(Some other small, instinctive part of his brain sends small tendrils of water out that push the crowds below him back, before lashing together, arching over their heads and freezing, performing a protective shell around them.) He summons earthquakes, hurricanes, and utterly destroys the earth below him. The world he knew, that bright white room, may be gone- but that voice will stay with him. Stop her from waking, the voice he trusts whispers in his mind. He is held above the ground below, water encasing his lower half, keeping him halted safely above the roaring hundreds beneath him, encased in their own metal armor. Survival instinct or muscle memory- he’s not sure which- has him reaching instinctively for the ocean to his right, pulling a wave towards himself with an almighty tug in his gut, and allowing it to cradle him, slowing his descent to a stop. He's learned by now to trust a voice in his head so long as it isn't his own.)Īnd then one day the floor of the plain, bright room is cracking beneath him, dropping him into a bright blue sky, the colors alarmingly vibrant to his incredibly cleansed palette. There's never been anything but this plain, bright room, with its invisible servants and whispered words in his head to do this to become stronger, to stop thinking and embrace the power. Little by little, the faces of his friends don't burn against his eyelids.īut he always wakes up with images of a half man/half goat creature running in a wedding dress, of guinea pigs turning into pirates, trees turning to girls, and a beautiful girl holding up the sky. He trains and eats and stops trying to remember. He gives up caring, so long as he has control over it.
Soon, his emotions join the cascade of slippery sand that slides past him. (It's not long before he wonders if he imagined them in the first place.) He tries to remember his friends, those outside of the small, infinite, gaping, crushing, vastly encompassing silent room, but the memories slip through his fingers like sand.
(He falls into a maddeningly consistent routine of eat, train, sleep, repeat. He screams and yells and bangs on the walls but no one ever comes for him.) He doesn't know how long he has been here, or how long he will be here. (Invisible servants provide food and water and clothing and means to train but- Percy doesn't know where he is. Everything is coming along nicely, and it doesn't take her long to forget the fragility of a mortal’s sanity. (After all, she can't give up her secret weapon for something as petty as friendship and love. She laughs and dissolves into a shimmer of glitter. Storms of lightning just as intimidating as a raging sea.)Īnd when Leo frees her from her prison, and Annabeth grabs her by the gilded collar of her dress and demands to know where the hell you took my boyfriend. So, really, one cannot blame her if she isn't thinking terribly hard about the decor as she secrets away her weapon.īecause that's all he is, to her. Of course, after taking the Roman boy, the goddess’ powers are drained, not easily replenished from where she is trapped within a cage. Hera plucks Percy Jackson from New York, where he is sat studying in a library, and sets him in a cold, plain room.
She pats herself on the back for a job well done, a plan set in motion. He's not quite sure what’s going on but- well, that's ok.
#Beneath a steel sky frozen skin#
Juno plucks Jason Grace from Camp Jupiter, sets him on a bus where's he's holding hands with a pretty girl, who has dark skin and braids in her choppy hair.
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