and looked to the stained carpet like he was. 

"Nah, you're a fine doll. I only got a hundred and twenty-two left here and besides, my bets on you killin' Geryoisre in the green zone. Geryon is a slow healer you know." Eurytion laughed without a trace of humor in his voice.