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papadopoulosHome, where my thoughts are
waiting silently for me
(wait, that's not mine. oops)
_______________________________________
The scent of strawberries fills the air. That’s the first hint that he’s not at the Mansion, and Apollo opens his eyes. There beneath him lies Camp Half-blood, the Big House off to one side, twelve cabins and various others scattered in a loose horseshoe shape nearby. It’s strange to see it after so long, almost exactly how he’d left it when he expected to arrive there almost a year ago.
He can tell this is a dream, however; it feels familiar, like the prophetic dreams (memories) he’d had back when he was Lester. This doesn’t seem like a memory; it seems like the present. His questions are quickly answered when he sees a few familiar forms exiting Cabin 7 on their way to the campfire. The mop of unruly blond hair is clearly Will, and Austin and Kayla aren’t too far behind–and then, there behind them are Yan, Gracie, and Jerry. He hopes they haven’t given up on him. It’s been almost a year, after all, maybe they think he’s just gone back to his old ways. (It wouldn’t be the first time.)
If only Meg was here, he thinks as he lands gently on the ground. But this is not Aeithales; she is likely back in Palm Springs where he last saw her. In any case –maybe this is all a dream for his kids, too – it happens, sometimes, when you’re a demigod – he strides over towards his children, giving them an awkward little wave like he hasn’t just disappeared for the last nine months. (Maybe he hasn’t? Maybe it’s been, like, two days, he doesn’t know how this whole thing works.) Will shoots him a mildly surprised look. “Hey, dad.”
Dad. He hadn’t thought he would miss that word as much as he has; but a lot of things have been very different in the past year of his life. He had promised he wouldn’t forget how to be mortal; he would be better. Easier said than done, when one is whisked off to an alternate dimension. (Even there, though, he is trying.) Tears spring to his eyes all of a sudden: perhaps it’s the lingering memories of Jason Grace, or perhaps it’s suddenly being somewhere that has felt more like home than anywhere else, and he steps forward and pulls all of his kids into a hug, one after the other.
“Sorry I’ve been gone so long,” he tells his children – who give him some more surprised looks. “....Dad, it’s been like. Two weeks since you were last here,” Kayla says, flipping her green hair over her shoulder. “Don’t worry about it. We know you’re busy.”
“It’s not that,” Apollo says, transitioning in an instant back to his Lester-form, and proceeds to relay the whole of his past nine months at the mansion. At least now he knows that his children hadn’t given up on him. “I’ll keep in touch, if I can,” he promises when he’s done with his story. “Or maybe I can –do this, again. The sun always comes back, right?” Somewhere in the pit of his stomach, he feels a pulling; like the dream or whatever this is is about to end. “I gotta go now, though,” he continues, reaching to ruffle Will’s hair as his eldest son gives him a very aggrieved look, far too old for this nonsense. “Be good. Tell Meg I miss her, and I’m sorry I couldn’t check in on her.”
…And just as abruptly as it had come, the scent of strawberries disappears, and Apollo is whisked back to his third-floor bedroom at the mansion, early-morning light streaming through the windows. In lieu of children, he has cows to take care of; and so his day continues apace.
waiting silently for me
(wait, that's not mine. oops)
_______________________________________
The scent of strawberries fills the air. That’s the first hint that he’s not at the Mansion, and Apollo opens his eyes. There beneath him lies Camp Half-blood, the Big House off to one side, twelve cabins and various others scattered in a loose horseshoe shape nearby. It’s strange to see it after so long, almost exactly how he’d left it when he expected to arrive there almost a year ago.
He can tell this is a dream, however; it feels familiar, like the prophetic dreams (memories) he’d had back when he was Lester. This doesn’t seem like a memory; it seems like the present. His questions are quickly answered when he sees a few familiar forms exiting Cabin 7 on their way to the campfire. The mop of unruly blond hair is clearly Will, and Austin and Kayla aren’t too far behind–and then, there behind them are Yan, Gracie, and Jerry. He hopes they haven’t given up on him. It’s been almost a year, after all, maybe they think he’s just gone back to his old ways. (It wouldn’t be the first time.)
If only Meg was here, he thinks as he lands gently on the ground. But this is not Aeithales; she is likely back in Palm Springs where he last saw her. In any case –maybe this is all a dream for his kids, too – it happens, sometimes, when you’re a demigod – he strides over towards his children, giving them an awkward little wave like he hasn’t just disappeared for the last nine months. (Maybe he hasn’t? Maybe it’s been, like, two days, he doesn’t know how this whole thing works.) Will shoots him a mildly surprised look. “Hey, dad.”
Dad. He hadn’t thought he would miss that word as much as he has; but a lot of things have been very different in the past year of his life. He had promised he wouldn’t forget how to be mortal; he would be better. Easier said than done, when one is whisked off to an alternate dimension. (Even there, though, he is trying.) Tears spring to his eyes all of a sudden: perhaps it’s the lingering memories of Jason Grace, or perhaps it’s suddenly being somewhere that has felt more like home than anywhere else, and he steps forward and pulls all of his kids into a hug, one after the other.
“Sorry I’ve been gone so long,” he tells his children – who give him some more surprised looks. “....Dad, it’s been like. Two weeks since you were last here,” Kayla says, flipping her green hair over her shoulder. “Don’t worry about it. We know you’re busy.”
“It’s not that,” Apollo says, transitioning in an instant back to his Lester-form, and proceeds to relay the whole of his past nine months at the mansion. At least now he knows that his children hadn’t given up on him. “I’ll keep in touch, if I can,” he promises when he’s done with his story. “Or maybe I can –do this, again. The sun always comes back, right?” Somewhere in the pit of his stomach, he feels a pulling; like the dream or whatever this is is about to end. “I gotta go now, though,” he continues, reaching to ruffle Will’s hair as his eldest son gives him a very aggrieved look, far too old for this nonsense. “Be good. Tell Meg I miss her, and I’m sorry I couldn’t check in on her.”
…And just as abruptly as it had come, the scent of strawberries disappears, and Apollo is whisked back to his third-floor bedroom at the mansion, early-morning light streaming through the windows. In lieu of children, he has cows to take care of; and so his day continues apace.
