#and yet. hope persists. life persists. in annabeth chase

[autism-alley]

thinking abt how annabeth is the baby out of her, luke, and thalia, who always believed so fiercely in luke’s goodness, always felt so comforted by thalia’s presence—so obviously the youngest—yet out of the three, she is the only one who will ever grow old. the only one to grow past the scared little child into a fully-fledged hero. not a hunter, eternally a child, eternally wild. not a villain or anti-hero, whose last moments of heroism exist lost in those last few moments of fading breath. in a way, the baby is the trio’s only survivor. the only one who lives to become more than that—a true hero. gods, can you imagine that? little seven year old annie? cold, scared, and dirty, shaking in some back end alley armed only with a hammer? little annie—a hero standing tall. fully realized. now that’s something, isn’t it?

[scarpool-gmk]

2

Title: Godly Marine: Killed Author: Scarpool Fandom(s): NCIS, Percy Jackson & the Olympians Pairing(s): Gen Rating: PG/K+ Summary: Chapter 2 (3/13) — Staff Sergeant Michael Kahale, Marine Corps Mechanic and Son of Athena, was murdered. Annabeth Chase is determined to find out who did it and why. She, along with Percy Jackson, Grover Underwood, and Clarisse La Rue, infiltrate NCIS where they team up with NCIS Agents Leroy Gibbs, Anthony DiNozzo, Timothy McGee, and Ziva David. Complete Genre: Fanfiction, Mystery, Drama, Humour, General, Action Warnings:  N/A

"Staff Sergeant Michael Kahale, aged twenty-one, born on March 15, 1988," said Tim, pulling up Kahale's I.D. on the plasma screen. "Joined the force when he was sixteen. Signed up as a machinist. Clean service record, and absolutely spectacular performance remarks."

"Background?" Gibbs asked.

"Uh…" Tim looked at Tony for help. Tony shrugged at him. Prick. "There wasn't really anything…"

"I think what McGee means to say," Tony said, exasperated, "is that there are barely any records before he enlisted. No high school. No college. Not even a sports club."

"Not even the car was his," Underwood piped up, getting off of his laptop. "I just ran the number of the car. It's a rental. Marko's High-Performance Cars of East Maryland run by a Mr. Marko Tarsibo."

Tony smiled, and Tim prepared to roll his eyes.

"Marko? Ah," Tony tried on his best Russian accent, "'It reminds me of the heady days of Sputnik and Yuri Gagarin when the world trembled at the sound of our rockets. Now they will tremble again - at the sound of our silence.'" He looked around expectantly, grinning, and was about to speak until Lima responded.

"The Hunt for Red October," she said. "Captain Marko Ramius."

Gibbs raised an eyebrow, and Tim smirked as Tony blinked away his surprise. "That's right. 1990. Sean Connery. Directed by-"

"John McTiernan," Lima finished for him.

"Nice," Tony said, "Are you a-"

"DiNozzo," Gibbs said. Tim swore he saw his boss flash a look at Lima that was far from gratifying.

"Right," Tony continued and snatched the remote out of Tim's hand. "The only records we could find were family members and profiles of his first six elementary schools."

Tim raised his eyebrows and turned to Gibbs. "Six schools in five years. Kindergarten to fourth grade. Looks like a troubled kid."

"Or a troubled family life," Gibbs said.

"The changes were definitely not about his grades," Jackson said with a grin, flashing his eyes to his boss who, to her credit, did not spare him a glance.

"Very true," Ziva said. "Kahale passed all of the knowledge evaluations with close to perfect scores getting maybe one or two wrong."

"Passed all of the Military's written exam bars with such great scores he was able to skip some basic classes. Guy's like the next Einstein, Boss," Tony said, "Genius."

Gibbs nodded slightly. "Anything else? Was there a missing child report?"

Tim looked at him, a bit anxious to persist with the bad news. "None, Boss, and it's like I said. No other information at all between his fourth-grade year and when he enlisted. It's like he didn't exist for about six years."

"Well, he had to have been somewhere," Ziva said matter-of-factly.

"And what could he have been doing?" Tim wondered. "Possible that he could have made enemies during this time, Boss?"

"And then went to hide from them by joining the corps?" the burly girl, La Rue, if Tim remembered correctly, asked skeptically and crossed her arms.

Ziva grabbed the TV remote from Tony. "The Sergeant's family lives in Baltimore."

"Mr. Johnathan Kahale, the father, is an esteemed lawyer for the private company, Lowe's Consultancy," La Rue stated, "His salary is two hundred eighty thousand. His step-mother, Patricia Kahale," Tim heard her voice turn a bit bitter, "is a salesperson for an insurance company. They have three kids together."

"Absolutely no information on his biological mother," Underwood said, albeit a bit nervously casting glances to Lima.

"Let's work our way through both of these missing timelines. Clarisse," Lima ordered, "go to the car rental. Get all the info you can, and find who gave him the car."

Tim saw his boss eye the young special agent. "DiNozzo," he said, "go with her."

Lima glanced at Gibbs with careful, calculating eyes. "And Percy, talk to the parents." She looked back at Gibbs, waiting for him to interject again.

He didn't say anything at first, and Tim held his breath for a second. Why is it always so tense?

"Ziva," he stated. Ziva nodded. Nobody moved. "Well? Move!" Everybody started scurrying to their assigned task.

Tim tried not to show how startled he was when Gibbs whispered at him. "Do a background check on them. I don't like not knowing who I'm really working with."

Tim nodded. Of course, Gibbs didn't trust the Long Island team.

"Lima!" Gibbs called, going up the stairs. "Come on."

And so, Tim was left alone with Agent Underwood, who had plopped himself on Tony's desk and was typing on his laptop.

-Λεον-

Was it him, or did his paperwork triple since yesterday? The director groaned, pulling a hand over his face, and glanced at a packet that had something to do with the FBI. It was huge, and it was just one packet in a mountain. His secretary swore that she has no recollection of it coming into his office. Leon glared at the pile conspiringly. Honestly, she probably had such a traumatic experience just by looking at the amount that her brain wiped the memory of the entire moment to spare itself. He hoped this was just some nightmare, but no…

Not to mention, he got a late notification this morning telling him of a joint assignment with the NCIS branch of Long Island. Which meant they were paired up with Gibbs. Which meant Gibbs was going to barge into his office like he owned the place and throw a hissy fit. Which meant his headache was going to get 10 times worse! Maybe Gibbs wouldn't drag in the Agent in charge of the Long Island team, so Vance didn't have to mend another relationship between agencies.

And just like that, his door was thrown open, and Gibbs sauntered in. "Speak of the devil," the director grumbled. At the corner of his eye, he saw a notification pop up on his computer screen, most likely his secretary apologizing again about Gibbs's intrusion.

"Good morning to you too, Director Vance," Gibbs said with a smile.

Leon Vance felt the blood leave his face. It was still morning? Aw, he swore it had been hours since- wait, Leroy Jethro Gibbs calling him by his given title? Oh no. And then he saw her. Blonde, lean, professional, young…a bit too young. He straightened up and looked her in the eyes, a startling grey. How interesting.

"Director Vance," the girl nodded in greeting.

Leon returned the nod, taking a side glance at Gibbs's fake smile, and offered his hand. "Yes, and you are?"

"Special Agent Anne Lima," she replied as she shook his hand, firm, meeting his eyes, confident, determined.

"Ah, from Long Island, yes?"

"That's right."

"Director," Gibbs said, "My team can handle this case."

Blunt as usual. "Well, Agent Gibbs," Leon quipped, "Extra hands are always a help and appreciated."

"Why wasn't I notified about this when I was told about the case?" Leon saw Gibbs's eye twitch.

"I just got the e-mail this morning, and unfortunately, wasn't able to see until later. But Gibbs, working with the Long Island branch opens a way to connect to our other fellow agents," Leon said sternly but kindly shot a smile to the girl. She raised an eyebrow.

Gibbs took that as a sign to interrogate the poor girl. "Why is Long Island interested in the Staff Sergeant?"

"Michael was stationed at a ship currently docked in Northern New Jersey. He also had other matters that had him in Long Island," Lima replied smoothly.

Gibbs was ready to grill her some more, but his cell phone rang. 'Thank God.'

He gave Agent Lima another distrustful glace before glancing at the caller ID. Gibbs opened his flip phone. "Yeah, Abbs?"

'Yes,' the Director thought, 'Leave it to Ms. Sciuto to save us.'

"Yeah, we'll be right there." He clicked his phone shut and headed for the door. "Come on," he ordered Lima. The girl glanced at Leon with an unimpressed look, before heading out the door Gibbs was holding open.

Leon stopped Gibbs before the man could leave. "I didn't appreciate you turning my office into an interrogation room; don't do it again."

Gibbs tilted his head in response and left.

Alone again, Leon allowed another sigh to escape him as he rubbed his temples. Gibbs was being Gibbs, and although he had to admit the toughness of Agent Lima to yet be unmoved by the man, Leon worried that her stubbornness would be too much like Gibbs. Just added stress…

Speaking of stress, Leon looked at the mountain of files on his desk. Gathering himself up, he picked one up. He opened it, made a face, and put it back down.

"I need a coffee," He muttered, 'Or something stronger.'

-Ζήβα-

Ziva decided that Jackson had a very likable personality. The two rode together to visit the Kahale family, and Ziva had opted to drive, receiving no argument from Jackson. However, she had not been able to get much information on the NCIS Long Island branch than what Lima had already told them.

"Well, I think your mother and I would get along very well," Ziva laughed as she walked up to the door of the house, locking the car behind her with the remote key. She knocked on the door, quickly assessing her surroundings. She saw Jackson casually glance through a window. She caught the grin he sent her way. No visual problems from the front door, then.

A couple seconds later, a woman's voice came through the door. "Who is it?"

"NCIS!" Ziva shouted through.

"IDs, please."

'So,' Ziva thought, 'this woman is one of those.' She and Jackson brought their Federal IDs to the peephole. They heard the click of a lock turning, and the door opened to reveal a young woman. Ziva recognized her from the rundown on the dead Sergeant. "Patricia Kahale?"

The woman stared at them through the parted gap of the doorway. "What do you want?"

"I am Agent Ziva David, and this is Agent Jackson. We are here to inform you about your son-er-stepson, Staff Sergeant Michael Kahale."

"What about him?" Mrs. Kahale asked tersely.

Ziva resisted an urge to sigh in exasperation. "If we can converse indoors, Mrs. Kahale," she said politely.

For a moment, the woman didn't move and only observed both of them. 'A suspicious woman?' Ziva noted. After supposedly deeming them trustworthy enough, she allowed them in her home. The dwelling was telling of an upper-middle-class family. There were pictures of the Kahale family among the house for display. They featured mostly of Patricia's and Johnathan's three kids, two boys and the youngest, a girl. Not one showed the face of Staff Sergeant Kahale. As Mrs. Kahale led them into the living room, Ziva found the house to be impeccably clean and organized. She remained standing, and so did the two NCIS agents. "What is it you wished to tell me?" the woman asked.

Ziva made a show of turning her head as if looking about. "Where is your husband and children, Mrs. Kahale?"

"Out," she said curtly, "Johnathan took the kids on a visit to the beach."

"Do you know when they'll be back?" Jackson asked bluntly.

"No," The woman eyed him, "Aren't you a little young to be a federal agent?"

Ziva caught Jackson stiffen. "Just look like it."

Ziva tried not to frown. Mrs. Kahale didn't seem to believe it.

"You never answered my question. Why are you here?"

Ziva sighed. "I regret to inform you, ma'am, that your step-son, Michael, was found dead this morning."

Patricia Kahale closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "Michael? Michael is dead for sure?"

"We are sorry for your loss," Ziva consoled, even as Mrs. Kahale was shaking her head.

"I didn't really know him. I didn't even know he joined the corps. I haven't seen him for years."

Jackson nodded. Ziva stared at him to see if he was going to ask any questions. She internally sighed when he remained silent, looking just a bit awkward- and kind of dumb, too, just standing there.

"We noticed that your step-son disappears on record for a period of nine years. May you explain why that is?"

"I think that is a question for my husband."

Ziva raised an elegant eyebrow at the quickness of her response. "Oh, why is that? Does your husband know where his son went?"

"No." Mrs. Kahale started to head for the door, "He ran off years ago, now I think you should leave. I don't have anything more to say about the boy."

Ziva took the hint but took her time to rattle off a couple more questions, "There was no report of the disappearance."

"We did report it, we were never contacted," the woman responded, as she held the door open for them.

"We will also need someone to confirm the identity of the body, Ziva said as she went back outside.

"Call us," Mrs. Kahale all but shot back.

As Jackson passed the lady out the door, he said, "Thank you for your time."

The woman grunted and shut the door. The lock clicked back into place.

"What a nice lady," Jackson lamented.

Ziva scowled at him, "What was that?"

"Looks like she didn't like us much."

"Obviously. No, I'm talking about you. You weren't much help!"

Jackson had the gall to look surprised, "You had it!"

"Well, someone had to," Ziva shook her head, feeling disappointed. "Anyway, I have a feeling that Mrs. Kahale does not care much about her step-son, and from the way she threw us out- it seems she might be hiding something."

"Did you see the knife?" Jackson asked, acting nonchalant.

Ziva was thrown off guard, "What? Where?"

"The table by the entrance," Jackson said, "It's probably nothing, just forget about it."

Ziva wasn't deterred, "Really? On the table?" Ziva tried to remember. She may have seen something shine in the light, but she must not have noticed it. Was she getting rusty? "What is it doing there?"

"Nothing, probably just a fancy envelope opener."

Ziva sent a look at him.

Jackson shifted on his feet for a bit. "So, what do we do now?"

Ziva sighed, thinking about what she had to tell Gibbs, "I must report back to Gibbs and then call Mr. Kahale."

"Let's go then, I'll drive."

Ziva's brows furrowed into a small frown as Jackson practically raced to the car. He was hiding something. But what? And what was the significance of the dagger? She had a strong feeling these agents from Long Island were not telling them everything.

-Κλαρίς-

Clarisse did not enjoy her car ride. Her first opinion on this 'Very Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo' was that he was a complete doofus. And he was, but it was made clear why he had gotten to be a top agent. His tactic was to play the completely dumb chatterbox, and boy could he talk like a daughter of Athena in a museum, but that was just a ploy to get others to talk to him as well. This was an interrogation. And Clarisse had gotten pissed off. She did not like being interrogated by some snobby, stuffed up Agent. And she especially hated how he had done it. If Clarisse La Rue was to be interrogated, then let it be straight up. No descendant of the Ares was going to tolerate such a petty approach.

So, she had told him to 'shut up or else.'

Ah, sweet silence.

DiNozzo broke that with a whistle of appreciation as they finally drove into the Rental estate. It wasn't hard to figure out why. Rows of high-performance sports cars were displayed for customers.

"Wow!" Agent DiNozzo exclaimed as he parked the car. Clarisse rolled her eyes as she saw him slide on some sunglasses dramatically and walk up to a sleek, red Ferrari. "Wow!" He repeated. He checked his reflection in its tinted windows. Clarisse frowned slightly as he pulled his phone out to take a selfie.

"Come on," she huffed at him, "We're supposed to interview why Michael was here, not take selfies of cars we can't afford." She looked at a description of a Lamborghini, "Besides, what are you going to do with 600 horsepower, go from one red light to the next red light?"

"Ah, it's about the display, the comfort, the thrill on the highway, the style." DiNozzo lifted an eyebrow and grinned at his phone, most likely looking at his newest selfies. "Besides, you got to learn how to take a break from time to time."

Clarisse scowled and led the way into the dealership building, leaving the older Agent to trail behind her at a slow pace still taking in the sights. She entered the building and breathed in the cool air. Though once the door closed behind her, she tensed and didn't move a muscle.

DiNozzo charged through the door still talking. "You know, taking breaks during work is suggested. It can be a stressful job and-"

"Sh!" Clarisse snapped.

DiNozzo blinked in surprise. "You know, I think we started off on the wrong foot," he began.

"No," Clarisse whispered, "It's not that."

DiNozzo frowned, "Why are we whispering?"

"Do you hear that?" Clarisse asked.

Clarisse's ears rang a little as DiNozzo took a couple seconds to listen. "I don't hear anything."

"Exactly."

"Manager could just be in his office?" DiNozzo mused, but even still, he nodded.

"Hello?" He called out. "Mr. Tarsibo?"

Clarisse moved towards a glass window, facing the street. They were right by a busy street intersection, too.

An office door opened as a man pushed his way out and quickly shut the door behind him. "My apologies, I had a customer to attend to."

Clarisse's senses prickled, "A customer?" she asked, glancing around the empty building.

The man smiled, "Yes, he was otherwise engaged and did his business through call. I am Marko Tarsibo, by the way," He held his hand out, "How may I help you?"

"Mr. Tarsibo," Agent DiNozzo replied as he shook the proffered hand, "I am Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo from NCIS, and this is Agent Clarisse La Rue."

"Federal Agents," Tarsibo acknowledged, his shake strong and confident, "What seems to be the issue?"

"Unfortunately," DiNozzo explained, "Your car was found in a crash site."

"Crashed? How horrible! But no worries, I have procedures in place for such a situation. The renter does sign a form and all that jazz. Come and sit, and I can give you any additional information you want."

He directed them to the front desk.

"Yes, thank you," DiNozzo said, "We would like to confirm the lessee of the car."

"Of course, I hope the person was not critically injured by the crash. Do you have a plate number or anything I can go by?"

DiNozzo brought the plate number and other such identification numbers up on his phone.

As they sat there, Clarisse observed the area of the main desk. It was pretty bland except for the assortment of mini flags. She was able to identify the American flag as well as the French and even the Greek flag. There were a couple more she really didn't recognize- maybe that one was Finnish. She saw another with a horse and rider. She tilted her head a bit. Did that one have Greek words on it? Before she could read it, Mr. Tarsibo exclaimed, "Yes! Here we are. A Mr. Michael Kahale was the client. I remember him. Yes, a marine, was he? Is he alright?"

"He did not make it," DiNozzo responded.

"We are currently investigating his death," Clarisse added, "How did you know he was a Marine?"

Mr. Tarsibo directed his smile to her, "We have a discount for members of the service and veterans here. Proper ID is required."

"Can you tell us about your interaction with Staff Sergeant Kahale, Mr. Tarsibo?" Agent DiNozzo asked.

"It was very brief," Mr. Tarsibo said, "He was simply looking for a quality car for his time here. Nothing out of the ordinary at all."

"When was he here?"

"Two days ago. Sometime in the afternoon. Let me give you the time from the sale."

Mr. Tarsibo quickly printed out a log and handed it to them. "Will there be anything else today, agents?"

"No," Agent DiNozzo said with a smile of his own and offered his card. "Thank you for your time, and please don't hesitate to give us a call if you remember anything."

"It was no problem, and if you ever need to rent a car, I would be happy to offer discounts to federal agents as well."

Mr. Tarsibo's warm smile led them all the way out.

The blast of noise when Clarisse stepped outside was welcoming. She took a deep breath of fresh air.

Agent DiNozzo walked up behind her. "What was up with you and Mr. Smiles in there?"

Clarisse glared at him. "I don't trust him. He's slimy. I don't know what it is; maybe he's not sharing everything or something.

"I understand the distrust. But he is a car dealer. It is natural to feel that, but maybe try not to be so aggressive next time."

"Whatever," Clarisse growled. She snatched the car keys out of his hands. No way was she just going to sit in a car for another two hours doing nothing.

"I'm driving."

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[thesibyllinebooks]

The New Yorkers (Part 26)

Percy opened the door to Annabeth’s apartment. He shut the door with his foot. Annabeth didn’t even look up. She sat with her feet propped up on the coffee table, alternating between staring at her laptop and the textbook next to her. 

Kicking off his shoes, Percy kissed Annabeth on the forehead and joined her on the couch. She’d been pretty quiet ever since their return from Camp Half-Blood a few days ago. Thankfully, her siblings had heard her out and voted to vacate the Athena Cabin. They’d admitted to Annabeth Athena hadn’t been much of a mother to them either, so when it came to choosing her or choosing to hopefully end a war, it wasn’t much of a choice to make. Annabeth’s sister Sophia had promised to alert the rest of the camp that same evening. Percy knew Annabeth had wanted to stay and deliver the message herself but Chiron had encouraged them to leave and allow the current campers to handle it, as that was how things were meant to be. Annabeth, never the type to want someone to do something she could do herself, was taking it hard. 

“You’re like a dog,” Annabeth sighed, looking down as Percy cuddled up to her and put his head in her lap, nearly knocking her laptop off her legs.

“I missed you, so sue me,” Percy said. He breathed in Annabeth’s lemony smell.

“You saw me this morning,” Annabeth pointed out. At this point, Percy sleeping over was pretty common. Annabeth of course didn’t mind. He couldn’t imagine Jason or Piper were upset about it either. 

Percy glanced at the clock under the TV. “Yeah, but that was a whole ten hours ago,” he whined.  

Despite herself, Annabeth glanced down at her boyfriend and smiled. He was such a doofus. She put her fingers in his hair. “You know,” she said slowly. “Your lease is up in July and I was thinking...”

“Is Annabeth- I like my space- Chase asking me to move in with her?” Percy said, faking an expression of awe. 

“Shut up,” Annabeth said back. “I mean you’re always over here anyway. And... it was going to happen eventually.”

“What makes you think that?” he asked. When Annabeth’s face went red with embarrassment, Percy laughed. He squeezed her tighter. “I’m just joking. Of course, I’d love to move in with you, Wise Girl. As long as you don’t mind a little mess.” Truly, Percy was excited to live with Annabeth. He looked forward to the fun parts like blowing up the kitchen while trying to cook together, and cuddling and watching movies. He didn’t exactly look forward to fighting over who left the toilet lid up, or their differing levels of cleanliness. 

Annabeth shook her head. “I know who I’m dating.”

“Well, at least you’ll have someone around to make sure you eat. I’m sure you’ve been studying all day,” Percy said. “Speaking of which, I ordered a pizza on the way home.”

Annabeth nodded absentmindedly. Even though his gestures were usually small, Annabeth couldn’t ever get enough of how thoughtful Percy was. “Well, you know I have that huge honors paper on the evolution of Revivalism,” Annabeth said.

Percy nodded. He reached across Annabeth to move her textbook out of the way. “I also know you drown yourself in books and studying when you’re stressed out,” he said gently. 

Annabeth sighed. “No, Percy. I have work to do,” Annabeth persisted. “Not everything is about-”

“I know, I know,” Percy said. “I just think- you know, based on the last two wars... I’d hate if we lost ourselves again. Not that I don’t care and I’m not worried, but we can’t let it consume our whole lives.”

Annabeth’s expression softened. She knew her boyfriend was right. Stewing on the matter wasn’t going to help anything, especially if there was nothing that could be done in the moment. Sophia and Chiron were handling things at camp.

“I know, Percy. But my mind wanders and then I feel guilty for not worrying sometimes even though I know worrying isn’t going to fix anything.”

“I get it. But we deserve lives, too. Chiron was right. We’ve made it this far, so we should be at least somewhat happy.” As if on cue, the doorbell rang. Percy let go of Annabeth and got up to open it. After he exchanged a few nice words with the pizza guy, he returned to the living room and set the box on the table. Annabeth got up to get plates. 

“Hey, I’m going to change real quick.” Percy called. 

“Okay.” It made Annabeth happy to know that in a few months, she and Percy would be living together full-time. Instead of him having a few changes of clothes in her apartment, all his things would be there. They’d be living like a real couple, happy and discovering life. If the gods’ alternative plans didn’t completely destroy their lives first. Annabeth tried to push the though out of her mind. She couldn’t think about that. She couldn’t give attention to her mother either, or else Athena’s presence would start to grow again. 

Annabeth plopped down on the couch. She opened the pizza box. Only when she smelled the food did she realize she hadn’t eaten since she’d come home that afternoon. Her mind had been reeling about schoolwork, and Percy, and everything else. Hazel had IMed and promised she’d get back in touch when Frank returned from Camp Jupiter in two days. Annabeth tried to take Percy’s advice. After all, it was a Friday night. They should be doing what any other young couple did- watch movies, hang out, just love each other. After all, who knew how much time they had left? Annabeth hoped it was eternity, but she knew better than almost anyone the next day wasn’t promised. 

Percy walked back into the living room. He stopped when he noticed Annabeth staring at him dumbly. She sat there, frozen, her plate in one hand a pizza slice in the other. “What?” Percy asked. 

“We should get married,” Annabeth blurted out.

Percy stared at Annabeth, mouth agape. It was unexpected but he knew she wasn’t joking. “Um, not that I don’t want to marry you, but where did that come from?” Percy asked cautiously, sitting next to her on the couch. He had half a mind to lay his hand on her forehead to see if she had a fever.

Annabeth shrugged. “I mean, we love each other,” she said casually. “And it’s not like we haven’t talked about it.”

“Yeah,” Percy agreed. He reached for a piece of pizza, trying not to make it obvious he was in absolute shock. “When we were older. And besides, we can’t get married before Hazel and Frank. That would be kind of rude.”

Annabeth pursed her lips like she hadn’t thought about that. “We could just go to the courthouse or something, Percy,” Annabeth suggested. “I don’t want the whole big wedding thing. I just want you. We don’t even have to tell them just yet.”

Percy was silent. He was thinking about how to approach the situation gently. Just minutes ago, Annabeth had asked him to move in, and now she wanted him to marry her. Both things had been completely out of the blue. Even though he loved Annabeth probably more than he loved himself, he knew she wasn’t just asking because she was eager to take their relationship to the next step. She was stressed, and scared, and wanting to grab hold to Percy in any way she could. 

“You think I’m going to leave you,” Percy realized. “And I’m not. I swear it on the River Styx.”

Annabeth’s eyebrows wrinkled. “Percy, don’t,” she said quietly. 

“But that’s why you’re asking, isn’t it? Because you’re scared.”

Annabeth stopped chewing. “I mean, I also love you, but don’t let that be a deciding factor,” she said bitterly.

“Of course, I know that,” Percy said, trying to keep cool. “But I also know that you think whenever things get a little difficult, I think about leaving you. I never do, you have to trust me on that.”

Annabeth didn’t know what to say. By the look on her face, Percy knew he was right. “I’m just saying it wouldn’t hurt,” she persisted. “Even if I know you aren’t going to leave me, it would feel even better to have something-”

“Permanent?” Percy guessed, thinking back to the conversations they had when they were teenagers. After everything that had happened, that seemed like decades ago.

Annabeth nodded. She didn’t have anything else to say. 

Admitted, things had been moving quickly since they’d gotten their memories of each other back. Things still felt new to Percy since he had to go through meeting Annabeth all over again, but things also felt very much the same. He didn’t know how to explain it well. He’d become accustomed to only dating her for a few months, only to realize they’d been together for years, and best friends longer than that. They had talked about marriage, and kids, and being a family, so Annabeth wasn’t out of line to bring it up again. And, shocked as he was, Percy would be a liar if he said he didn’t want those things too. What could it hurt if it happened a little earlier than planned?

“I’m not upset,” Percy assured her. “These last few months have been crazy but I get how you feel. I know it’s like we just lost each other, so things feel kind of fragile. But I promise it’s only made me love you more.”

Annabeth finally turned to look at him. “I love you too, Percy,” she said. There was still anticipation in her voice, like she was still waiting for her question to be answered. 

Percy sighed and leaned back on the couch. “I always thought I’d be the one to propose,” he started with a small smile. “I mean I figured I’d goof it up but still. I didn’t think it would come from you sitting on the couch looking like an absolute bum eating pizza.”

Annabeth hit him on the shoulder, but a smile crept across her face. “I mean, when have we ever done anything the normal way?”

Percy shrugged. He stared at his girlfriend- well, his soon to be wife. He couldn’t help but smile at the unexpected thought. “Good point. I guess we shouldn’t start now. Let’s do it, Annabeth. Let’s get married.”

[writingfulfillment]

The Overarching Power of Belief

I believe that every story ever told is true because of the creative power of belief of Humankind. I believe that there are not millions of fictional places where heroes live, but one place that houses the collective dreams of all who’ve ever existed. In many of the works of fiction that I’ve read, they speak of the creatures and Gods’ being able to exist because there are still humans who believe in them. And this belief is what gives them their power. There is not one story or belief that reigns supreme over the others because they all share the same origin story: they were created by humans. Whether in one sitting by one author, or if it’s over years by a collection of people, they are all creations of our minds.

In this dream world, the people reflect what we see in ourselves. They are stubborn and have flaws, but are overall good. These people will see what they will expect or believe that they will see, such like ourselves. And this is how this collective dream world functions. Both on the creative power of the imaginations of the humans who fuel it existence, and the ignorance of the reflective humans there.

In series like Percy Jackson and Harry Potter, they talk a lot about how the regular people view their secret world. For example, In his first book Riordan notes the differences in how people believe. “But if he’s a preacher,” I said, “and he believes in a different hell…” Grover shrugged, who says he’s seeing this place the way that we’re seeing it? Humans see what they want to see. You’re very stubborn-er, persistent, that way.”[1] This fits with how so many dreams could live together, as well as with the nature of the reflected humans. In the first Harry Potter book, Harry notices the Muggles’ obliviousness.“The people hurrying by didn’t glance at it. Their eyes slid from the big bookshop on one side to the record shop on the other as if they couldn’t see the leaky cauldron at all. In fact, Harry has the most peculiar feeling that only he and Hagrid could see it.” [2] The mundane people couldn’t see it because they didn’t believe that it was there. I believe that in this dream world, the ordinary people are excessively ignorant for the sake of peace between the dreams.

In most, if not all stories, there is an ordinary character who leads a mundane life until they discover a Secret world. Everyone dreams of being swept away as a crucial member of something. We all want to be important and we all want to be remembered. This is why we love to create and read these stories, they reflect the dreams of our childhood selves. All of this imagination and collective hope cannot amount to nothing. This is why the dream world came into existence, somewhere for the dreams to live and for us to visit when we miss them.  

The creation of this one world relies on the same desire for acknowledgement that lives in all our hearts. This is where the Hero’s Journey comes in. Joseph Campbell theorized that every story is, in fact, the same story except it is told differently and that every protagonist is actually the same character wearing a different face. In his book, The Hero with a Thousand Faces, he discusses the idea of a monomyth that spans genres, authors, and time periods. Joseph proposes that every good story follows a basic plot map that he calls The Hero’s Journey. Since it’s publication in 1949, it has been referenced by creators,(Perhaps the most popular of which is George Lucas, Director of Star Wars) authors, and artists in the telling of their stories. I believe that the subjects of this one story that has been told a million different ways live in the dream world.

The Hero’s Journey, although it has many different versions, is largely made up of 12 stages that the Hero goes through. These can be identified in most popular stories. The 12 are: 1. Ordinary World, 2. Call to Adventure, 3. Refusal or Acceptance, 4. Meeting with the Mentor, 5. Crossing the Threshold, 6. Tests, Allies, Enemies, 7. Approach to the Innermost Cave, 8. Ordeal, 9. Seizing the Sword, 10. The Road Back, 11. The Master of Two Worlds, 12. Return with the Elixir. You can read about them in more detail elsewhere.[here] I will just be focusing on the Ordinary World v.s.  the Secret World.

In the Ordinary World, the people cannot see, or do not know about the Secret World, because they do not believe that it’s there.  And the same is true for why the Secret World exists, because the Hero and his companions continue to believe in it and its creatures. The belief in the Secret World and it inhabitants in turn give them belief in themselves, increasing their power and existence. There are hints of the belief to power transfer in many popular works of fiction.

In Harry Potter, the most curious aspect of magic is its distribution. There are children of generations of wizards that possess no magic, or very little. (Ariana [3], Neville [4])There are also children of muggles who have great magical powers. (Lily [5], Hermione [6]) In all of these cases the power of the witch or wizard was dictated by their belief in themselves. Ariana was a fine little witch until some boys traumatized her, then she lost the power to control it. Neville had always struggled with magic, partially because his grandmother was always telling him that he wasn’t good enough. As he grew older, he learned that he was worth it and his magic greatly improved. If any muggleborn had the wits and guts to excel at magic, it was Lily and Hermione. From the start they were both know-it-alls who had no qualms about their intelligence.

Despite what you may think, Harry really wasn’t all that great of a wizard. At least when it comes to book learning and memorizing complicated spells. Courage and loyalty, on the other hand, were Harry’s best traits. When it came time that he knew that he had to save his friends, he always came through magically, even though he wasn’t all that gifted. In The Prisoner of Azkaban, Harry saves himself and Sirius by performing the advanced charm Expecto Patronum. He produces an extremely powerful patronus and keeps numerous dementors at bay. A task, that would be difficult, if not impossible for a fully grown wizard, and yet Harry was just 13 at the time. “‘I knew I could do it this time,’ said Harry, ‘because I’d already done it… does that make sense?’”[7] Harry’s personal belief in himself skyrocketed because he’d already done it, thus giving himself enough power to do it.

If their power of belief in themselves was enough to boost their power and self-worth, then who’s to say that our belief in them isn’t powerful enough to make them real? Who says that dreams turn to naught but dust? Humans can do amazing things while we’re awake, why not when we’re sleeping? Isn’t billions of people dreaming each night powerful enough to cultivate something more than dust? I believe that it is enough, and I believe that our dreams become real in the dream world. That there is a place where the characters that we love and dream of exist together.

In all of Rick Riordan’s work, the mythologies that he uses are interconnected. The different Gods and cultures coexist because of the different peoples who continue to believe in them. “‘But Gods can’t die,’ Grover said. ‘They can fade,’ Pan said, ‘when everything that they stood for is gone. When they cease to have power, and their sacred places disappear.” [8] In some instances, such as Pan, the Greek God of nature, when people ceased to believe in him, he faded. But there will always be the Gods that are believed in and worshipped by these secret worlds that might be more connected than we think.

These are taken from two of Riordan’s books, “Lacey had warned me about Drew the first day of school. Apparently the two of them had gone to some summer camp together-blah, blah, I didn’t really listen to the details- and Drew had been just as much of a tyrant there.” [9] “Lacey looked like she might fall apart from nervousness. ‘Oh, well-’ ‘Drew might find out,’ Mitchell explained. ‘I might have to wear the shoes of shame!’ Lacey gulped.” [10] Amongst other evidence, this proves that they exist in the same universe. Also, in his other series, the protagonist, Magnus Chase, is cousins with the partner of Percy Jackson, Annabeth Chase. “...I haven’t thought about them in years. I have an uncle and cousin in Boston.” [11] “‘I just don’t want to put you in danger,’ I said. ‘I kind of hoped that you could be my one connection to the regular world.’ Annabeth stared at me. She snorted and began to laugh. ‘Wow. You have no idea how funny that is.’” [12]

Riordan loves the idea that all of the Gods and the different mythologies could coexist. He has even written several crossover stories between the Greek Demigods and the Egyptian Magicians. [13] He has never said anything outright about his belief about why they might exist in the same universe, but I think it’s safe to gather from his books, that he thinks that there is something very powerful about belief. He also makes references to other cultures and their beliefs. In his second series, The Heroes of Olympus, his characters have more diverse background. Frank is Chinese and his grandmother believes in the Roman Gods and Buddhism. [14] Piper is Cherokee and the old Native stories that her father tells her play a part in her success as a demigod. [15] Leo is Mexican and he speaks of Dia de Los Muertos and his experiences with spirits. [16]

He hints that there may be much more than one truth or one belief. Of course, in order for this to be true there would have to be rules and/or magic separating these religions, if you will, from each other. Simply because there would be too much confusion and contention over which one was true, when in fact they would all actually be true. It’s a daunting concept, but simultaneously a very interesting one. They would all be very delicate barriers, easily cracked or broken because of the masses that they are hiding. But it poses an interesting situation for the deities or beings of power in these different “religions”. Of course, being a God, they would know things. And someone has to know the rules in order to make sure that they are kept. “‘The tradition is still strong among … our people.’ ‘Our people?’ I asked, but Sadie muscled in with another question. ‘So you can’t live in Manhattan?’ She asked. Amos’s brow furrowed as he looked across at the Empire State Building. ‘Manhattan has other problems. Other Gods. It’s best we stay separate.” [17] It makes sense that the future Chief Lector of the Egyptians would know the new location of Mount Olympus and Vice versa. It can be very confusing, but the cumulative power of human belief is very strong and I believe that it is strong enough for this. The suggestion that because we can believe in something, it can or must exist? Even if it contradicts other beliefs or laws? But this is very prevalent in works of fiction like Riordan and Rowling. (There are so many others that I didn’t highlight because it would have been way too long, but you get my point.)

It is very interesting when you combine it with the Hero’s Journey. That every story is the same story of the same character but wearing a different face, alongside that they all must be true because someone believes in them. It’s a little mind blowing, but it actually makes a lot of sense. We all would like to think that we have our own story, but in reality, we just aren’t that creative. Everything that’s ever done is something that has been done before. So we must make it our own by creating magical worlds around the old stories to make it seem new. Or at the very least, have us fall in love with the new characters. I believe that all of this exists in the dream world.

You’ve seen the raving fans of books, movies and TV shows, people love these predictable fictional characters with all their heart. How can all of that love and belief accumulate to nothing? I don’t think that it can. I wonder if by desiring these stories to be real because we love them so much might just actually make them exist. Thuss, the existence of all of these beings and stories in the Dream World. The human psyche is a mysterious and powerful place that scientists can only guess at and pretend to understand. Who’s to say that we aren’t more powerful than we think? What defines creation or a creator? What excludes us from creating art, music and emotion? Nothing. What excludes us from creating beings or worlds? Perhaps, nothing. If only the understanding of such a process.

When an author writes a book, they put so much into creating that world, and so do their fans. Thats a lot of collective belief to come to nothing. What if our power of belief is enough to create? Whether in this world or another, what if our beloved stories do exist? How could so much emotion go into art and music, such that it can evoke emotions in us, and not create something more?

Works Cited

[1] Riordan, Rick. The Lightning Thief. New York: Miramax /Hyperion for Children, 2005. Print, 293.

[2] Rowling, J.K. The Sorcerer's Stone. London: Bloomsbury Children’s, 1997. Print, 68.

[3] Rowling, J.K. The Deathly Hallows. London: Bloomsbury Children’s, 2007. Print, 564.

[4] Rowling, J.K. The Sorcerer's Stone. London: Bloomsbury Children’s, 1997. Print, 125.

[5] Rowling, J.K. The Sorcerer's Stone. London: Bloomsbury Children’s, 1997. Print, 53.

[6] Rowling, J.K. The Sorcerer's Stone. London: Bloomsbury Children’s, 1997. Print, 105.

[7] Rowling, J.K. The Prisoner of Azkaban. London: Bloomsbury Children’s, 1999. Print, 412.

[8] Riordan, Rick. The Battle of the Labyrinth. New York: Miramax /Hyperion for Children, 2008. Print, 314.

[9] Riordan, Rick. The Serpent’s Shadow. New York: Disney Publishing Worldwide, 2012. Print, 83.

[10] Riordan, Rick. The Lost Hero. New York: Disney Publishing Worldwide, 2010. Print, 178.

[11] Riordan, Rick. The Blood of Olympus. New York: Disney Publishing Worldwide, 2014. Print, 393.

[12] Riordan, Rick. The Sword of Summer. New York: Disney Publishing Worldwide, 2015. Print, 487.

[13] Riordan, Rick. Demigods and Magicians. New York: Disney Publishing Worldwide, 2015. Print.

[14] Riordan, Rick. The Mark of Athena. New York: Disney Publishing Worldwide, 2012. Print, 492.

[15] Riordan, Rick. The Blood of Olympus. New York: Disney Publishing Worldwide, 2014. Print, 384.

[16] Riordan, Rick. The Blood of Olympus. New York: Disney Publishing Worldwide, 2014. Print, 68.

[17] Riordan, Rick. The Red Pyramid. New York: Disney Publishing Worldwide, 2010. Print, 52.

[newathens]

a pawn to you

pairing: percy x annabeth (sorta annabeth centric)

rating: teen audiences

genre: angst

summary: 

“Looks like you’re the one who’s going to have to go on a wild goose chase for the lost demigod now, huh?”

—immortals are petty. the shallows inspired; i thought, huh, this would be a bad situation for annabeth chase, the daughter of athena, to get caught in. finished up fic from almost a year ago.

read on AO3

    The first thing she felt was the sun, hot and ferocious, beating down on her face, her arms, her legs; blinding the world from her as she woke. The second thing was pain, a sharp, persistent ache that stretched down her entire leg.

    Reflexively, she glanced down and only one thought came to mind: she wish she had never woken up in the first place.

    The memories, or rather lack thereof, hit her like a wave, just like the ones yesterday had. That’s where it started: water. She had been surrounded by it—engulfed would be more correct, thrown into a whirlwind of saltwater. Her sense of direction had disappeared, the waves throwing her against rock after rock after rock. By the time she’d breach the surface, her lungs were aflame and her first inhale of oxygen was exhaled as a scream.

    No one was there, wherever there was. All she had found was a small beach, a slopping landscape, and a wide expanse of sparkling ocean, the sun glinting off its surface. Panic had set her mind in a haze, but she’d still had enough sense to start swimming towards the beach. That plan, of course, had been interrupted by it.

    She still wasn’t sure what it was. A monster, no doubt, but it wasn’t a monster she’d ever read about before, wasn’t a monster who had the misfortune of crossing her path, wasn’t even a monster she’d witnessed down in Tartarus. It was different, ancient and very, very large, with scales darker than obsidian, as if it had been birthed straight from the inky black of the ocean’s depths. That’s the idea she’d settled on, ever since she’d first laid eyes on it. It had yanked her under the water by her leg and the pain that had sprouted from its grip was enough for sun spots to dance across her vision, but once they’d cleared she had gotten a glimpse of the creature. It was easily four times her size, with two rows of spiked teeth and piercing yellow eyes. She’d scrambled to the surface, trailing blood behind her, and swam for the closest spot of land in sight, which wound up being a collection of rocks jutting out of the water, surrounded by corals and driftwood.

    Annabeth had hauled herself onto it, biting back the pain of her wound, and watched in desperation, as the creature began to circle her. Over and over and over. That’s where she had remained.

    For hours.

    And that’s where she was, still.

    The waves lapped gently against the rock, sometimes cresting over the top and soaking her legs; she bit her lip at the sting that the salt brought. With every wave, sea spray kissed her cheek, and she thought it a cruel irony. As they grew larger, faster, stronger, the spray grew consistently, to the point where it became a mist.

    Then, in a manner so perfect she wondered if she was dreaming, a rainbow grew in front of her, strikingly bright. A cry escaped her lips, mingling with joy as a smile broke out on her face, but—as soon as the moment had come to her—it was ripped from her grasp as her mother’s inheritance reminded her, there was no drachma. In a desperate attempt, she patted at the wetsuit she’d found herself wearing. It was to skin tight to hide anything, especially to someone who was wearing it. Yet as her hands grabbed at the material, they glided over something, just beneath her breast.

    She shoved a hand down to grab it, caught right between skin and suit, and she pulled it out in front of her. Her mouth dropped. Shining bright in the sunlight, gripped between her shaking fingers, was a single golden drachma.

    Wasting no time, she forced herself out of shock and flicked the coin through the rainbow, muttering the call, then her request, “Show me Percy Jackson.”

    An image shimmered to life in front of her, shaky but still visible. She could make out two men, one younger than the other, talking vigorously back and forth. One was in a wheelchair, the other had a sword strapped to his hip, and jet black hair, and green eyes. She screamed into the rainbow, “Percy! Chiron! Percy, please!”

    Their heads whipped ‘round and they rushed forwards, coming closer to the screen. Percy’s eyes flitted around the frame, before focusing on her, “Annabeth, where are you?”

    “I—”

    “Annabeth!” Chiron’s voice, filled with panic, interrupted her own. “Are you alright?”

    “I’m okay. Well, I’m not okay. I’m alive, I don’t know what happened, I can’t remember anything. The only thing I recall is water, I just appeared in the ocean, I don’t know what’s going on. I don’t know where I am but I’m stuck on this rock and,” Annabeth’s voice began to shake, tears stung at the rim of her eyelids. “Percy, something bit me. I don’t know what it is, but…”

    His eyes went wide, “But what? Annabeth, tell me.”

    “It’s still here. I can’t swim to shore.” She waited for a reply, an answer, anything to ease her nerves, but nothing came. “Please, Percy you have to find me. I don’t know where I am. Athena has no power in the water.”

    He was silent for a moment, then his throat constricted violently, as if he was trying to keep himself from crying. His words were strangled. “I can’t.”

    She had herself firmly planted on the rock, but it felt as if the world had been pulled out from under her, “What? What do you mean you can’t?”

    Chiron answered, “When you hadn’t made it to your date, Percy came here after he was unable to contact you. Then, halfway through the night we received a message. Annabeth. . .someone has captured you. . .and they want you dead.” Her mouth, already dehydrated, somehow grew dryer.

    “I don’t understand, this doesn’t make any sense, I’ve always done as they asked. I’m their architect. Why would they try to hurt me?”

    A spark flashed in Chiron’s eyes, igniting a sliver of hope in her heart; if only she’d known the glint was simply in reaction to her words, another piece in the puzzle found. “Annabeth, how are you contacting us?” Percy glanced towards Chiron, then her, stunned at the question.

    “A drachma, I found it in my wetsuit. I didn’t have it before, but just now—”

    “It just appeared? Out of thin air?” Percy asked.

    “Maybe I hadn’t noticed it.”

    “Annabeth, you notice everything,” His eyes searched the area around her once more. “You’re in the ocean, right? Where are you?”

    Her patience broke and she yelled out in frustration, “Percy, I told you I don’t know! Can’t you sense me?”

    “I can’t!”

    “What do you mean you can’t?”

    “I can’t find you! You’re cut off! From me, from your mother, from everyone!”

    “And yet someone still gave you a drachma,” Chiron muttered as horror etched its way across his face. “They knew you’d call him, they knew you’d call Perseus.” Suddenly, the wind picked up and she glanced overhead to see clouds rolling in. Her chest grew tight, the message would disappear without sunlight.

    “I don’t have much time, so what if they knew I’d call Percy? Aren’t they trying to kill me?”

    “Yes,” Chiron had one elbow propped up on the arm of his chair, and two fingers tapping against his temple. “But I don’t think they’re just trying to hurt you. You’re a pawn in their game, they want you dead, but who they’re really trying to hurt is—”

    “Me,” Percy’s voice was gravely. “They’re using you, to get to me. This isn’t an Olympian.”

    “No,” Chiron said, as unease spread through his features. “I don’t believe it is.”

    “Is it a god at all?”

    “I couldn’t say, I’d need more information.”

    A breeze skidded across the surface, dispersing the mist for a moment and she screamed. Their image glitched liked the screen of a television, once, twice, before flicking back into focus. She heaved and bit back tears, isolation clung to her edges and she didn’t welcome it. She didn’t want to be alone.

    “Annabeth,” Percy pushed himself closer still, his face taking up majority of the screen. “I’m going to find you I promise. I won’t stop, I won’t sleep, until I find you.” She laughed and smiled, despite the fresh wave of fear she felt as their words finally registered with her. They’re using you, to get to me.

    “Looks like you’re the one who’s going to have to go on a wild goose chase for the lost demigod now, huh?”

    He grinned right back at her, though his eyes were red rimmed. “Guess so. Don’t quit on me, Wise Girl.”

    “Never.”

    Percy nodded and took a step back, mouthing I love you as he did; she repeated the motion. Chiron started off on theories, assuring her they’d be there soon, and she could hear yelling from behind them, shuffling in the background—signs of action. From the corner of her vision, a dark line swooped across the landscape, a storm rolling. With a brave face, she let the clouds take the sun and with it, the iris message. The water grew choppy, waves crashing against the rock and dousing her completely.

    They’re using you, to get to me.

    Anger ignited in her bones, spread through her and seated itself in her chest. That wasn’t happening. If they wanted someone to get hurt, it definetely wouldn’t be her. On shaky legs, Annabeth stood, bracing for the surge of pain. It came and she cried through her teeth and spit out the salty taste that had gathered in her mouth like it didn’t bother her, because this wasn’t happening. A droplet hit her cheek, then another, then many, and then it was pouring. And she, she was screaming. Sending curse after curse into the storm, at whoever might be listening, all of them getting lost in the roar of rain against wave. It didn’t matter though, because this wasn’t happening.

She wasn’t going to play Andromeda, not in a million years.

[fireandgloryrpg]

Congratulations SKYE and welcome! We’re so happy to accept your application to play ANNABETH CHASE with the faceclaim of VIRGINIA GARDNER in Fire & Glory RPG! We can’t wait to begin roleplaying with you so please remember to look over our checklist!

Out of Character Information:

Name: Skye!

Pronouns: She/Her

Age: Twenty, 15 June

Timezone: GMT+8

Triggers: Nothing not already on the list.

Activity: I recently started an internship, but it’s a pretty chill one so I do have quite a bit of free time, I’ll definitely be on for at least three or four hours a day, and will most likely be lurking/available to talk most of the time! Saturdays are the only ones where I might not be available, I have standing dinner engagements which usually end past midnight, though I’ll be able to be on after that!

Skeleton Character Application:

Desired Character: Annabeth Chase

Character Birthday:: July 12, which means she’s a Cancer, though I feel like she fits Capricorn more tbh

Ref: ( “capricorns are very confident, self assured, practical, responsible, and persistent. to some, they can come off as a stick in the mud, as their sense of humor is often dry. they’re hard workers (the hardest), and incredibly good with money. when a capricorn sets their mind on something, nothing and no one will stand in their way.” )

( “cancerians are seen as sensitive and emotional, and in fact they are. they’re the cry babies of the zodiac, though they’re a lot tougher than people give them credit for. they’re maternal and caring and empathetic as all heck, with a tendency towards traditional values- deep down, they want the white picket fence. along with virgo and libra, they’re one of the most romantic of the signs.” )

Reason you want to play this character: Annabeth has been a character I started to play a long time ago, and I’ve been dying to play her again somewhere! I especially love that it’s in a canon setting, as I’ve always enjoyed exploring how she deals with everything post Tartarus, how she interacts with everyone and how it changes her as a person.

Are there any changes you wish to make (faceclaim, age, affiliation etc)?

A faceclaim change to Virginia Gardner, or Olivia Holt! Gabriella looks a little too soft and dreamy for me, and I feel both Ginny and Olivia have the sort of strong but kind look, if that makes sense! I would really  prefer Ginny, because she has lighter eyes, but I’m not totally opposed to Olivia if it will affect acceptances! ( Also on that note, if I could age her down to maybe twenty two or three, as a general rule I’m not really comfortable playing fcs older than their resources! )

Abilities: Superhuman strength, agility, durability; Genius intellect, Strategy & battle skill; Crafts; Telumkinesis ( I pulled these from her wiki page )

Biography:

Born to Athena and Frederick Chase, she came as an unwanted surprise to her father. He had reluctantly taken her in, but her childhood in the Chase household wasn’t a happy one. For the first five years of her life, she had as good of a life as one would have with a single father who was dumped with a baby he did not know how to care for. However, things began to take a downturn with the arrival of a stepmother and two half siblings. Being a demigod attracted a lot of monsters, which in turn made her family, feel like they were in constant danger thanks to her. Plagued by spiders that would disappear without a trace the next morning, a stepmother that refused to believe her and a father that didn’t have time for her, Annabeth ran away from home at the age of seven, spending several months defending herself against monsters with only a hammer.

She ran into Thalia and Luke, who took her along with them, and received a dagger from Luke to defend herself with. They eventually meet Grover, who took them to camp. However, before they reach camp, they are unable to outrun the last group of monsters, and Thalia sacrificed herself in order for them to reach the safe boundary.

Annabeth spent her next years at camp, training and learning more about her heritage. A natural and quick learner, she becomes accustomed to life at camp, mastering various weapons and honing her wits and war strategies. At ten, she hears the Great Prophecy, which gives her nightmares about it, and leaving her wondering if each new camper is the one mentioned in the prophecy.

Perhaps her life became more eventful after the arrival of Percy Jackson, the one from the prophecy. From finding stolen lightning bolts, to holding up the sky, leading up to fighting against Titans, there never seemed to be a peaceful period. The Battle of Manhattan was one of the most draining, having to fight against Luke, who had been a constant for most of her life. Things finally seemed to begin to settle down after Kronos’ defeat, and Annabeth is appointed as architect of Olympus, and begins a relationship with Percy.

All that was not to be, though, as a new Great Prophecy is issued and Percy disappears. In her search for him they discover the existence of Camp Jupiter and Roman demigods as well as the rise of the Giants and Gaea’s plans to return. She is reunited with Percy, and embarks on yet another quest to find Nico. Annabeth received her own quest from her mother, to find the Mark of Athena. Her solo quest leads her to Arachne, and although they manage to defeat her, Percy and Annabeth fall into Tartarus. The journey through it is nothing short of harrowing, and something that she wishes she could forget. However, they survive, and lead the war against the Giants, ultimately defeating them and Gaea.

After all that, Annabeth only hopes to settle down, go back to camp, lead a more normal life, but a demigod life is never predictable.