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Rachel knows that Reyna is surprisingly stupid for an intelligent woman. On an emotional level. Reyna excels at devising battle strategies and spotting potential and analyzing the maneuvers of opponents, but when it comes to interpersonal relationships, Reyna is about as empathetic as a wrecking ball—with very few exceptions.
At least Rachel has to give her credit for that. Rachel, however, is not one of those exceptions.
Reyna, a beautiful, impressively muscular wrecking ball with a death stare that makes enemy's knees tremble. And Rachel's knees. Maybe a little. It was quite a surprise when Rachel realized that her interest in Percy had vanished into thin air entirely.
And as she learned in physics class, energy is never lost, it simply transforms into other energy. This explains why Rachel's interest in Percy has simply turned into Rachel's interest in Reyna. The laws of nature must be upheld, otherwise the world would collapse.
But Rachel would really like her affections to either vaporize completely, or be directed towards someone a little... less stupid. As far as feelings go.
She's even talked to Apollo about it. That alone shows how desperate she is.
"That celibacy rule," she said, trying not to think about how she'd watched Reyna lift weights earlier today. "Does it only apply to men per chance?"
Apollo, as always in his preferred form of a rather hot teenager with blond hair and tanned skin, was sitting on Rachel's windowsill when she asked him this question. He raised a perfectly arched eyebrow and Rachel would like to say she was totally cool, but she was definitely blushing.
"Do you realize who you're talking to?" he asked. Half amused, half outraged. Rachel sighed deeply.
"I practically invented the concept of pansexuality, Rachel Elisabeth Dare," he added with a wave. "No weird, heteronormative loopholes."
On the one hand, Rachel thinks that this is absolutely justified and that it would be pretty stupid if sex was only considered sex as soon as a penis was involved. Then again, that doesn't help her when she's very desperate to get snogged against the nearest wall by Reyna .
Apollo dangled a leg and looked out of the window, thinking very hard and then looking at Rachel as if he was pondering a new ingenious—and by that Rachel means terrible—haiku.
"But it's not forbidden to fall in love," he said with an almost wolfish grin. Rachel grumbled, wanting to throw paint at him, strangle him, hand the role of oracle back to him, jump out of the window... "Not even if it's reciprocated. I'm not a monster, after all."
Rachel snorted several times.
She'd refrained from asking until today why exactly Apollo felt it necessary for his oracles to be virgin girls, but she had a feeling she wouldn't like the answer. So she didn't ask and refuses to think about it any further.
In love.
Pah.
Just because she likes looking at Reyna and listening to her shout at recruits and has a falling feeling in her stomach every time Reyna smiles for once doesn't mean she has any feelings.
Rachel could swear she hears bell-like laughter even though there's no one else in her room.
If Aphrodite is already making fun of her, then it must be serious. She can almost see Apollo sitting on her rooftop with a harp while throwing rose petals down on her.
"You should be grateful, you know," Apollo says when he appears on Rachel's bed on February thirteenth while she is crouched in front of a canvas practicing painting mountainous landscapes with her feet.
"For giving me peace and quiet when I'm painting?" she asks, unimpressed. Rachel has long since stopped being startled when Apollo appears out of nowhere. Sometimes—or perhaps more often than not—she forgets that Apollo is a god and that she herself is nothing but a human, a puny oracle that occasionally spits out green smoke and a few prophecies. Then again, she simply has no patience to constantly take Apollo and his oversized ego into consideration.
She threw a plastic brush at the King of the Titans. Rachel has standards.
"For stopping Aphrodite from pouncing on you like the ravenous scavenger she sometimes is," Apollo says theatrically. Rachel doesn't even have to look up to know that he has placed the back of his hand on his tanned forehead.
"What would she want from me?" mumbles Rachel, concentrating on placing a tree next to a rather successful stream. Her foot is starting to cramp.
"Oh, you know. It's Valentine's Day, that's her thing. So much love, pink confetti, dramatic displays of emotion and so on and so forth... and you ooze so much pining energy, it would have been a feast for her."
With a violent twitch of her foot, the brush slides several centimeters across the canvas and gives the grey mountain landscape a green coat of paint. She stares first at her ruined painting, then at Apollo.
"Pining energy?" she repeats incredulously. Apollo grins broadly at her. It's as if the sun has just risen in her studio.
"There was training this morning. You were watching. I made about ten new haikus about how your eyes sparkled and you had a little drool in the corner of your mouth—HEY!"
Rachel just threw her color palette at Apollo. His entire face is an impressionist masterpiece. A firework of color.
"I HAVE THE PERFECT GIFT FOR YOUR BELOVED! AND YOU'RE THANKING ME WITH A PAINT BOMB?"
Rachel pretends not to care about Apollo as he utters a dramatically indignant haiku and threatens to keep the gift idea to himself. She also pretends that her heart isn't pounding very hard at the thought of giving Reyna anything for Valentine's Day.
*
"Why exactly are we hanging around here, where a bloodthirsty monster could attack us at any time?"
Rachel herself isn't sure why exactly she's doing this. She wouldn't admit in her life that Apollo's idea is a good one. That would only inflate his ego even more and Rachel doesn't want that. But here she is, dragging Reyna across a moderately busy street towards a building that, from the outside, looks like it's in desperate need of a coat of paint.
Of course, Reyna has no idea that today is February fourteenth. That means Rachel is out undercover, and if Reyna is surprised or unhappy about anything, Rachel can pretend it wasn't a romantic gesture.
Which would be a lie.
Rachel is afraid all the time that she'll see a homeless guy lurking around somewhere who is uncomfortably interested in her and Reyna and who, on closer inspection, turns out to be Apollo. He's probably watching her from somewhere. She can never be too careful.
Rachel nearly choked on her own spit when she saw Reyna in something other than her armor. She's wearing plain, light blue jeans and a shirt with the sleeves rolled up. Rachel has never stared so at anyone's forearms in as much offense as she does at Reyna's.
"Because you deserve a day off and this will be good for your soul!" Rachel replies. She's pleased that her voice comes out steady and confident.
"What makes you think my soul—oh!"
It's rare for Reyna to be speechless. But after Rachel very firmly pushes her through the main entrance, she breaks off her sentence and gets all round-eyed. Rachel wonders if her heart is about to burst when she sees her dark brown eyes sparkle and the way the corners of Reyna's mouth turn upwards.
Rachel struggles to hold back a victory pose and a small, triumphant dance.
"Can I help you?" says a stressed-looking young woman with an afro and an oversized knitted sweater. Rachel beams. In the background, dogs are barking and the soft squeaking that announces the presence of small animals fills the gaps.
Reyna's hand is on Rachel's shoulder and Rachel feels a wave of pure warmth sweep through her core.
Being in love is not forbidden.
Being in love is allowed.
"We're here to look at the puppies you got in a few days ago."