Chapter Text
Nothing about Owen’s life was normal, and the boy knew that.
First off he was blind. He was merely born that way, with milky pale blue eyes that tended to get second glances. Not that he could see them, he could just sense the double looks. The lingering questions in their faces, the morbid curiosity. So Owen learned to keep his eyes shut most of the time, to prevent a lot of the more invasive questions he would answer with a sigh and a mumbled excuse for one.
If that wasn’t enough, he had this uncanny ability since childhood that somehow kept popping up at the most inopportune times possible. He could almost.. Sense something was going to happen before it did. It wasn’t quite a sense though, it was more a murky, blurry vision behind his closed eyelids. A shifting pattern of mixing and swirling colors painting out a unique scene that was somehow replicated minutes, hours or even days later. Sometimes, occasionally, these strange scenes were so vivid he mixed up where exactly he was in time or surroundings, leaving with him the strongest sense of deja vu and knowing information before it was even spoken aloud.
Though, that so happened to be how he met his closest friend at the moment, Cleo. Cleo was a quiet yet snappy girl, who spoke with a tone that felt like the verbal version of slouching your shoulders- Beaten down by the world, a world that worked in ways Owen was convinced only she knew. One day, he bumped into her in the halls of the cursed public school he attended. With a cock of his head and a mumbled “Sorry, Cleo”, he anticipated that to be the end of the encounter. But he heard her suck in breath and demanded him to say how he knew her name.
Owen didn’t want to sound like a complete weirdo off the bat, so he strung together an attempted but ultimately failed statement of "I've heard-”. He shook his head and fell quiet on his pitiful attempt to explain, before ultimately taking a deep breath and whispering.
“I can see.. I’ve seen this encounter before, you told me your name was Cleo.” He gripped his wooden walking stick a bit tighter as there was a larger pause, before Cleo huffed and said nothing but a “Alright.”
Owen didn’t understand it at that point, how she could be so nonchalant about something that sounded borderline insane.
But he certainly did soon.
One night, a few weeks after meeting Cleo, he dreamt fretfully, tossing and turning into the early hours of the dawn. Visions kept flashing in his dreams, none of which meant any sense.
Cleo with some type of goat or deer legs.
A buff, shirtless man with a smaller white haired teen on his shoulder, both beaming at him in some sort of field with another buff browned haired man standing to the side as if guarding something.
A woman with tattoos of wings on her shoulder giving him a gentle look.
As the night passed, countless visions swirled in his head over and over. Some were repeated, as if on loop. Like the dream of green smoke pouring out of someone’s lips or that girl with the tattooed back. Some just flashed by quickly, like the men in the field. He had no idea what any of it meant, even as he woke up with words on his lips and panic in his throat.
The rest of his morning went near normally. His mother said a cheerful goodbye to him as he left for school, backpack slung over his shoulder and walking stick in hand. Cleo met him outside his apartment, and Owen heard her shifting seemingly impatiently. He swore he heard a few sniffs as well.
“Good morning,” He politely greeted, and he heard a rush of air like Cleo was waving before the hand presumably smacked against her side in realization. “Morning, Owen.”
The two walked to school in near silence, Cleo doing her daily routine of tugging Owen’s sleeve or back if the walking light was not lit. Owen did greatly appreciate it- No one wanted to walk into traffic after all and he doubted a driver wanted to hit a kid even more- but the one time he tried to express his thankfulness Cleo merely scoffed and told him not to mention it. She did that a lot with any compliment, from every given person, so Owen eventually learned to express his sincerity in other ways. Like not expressing gratitude. He could work with that.
Suddenly, however, whilst waiting for a longer light to turn accompanied by the sound of Cleo sniffing beside him, there was a mix of swirling colors that left him near nauseous and light headed. Feathers flashed before his eyes, a faint bronzy sheen to them. Cleo shrieking, the sound of air wooshing past, a red painting his senses that looked oddly familiar to blood-
He felt a nudge from behind, startling him out of his swirling vision.
“The walklight’s on,” Cleo stated, nudging him again. Owen mumbled a swift apology and walked with her hand in his to guide him across the crosswalk. He took a breath, the flowery smell of Cleo’s supposed perfume grounding him back down. But for some reason, Cleo kept a brisk pace the entire time, even pulling his hand if he couldn’t keep up.
“Why do you keep sniffing?” Owen asked after a bit of speedwalking in silence, to which Cleo gave a curt “Allergies.” Owen blinked, the tone of her voice sounding off to him, and his mind stumbled back to that swirling vision. The scent of blood, a curdling shriek-
“Are.. you sure?” He asked, concern lacing his voice.
“I’m fine, Owen.” She replied just as curt as the first time. Owen said nothing after that, and the two continued in tense silence. Owen turned his focus to listen to the birdsong overhead, noting a different pitch or call than usual. He blinked again, cocking his head curiously.
“What’s that bird? I’ve never heard it befor-” Cleo mumbled a swear under her breath, or at least it sounded like a swear, and yanked his arm as she quickened her pace. “Just some crows.” She answered. But that didn’t explain why her pace quickened. Owen paused, making her stop, and turned to look at her. Or at least he thought he was.
“You’ve been acting weird all morning.” He said, his hand tightening on his walking stick. “Can you please be honest with me?” He heard her let out an almost frustrated sigh.
“There isn’t time to explain, Owen. We have to move.” She nearly snapped. Owen stood his ground, face tightening a bit. “If there’s something wrong, something dangerous, I saw a vision this morning-” Cleo yanked his arm again, pulling him in a direction that seemed unfamiliar.
“I’ll explain later, I promise-”
It all happened suddenly. One moment Cleo was promising, the next she shrieked. The same shriek as in his vision as a whoosh of air and a sharp pain erupted across his cheek. A woman’s cackle came from above, as did the sound of wingbeats. Cleo cursed, and Owen felt warm blood streak down his face.
“We need to move!!” She yelled, as she literally threw him over her shoulder. The sound of wings and women’s laughter followed them as Cleo ran faster than Owen knew capable- The wind whipped against his cut face in a near painful lash. He had no idea where they were going, no idea where he was anymore as Cleo kept running. He swore he heard almost hoof trots, like horses galloping-
There was a sudden pause. The cackling was still there, but distant, as Cleo yelled something and there was the sound of a coin hitting the pavement.
“Stêthi 'Ô hárma diabolês!”
The last thing Owen heard before his body gave out was the sound of a car pulling up and Cleo hoisting him in before he succumbed to the pain of his cheek, lack of air and finally lost all semblance of consciousness.
_____
Drift wasn’t expecting any emergencies to happen today. In fact, she was quite content plucking strawberries in the fields with Shelby as the wind spirit Scott drifted overhead, providing gossip and commentary from around camp.
He was in the middle of recounting a tale about the latest gossip between Nikos and Apo, until her twin Martyn came running up to the three panting.
“Cleo- She brought a new camper!! His face is all- All fucked up!”
Drift blinked as Scott landed next to her, Shelby looking up (not in their direction, but close enough). All of the camp knew one of their satyrs was off on a new important mission, but for her to bring in a halfblood so soon? And without warning at that? Scott cocked his head in thought, cloudy hair turning slightly grey.
“So Cleo disappears for like, a month, and the first thing we hear back from her is her bringing a new kid to camp? Usually she warns Chiron before extraction..”
Martyn nodded, still attempting to catch his breath. “She brought him in on the like creepy taxi thing, whatever that’s called and she brought him right to the infirmary!! Apparently Chiron is meeting ‘em there and-”
Scott whistled, eyebrows going up in interest. “Chiron is immediately meeting her there? Not even waiting for him to get better? Who is this guy??”
Martyn peeked around, eyes wide, before his voice dropped to a conspirating whisper.
“Rumor has it the guy got attacked by monsters. Makes sense if Chiron’s going to check ‘em out while he’s still out like a light.”
Scott hummed, tapping his chin. “Attacked by monsters.. Usually she’s good at getting them before that happens. I wonder what went wrong.”
Drift brushed off her skirt, standing. She handed her basket to Shelby, before waving goodbye at Scott. “I better go check it out, see if they need help.” Scott waved back as Shelby nodded, her face worried. “Keep us updated, okay?”
“I will,” Drift promised, before setting off to the infirmary. Internally, she was just as curious as Scott. It was well known Cleo brought several halfbloods to camp, her, her twin and Shelby included, but usually the satyr communicated with Chiron before she brought anyone in to ensure a safe and welcome transition to camp. A chance for those here to get beds set up and a place ready so they felt welcome and supported though a challenging new adjustment in their life. Finding out you're the child of a God and having to leave near everything behind was no small feat for anyone. Drift’s eyes softened in sympathy as she opened the infirmary door.
In one of the rooms Cleo had her back to the door, mumbling to Chiron in his wheelchair as an olive skinned boy lay on the bed. A thick layer of bandages covered his face. Drift studied him for a second, before gently knocking on the door.
“Do you two need anything else?” She asked politely, and Cleo shook her head. “It was a harpy attack.” She explained, glancing down at the boy. “Which causes concern. Why the hell are the servants of Zeus after a halfblood?”
Chiron rubbed his chin in thought. “Perhaps Zeus was forcing your hand, Cleo. It was not your fault he was attacked.”
Cleo nodded, standing. “He hasn’t been claimed yet. I’ll go talk to Sausage, and make sure there’s a Hermes bunk available for him.” Chiron nodded, a soft look on his face. “Tell him to prepare his cabin mates for a new inclusion. We know Pearl and Apo can be.. A certain way with newer faces.” Cleo nodded again before looking at Drift.
“Chiron wants to be alone with him as he wakes.”
Drift blinked before nodding, and carefully shut the door behind her and Cleo. “Rumors are already spreading around camp.” She mumbled, wringing her skirt in her hands. “My brother told me that people already know he was attacked-”
“He hasn’t been claimed yet.” Cleo interrupted, looking at the door. “His fate is unknown. But let’s pray that the Gods are merciful, and the harpies meant no bad omens.”
Drift looked back at the door as Cleo left to find Sausage, her friend’s words replayed in her mind. The prayer to the Gods. But she couldn’t shake the feeling of impending anxiety, nearly crushing her whole.