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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THIS WAS ONE OF THOSE TIMES SIERRA REALIZED AN IDEA WAS BETTER IN RETROSPECT. Hindsight is 20/20, but there wasn't much she could do about it now. Granted there hadn't really been another choice. Percy Jackson, Andy Jackson, and Thalia Grace were all under her Olympus requested protection and all three of them had admitted they were about to hurl themselves into a possibly deadly scenario.
Sierra leaves New York for a month, the first time she'd done so since her quest to the sea of monsters, and they all decide to go on a death quest. At fifteen, Sierra couldn't yet drive a motorized vehicle of any kind legally. That had not in any way impeded her learning to drive a motorcycle, but she had yet to learn to drive an actual car. Clarisse had driven them down to New Mexico a month ago to the horrifying experience of both finding an old camper had been driven crazy, and that Luke Castellan was apparently planning to use the labyrinth to invade their camp, her home.
Clarisse's mother had offered to let her take her Jeep, but Sierra had declined. She didn't know how to drive it and she'd feel a lot less guilty about crashing some random person's motorbike than a woman that could technically be considered her mother. Step mother? Mother in law? She wasn't sure.
Still, 12 hours in and halfway there she was just about ready to pass out or curl up in a ball from the ache in her joints. She hadn't stopped yet and she really didn't want to. Online searching had told her New Mexico to New York was a 30 hour drive, she figured driving how she did it would be closer to 25, but that was a very small consolation.
She wasn't great with weaving the mist, which was a nice way of saying she absolutely sucked at it. But she did have the very select skill of being able to hide herself. It was difficult, and took more out of her to do it for five minutes than sword fighting for five hours, but she'd been trying her best to hold it up so the police and bystanders wouldn't notice the fifteen year old going ninety on public highways and weaving in and out of traffic across the country. It must have been working because she'd driven straight past at least five police cruisers by now and gotten no attention.
She was just passing into Illinois when a fellow biker pulled up beside her. Actually, three of them, if you want to get specific. She wouldn't have paid them any mind except that they pulled in front of her and slowed down. A common maneuver. MCs did it all the time, the front runner pulled up in front of a car, forced it to slow down so the rest of the club could pass. But these three didn't have any other bikers with them, and the backs of their jackets didn't have a club patch on them.
They had a fire breathing horse emblazoned on their leather jackets, and a name on each. The leader had Ares stitched in bright red lettering and Sierra felt a sick feeling settle in her stomach. If she were anyone else, any other species, maybe she would pass it off as coincidence. But three bikers pulling up to drive in front of her, her father and half siblings names on the back purposefully in her line of sight was not accidental. Their turn signals clicked on and Sierra followed them off the highway.
