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by Aria strode out of Heathrow Airport. She had met up with Freya on Half-Blood hill that morning and Argus had driven them to JFK in one of Camp Half-Blood's vans. The flight had been pleasant, as were all flights in Aria's opinion. She didn't even need a ticket. "Zeus is my father," she'd told Freya during boarding. "That comes with a couple privileges." Like getting to walk past airport staff with no boarding pass.
Now they had arrived at their destination. And it was night time, which felt a bit weird since it was still afternoon in the US. Aria turned to her companion, a backpack slung on her shoulder. "Where to now, cab or train?" She was dressed in a white shirt and camouflage pants, a military jacket thrown on her back. Her aura shimmered like glowing silver. No mortal paid attention to the large hunting knife that stuck from her belt -- the Mist probably made it look like a key chain or some fashion accessoire.
Now they had arrived at their destination. And it was night time, which felt a bit weird since it was still afternoon in the US. Aria turned to her companion, a backpack slung on her shoulder. "Where to now, cab or train?" She was dressed in a white shirt and camouflage pants, a military jacket thrown on her back. Her aura shimmered like glowing silver. No mortal paid attention to the large hunting knife that stuck from her belt -- the Mist probably made it look like a key chain or some fashion accessoire.
