Chapter Text
As Clarisse stomps over to the Big House, she swears she is one inch away from killing their activities director, his immortality be damned.
“Chiron,” she says flatly as she approaches, her arms crossed over her chest.
“Miss La Rue,” Chiron replies pleasantly. “How may I assist you?” Clarisse can’t tell if he’s doing it on purpose, or if he’s just that unaware of others’ emotions, but it pisses her off all the same.
“You rejected my class proposal. Again.”
He coughs awkwardly. “Ah, yes. That.”
“Why.”
Chiron gives her a sympathetic smile that has her blood boiling. “Unfortunately, the curriculum would be redundant, my dear.”
Redundant. It takes all of her self-control not to deck him, their height difference notwithstanding.
“How can you call it redundant when it’s not taught in the first place?” she bites out, each word sharply enunciated.
“As I’ve told you—” Chiron starts to reply but goes silent as the front door to the Big House flings open and Mr. D and some scrawny-looking new kid walk out onto the porch.
“Well,” Mr. D claps his hands together and looks directly at Chiron. “He shouldn’t implode at any moment, at least. He will visit me every so often to ensure it stays that way.” Clarisse is surprised to see the god’s expression morph into a sneer. “Be more careful with your pet projects next time.”
Pet project? Is the newbie the one Chiron’s been out all year watching? Him?
“See you Diogenes!” the kid yells with a wave. A laugh breaks free from her mouth without her input at the kid’s nonchalance, and she quickly smothers it with a cough. Mr. D only seems amused, not annoyed, as he turns into a cloud of purple mist.
She figures the kid must be one of Mr. D’s, considering he’s not that friendly with anyone, but as Clarisse sizes him up, she realizes that’s not the case. While Castor and Pollux are twins and are therefore bound to look similar, they do very specifically share features with their father. The runt in front of her has none of those shared traits. He has dark hair, sure, but his eyes are a calming shade of green. His complexion is a light tan, the kind that’s probably natural skin tone without much sun exposure. And he’s not only thin, he’s short. It makes it hard for her to tell whether he’s closer to nine years old or thirteen.
Chiron clears his throat. “As I was saying, Miss La Rue, we do not have the resources to spare for another class when our current ones already suffice.”
“Which is why I specifically volunteered to teach it,” Clarisse argues, feeling incredibly frustrated. “I don’t need anything except dummies, mats, and bags. And we already have those!” She vaguely notices the kid walking toward them in the background.
“You’re too young—”
“I turned fourteen last month,” she snaps. “Annabeth teaches one-on-one tutoring and she’s twelve.”
Chiron flicks his tail in a way she knows indicates he’s frustrated. “Annabeth is a special case, and this class is not necessary for survival.”
“You’re kidding me,” she seethes. “Not having lessons on hand-to-hand combat is absurd. You say you want us to be safe, and then you refuse to teach the basics.”
“Clarisse, I’ve already given you my answer,” Chiron replies, all calm and condescendingly. She clenches her jaw and fists, unconsciously rearing up for a fight.
“Monsters are killed by divine metal,” Chiron continues. “Focusing on other forms of combat takes away time and resources from more important fighting techniques.”
“That’s bullshit and y—”
“Young lady!” Chiron interrupts her, having the audacity to sound aghast. Clarisse can feel herself practically vibrating with rage.
“I think it would be horse shit actually,” the new kid says, walking up casually. It immediately halts Chiron’s momentum and causes him to start spluttering, which she can’t deny is entertaining. The kid looks rather pleased with himself, like it was his goal for some reason.
“What’s it to you runt?” she sneers, still riding the adrenaline from the argument.
The kid meets her gaze evenly. “He gaslighted me for around a month, has yet to apologize for it, and then tried to have me skip the orientation video in lieu of a personal tour.”
She blinks, processing that for a moment. The fuck?? She glances at Chiron, and, based on the centaur’s body language at least, the kid’s telling the truth.
She finds herself intrigued.
“Name’s Clarisse,” she says, nodding her chin slightly upward.
“Percy,” he replies, mirroring her movement. “You know where I can find that video? I don’t trust this guy any farther than I can throw him, and unlike you, I’m not built like a brick shithouse.”
Clarisse can’t help but snort at that. “Damn right,” she grins. Jury’s out on whether the kid is actually funny, but for right now he’s two-for-two.
She swiftly makes her way over to the Big House, wanting to be free of the fuckass centaur as soon as possible, though she calls back to the kid when she realizes he’s not following behind her. They make their way up the stairs to the projector room, and Clarisse pops the tape in the projector and hits play. The kid seems to take the whole ‘Greek mythology is real’ thing pretty well actually. He does ask a clarifying question about Cabin Eleven after he’s done watching though, and Clarisse takes a moment to warn him about Luke, if not by name. Gods know her siblings have told her enough about him to get the full picture.
Unfortunately, Chiron is still waiting outside the Big House for them when they make their way back out there. Double unfortunately, the most teacher’s pet to ever teacher’s pet is now with him. The kid looks at Annabeth and then back at Clarisse with a furrowed brow.
“Why do you guys have matching shirts? Does everyone wear it? Is this a cult?”
It’s certainly not what she thought he would ask, though now that he mentions it… are they a cult? She’s sure he’s at least partially joking, but. They are an isolated year-round religious-based camp that trains children to fight…
Huh. Something to chew on for later. For now, she watches Annabeth get introduced to the kid. And subsequently watches the kid zone the fuck out. Like, out of nowhere, for around twenty seconds, while he’s actively in a conversation. Does that count as dissociation? Is he, like, good? Though once he snaps out of it, he makes some sort of witty comeback to Annabeth, so maybe she’s overthinking it?
“Wanna blow this popsicle stand?” the kid turns around to ask her after somehow getting the princess to stutter. “Getting sick of the holier-than-thou types today.” His expression is a little tight.
Clarisse has an idea.
“Yeah, let me show you the armory. Should be a weapon even a shrimp like you can use,” she says, motioning for the kid to start walking with her. She sees Chiron bristle from the corner of her eye and knows the bait’s been taken.
“Miss La Rue,” Chiron chides, moving to block their path. “He needs a tour of the camp first and foremost.”
Too easy.
“Wonderful idea, O Activities Director,” she grins. “I’ll skip arts and crafts this afternoon to show him around. Good looking out.”
“That’s not—”
“Let’s go,” Clarisse says to the kid, reveling in her chance to cut off the centaur. The two of them dart around Chiron and hightail it out of there. While it would probably be more efficient to show him the armory toward the end, she figures the shrimp will feel better having an actual weapon to defend himself with. It also has the bonus of getting the kid some cardio and wasting even more time. Wins all around if you ask her.
On the way, she does actually point out useful things, though she’s been told in the past that her idea of “usefulness” is actually more akin to “paranoia”. To be frank, she thinks most people could use some more paranoia in their life. She mostly shows him things like spots to stash stuff, places it’d be the easiest to get ambushed, and known cleaning harpy blind-spots, among others. The kid seems to absorb it all like a sponge. Though it’s around five minutes into her very helpful tour that she realizes he doesn’t have anything with him.
“Where’s your bag?” she asks. “You leave it in the Big House?”
He shrugs. “Nah. Police wouldn’t let me take it out of the apartment. Said it was part of the crime scene.”
She freezes in place at that. “The fuck? What did you do?” She knows demigods have shit luck, but really?
The kid grins. “I did nothing. The hellhound on the other hand…”
Her brain stutters for a moment, trying to process that statement. Who the fuck talks so nonchalantly about a hellhound attack? Again, is this kid, like, good?
She must make a face, because he quickly clarifies. “Oh no, it’s all good. It took out my piece-of-shit stepfather and then decided to calmly leave.” He looks incredibly pleased as he says it.
She whistles. “Damn, nice. Share the luck with the rest of us, would you?” At least his disposition makes more sense now. She was about to get actually concerned.
He shrugs. “I mean. I met the Fates face-to-face this morning. I’m down to swap.”
She takes it back. What even.
The silence stretches between them.
“I’ve had a weird day,” he says several moments later, defensively.
“Yeah, no kidding,” she replies, unable to really say anything else at that.
It’s only after another five minutes of walking that the kid realizes they’re going way out of the way for this first stop. He inquires why.
“I’d be a piss-poor excuse for an Ares kid if I didn’t get you a weapon first. You complainin’, shrimp?”
He holds his hands up in a placating gesture and grins. “Not in the slightest.”
They arrive at the armory soon after, and to be honest, Clarisse has quite a bit of trouble actually finding him something he can use. Not would use, can. Nearly every single sword the kid picks up is awkward in his grip, and even the one that’s the least bad he still slightly fumbles with. Demigods usually have some natural aptitude with weapons, so it’s genuinely bizarre. At least that’s one potential sibling checked off her list, though. She puts aside the least awkward sword for him, figuring maybe Luke can help with that. She doesn’t like the bastard, but he unfortunately is pretty damn good with a sword. As she keeps showing him more weapons though, she starts thinking the clumsy sword might be the only thing she can get for him, considering he’s even worse with the spears. She’s about to call it quits entirely when he points to a polearm in the corner: a chauve-souris, “bat” in French. It’s a three-pointed polearm with the two outside points curving inward to look almost like wings.
“Go ahead and try it,” she shrugs. She’s just glad there’s a weapon he seems naturally drawn to at all. And, fortunately, he does have some actual natural talent for it too. Though, she’s curious, what god would even be associated with a chauve-souris?
She figures she may as well actually get his tour started, so she leads him over to the stables. And all but drags him over when she sees Silena feeding the horses.
“Yo! Silena!” she shouts, picking up her pace.
“Hey Clarisse!” Silena shouts back, waving, a huge grin on her face.
“Oh, who’s this?” Silena asks as they get into regular hearing distance and studies the newbie. He seems to be studying her right back.
His name…
It started with a P, right? Or an R?
“This is Prissy,” she decides, clapping him on the back.
“Percy,” he corrects.
“Yeah, that’s what I said.” It’s his name now, he can deal with it. “Prissy, meet Silena Beauregard, daughter of Aphrodite. She’s one of the most badass campers we’ve ever had.”
Silena blushes all over. Clarisse considers it a victory. “Shush! We all know you hold that title better than I do,” she deflects. She turns back to the kid. “It’s nice to meet you, Percy.”
Prissy smirks at the emphasis and returns the sentiment. Clarisse starts up a conversation about the horses and how they’re doing, keeping the conversation more basic in case the kid wants to chime in. Instead, the kid zones out again. For much longer.
“…Is he alright?” Silena asks her about a minute in.
Clarisse shrugs, her brows slightly furrowed. “I dunno. I just met the kid today.”
Silena worries her lip between her teeth. “Did something trigger him? Was it me?”
“I don’t think so,” Clarisse squints at him. “If I were to guess, he’s just had a rough day.”
They try to continue their conversation about the horses. Another minute later, the kid is still zoned out.
“This doesn’t seem like just a ‘rough day,’” Silena notes.
Yeah, no shit. The fuck is Clarisse supposed to do?
“You’re supposed to be the one good with emotions,” Clarisse points out.
“Yeah, in theory,” Silena frowns. “Maybe we should talk to Mr. D? See if he can help?”
Clarisse shakes her head. “He already saw him. It’s nobody’s business, so don’t spread this shit around, but apparently Chiron gaslighted the kid for a month.”
Silena’s eyes go wide. “He’s the one Chiron’s been out on assignment for? Oh, poor guy.”
Clarisse checks to see if the kid is still out of it. He is. “I don’t think he’d appreciate the pity.”
Silena’s eyes widen even further somehow. “No, no, I didn’t mean it like that. I swear. Just. What was Chiron thinking?”
“That question implies he thinks at all,” Clarisse snorts derisively. Much to Clarisse’s surprise, Silena starts to look genuinely angry.
“Uh…? Sil?”
The girl in question takes several measured breaths. “I am going to speak to Mr. D,” she says, her voice forcibly even. “Tell Sam they’re in charge ‘til I’m back.”
Clarisse nods. Silena doesn’t get angry often, but when she does, Clarisse has learned to either stay the hell out of her way or meet her at the sparring mats.
Prissy comes back to himself right as Silena leaves. Clarisse quickly picks up the tour again. He seems to be more present as they leave the stables, which she feels relieved at for some reason. Their next stop is the beach, where the kid ends up staring out at the water for a bit. His expression isn’t absent, just melancholic, so she decides to leave him be. After that, they pass by the cabins. She only mentions a few things about the cabins and spends the rest of the time walking past talking about the oath the three kings took, and the girl who got caught in the crossfire.
She’s heard a lot about Thalia over the years. She doesn’t share it out of respect for the dead.
Clarisse takes Prissy around the rest of the camp, introducing him to the cabins as they’re doing their activities. When she gets to the Aphrodite kids, she makes sure to deliver Silena’s message.
Their last stop on the tour is the strawberry fields. Clarisse is relieved the Demeter cabin is who meets them first.
“Hey Clarisse,” Katie greets. “It’s good to see you.” She glances over at Prissy. “New sibling?”
“Nah. Undetermined.” Katie ribs her about her very transparent attempts to get out of arts and crafts, and it actually makes the kid laugh. She shoulder checks him though, just to restore the balance. The kid introduces himself to Katie and her siblings and starts talking rather enthusiastically about killer weedwackers.
Clarisse knows there’s another cabin to introduce. She doesn’t feel like she needs to rush it.
Unfortunately, Luke makes his way over a few minutes later anyway, and as soon as he gets into view, Prissy minutely flinches. And zones out again.
Katie locks eyes with her, clearly having seen it too. Clarisse thinks back at what the kid said about his stepfather.
She steps slightly forward so she’s in front of Prissy.
“New camper?” Luke asks, cocking a hip. Clarisse’s eyes narrow. His body and expression are projecting nonchalance, but Clarisse can see the calculating undercurrent of his gaze.
Katie smiles brightly, her jaw almost imperceptibly clenched. “Yup! He’s super into gardening, I think he’s one of ours.”
Luke grins. “Let’s hope your mother claims him soon then.” He looks at Prissy, as if expecting him to say something, and he tilts his head when he doesn’t.
They sit in silence for several seconds before Prissy zones back in and hastily apologizes, “Sorry. I completely zoned out. It’s been a long day.”
Clarisse raises an eyebrow but doesn’t say anything. She’s seen campers have long days, and it doesn’t look like this.
“Can you all run that by me again?” he asks.
“Sure thing,” Luke says, smiling kindly. “I’m Luke, and I’m the Head Counselor of the Hermes cabin. You’ll be bunking with us for the time being.”
Prissy looks surprised at something that was just said. Clarisse can’t figure out what. Katie reads it as surprise about Cabin Eleven and tries to assure him that it’s standard procedure. Luke’s expression momentarily shifts into a frown before smoothing back out. Clarisse glances around. Katie clearly didn’t pick up on it, but interestingly enough, she thinks Prissy did. His brow is ever so slightly furrowed.
“C’mon now, it won’t be all that bad!” Luke exclaims and throws an arm around Prissy’s shoulders. The kid immediately tenses up, and though his shoulders drop slightly a moment later, the tension throughout his body still remains. “We’re all family, right?” Luke continues. “We take care of each other. You’ll be fine.”
“Yeah. Family,” Prissy replies, not at all sounding convinced.
Luke turns to Katie. “Hey Katie, you mind leading my cabin back when they’re done berry picking?” He removes his arm from around Prissy’s shoulders. “I want to get Percy acclimated before the chaos.”
Prissy tenses again, this time so subtle that Clarisse only spots it because she’s actively looking for it.
“Sure,” Katie replies, her smile somewhat tight. The tightness loosens when she looks at Prissy and tells him to let her know if he needs anything.
Clarisse knows that, on paper, Luke is doing what a Head Counselor should. Hell, he’s going above and beyond considering the size of his cabin. But Clarisse has learned to trust her gut. And her gut says something is wrong.
Clarisse catches the kid’s gaze. She tilts her head slightly and discreetly glances in Luke’s direction before looking back at him: You need backup?
Prissy wrinkles his nose and shrugs: I think I’m good.
As Luke claps him on the back a moment later and starts leading him in the direction of the cabins, Clarisse gets the sinking feeling that she should have gone with him anyway.