perhaps when one becomes too familiar with war,
they forget that peace exists.
[ book one -- storming universe ]
[ Sierra Machisse -- book one ]
[ sea of monsters -- titan's curse ]
{ 03 / 29 / 2020 -- ? }
( Percy Jackson x Female OC )
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SIERRA HAD SEEN SOME SHITTY PLACES TO LIVE. She'd spent the ages of seven to ten entirely alone, no satyr guide, no demigod companions, and though she'd found a (less than desirable) way to earn large amounts of cash, not a lot of it went towards her own living. So Sierra had slept in some crappy living places, homeless shelter, sewers, abandoned warehouses (though those always seemed to end in a cyclops attack). To say she was a little annoyed that a one eyed oaf was living better than she had after murdering satyrs and who knew how many demigods in the middle of no where, would be an understatement.
Sierra wasn't a saint, she'd be the first to own up to and blame herself for that, but still, she figured her conscience was still lighter than this psychos. But the fleece kept the island beautiful, lush green grass rolled over hills, flowers popping up in random places. Sheep herds wandered the sides and apart from the chasm in the center that reminded her a little too much of the entrance to Tartarus from her dreams, she totally would have moved in.
"Oh that is some bullshit," she muttered as they approached and consciously ignored the confused looks both her demigod companions sent her in response. She just wanted to get on the island, find her idiot sister, and Percy's idiot sister, get the fleece and get the fuck out. Despite the cheery atmosphere, the entire place gave her a far too familiar bad vibe. Battle awaited her on that island, a violent battle for her life, and it really sucked to know that whatever plan they came up with was doomed to fail.
"The fleece," Annabeth said, and Sierra understood the awe in her voice. She also referenced it to the last time Annabeth had sounded awe struck, Circe's island, and she wanted out, she wanted out now.
"If we take it away, will the island die?" Percy asked, and Sierra smirked, only Percy Jackson would wonder the fate of the island rather than their own goal. Or maybe just Sierra wouldn't wonder that, she couldn't be sure.
"No, It'll fade. Go back to what it would be normally, whatever that is." Sierra had a feeling the island was normally not at all a fun place to live, and a small sick part of her, a part that she was not please to find had surfaced along with several other emotions was delighted by that idea. Sierra blinked and turned away from the island, making a conscious effort to shove it down, to do what she did best and was basically destined to die by, suppressing her emotions.
When she turned back, her careful house of cards structured expression of total indifference was back, and Percy frowned, wondering what had set it off.
"This is too easy," Percy stated the obvious as per usual. "We could just hike up there and take it?" Sierra knew what he meant, the gold fabric glinted low in the branches of an old oak tree on top of the hill, it looked too easy, but saying it out loud Sierra was pretty sure Percy had confirmed it, the fates too cruel not to take the bait he'd offered.
