#behold the depths of my drafts folder

[hylianengineer]

Another Percy Jackson fic from my drafts - this is kind of an exploration of possible children of Demeter powers.

A child of Demeter with an instinctive sense for the uses and dangers of any plant they come across. Mint and ginger for nausea, don’t touch that it’s poison oak, that’s a stinging nettle it’ll hurt if you touch it, that one’s good for basket weaving, hey that’s an edible mushroom, etc. 

“Here, this will help.” She wraps a few broad leaves around their hand. “It’s nicknamed the band-aid plant.” 

“Don’t worry, I’ve got a plan.” She leads them to the base of an enormous tree, grown over with moss and kudzu vines. Reaching out a hand, she beckons to the vines to grow towards her until they’ve formed a dense curtain around the base of the tree. She sweeps a section of leaves aside: “Go on in, I’ll just finish up the camouflage out here before I join you.” 

“Why are you eating random vegetation?”  

“I’m not. These are wood sorrel, you see them all the time around here.” 

They sit with their back up against the concrete wall of their shelter- a drainage pipe almost large enough to stand up in. “We’re gonna have to risk a supply run before long. We’re almost out of food,” they warn as they cut open one of the four remaining cans- spaghetti o’s again, they note with disappointment. Cheap pasta is all well and good, but the canned stuff is unpleasant when it’s cold. Slimy.  

“Hold your pegasi, I’ve got a better idea.” Her eyes glint mischievously, and they’re certain that whatever this plan is, she knows they won’t like it. 

“Your ideas make me nervous.” 

“Just trust me.” She unfolds herself from the mossy ground and brushes the twigs from her jeans. “I’ll be back soon.” 

Sighing, their friend settles in to wait. Her plans can get a little out of control sometimes, but once she’s got an idea in her head there’s nothing to do but brace yourself. 

She returns an hour later and flings her backpack to the ground between them, already unzipping it and talking a mile a minute. “This is even better than I’d hoped for- walnuts, blackberries, wild leeks!” 

They eye the heap of plants dubiously- other than blackberries, they recognize none of it. “Are you sure you know what you’re doing?” 

“Of course, I’ve been doing this with my mom for years - my other mom, not Demeter. She’s an expert on foraging, and pardon my ego but I’m no rookie either. It’s safe, I promise.” And to demonstrate, she bites into something from her haul- a broad-leafed plant with a long, deep pink root.  

Cautiously, they follow suit, taking a tiny bite from the root end. It tastes like an overwhelming version of garlic, like fire on their tongue, and they try to swallow it as quickly as possible so as not to taste it more than necessary. “Gah, what is that?” 

She's still munching away at the thing, apparently not bothered by its heat, and she looks amused by their reaction. “Ramps, also called wild leek. Sorry, should’ve warned you they’re strong - kinda a love it or hate it sort of plant. Here, have some blackberries.” 

They take a handful of berries, grateful for anything they can recognize, and pop one into their mouth – juicy, sweet, and perfectly ripe. 

“This is nice and all, but I don’t think berries are gonna put much of a dent in my appetite.” 

“Oh! That’s what the nuts are for- I should’ve led with that.” She pulls yellow-green spheres from the bottom of her bag- they don’t look like any nuts they’ve ever seen. “We’ve got walnuts and butternuts, just gotta crack them first. Here, I’ll show you.”  

They watch as she carefully peels off the soft outer layer with her fingers- “Careful, this stuff will stain your clothes AND your skin”- it’s thick and fleshy, not at all something one expects to see around a walnut. But beneath it is the familiar hard shell, which she breaks open by smashing it with the hilt of her dagger. “And that’s all there is to it. Dig in.” She tosses one half of the nut in her mouth and offers them the other, they take it gratefully, relieved to taste something familiar amongst all these strange plants she seems to know like the back of her hand. Then they take out their own knife and start cracking shells with all the enthusiasm of someone who’s been eating canned ravioli cold for the past two days. Since, you know, they have.