by Morgan Landry 9/24/2014, 5:46 am
OOC: It's ok, I think he was more talking to Luna.
BIC: At first Chiara didn't hear him -- she loved to listen to her music extra loud -- but she could feel him lean closer so she took a headphone out just in time to hear his question.
"About nine hours, give or take," she said. "We have time to sleep."
And that's what she did. Snuggling up in her army jacket, Chiara leaned her seat back and curled up on it, her headphones plugged into her ears. Like most demigods though, her dreams were very vivid.
She dreamed she was on a windy hill somewhere; under her, she could hear the clanking of swords. When she leaned forward to see who it was, she saw two teenagers fighting off dracanae ; one was that guy Nico who had helped saving Manhattan with his army of zombies, and the other one was a girl of about sixteen with a dark braid and the attitude of a real fighter. She had quite some impressive moves, Chiara noted as she vaporized a dracana. And for some reason, there was a very huge white and golden statue of Athena next to them.
Her dream changed. She was now in a room overlooking New York City; she could see the outline of the Chrysler Building and the Empire States Building. In the room were several dozen teens in violet shirts and pieces of armor here and there listening to a lanky dude who really needed to wash his hair. He was pointing with a sword at a map and Chiara had seen enough battle maps in her life to see that one was one too. And it was a map of Camp Half-Blood. The dude said something about maneuvers while the others carefully listened, discipline plastered all over their attitude.
The dream changed yet again. Now she was in the middle of a feast atop a hill, party guests drifting around the place carrying golden wine cups and garlands of flowers. Painted marble statues dotted the place. Music, laughter and chatter echoed around her. But this wasn't a modern day feast: the people were dressed like in Antiquity with peploi and chitons. Even she was wearing a long chiton with a soldier's chlamys around her shoulders, her thick red curls pulled back with golden threads, which was a very weird feeling. She normally never did elaborate hairdos.
At the principal table sat a couple, a rather youngish man of perhaps twenty-five with a golden crown on his curly hair, and an extremely beautiful woman whose opulent dark streaks were pinned up with pearls and blue gems. The guy seemed very happy to be there, but the woman looked more annoyed than anything else.
Suddenly, the crowd broke apart as two magnificent stallions galloped through, one dappled, one palomino. Riding the dappled one was a man with a curly beard and a blue chiton. His green eyes radiated power.
"For your wedding, king Peleus," he said, "I give you Balius and Xanthus, two immortal horses."
Chiara then realized this was Poseidon. He jumped down the horse and let a servant boy take care of them while Peleus gave enthusiastic thanks. Next came someone Chiara immediately recognized. He wasn't in a wheel chair and his curly hair brushed his shoulders, but this was definitely Chiron, giving Peleus an ashen spear. When she walked closer to listen, she heard Chiron say it had been polished by Athena herself. The young king nodded, thanked warmly, and Chiron made way for the next person. Chiara didn't need many hints to guess who that was. His black hair was messy and greasy. Little flames burnt in his beard here and there. His whole being leaned to the left when he walked on his crippled feet and his face was so misshapen she looked away for several moments.
After the formal greeting, Hephaestus snapped his fingers and a sword appeared seemingly out of nowhere to float towards Peleus. It was definitely among the top two most beautiful swords Chiara had ever seen, far more beautiful than whatever cabin nine could craft. And when she said beautiful, she didn't mean it was pretty-looking with squiggles across the blade like the elf weapons in Lord of the Rings; she meant that its whole shape, its whole aspect and details were so perfectly designed to slice and cut and kill that it was absolutely breathtaking. The blade was celestial bronze of course, leaf-shaped, double-edged and razor-sharp, with dark blue highlights rippling across the surface. Its balance looked impeccable. Dark quality leather was wrapped around the hilt, the shape of the guard was discrete but strong enough to glance off attacks of other blades, and the whole sword was giving off a faint glow of red power. Now that, Chiara thought, is a weapon.
Just at that moment, a woman appeared. She was wearing a gray chiton with a leather girdle and sandals. When she saw her, Chiara immediately got angry. She wanted to punch and insult people, spread offensive gossip and give crashing a party a whole new definition. The woman looked at the assembled guests, scoffed and disappeared again, but no one else had really realized she had been there. The only thing people looked at was the golden apple in the middle of the table circle, and all the goddesses fighting over it.
A loud thud accompanied by a powerful vibration made Chiara wake up. Her iPod was black and out of battery, and her ears hurt. She picked the headphones out and looked past Weiss at the window to see the landing area swooshing away under them. They had arrived in Campeche.
Her mouth was furry, she had morning breath, her hair was disheveled; she rubbed her eyes, gave a big yawn and glanced at Alex and Weiss. The copilot was making an announcement in Spanish then English about the outside temperature and stuff she didn't really care about, so she went back to slumbering a bit. After six or seven minutes, when the plane had parked and all the security things had been pulled through, the fasten your seatbelt sign finally switched off and all the passengers stood up. Chiara got her bag from under her seat and shouldered it, her whole spine and legs hurting from having sat nine hours straight.
Outside the plane, it was very hot. Chiara regretted pulling on long camouflage pants and heavy combat boots, but it had been necessary for the bike ride. It was around noon now, which explained why her stomach was rumbling so loudly. No breakfast, she definitely needed lunch.
"Okay, I suggest we buy us some burritos or fajitas at some street stand and get a car. There are possible rents for tourists here and here," she pointed on her map.