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dumb fish child
21 January 2017 @ 08:12 pm
When the moment is just right you see fire in their eyes [Week 1, Saturday post-trial]  
[It's later in the evening when he and Annabeth come back from the lake with Mrs. O'Leary. They'd talked a lot, thought things through and caught up on comparing notes and he genuinely thought he would be okay. He thought it would be better to catch up with people, but then he thinks about two people who also struggled a lot with hard choices in this trial.

Noctis, who chose to interrogate Tiara when no one else wanted to. Harry, who questioned and defied the Sheriff wanting to protect everyone else.

He feels as though those two would be good to talk to, figure out what to do before this happened again. It's only when he's back to the hotel that he knocks on Noctis's door, briefly telling him to come upstairs when he's ready and meet him and Harry in their room. Heading to his room and letting Mrs. O'Leary in, he leaves the door open for Noctis to follow whenever he's ready and isn't at all surprised to find Harry there already.]

So...show of hands. Who thought this totally sucked?
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dumb fish child
21 January 2017 @ 08:21 pm
Can anybody stop this thing before my head explodes, or my head starts to ring [W1, Sat post-trial]  
[It's pretty late, long after most people have retired for the evening but not Percy. Instead, he'd stepped out to take another walk to clear his head and found himself settled in the lounge alone. He figured out how to start a fire, not at all worried that someone might come sneak up on him and kill him.

They've seen enough death today, he thinks.

The longer he's alone, the more his thoughts drift to several things. He thinks of the trial, he thinks of what Tiara told him, thinks of things from home, and Annabeth remains at the front of his mind. More than anything he needs to keep her alive now. Keep them alive.

And thinking of Annabeth leads to thinking of things that remind him of Annabeth, and that's why he turns his attention to the small library. He scans the book titles, eyes narrowing as he tries to read them and decide what ones might be nice to take to her later.

This is the scene anyone will find upon walking into the lounge somewhere in the neighborhood of midnight. He's in his sleep clothes (pajama pants he picked up from the tailor and his original ripped (and now thankfully clean) t-shirt and surrounded by books on the floor, mumbling titles to himself. He's perfectly okay being alone, but he hears footsteps nearby. His work stops and he looks up, not quite looking at the entrace of the lounge yet.]

Who's there?
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