fandomhigh | BWI Airport | Portalocity Lounge | Saturday Morning

In most instances, no one would bat an eye at seeing a boy and his dog. In this instance, some people might actually run away screaming at the sight of this boy and this dog. Percy Jackson didn’t look all that intimidating on his own. He was average height, dark haired and carried a ball point pen in the pocket of his jeans.

Of course, the huge hellhound sitting behind Percy might have turned a few heads if not for the Mist. Thankfully, most mortals didn’t see Mrs. O’ Leary, Percy’s inherited hellhound sitting lazily in the BWI airport lounge (how the hellhound had fit, Percy didn’t know).

Percy himself didn’t look as relaxed as his dog. His eyes were jumping left to right, almost as if he expected something to attack him or for Luke to emerge from the crowd with that more smirk than smile look on his face.

This was about the fourteenth school Percy had been to since age twelve. He didn’t expect it to last. He wanted to be at Camp Half Blood. Instead, he was waiting in an airport lounge for a shuttle to cart him and his hellhound to a place called Fandom.

Percy frowned. He didn’t think this day could get worse.

[Open shuttle bus! Mrs. O’ Leary is a big ole hellhound that most mortals probably would not see because of something called the Mist. If you’re not exactly all the way mortal, you’d see her though. She’s not going to attack anyone, I promise.]

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George's reaction was immediate, and leaning towards hostile.

"What the fuck?" she asked, jumping to her feet and glaring around her. "Who did that!?"

She hoped someone had done that. Otherwise she was losing her mind.

Could reapers be insane? Did Mason count?

That was certainly the most...energetic... reply that Cally had received. She lifted a hand towards the girl. //It was me.// She suspected she was going to be saying this a lot, judging from recent evidence. //If I caught you off guard, I apologize. My name is Cally.//

"You're talking in my head," George said, completely unnecessarily. "What are you doing in my head?"

Please. Like George had any interesting secrets to be spied on.

Edited 2010-08-28 03:20 (UTC)

"As you said, talking." Cally couldn't spy on them even if they did exist, since talking was all she could do. "Only talking; it's what my people do. I have no wish to make you uncomfortable, though."

"Oh." George was really trying not to let on how massively fucking creeped out she was. The shudder didn't help. "You guys just all ... talk in your heads?"

Which lead to the, in her mind, obvious question. "Why?"

She could pick up the creep-out factor, yes, and understand it to an extent. Offworlders tended to be unnerved by telepathy; yet another reason for Aurons keeping to Auron, said her teachers.

The question, though, had never in her life occurred to Cally. "Because... we can, I suppose? Most of us; a few of the older generation aren't telepathic, but it's existed on our planet for centuries."

"I guess it would come in handy, if you don't feel like shouting," George mused. "Sorry I ... flipped out on you. I don't like people in my head."

Not that it happened all that often. It was a first, to be honest.

"Then I will stay out of it," Cally answered as gently as her own distraction and worry would allow. "I had hoped I hadn't traveled far from home, but I can't even reach my sister, which should have told me otherwise. We can usually communicate from well beyond shouting distance." Like the other side of a solar system - but not the other side of a galaxy.

"You're missing your sister?" George asked, biting her lower lip ruefully. "I ... can't reach mine, either. Not directly. I've been trying to work around that."

"She's my twin; we've never really been apart before." Not this far apart. "How do you ...work around... not being able to contact your sister?"

That was a bit of a thorny question. Since it stepped around the entire, 'well, I'm dead, so direct conversation is out.'

"Coded messages," she said. "I leave hints here and there, where I know she can find them. I have to hope she knows what they mean."

That might be worse, Cally thought, to be near your family, yet not able to speak to them. "That sounds difficult; would she be in danger if you contacted her directly?" Cally...might have been spinning scenarios of George as an underground resistance fighter in her head.

"It's ... complicated," George admitted. Way more complicated than Cally would probably realize. And 'underground resistance fighter' would have been much cooler than her day job, anyway. "Everything's complicated. But it's worth trying, anyway. She's my sister."

Edited 2010-08-28 21:22 (UTC)

"I would feel the same." She did feel the same; it was why she kept listening for a reply that clearly wasn't coming. "I am Cally," she added, realizing that though she'd certainly said hello - in an apparently memorable way - she'd never introduced herself.

"George," she said. Fucking hell, she kept using George, and not Millie. She'd call it a middle name. Family name. Nickname?

"I hope you find her," she added. "Your sister. She's ... probably looking, too."

Even if Cally couldn't necessarily see it.

"Probably," Cally agreed, though that thought made things a bit worse, really. "Though I fear she may think I'm dead. There was an accident with my ship, and then I was here."

"I bet she wouldn't give up," George said firmly. "Even if she thought you were dead. Not if she's your sister."

Being dead hadn't stopped her.

(sorry! was linkdropping! am back!)

Cally closed her eyes for a moment, reaching again for a familiar voice that she couldn't hear, and finding only the memory of it. "No. I do not think she would."

BWI Airport | Portalocity Lounge | Saturday Morning | August 28

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