[ dragging himself out of the earth definitely hadn't been on percy's to do list for today, and he isn't too thrilled about the last-minute addition.

not that the nightmare hadn't been horrible, even by demigod standards. not that he enjoyed the feeling of being torn apart or put back together. not that he loves the implications of i'm sorry it couldn't be saved. but he's had bad past experiences with being buried alive, and it's panicked, animal instinct that has him scrambling for the surface. he's breathing hard as his head breaks the surface, but the fresh air goes a long way towards calming his nerves. as he pulls himself clear of the roots, he gets to his feet, brushing dirt off his clothes and out of his hair. he's dressed like any normal, modern day teen: all worn jeans and long-sleeved shirt, sneakers that have served him as well in gym classes as running for his life from monsters. it dawns on him that 1) he has no idea where he is, but 2) nothing's tried to kill him yet, and he frowns, finally turning to take a look at his surroundings. his head tips upwards — and up, and up, as he looks for the summit of the huge tree. ]

Okay, [ he admits aloud, ] I'm impressed. [ and then, ] But if a giant squirrel busts out of those branches and tries to eat me, I'm going to get seriously annoyed.

[ this just. this seems like the kind of thing that would happen to him. ]

[ in springstar, there's a lot that's weirdly familiar for him, like, vibes-wise. the familiarity doesn't make him any more comfortable with the gathering, though, nor does that make it even easier for him to focus on cyrus's speech. still, he's not unobservant; or at least, he isn't so unobservant that he misses the lukewarm reception to cyrus. with a frown, he asks a nearby bearer, ]

The speech wasn't that bad, was it?

[ or, more to the point: is it just him, or is the tribune not as popular around here as you'd expect?

the food, at least, looks pretty good. and despite some reservations, percy's happy to chow down, trying some of the grains and stuffed doulmades. truth is, while he's worried about the food — a little story about persephone comes to mind — he can't very well avoid everything, not when it's looking like it could be days before he gets home. (days, he thinks, and a bitter taste settles in his mouth. but he can't think any further out than that right now.)

in highstorm, he — nods politely when he's greeted by the lady yima, swallowing hard, as his hand is taken and he's told about strength, and memories, and loss. and after she glides away, he mutters too loudly, ]

She always this friendly?

[ the way his tone twists around the word friendly, it's clear he was tempted to say something else entirely.

call him stereotypical, but he's drawn to the reflecting pool. making himself aware of sources of water in his vicinity is a long-time habit after years of dealing with murderous gods, hungry monsters, and other mythological creatures really determined to ruin his day. he sits by the water, looking into it rather than listen to another round of speeches, and finds himself trying, by force of habit, to sense anything about it. he's heard about the need to harmonize, how powers don't come back till you do, but it still feels weird. like he's had a limb cut off. he's lost memories, he's lost senses, but he's never lost his connection to the sea.

and this water is mesmerizing, strangely, drags at his attention and shows him glimpses of things it shouldn't be able to. he leans forward, almost too far — then jerks backwards, so hard he bumps straight into another bearer. ]

Sorry! Sorry. I wasn't looking. [ which feels like a lie as soon as he says it. he grimaces, amends, ] I didn't see you there.

[ it's impossible to miss how spooked the locals are. percy spends time talking to them when he's in springstar because, honestly? he trusts what he hears from them more than he trusts these faction heads. it's nothing personal; he's just known enough powerful, mysterious, magical types who are being super reasonable, really! that he isn't inclined to take either cyrus or yima at their word. cyrus, admittedly, does sound a lot more normal, and yima more like the kinds of goddesses he's met before (and he's met a lot of them), but — call him careful.

okay, anyone who knows him would laugh themselves sick if they heard the words percy jackson and careful in the same sentence. that doesn't mean he's never careful. he can be, sometimes. every once in a while. occasionally. at least once in his life.

so, naturally, he's wandering a side alley of springstar alone, even after hearing the whispered dangers. it's not like he'd been given a lot to go on, and mysterious monster attacks is such a normal problem compared to everything else around here — for him, anyway — that he's kind of drawn to it despite himself. maybe factions and crystals and strange wars are a lot to take in, but monsters terrorizing mortals? now that's a problem he understands. besides, he's faced a lot of monsters in his life. he isn't about to go hiding behind strangers to protect him from the hypothetical of running into one.

this definitely doesn't count as looking for trouble.

but then he hears a high-pitched scream from a nearby road — and the unmistakable sound of a roar and things crashing. he's running before he's aware of making the decision, throwing himself around the corner and vaulting over a random cart without missing a beat, rapidly closing the distance between himself and...well, trouble.

so much for careful.

he skids to a stop as he takes in the scene: a monster that's mostly human-shaped, if bigger and more muscular than most mortals, and completely covered in fur. their face is wolfish — literally — and angry, their growls baring nasty fangs. cowering beneath it is a child, her basket of food scattered across the ground, her arms thrown up over her face as she cries. the choice of target is so astonishingly unfair that it leaves percy breathless with rage. ]

Hey, ugly! [ he calls loudly. some local fruit had rolled nearly to his feet from the girl's upended basket; he picks it up and throws it directly at the monster for good measure, impacting nicely against the thing's nose. ] Why not try picking on someone your own size?

[ the good: the wolfish monster completely forgets about the girl in its irritation at percy. it rounds on him, advancing menacingly.

the bad: percy abruptly remembers that he's got no sword, no powers, and no friends to back him up.

he could probably use some assistance. ]

[ here for funsies, mainly! feel free to hit me up for something more personalized or to drop me a wildcard. percy's from the books, somewhere circa his more recent appearances (so ~ 17 years old). any character sensitive to that kind of thing can feel free to notice there's something distinctly magical/sea god adjacent about him. ]