aeithalian

[aeithalian]

Chapter 30!!

[here]

[aeithalian]

Chapter 29!!

[here]

[aeithalian]

WHO WAS GOING TO TELL ME CONCLAVE (2024) SLAPS SO HARD

Ralph Fiennes was robbed of that Oscar

i'm not even catholic and i fucking loved it and Vincent Benitez is baby girl

i mean, come on... doubting Thomas are you KIDDING ME

[aeithalian]

Chapter 28!!

[here]

[aeithalian]

RIP Haymitch Abernathy, you would have loved Halloween by Noah Kahan

[aeithalian]

Tips for calling your representatives/senators!!

Coming from someone who actually TAKES those calls, here's my insider information.

When you call, you're probably going to end up talking to an intern. The interns are literally ONLY there to answer phones, and they're usually not allowed to tell you how the congressperson feels about something if there hasn't been a public release on their stance. Interns are not the ones in charge of putting that out, and they usually won't know how the congressperson actually feels about a specific issue until it comes out.

When they say 'I'll pass this along to the congressperson', they're usually not having a sit-down convo with the congressperson about what you specifically have called about (I have done that, but it's a very rare occasion and I didn't get to say a whole lot). They will take notes on what you've said (or, they should), and will tally what people have called about. Your GENERAL concern will get through to the congressperson, not your specific comments.

If you have multiple concerns, make multiple calls. If you do it all at once, it won't get tallied quite the same. I would recommend calling multiple times for multiple concerns, BUT if the staff picks up on the fact that you keep calling, they'll be less inclined to input your comments every time. That's why I'd recommend calling multiple times throughout the day, not all at once (if you're able, of course). But PLEASE don't say 'I'll be calling again soon'. Red flag.

Yes, interns/staff do read your emails and letters. It goes through the same process as phone calls - it gets logged into the system and tallied with the rest of the phone calls of the days.

Please don't be mean. The interns are allowed to hang up on you. But actually, a lot of staff (Republican offices included) are more left-leaning than you think they are (read: everybody is sick of Elon Musk), and usually just want to help you. But it gets exhausting after a while - they take calls ALL day so it really is appreciated when you're patient and somewhat respectful.

I would not recommend refusing to give your contact information. Usually, they can get your phone number off caller ID, but literally CAN'T log your concerns unless they have your name (first AND last) and zip code (to verify you live in the district/state).

If you want a response on something, you'll have to ask for that when you call. Most of the time, interns are told to assume you aren't requesting a response. In the software I work with, it just means that your message gets grouped with a bunch of others and you get a form letter by one of the members of the congressperson's legislative staff. The congressperson themselves does not have a hand in drafting that response, but might have a hand in approving it.

No, you can't speak to the congressperson directly. No, you cannot get a hand-written letter from the congressman. No, you can't get a phone call from the congressperson. Honestly, they are rarely in their offices, and when they are, they're not stopping to chat with interns and/or constituents.

Scripts from something like 5Calls: I'll warn you, a lot of interns/staff who answer phones tune out the second you start reading one of those scripts because they've probably already heard it a hundred times before. They don't copy it down, they just take note of the general topic and your position on it and smile and nod until you finish. Not saying scripts are bad! By all means, keep using them if you're phone shy/need something to say. Just be warned, it doesn't get copied down word-for-word.

DON'T ASK LEADING QUESTIONS JUST BECAUSE YOU WANT THE INTERN TO SAY SOMETHING STUPID. They're literally kids. Being combative/argumentative is really not helping your case and doesn't really accomplish anything besides pissing them off/making them sad.

If you want to make a comment/concern/complaint: call your congressperson's DC office. If you need help with something (VA, Social Security, Medicaid, etc.), call the district office that is closest to you. They're staffed by two completely different types of people. DC offices do legislation (law making), district offices do constituent services (case work).

On that note, don't show up to your district office planning to protest. That's not what they're there for, and they really don't have much contact with the congressperson at all. If you can, do that at the DC office.

And please, for the love of the Holy Lord Above, DON'T CALL A REPRESENTATIVE/SENATOR THAT ISN'T YOURS. Your comments don't get logged, nobody likes it, and you're wasting both of our time (and, if I'm being frank, it's annoying as fuck to have to listen to someone outside of the district when there's a call from an actual constituent waiting). Just... don't.

Keep up the good work, homies. Keep calling!

[aeithalian]

Hiiii

I finally caught up with your toa fanfic and omg THANK YOU for adding my queen Cyrene! I was suspecting she was the friend Apollo mentioned earlier but I was still so happy when she appeared. I also love how you wrote her. She is my favourite Apollo's lover ever. I drew her recently but now after reading your newest chapters I want to draw her again haha

l Can't wait for the next chapter, love your writting 🩵💛

AAAAH THANK YOU

Cyrene is my queen. I love her so so much, and I'm having so much fun writing her

As always, LOVE your art

[aeithalian]

Chapter 27!

[here]

[aeithalian]

WAIT HOLD ON IT'S WORKING

...how are my fellow 'muricans feeling right now

[aeithalian]

I just think more women should start really getting into politics so men don't want to share our space anymore.

[aeithalian]

...how are my fellow 'muricans feeling right now

[aeithalian]

Percy Jackson and the Herald of Destruction

Fandom: Trials of Apollo Rating: Gen Genre: Family/Friendship Characters: Apollo, Percy, Estelle A visit to the Jackson-Blofis household brings Apollo face-to-face with one Estelle Jackson-Blofis once more, and her doting big brother. A toasecretsanta submission from @tsarinatorment for Melonyan [AO3], using the prompt "Apollo, Percy Jackson and Estelle Bloufis-Jackson inspired, something sweet maybe a little angsty!" I have shamelessly used aeithalian's Estelle theory in this fic, which can be found detailed here. It's been a while since I last wrote Apollo pov, and I barely ever write Percy, so this was a bit of an adventure to put together. It's certainly closer to fluff than angst, I think, but I still hope you like it, Melonyan!

As a general rule, gods did not knock on the doors of mortal homes.  Nor did they ring intercoms and wait patiently to be let in.  Why would they?  They were gods, and bound by neither mortal social niceties, nor the limitations of mortal entrances.  It was perfectly possible – and normal – for a god to simply materialise in the best chair in the abode (opinions on what constituted the best varied drastically).

And yet, there Apollo was, pressing the button for the intercom for the Jackson-Blofis household.

Belatedly, he realised that the occupants were unlikely to be expecting him to take the mortal entrance, not now he was a fully fledged god again, rather than a vulnerable mortal body that couldn’t do useful tricks like light-teleportation, but the button had already been pressed, and Apollo was not about to do a knock-and-run.  Besides, he’d been invited, yes, but generally even invited guests were expected to use the front door.

There was also probably no harm in allowing Percy control over who entered his home – and how they entered.  Olympus knew they’d taken enough control from the demigod over the past few years.

Really, it was a wonder the boy – almost adult now, closer to young man than boy – was willing to tolerate Apollo’s invasion of his home again.

The intercom connected with a buzz.

“Who is it?” Percy’s voice demanded, crackling slightly through the technology.  Modern technology and demigods didn’t always mix well, although they persevered remarkably as society kept advancing and their choice was to keep up or turn luddite.

Apollo cleared his throat, an unnecessary action but one that helped announce his presence – and a long ingrained habit that Apollo wasn’t in any real hurry to shake.  He liked the way it brought everyone’s attention to him before he started speaking.

“It’s me,” he announced, the words falling away into a silence that Percy didn’t break, and after a few awkward moments, Apollo remembered that Percy couldn’t actually see him from his apartment.  “Apollo,” he added on belatedly, and a little awkwardly.

Percy’s silent judgement was impressive, given they were several floors apart and couldn’t actually see each other.  Clearly to the son of Poseidon that was a minor inconvenience that was easily ignored.

He also, more pressingly, wasn’t letting Apollo in.

“Paul invited me?”  The words weren’t supposed to come out as a question, because there was no question about it.  Paul Blofis had certainly invited Apollo into the humble Jackson-Blofis abode.  Although, one could argue that the question was actually asking whether or not Percy had been informed by his step father that Paul had invited a god over for an afternoon.

Those seemed to be the magic words, however, as with a put-upon sigh that made Percy’s thoughts on the matter of Apollo’s presence in his home crystal clear, he finally, finally pressed the button to open the front door of the apartment block and gave Apollo entry into the building.  Apollo did not waste the invitation, slipping in immediately and following the familiar route to Percy Jackson’s apartment – familiar, because while Lester’s memories as Apollo had been more full of holes than one of Britomartis’ nets, Apollo could recall everything he had experienced as Lester in pin-sharp clarity.  Many of those things he would rather forget, admittedly, but traipsing towards the front door of the Jackson-Blofis apartment had not been, inherently, full of uncomfortable trauma.

In fact, Sally Jackson had been incredibly welcoming to poor, unfortunate Lester, and Apollo was not afraid to admit that he was hoping to find some of her seven layer dip waiting for him – or some of her blue cookies, he supposed, but between the two it was the seven layer dip that had captured his heart.  Its inclusion of his cabin number certainly didn’t hurt.

He was not greeted by a seven layer dip, tragically.  Nor was he greeted by a plate of blue cookies, or Sally Jackson at all.  Paul Blofis was also summarily absent, which seemed a little rude given Apollo was here on the man’s invitation.

No, instead he was greeted by his demigod cousin, who looked no more pleased to see him now than he had been to see a mortal, beaten-up Lester and trash-covered street urchin Meg in the middle of one chilly January.  Percy was not alone, however.  Clinging to him, but staring out at Apollo with wide sea-green eyes that almost identically matched those of her big brother, was young Estelle.

There were not many things that unnerved Apollo – well, maybe there were a few, but most did not apply to this situation, or indeed most situations that he allowed himself to enter nowadays – but one Estelle Jackson-Blofis managed to do exactly that.  It was nothing the young girl had done – at scarcely a year old, there was very little she was capable of doing, beyond apparently chewing on her big brother’s hoodie string, which Percy had either given up discouraging, or hadn’t even noticed she was doing.  Indeed, to look at her, there was nothing untoward.

True, she had the exact same eye colour as her demigod brother, who had inherited Poseidon’s preferred appearance, which raised a few questions about her origins although Apollo could detect nothing as strong as demigodliness about her.  Strains of a distant legacy?  Yes, but the same strains ran through Sally Jackson, so that was to be expected.  Estelle was no demigod.

She was simply a young, mortal child, who coincidentally had the same eye colour as Apollo’s uncle, and his dark hair, too, but Paul also had the same dark hair, and Apollo had no difficulty in recognising her as being his biological daughter.

He almost, almost, wouldn’t have known any different than what he saw now.  Indeed, if he hadn’t seen her as a much younger child, before her original baby-fluff on the top of her head thinned away and grew back strong and dark, Apollo would have been as clueless as his father was – hoped his father was, and the lack of any world-ending lightning storms suggested that so far the king of the gods remained ignorant.

If he hadn’t seen the greys threading through her dark hair, salt-and-pepper, almost but not quite the same patterning as Griscelli syndrome, during his last visit as Lester, he would never have known that the girl was a ticking time bomb, a catalyst that could ignite at any moment.

The signal for Zeus to end the current age of humanity.  And Zeus will destroy this race of mortal men also when they come to have grey hair on the temples at their birth, Hesiod had written millennia ago.

The Fates had made an interesting choice, choosing the younger sister of one Perseus Jackson to be the herald, Apollo thought.  The loyalty of Percy to those he clung to – his loved ones, family and closest friends – was not something Apollo would’ve chosen to pit against the fall of humanity at the hands of his father, but he was not one of the Fates himself, and understood their workings only when they chose to reveal them.

Needless to say, they had not chosen to reveal their machinations surrounding Estelle to Apollo.  If anything, she was hiding in plain sight – nothing about her was Concealed from his sight.  If he Looked he could see the spiderweb of her lifetimes, the possibilities glimmering in the sun like gossamer spun silk stretching out towards infinity, the same as any other mortal.  The only reason Apollo knew what he was seeing was incomplete was because he’d seen the grey at her temples as a young baby; without that knowledge, he would never have noticed that not all the threads that should be there were there – and he knew his father did not see the threads the way he did.

If Apollo could not see any of her Fates where his father learned of her existence and chose to act upon it, then his father would not see them, either.

“I suppose you’d better come in,” Percy said, disrupting his musings and taking his active attention away from the young, innocent herald of destruction and onto her older brother instead.  He still didn’t sound happy to see Apollo, and certainly wasn’t eager to invite him into his home, but his irreverence for the gods didn’t seem to quite extend to slamming doors in their faces.  “Mom and Paul will be back soon, they had to go out for a few minutes…”  He trailed off, but Apollo could read the judgement in his face just fine: Did you have to pick when they were gone to arrive?

Somewhat embarrassingly, it hadn’t occurred to Apollo to check that his inviter was home when he’d arrived, although in his defence Paul Blofis had specified the afternoon in question, so surely it was common sense to assume that he would be around.

“That’s quite alright,” he said, stepping over the threshold now that he had the invitation and breezing into the apartment.  It certainly wasn’t the neatest place he had ever set foot in – nor was it the neatest he had ever seen this particular apartment, either.  Apollo’s eyes slid over to Estelle again, who still had the end of Percy’s hoodie string in her mouth and was now gripping at the rest of it with her chubby little fists, too.  Percy seemed to have finally realised what was happening to his clothes and was trying to get her to let go whilst kicking the front door shut with his foot.

Herald of destruction, indeed.  There was no doubt that most of the mess was the fault of young Estelle, given it was mostly a minefield of various age-appropriate toys scattered across the floor in a child-friendly version of caltrops.  At least Estelle had not yet been deemed old enough to be introduced to Lego; scattered Lego bricks were far more lethal than caltrops, even to the soles of godly feet.

As it was, combined with the tipped-over container hanging off the edge of a low table, Apollo got the impression the toys were freshly-scattered, just in time for his arrival.  There was the faintest tint of red in the tips of Percy’s ears as he looked away from Estelle and realised Apollo had noticed the mess.

“Uh, sorry about all that,” he said, before trying harder to reclaim the knotted end of the hoodie string from his sister’s mouth with no success.  It appeared that Estelle’s stubbornness easily rivalled that of her older brother – Apollo felt a flash of sympathy for Sally Jackson.  One headstrong child was already a lot of work.  Two of them…

He ignored the small thought that pointed out that both of them had been born with heavy destinies hanging over their heads, like thunderbolt-shaped guillotines.

“It’s fine.”  Apollo waved his hand dismissively.  “You have not seen Ares’ weapon collection.”  Admittedly that was a little misleading – Ares loved his weapons and would never leave his spears, swords or shields littered around like this.  However, Apollo’s first comparative thought had been caltrops for a reason.

“Can’t say I’m planning on seeing it, either,” Percy scoffed, which was a wise stance for any demigod to take.  Perhaps Ares’ own children might enjoy the experience, but most would find it to be not-so-pleasant.  For Percy, who did not get on with Ares in the slightest, it would no doubt be more frustrating than anything.  “Estelle, no.  Don’t eat that.”

The chubby little bundle that heralded the possible destruction of mankind giggled – not an innocent giggle, no.  The giggle of a mischievous child who knew they were misbehaving, and also knew no-one was going to do anything about it.  From Percy’s sigh and slumping shoulders, he also knew he wasn’t going to be able to do anything about it.

Apollo gestured at the floor.  “Did you want a hand?” he offered, knowing better than to offer to hold the child herself – and not wanting to, not wanting to do anything that might get Zeus’ eyes on her more than they already would be by virtue of being related to Percy Jackson – but more than willing to help a long suffering older brother clean up his younger sibling’s mess.

It was a position he’d found himself in more than once, although his younger half-siblings tended to create messes of far more epic proportions than a single disrupted crate of children’s toys, and attempts to do anything about it were heavily dissuaded on Olympus.  Still, he’d cleaned up a few of Artemis’ messes over the years…

“Sure,” Percy said distractedly, perching on the edge of a couch so that his sister was now in his lap and not supported by his arm, thereby leaving him with twice the hands available to try and get Estelle’s destructive tendencies redirected towards something that wasn’t his clothes.  Apollo sincerely wished him luck with that endeavour.

For his part, with Percy’s permission granted, he knelt down and began to gather up Estelle’s impressive collection of toys, ruining their aspirations of being deadly caltrops by plucking them off the rug one by one and depositing them back in the crate, which he remembered to put upright after the first couple of toys spilled back out again.  Her collection truly betrayed her status as the beloved baby of the family – Apollo didn’t think he’d seen a child so young with quite so many toys, before.

All the better to cause chaos with, he supposed as he dropped a plushie satyr with one of his horns half torn off into the crate.

Millennia of being the centre of attention told Apollo when he was being watched, and the same prickle of awareness had him glancing back at Percy and Estelle, both of whom were staring at him with their identical sea-green eyes.  Estelle had yet to relinquish her hoodie-string snack, but Percy seemed to have forgotten that he was attempting to rescue it from her maw.

Apollo raised an eyebrow.  “Is… there something on my face?” he asked hesitantly, before a thought occurred to him and he craned his head around further.  “Or my back?  I swear, if Artemis put another of those kick me signs…”

“No!” Percy said, a little abruptly, before shaking his head.  “No, there’s nothing on your face.  Or your back..?”  He said the last bit like a question itself, as though it hadn’t occurred to him that some typical sibling shenanigans didn’t also occur to gods, even when the gods in question also happened to be twins.  “I just… didn’t expect you to clean up like that.”

Apollo sat back on his haunches, a well-chewed and still slightly damp hellhound plushie in one hand – oh the irony – and a slightly disturbing squishy skeleton in the other, and centred his attention more directly on Percy.  “Like what?” he asked.

“Like that,” Percy repeated, one hand abandoning the hoodie string rescue mission – not that it had been working on that quest for the past thirty seconds anyway – to gesture broadly at Apollo and the toys still to be cleared away.  “Instead of, I don’t know, just snapping your fingers or something?”

Apollo blinked, and looked back at Soggy-Hellhound and Squishy-Skelly.  He wanted to say that the thought hadn’t occurred to him, and it was true that it had barely occurred to him, a flicker of a thought dismissed before it could fully form, but in reality it boiled down to Estelle, again.  Bursts of godly power in the Jackson-Blofis apartment ran the risk of drawing his father’s eye, and Apollo was reasonably determined to minimise Zeus’ reasons for looking in their direction.

As it was, he was technically causing a risk by being there at all, but if he wasn’t being all godly while he was there, maybe Zeus wouldn’t look too closely.

There were some truths that were best off unspoken, though, and Apollo had no desire to speak into the world the danger that Estelle posed, to herself and humanity at large.  Percy would take it badly, no doubt, and Zeus would not miss such a declaration.

“I suppose some of my Lester habits haven’t quite left yet,” he said instead, which was true in its own way.  “Why, did you want me to?”  It was a dangerous question, because if Percy said yes…

But the son of Poseidon was already shaking his head, as Apollo had suspected he would.  “No, it’s fine,” he said.  “Maybe if she sees that it’s effort to clean up, even for a god, she’ll stop doing it.”  The look he sent his little sister was stern, but it was the sort of sternness that didn’t hold up to scrutiny and Apollo could easily see the bemusement behind the fake frown.

Privately, he thought the herald of destruction lurking behind the angelic face thrived on seeing others suffer through chores such as trying to stop her doing what she wanted, knowing they were doomed to fail.  The concept of hard work no doubt seemed fun to her, still safely in the stage of youth where everything she wanted fell neatly into place and only other people had to do boring and tedious things like cleaning up her messes.  Her tune would only change once it was her responsibility to clean up her own mess.

In Apollo’s experience – and he had a considerable amount of it, given the number of children he had had over the years, even if most of them he had been unable to pick up strewn toys for – most young children Estelle’s age enjoyed watching others clear up their trails of destruction.  He had no doubts that an infant Perseus Jackson had been the exact same way.

Still, he saw no reason to disillusion Percy on the topic.  Deep down, he suspected that Percy already knew the truth and was simply denying it for his own sanity, but in the short term it didn’t matter.  Estelle was still too young to tidy up after herself, and as she had a loving big brother wrapped around her little finger, Apollo knew it would be some time before she truly had to start finding her own feet and responsibilities in the world.

He didn’t envy her that.  If anything, he celebrated it.  Every day that Estelle was able to act like a loved baby sister with a doting family was a day that her existence went unacknowledged by Zeus, and if that could last her entire mortal lifetime, then Apollo would be ecstatic.

Soggy-Hellhound and Squishy-Skelly found themselves deposited in the crate on top of Torn-Horn-Satyr, and Apollo resumed tidying up, listening to the sounds of Percy renewing his attempts at rescuing his hoodie string with little success, and finding a smile creeping across his own lips.

It was, in the end, in the hands of the Fates, he knew, but that wasn’t going to stop Apollo doing everything in his own power to keep Estelle safe, too – even if that took the form of picking her toys up by hand.

[aeithalian]

[Excerpt from ToA: The Burning Maze, Chapter 43]

*sigh*

Okay, Rick. The ruse is up. I see you.

There are a couple other references to the Golden/Silver/Bronze/Iron age in the ToA series and I can't believe I didn't look for them before. However, there remains no reference to the 'Age of Heroes' that goes in between the Bronze and Iron ages. The only (and I mean only) hole in my theory is that Rick could be referring to Ovid's Ages of Man, not Hesiod's, which is further put into doubt because the only differentiator between the two is the existence of the 'Age of Heroes', which I can't seem to find a single reference to even in PJO and HoO.

But I, of course, went back to the myth of the Meliai where it's originally suggested that they're the progenitors of the Bronze Age. And what do you know, it's in Hesiod's Works and Days.

^ Check out the section 'Classical Literature Quotes' and you'll see that the first three are all from Hesiod, the third being directly from Works and Days. Ovid's not on that list.

So, hah. I'm onto you, Rick. You're not subtle. (i stg i would email rick to shove this theory down his throat but he's strictly no-contact and does not have a tumblr 😑)

I only found this because I'm working on another meta about godly maturity and was trying to find a reference to Apollo's birth story in ToA. Found this instead. Not complaining.

Rick. Buddy. Amigo. Explain something to me. Real quick, I promise.

[The Trials of Apollo: The Tower of Nero, Chapter 4]

Good genetic package, Rick/Apollo? Are you sure about that?

Listen.

Estelle's physical description *clap* makes *clap* no *clap* sense. Why on earth does one of the only fully human characters in this series have to have unique and weird physical traits? Also, it makes no sense in the larger scope of Rick's writing style to have chosen this unless he had some sort of larger intention behind it. Not to mention the theories by fans haven't really done much to fully flesh out any perceivable reason as to why this might be:

Poseidon blessed Sally when she was pregnant - By far, this is the most believable to me, but it's still eh, because this feels very weird and I don't get the vibes from Poseidon that he would have done so to the extent that it shows up in Estelle's physical traits. Also if that were true, it doesn't make sense for Rick to just fully drop it in the story without the intention to flesh it out further, because to my knowledge he doesn't have plans for another novel that takes place after ToA.

Paul isn't Estelle's father - Firstly, this is out of character for Sally, and this doesn't fully justify why Estelle has Percy's eyes. PLUS, salt-and-pepper hair still wouldn't be natural for a newborn

Paul is Poseidon in disguise - This explains her traits the best, but Paul's character is so much more satisfying if this isn't true. It's also total bullshit.

Enter me. I have a theory. Yay. But first, we must discuss.

Firstly, I want to talk about her eyes. Going back to the theories, and based on my fair amount of knowledge of genetics (clarification: I write this as I procrastinate studying for my final genetics exam), the eyes are mostly interesting because Apollo specifies that they are immediately similar Percy's. The thing about eye genetics, though, is that they are what we consider to be 'complex traits', meaning that they are influenced by the interactions of multiple genes from both parents. What I mean to point out here is that Sally could definitely have the genes to produce two children with 'sea-green' eyes, considering her canonical eye color is blue. We don't know what Paul's eye color is, which makes my job a whole lot easier because I can assume that it doesn't directly contradict the possibility that Sally just has really strong eye genes (?). ALSO, who's to say that Poseidon didn't just change his eye color to match Percy's when he was born? Ah, yes, the perks of having a shapeshifting dad who seemingly loves you and your eye color a lot (but is still absentee, WHOOPS).

But what I actually found the most interesting about Estelle was her hair color. More specifically, the fact that Apollo says he's never seen an infant with that color hair. And we know Apollo is somewhat of an unreliable narrator (although this rarely affects his descriptions of people other than himself, and has also mostly evolved into a more honest narration since the end of book 3), but I believe we're supposed to trust this dude who just so happens to have been alive for over four millennia. Based on Apollo's previous descriptions of his own powers (see his conversations with Percy in TTC, when he pulls a Mufasa and basically admits to seeing everything the light touches), we know that Apollo knows and has seen a lot of stuff. So, how is this the first time he's seemingly witnessed this type of hair mutation?

I did some research, as one does. To me, it seems as if Estelle has what's called Griscelli syndrome, which is a type of rare autosomal genetic mutation that typically results in phenotypic hypopigmentation of the skin and hair. (It can also result in neurological disorders and immunodeficiency, based on the type, but I digress.) It's also pretty rare, considering both parents have to be carriers, and even then the child still has a one in four chance of being affected. Current statistics from the NIH say that Griscelli syndrome currently presents in less than 1000 Americans, and is rapidly fatal in 1-4 years without aggressive treatment.

That sad note aside, it's weird to me that the way Rick wrote Estelle's physical description makes it seem as if Apollo had never seen anything similar. I feel like a god of both medicine and knowledge would probably be a bit more up to speed with rare genetic disorders, especially because he's so old. The only explanations are that Apollo, in his mortal state, can't make a diagnosis, OR what he's seeing isn't actually something he can diagnose.

FURTHERMORE, from the same chapter, Apollo says something that muddies the waters even further:

It doesn't make sense that Apollo thinks that Zeus would take such an interest in Estelle. Her nature alone doesn't make me think that the king of the gods would take a sudden interest in a literal newborn, regardless of how much Apollo loves her (and honestly, I don't blame him).

What I think? Rick pulled the strings just tight enough that he has a very interesting plot point to go off of if he ever decides to pick up the pen again and write a new book.

What I think? Estelle doesn't have Griscelli syndrome, she is in much more danger than anyone realizes, and Apollo's subconscious put this together from the second he saw her.

Actually, let's rewind. I'm in the process of writing a fic (stay tuned!) and I had a random thought: do the Greeks have an apocalypse story? You know, like Ragnarök in the Norse mythos, and the Revelation stories in the Bible.

The answer? They don't. I guess that's what you get when the Greco-Roman gods are fully immortal and literally can't be killed.

That didn't stop the rabbit hole, though, and what I found was actually very interesting and I couldn't believe what I was reading.

I give you: Hesiod. More specifically, his poem Works and Days. More more specifically, his 'ages of man'. More more more specifically, the iron age.

For context, Hesiod was an ancient Greek poet who lived in the 8th century BC, and was walking right along with Homer in terms of fame at the time. The poem Works and Days is actually more of a really long Facebook post where he complains about anything and everything, especially in his section on the ages of man.

In summary, Hesiod wrote about what he perceived to be the five stages of human life since the creation of mankind by Zeus' hand:

gold: perfect in every way, pious, and blessed by the gods

silver: real bitches, the ugly middle child, so Zeus killed them

bronze: were so violent they wiped each other out

heroic: golden child, contained the heroes of the Greek mythos

iron: middle-aged men still living in their mom's basement

Hesiod wrote his poem during what he perceived to be the Iron age (it's really just him complaining about being born in the wrong generation), but he ends up listing a lot of qualities: 'everyone works too hard, the gods hate us, nobody respects family values anymore', blah blah blah.

I know what you're thinking: Tia, what does this have to do with an apocalypse?

Well, dear reader, bear with me. You see, every time Zeus didn't like an age of mankind, or it became too violent, or it generally wasn't pious enough, Zeus wouldn't hesitate to destroy that race and start over. Basically, an apocalypse.

So, you may ask a new question: what is the criteria for Zeus to destroy the Iron age? And, assuming that this is the age we're currently in, what would it take for Zeus to destroy everything our beloved Riordanverse characters know and love?

My friend, that is where Estelle comes in. Yes, a baby.

Take this excerpt regarding the Iron age:

"And Zeus will destroy this race of mortal men also when they come to have grey hair on the temples at their birth."

I think you see where I'm going with this.

My theory? Estelle, in her unique position as a bridge between not just the mortals and the demigods (eg. her relationship with Percy), but also the mortals and the gods (eg. her great impression on Apollo), is a living, breathing prophecy. A prophecy that the end is nigh for this current age of mankind.

Furthermore, I also think that Apollo made this connection, somewhere in the back of his mind, the very second he realized that her hair was entirely unique. According to Hesiod (who Apollo also mentions later in the book, so we know he knows who Hesiod is), the day that babies are born with gray hair (or, salt-and-pepper for the sake of the theory) is the second Zeus basically get the go-ahead to commit genocide.

This also brilliantly explains why Apollo suddenly, and seemingly without reason, makes to keep Estelle's existence a secret from Zeus, because he knows that it might be the easiest way to get everyone he knows and loves killed by his own father for "the greater good" as I'm sure Zeus will put it. Plus, in his mortal state, Rick didn't have to explain why Apollo did what he did, since Apollo's been having memory issues since the beginning of the series: why would he remember one line from a poem written almost three thousand years ago?

Frankly, Zeus doesn't care about mortals: the only reason he really cares about anyone is if they have enough power to threaten his own, or if they have some sort of power he can benefit from. This, certainly, falls under the category of the latter. Wouldn't you want a chance to remake humanity into the perfect image that it used to be? You would, if you hadn't gone through a five book long grow-a-conscience speedrun like our lovely Apollo over here.

Fortunately for Rick, this is such an outrageous theory that if it never comes to fruition, I won't be surprised. If he ever writes something similar, though, know I called it first.

EDIT: here's the fic i mentioned i was (am) writing

EDIT: a masterlist of my other metas

[aeithalian]

[aeithalian]

Chapter 26!!

[here]

now featuring new cover art 🥳

[aeithalian]

a shard or two

by nuttobuttsir on Ao3

M | 165k

tags: political drama, post-canon, hurt/comfort

Valerie Jarrett, senior advisor to Barack Obama, once said “If you break glass ceilings, you’re going to get scraped by a shard or two.��� Alex has got to agree. This shit hurts sometimes. Or: If Red, White, and Royal Blue got a political-drama-esque sequel.

Stage 1: Establishment

"I kind of just blackmailed the President of the United States. And I don't think he liked it very much."

Stage 2: Maintenance

"I am not playing games, I am not fucking around, and I don't love the implication that I'm doing this for a publicity stunt. So you can either kindly fuck off, or get your ass on board."

Stage 3: Advancement

"The strength of a campaign doesn't come down to price tags, it comes down to the message."