[004. At The Library]

At supper, Lian swerves away from her usual seat beside Chiron and Mr D and paves her path toward the Zeus table. She sets her tray and sits down in front of Thalia, who fixes her with a questioning look in her blue eyes.

"I'm confused," Lian says by way of explanation. "You're confused. Talking is supposed to help, right?"

Talking helps, is what Hermes had once said to Ma, a long time back. When he first started to frequent them, Ma expressed great disdain that he would even dare to do so. They had secrets aplenty between them, Lian is certain.

Ma never reacted well to Hermes. But Lian and Thalia are a different story.

"Right." A smile flickers on Thalia's face, foretelling her joke. "Can't have you getting me all vulnerable and leaving me heartbroken, though."

"I do not need to get you vulnerable to break your heart," Lian retorts. It's true; they have grown attached to each other. "I can just leave."

"I'm still trying to figure out if you have a sense of humor."

"It comes and goes."

Thalia stabs a piece of roasted broccoli with her fork. "You hardly ever talk about yourself."

Lian strains her memory to see if that is true. She comes to the easy conclusion that she does talk about herself, but usually only with Hermes — a habit, really. In retrospect, having a god as her sole emotional outlet seems like a stupid decision. Would he grow bored of her sooner or later? More importantly, how much would it pain her, if he did?

"There is not much to say," Lian grounds herself in the conversation. No need to trail off like this. "I lived a solitary life, until I didn't."

"That's not what I'm asking." She raises her eyebrows. "The gods that seem to drop in all the time for you?"

Lian shrugs. A gesture so unusual she feels conscious seconds into it. "They showed up one day. And then they never left."

Thalia leans back, studying Lian with a newfound curiosity. "You make it sound so casual, like they're stray cats that wandered into your life and decided to stay."

Lian chuckles; a low sound that echoes a touch of weariness. Perhaps Apollo is, but Hermes is definitely not a stray cat — his first visit had a purpose, whatever it was, that he fulfilled through that conversation with Ma. Prophecies, Olympus, what-not. It faded out of significance in no time at all.

"Stray gods, I guess. I've learned they have a penchant for finding their way into places they're not welcome."

"They won't be seen here anytime soon then," Thalia says. "It's just. . . difficult to believe."

Lian twirls her noodles. Flits her gaze to her plate for a fleeting, guilty moment. "I had no idea about you."

Thalia doesn't say anything.

"I mean, I knew the gods had demigod kids from time to time," she continues. "From the stories. Some of them would show up to Aiaia, especially after Ma took down the spells. But I didn't know there was a camp. Or a war."

Up until now, Lian had lived a secluded life, so far from the epicentre of such disasters. A different world. Home.

It did not concern you, as Hermes had said. Why? Was his son not important enough to make it into his stories?

"What exactly happened?" Thalia asks.

It is a vague question.

But she supposes it is meant to be vague and all-encompassing, so she begins an attempt to summarize Aiaia — a task much menial compared to summarizing her feelings.

"Stories," she says simply. "Hermes had stories. Ma was much opposed to everything, but I guess the solitude got to her. And it's only so long before you tire of one person's company."

The off-hand comment about Ma earns a nod of understanding. Lian abhors that she is likening Ma to the Olympians in a manner even as slight as this, but she does not voice it. She is protective of her life — its experiences and its sanctuaries; she has to be after so many have stomped into her home and taken it in stride.

Though Thalia is a different case, Lian wishes they would move on to a better topic of conversation.

"Things changed," Lian continues, eager to wrap this up quickly. "Annabeth and Percy showed up. And here I am."

Here she is.

It's the most she can offer Thalia because it's the extent of what she herself knows. Where Ma is, what she's up to, if she's still at Aiaia, whether she's planning on coming for Lian — she's asked these questions to herself for the entirety of the past few months. Ma will not be found unless she wants to be found. And her daughter is no exception, Lian has realized.

"Do you miss Aiaia?"

Lian arches her thin brows.

What kind of question—

"Of course I miss Aiaia," she says, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. "It's my home. I doubt there's a place like Aiaia in the mortal world."

Thalia nods. "Right. It's just . . . well, I guess it's just that a lot of us here don't have homes worth missing. Or even going back to. Or even homes at all."

Okay.

"You've got capricious parents," Lian says.

"Can't even fight you on that."

Lian's aware that Annabeth's family condition had been on the mend, though. After years of being estranged, she'd finally decided to give her father a second chance. Which means for better or for worse there are people who'll be concerned about her missing beyond just the handful of them at camp.

Both Lian and Thalia crane their necks to have a look at Percy on the Poseidon table, as if working through similar thoughts.

He's resting his cheek on one hand, face smushed, while the other absentmindedly toys with his food. His forehead is creased in concentration and his lips quirked downward. He doesn't even notice the two of them gawking at him for a good minute.

"You're taking it better than him," Lian says, turning back.

"He's thinking," Thalia says pointedly.

"Yeah. That can't be a good sign."

"He's gonna try something."

"He's kind of an idiot like that." And, well, for Annabeth — he'd do anything.

Thalia fixes her with a very blue, very firm stare.

"What?" Lian asks. "Don't look at me like that."

"Lian," Thalia says. "He's gonna do something stupid. And since Annabeth isn't here, we've got to make sure he doesn't commit treason or something!"

"No." Lian frowns. "I was okay with playing the diplomat between you two and Mr D. But I'm not taking responsibility for whatever stupidity he's cooking up now."

Why should she?

He's his own person. His decisions are his. If he can't control his emotions for a bit of rational thinking — well, then, that's his problem.

"I don't particularly want to do it," Thalia says, "But we're on the same team now. We need all the support we can get if they're going to let us look for Annabeth."

"I've never been on a team," Lian grumbles.

She quickly realizes that was the wrong thing to say.

Thalia suddenly brightens up and shoots an almost blindingly conniving smile at her. "There's no better way to get some team spirit in you than capture-the-flag."

"Don't even—"

"I know you're not half bad with a sword. Plus, you've got really strong arms from what I'm guessing is all the tree-climbing you probably used to do."

"Uh, Thalia—"

"And won't it be fun to defeat the Hunters?"

"I actually admire them quite a lot—"

But Thalia has set her mind on it. She will not stop for anything. Why she wishes to include Lian, a girl as useless with a sword as with magic, is beyond her. She just hopes Capture-the-flag doesn't succeed in mobilizing the demigods' collective disdain of her and turn into a game of skewer-the-Lian.

Dinner turns into a losing game, then.

As the noise fades into the background and Thalia's voice absorbs her attention, Lian thinks that even this losing game is extremely fun.

They don't bid goodnight before Thalia makes her promise to ensure Percy doesn't do stupid things. She's in a better position to do so, after all— being that she's virtually free. The whole day. Every day.

Despite her reservations, the next day, Lian keeps a close eye on Percy Jackson.

He greets the day by sulking at his table during breakfast, making for quite a scene as the pale sun lights up his lone figure. He then promptly disappears into the meadows with his nervous satyr friend Grover, watching the other satyrs play chase with the nymphs. His mood visibly deteriorates as the campers scatter for their respective daily activities.

She joins him for javelin-throwing class and picks the spot next to him for target practice. When he gives her a questioning stare, she shrugs and says, "They put all the beginners together."

"Way to say you suck."

"So do you."

"Why are you even here?" He asks. "You don't have to do anything you don't want to."

She twirls the javelin in her hand—an old dull thing made of steel— that is entirely unsuitable for her soft, uncalloused hands. "Thalia's making me participate in capture-the-flag. Apparently, I'm on team demigod now."

"Are the Hunters really that good?" Percy complains, mostly to himself.

They practice side-by-side. Lian manages to hit the target five out of ten times, which she accepts as a reasonable feat for someone who'd never held a javelin before. Percy manages to hit the target as well, just not his own.

He eventually gets scolded and kicked out by the demigod overseeing their practice after getting distracted and throwing his javelin before he gets out of the way.

Lian chooses to finish her hour.

Once she's done, she decides to make her way to the swords so she can feel better about being decent at some sort of weapon at least. That's when she spots Percy sitting at the empty chariot stands, sulking. He makes for a sorry sight indeed, peering at Chiron over with the archery kids, then at Peleus the dragon guarding the camp's borders. She's debating whether to give him some company simply for the sake of it when he suddenly gets up, brushes his pants, and sprints off toward the Big House.

Lian sighs.

Of course, just as they'd presumed, he's going to do something stupid.

Taking in a deep breath and telling herself to relax because all adolescents are this aggravating, she runs after him.

The Big House is quiet and empty during this time of day, putting into perspective the bigness of it all. The door's creak echoes as she cracks it open, followed by the sound of hurried footsteps above. She reaches the base of the stairs taking long steps and puffs out a breath when she finds him there.

"Percy," she whisper-shouts, "Don't be an idiot."

He narrows his eyes at her. "You're spying on me!"

"Yes," she agrees. "I am, because we knew you'd do something deranged like this."

"I'm the only one here being reasonable."

"You won't find Annabeth in an attic," she reasons. "Or alone."

He scowls. "I'm not going to wait around and do nothing."

"We just have to negotiate a little with Mr D; give it a day or two, then I'm sure—"

He snaps, "Annabeth might not be alive till then!"

A pause.

"What?"

He hesitates, before thinking better of it, and says, "Look, I know you and Annabeth are friends. I'll tell you — but you're either with me, or I'm going alone. You can't stop me."

Mustering up her wiser and older energy, Lian says, "You have no money."

He blinks at that.

But it's true. From what she's seen of the modern mortal world, they've got about a zero chance of survival without money. And between the two of them, she's the one in possession of a certain trickster god's credit card.

Instead of a snarky comeback for that, Percy decides to switch tactics. "You know what it's like when someone you love goes missing."

When did he get smart?

But Lian doesn't bother pondering over an explanation for that question, because he's hit the mark.

She does know what it feels like when someone you love goes missing.

And the hope that dies down with each passing day that they don't come back.

She avoids thinking of it by straying her thoughts to passing distractions: resenting this camp and its occupants, then the next day sympathizing with them, waiting for that sun god to visit because she knows for sure he always comes back, letting herself spend days rotting in her bed whenever she has a nasty bout of the sickness instead of preparing the medicine on time.

Bitterness has become her routine, much similar to the early days of the school.

What had Apollo said to her all those months ago? That she is not bound by their rules; that she can go out and look for Ma if she really wants to. Why hasn't she? Simply because she holds onto Ma's promise to come for her.

But it's been so long.

Too long.

Must she succumb to this dreadful life?

"Fine," Lian says, after a long moment of silence. "I am with you."

The attic is dusty and smelly and cluttered with the most outlandish collection of items. There are taxidermied creatures ranging from bright orange snakes to harpies, along with swords bent to resemble monster heads and shields with monster bite chunks ripped out of them.

"What an unpleasant ambience," Lian comments, stepping in behind Percy.

"You haven't even met the star of the show yet," Percy replies.

She follows his gaze to the far end of the attic, where—

Wow, she thinks. "I thought the Oracle of Delphi was supposed to be beautiful."

"I don't think she can keep up her skincare routine these days."

Clearly.

The legendary Oracle of Delphi is a shriveled up skeleton; dark gray and rotting, as well as emitting a stench even more unpleasant than the decorations. She's propped up on a rickety stool, wearing an old tie-dyed dress, accessorized with a collection of leather necklaces.

How the mighty have fallen.

Percy walks towards her. "Uh, hi. What's up?"

In response, the atmosphere of the room shifts. Lian feels an itch underneath her skin; her body's way of alerting her of magic. With all the demigods around her, she'd adapted to the echoes of their godly magic.

But this is different.

More powerful. Ancient.

She takes a step forward. "Well, she's certainly the Oracle."

Percy misinterprets her comment and explains, "She's supposed to spew green mist from her mouth."

"I believe you."

"I have a question," he says, a little louder this time, "I need to know about Annabeth. How can I save her?"

Lian feels her blood rush to her ears. The itching grows stronger the closer she gets to the mummy. Before she can think better of it, she reaches out and brushes her fingers against the Oracle's skull.

The humming stops.

And then a crashing wave of green mist spews out of the mummy's mouth, pushing both of them to the opposite end of the room. Something digs into her lower back, but she cannot make it out over the blinding smoke.

It lingers for a few minutes.

Neither of them say anything because opening their mouth would mean taking in more of that rotten egg-like smell.

After it dissipates, Percy's voice cuts through the air. "She doesn't like being poked."

Both of them are slumped against the cobwebbed window pane. The Oracle is still on her stool, as if she hadn't just attacked them with her stinky breath.

"I did not poke her," Lian retorts. "I simply felt her magic. It was powerful."

"She's angry that you felt her magic, then." He huffs. "We can forget the prophecy."

Gods, he's so indignant. "It's not as if she was replying to your pleas anyway."

As they make their way downstairs, Lian suggests that Percy join her in the parlor for a while. If, gods forbid, the campers had seen those green clouds, their best bet would be to play it off by saying they were simply enjoying a game of cards. Rather than leaving and risking being seen, which would incriminate them.

Because they are, indeed, sneaking around and breaking rules now.

Lian is no stranger to shirking authorities. She did it out of spite back home, safe in the knowledge that no menial punishment Ma threw at her could overpower the extreme satisfaction of separating herself from the rest of those witches.

But now that she's doing this for someone else . . .

It's not about sticking it out until the right moment to get caught. It's about not getting caught at all. 

Author's Note:

Next chapter we set up the plot only a bit more...and then the quest and with it lots of chaos!!! That's when the story properly kicks off....and I can't wait hehe. 

Very dialogue-heavy chapter but I think dialogue is very important to set up dynamics between characters. And those same dynamics are going to carry into the quest, so!