[ in the beginning, he had been insistent she reminded him of annabeth. she still does — determined to unlock a particularly tricky puzzle, even annabeth had taken to him in a similar manner, except it'd been a little softer in its approach, a young girl perhaps not understanding the depth of his own anger and hurt as she tried to continuously reach a boy who would drift further and further away from her. she had tried when kronos had latched onto him — and she's trying even now. but hermione may remind him of annabeth with her determination and love for analysing almost anything, even a mound of dirt, but it's thalia's ruthless determination and strength to barrel right into something that her sudden appearance beside him truly reminds him of. it's not frightening as much as it is comforting. ]
[ when she nods her head, he's confused for a moment. as if george or martha, or perhaps both of them, had heard her or suspected her intentions, george had hissed at maia, sparking her into leaping around the room as she tried to burrow her way into the cushions of the couch beside him. distracting him successfully, luke's attempting to glance at maia, buried beneath a hard cushion on the other end of the couch, when he feels his other side dip and weight and a hand press over his own. slightly startled, his head whips around, brows pinched, as he looks to see hermione no longer on the locket, but beside him. martha appears on the corner, slithering behind the cushions to either dig maia out or keep her company within the makeshift of her own den. but hermion's here to help him with his. though it's a task he thinks not even the greatest hero could ever hope to accomplish, he isn't as alone. ]
[ without direction, he's lost. he can take to the terrain of any part of the drabwurld he's never been to and he knows where the sinkholes are. he knows where north and south and east and west is without looking up at the sun to read it or even glancing at a compass — or using his own boon. but when it comes to navigating the terrain he's studied over and over, that of himself — he doesn't know where to begin. stumbling, he trips over vines, twists his ankle in ditches, and even finds himself stuck in quicksand. he'd navigated la llorona with an angry and irritant clarisse as his companion for weeks, but he hadn't faltered. but in the company of his own shadow, he falters. he's always known what he had wanted — he's always been the one with all the answers because he had to be. but he's finding he's too out of his element in the drabwurld, being thrusted into a universe that he doesn't know how to navigate, regardless of how tightly he closes his eyes and tries to concentrate. the terrain isn't as angry as he's used to, the mountains less steep, the weather less scorching. ]
[ we, she says, instead of you. we can wait until you work out what you'd like from this world — and it's the promise she may not even be aware she's making — or perhaps she's too aware, either having gleaned it from him or just simply knowing — of sticking by his side until the bitter end. glancing down at her hand on his, his head doesn't shift as his eyes return back to hers. his hand shifts beneath hers, palm no longer pressed against his leg as he flips his over gently under her own. his voice isn't as soft and hopeless as it had been before, but it remains rough, ] You're willing to wait that long? [ what he easily implies is until the end of this world, as luke believes he'll never know what he wants, it perhaps his own punishment to be at an eternal war where one part of him wishes to decimate all that he believes he's worthy of as the other half longs to give it to him. ]
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[ when she nods her head, he's confused for a moment. as if george or martha, or perhaps both of them, had heard her or suspected her intentions, george had hissed at maia, sparking her into leaping around the room as she tried to burrow her way into the cushions of the couch beside him. distracting him successfully, luke's attempting to glance at maia, buried beneath a hard cushion on the other end of the couch, when he feels his other side dip and weight and a hand press over his own. slightly startled, his head whips around, brows pinched, as he looks to see hermione no longer on the locket, but beside him. martha appears on the corner, slithering behind the cushions to either dig maia out or keep her company within the makeshift of her own den. but hermion's here to help him with his. though it's a task he thinks not even the greatest hero could ever hope to accomplish, he isn't as alone. ]
[ without direction, he's lost. he can take to the terrain of any part of the drabwurld he's never been to and he knows where the sinkholes are. he knows where north and south and east and west is without looking up at the sun to read it or even glancing at a compass — or using his own boon. but when it comes to navigating the terrain he's studied over and over, that of himself — he doesn't know where to begin. stumbling, he trips over vines, twists his ankle in ditches, and even finds himself stuck in quicksand. he'd navigated la llorona with an angry and irritant clarisse as his companion for weeks, but he hadn't faltered. but in the company of his own shadow, he falters. he's always known what he had wanted — he's always been the one with all the answers because he had to be. but he's finding he's too out of his element in the drabwurld, being thrusted into a universe that he doesn't know how to navigate, regardless of how tightly he closes his eyes and tries to concentrate. the terrain isn't as angry as he's used to, the mountains less steep, the weather less scorching. ]
[ we, she says, instead of you. we can wait until you work out what you'd like from this world — and it's the promise she may not even be aware she's making — or perhaps she's too aware, either having gleaned it from him or just simply knowing — of sticking by his side until the bitter end. glancing down at her hand on his, his head doesn't shift as his eyes return back to hers. his hand shifts beneath hers, palm no longer pressed against his leg as he flips his over gently under her own. his voice isn't as soft and hopeless as it had been before, but it remains rough, ] You're willing to wait that long? [ what he easily implies is until the end of this world, as luke believes he'll never know what he wants, it perhaps his own punishment to be at an eternal war where one part of him wishes to decimate all that he believes he's worthy of as the other half longs to give it to him. ]