ARRIVAL LOG 019

[larkers]

WHO: Everyone
WHERE: New Amsterdam
WHEN: March 22
WHAT: The nineteenth arrival
NOTES OR WARNINGS: Coercion and loss of autonomy. Further notes at the end of log.

> ARRIVAL LOG #019

Awareness comes to you in blurred snatches, cloudy fragments of sound and light, color, sensation. Hazy and difficult to grasp on to, but slowly aligning into focus. A series of regular, rhythmic beeps. A medicinal, astringent smell. The sensation of movement, a low hum and accompanying vibration under you. Your eyes are heavy, hard to keep open, but in the glimpses between slow, dark blinks you see two people in front of you: one dressed in a thick set of armor, while the other wears medical garb. Out the windshield in front, there are many tall buildings—all reaching up beyond a normal city skyline, all entirely too close to the vehicle itself.

You realize there are others next to you: all dressed the same way as you, you'll come to realize: in jeans, with a t-shirt bearing some kind of sports team logo. To your left there's an armored interior door, two more people visible, and the movement of streets passing through a windshield. You try to open your mouth to speak, but it's as if your tongue is coated in tar, and you manage nothing more than an empty parting of lips.

The vehicle lowers from its height and comes to a stop inside of an alley, with tall brick walls surrounding it. The guard opposite you stands and comes to unbuckle you from the bench, helping you to your feet. Your limbs feel wooden and heavy, slow to move. One guard opens the back of the vehicle, and the air outside feels immediately warm and dry. "Careful with your step," the guard says, helping you out. The nurse helps the others out, checking over each passenger one by one.

Once outside, you'll be able to hear some noises in the distance, which after a few seconds will be recognizable as the hum of a large crowd. There will even be loud cheers here and there, as if they're spectating some kind of event.

The main guard turns to address your entire group, and something about her bearing makes it clear she's done this before. "Now, listen to me very carefully." Your body will come to attention, immediately homing in on the words that follow, as if compelled to hang on every word. "You're going to leave this alley, and then follow my directions exactly." From there, the guard will go through a list of directions, only about five steps (round the corner, turn right, etc.). "Once you've done all that, you'll see a sign: Red Wings. Go inside and you'll make some new friends. They can help with the rest."

The guard will hop back into the van, which will rise off of the ground and disappear as soon as it arrived. Once it's gone, you'll find your legs moving almost without your permission, guiding you to follow the stops the guard laid out.

And, as promised, you'll end up outside a bar called the Red Wings.

Though entirely capable of independent action and thought, new characters will find themselves completely, unquestioningly compliant to any verbal statement which could be taken as a command or request – and that includes the message passed on from the mysterious patron.

> RED WINGS

The message from El comes the same as usual: insistent, not waiting for any active attempt to open it. Scrolling within your vision as if being written while you're reading it.

Well, some of you are going to have a group of newbies to bartend. Our newest group just got directed to the Red Wings. If anyone else wants to swing by to help get them oriented and move them to the safehouse, I'm guessing the people who are on the clock will thank you.

The Red Wings bar is in a section of the large, futuristic city that houses a sports stadium, though not so close to it that the newcomers will have to deal with dodging crowds. Red Wings is tucked away on a side street, meaning that those stumbling in won't have to worry about attracting too much attention.

Why did they get directed to a sports bar, of all places? That will become clear as soon as they start to speak to the people inside. This arrival, as it turns out, is a little different from the ones that have come before.

◉ Aesthetically, Red Wings is a retro tribute to the lost city of Detroit. It's all red neon, cars and sports memorabilia, with all fittings and decor elements physical where possible as a nod to the era. There is also some artwork dedicated to Motown and its significance within the city, and there is a section of the digital sound system for Motown.

◉ The main area is spacious, with stools at the bar and plenty of room for booths and standing space. One area is reserved for the physical darts board and pool table, which are permanent installations.

◉ There is also a function room available for private bookings and smaller events, though this is currently not quite as nicely done up as the main space.

◉ The bar has multiple neural interface screens installed throughout to make sure there's always an easy view of the game, with one larger screen set up over the bar itself for Big Game days. Unfortunately, this won't be available to the newcomers as they don't have their neural implants set up yet, but they'll be able to gather that the other people here seem to be watching a screen they can't see.

◉ Drinks include a range of the finest craft beers, popular spirits and a basic cocktail menu, but newbies won't have any money to their name just yet, so they'll have to rely on the kindness of strangers if they want something to eat or drink.

◉ Naturally, there will be some people working at the bar and others who are just there to hang out, but either way the newcomers should have plenty of people on-hand to explain the situation. With more on the way, potentially.

Further details about Red Wings and the staff can be found at this post put together by our Stephen Strange player, as he's one of the owners of the bar! Most of the information above was borrowed from this post.

Once the new characters have been oriented and calmed down as needed, they'll all be escorted by one of the established Displaced back to the safehouse. This is done for security and safety reasons.

> NEW AMSTERDAM (AND BEYOND)

Once the new Displaced have endured their four days in the safehouse, they'll have their IDs set up and will be released in this strange new world. New Amsterdam will be theirs to explore, and if they manage to get the lowdown from another Displaced who's been here longer, they may learn that they can travel even further than that.

Probably better to not get ahead of themselves, right? New Amsterdam has plenty to offer!

◉ It's Opening Day for the New Amsterdam Koniki (New Amsterdam's baseball team)! Despite the signings of the aces Jim Bridges and Osamu Kawakami, the Opening Day starter is long-time Koniki, Connor Tseng. Tseng is a finesse pitcher who's been with the Koniki through good and bad (and for the past few seasons, it's been a lot of bad). Never overpowering batters with a crazy fastball, Tseng hits his spots and is the master of the off-speed pitch. There are a mess of articles on the sports blog circuit about what message the Koniki are sending in having Tseng start the 2512 season, but most agree that it's a message to Tseng that he's still the team's leader. Bridges and Kawakami are undoubtedly more explosive, but these signings are clearly meant to build a team around their long-time ace.

Tickets to get into the Koniki's first game will be difficult to come by, selling for five and ten times too much on reseller sites. The savvy baseball fan knows that the stadium will be sold out, however, and can grab a short-term, one-day-only job to help meet the demands of Opening Day. And for anyone who's curious about the game but doesn't want to work at the stadium, it will definitely be broadcasted at Red Wings and plenty of other sports bars around the city.

The game itself will be a pitcher's duel for the first five innings between Tseng and the New Venice Gecko's ace, Jayson Soto. During the bottom of the fifth inning, rookie slugger Jiri Kim will hit a three-run homer, putting the Koniki up. Rather dramatically, the Geckos will come back in the top of the sixth, tying up the game and running Tseng off the mound. Both the Geckos and the Koniki will try to shore up the game via their bullpens. Ultimately, the Koniki will win in the bottom of the 10th inning in a walk-off fashion, with Kim hitting another home run to call it. The defense throughout the game is a mess for the Koniki, showing signs that even their new aces may struggle with that defensive backdrop.

Finally: yes, there is a designated hitter to protect pitchers.

◉ St. Patrick's Day is here! While the typical aspects of the holiday still exist, such as drinking a lot (and yes, alcohol and other drinks will be dyed green!) and getting pinched if you don't wear green, this day is also a time to remember the country of Ireland that's now under the Atlantic Ocean. The primary focus for New Amsterdam citizens is remembering the parts of Europe that were lost to the effects of climate change and the disaster of World War III.

So while there's plenty of merrymaking at various pubs, there are also neighborhood memorials set up for remembrance. There will be plenty of media coverage about this too, giving anyone new to this world a very immediate idea of the state that it's in, with a good portion of western Europe underwater.

◉ It's spring, which oddly means that fertility symbols begin to spring up around the city. They can take the form of actual symbols etched or painted onto walls, though there are also carved figurines and phallic shapes scattered around as well. (Feel free to browse here if you need ideas.)

◉ While these can be found at random around the city, they will also be associated with the shrines dedicated to the Displaced which have existed in New Amsterdam for some time now. These shrines are continuously taken down and put back up in different parts of the city. The NAPD as well as private interests seem intent on removing them for profit or controlling vandalism. Despite continuous efforts on both of their behalfs, these shrines continue to rise in number. There seems to be a cluster of them that get closer and closer to Red Wings. Candles and small offerings (flowers, dressings, and hand-made jewelry from wood and plants) can occasionally be seen near them.

◉ There will also be small spring gatherings held in parks where people will be happy to share their food and enjoy the new plants that have sprung up throughout the city. (Assuming that your allergies aren't being set off, anyway!) The Displaced are welcome to attend!

◉ On a more somber and serious note, non-violent protests have begun to spring up around the city in response to the situation on Mars. The people working on the Mars colony have been mistreated and forced into horrible conditions, and it seems more and more likely that the government is trying to keep that quiet and act as if things are better when they're really not. The protests are kept small in number by design, mainly because the people involved don't want to get immediately shut down by the NAPD -- or worse, have the UNA step in. They mainly take the form of people standing outside of campaign offices, though instead of handwritten signs, they're able to project digital versions with their implants.

Some NPC members of Morningstar who recently relocated to New Amsterdam will be involved in these protests as well. Any characters who feel strongly about this issue, want to learn more if they're new and uninformed, or who are simply interested in getting to know other Morningstar members better should feel free to participate. (Note: While we won't be able to thread out NPC interactions, feel free to use the questions thread below to discuss with us how your character would be received by these NPCs if you're interested in that!)

> SAFEHOUSE

Located under an abandoned hover-bike garage, access to the safehouse is a hatch in the floor beside a rusted set of metal shelves that used to hold tools and supplies. The immediate area is similarly abandoned: full of rundown and dilapidated warehouses and forgotten businesses, where numerous people squat in hopes of having some stability because they can't afford a place themselves. Gaby will be around, ready to greet as many of the new arrivals as she can and get them settled in. Brusque and no-nonsense, she'll be open to questions, but will advise the newcomers to ask the people who brought them in for the beginning bits of information. Newbies can also contact El through zeir inbox, if needed.

The safehouse is a large space with multiple rooms for storage, with the largest of the rooms filled with rows of basic cots set up to sleep a large amount of people. Basic, but outfitted with everything necessary for daily life. A few doors lead to back rooms for storage, medical care and a large communal bathroom, and past the long rows of cots there is a communal kitchen, fully stocked, and an eating area. Privacy is at a minimum.

◉ New characters will be asked to pick their beds, and provided with a change of (second-hand, mismatched and somewhat threadbare) clothes and basic toiletries.

◉ There is a mini-bar set up in the kitchen. The quality of the alcohol inside is akin to what someone might get from the well at a bar, but it's well-stocked. There will also be some dye set within reach of the mini-bar for anyone looking for some Irish cheer to add to their beverages. This is courtesy of Gaby, as per usual!

◉ While the kitchen has basic foods and necessities, anyone looking for a jolt of caffeine from coffee or tea will find themselves sorely lacking. The only tea present is herbal in nature, and caffeine appears to be almost nonexistent in most of the beverages lying around.

◉ Gaby will make it clear to all new arrivals that if they have any requests or queries, they should contact her or El. Either she or El will explain that they've been given a modest stipend of credits to help them get by until they can find a job. This will be enough to cover their living expenses for about a month while they hang out in the safehouse, if they're careful with budgeting.

◉ The drugs making new characters compliant will remain in their systems for a few hours after their arrival at the safehouse before finally beginning to fade. They will be gone entirely after a night's rest. In the meantime, they may want to be careful of what others say to them.

◉ New characters will be given rudimentary access to the network on arrival in the safehouse, but will not have their ID set up yet. They will be able to make posts and replies, but their messages will be anonymous and they do not have inboxes yet.

◉ New characters do not have access to the internet until their ID is setup. They only have limited access because they're present in the safehouse, but they can't surf the rest of the internet, check out Cooltalk, or watch the equivalent of Netflix until their ID is made.

◉ New characters cannot leave the safehouse at this time. The hatch is locked tight for them, making it impossible for them to get out for the next four days while they're locked inside. There won't be any immediately obvious ways to cut their way out through turning off the power.

◉ New characters will not be allowed to leave the safehouse until MARCH 26 ICLY (MARCH 23 OOCLY). These 4 days are for them to adjust, learn about the world they've arrived in from their fellows, and for El to speak with them and work on setting up their IDs.

> FINAL OOC NOTES

You're now free to post to the network and logs comms. To reiterate, your characters will have no IDs or inboxes, nor be allowed out of the safehouse until MARCH 26 ICLY (MARCH 23 OOCLY). At that point it's expected they'll have gotten a good idea of their new situation from their fellow characters, and will have discussed their background and job potentials with El in order for their false IDs to be set up.

If you have any questions or ideas about how you'd like to get your character involved in the world, please head over to the plot engagement post and drop us a comment! For questions specific to this log, there is a thread below.

Please check out our March calendar rundown for a look at things happening this month, as well as some additional notes from the mods.

Something else to keep in mind is that on Monday, March 16th we'll be putting up a Metaplot Engagement Post, which will have a focus on how to integrate all players into the metaplot as well as take suggestions on future events and the direction you'd like the game to go. This will be open to everyone in-game, old players and new players alike, so please keep an eye out for it!

As we announced here, AC will be check-in only this month due to the state of the world right now. If you've taken a hiatus, this counts as your check-in, but otherwise please feel free to relax for the rest of the month. In addition, the HMD will be moved to next month. New players accepted in March will only have to submit 10 comments across 2-4 threads for the April 2020 AC (which goes up on May 1, 2020).

> NAVIGATION

Comments

[intellects]

( she has never been able to read minds, but percy's has always been clear to her, his conscious state always barely brushed against her own. she can feel the questions that whirl in his mind if for no other reason than the fact that they echo her own.

they know silena has died. it's been years since, with many other catastrophes in the wake, other crises that have required all of their effort and strength to overcome; while it's certainly possible that percy and annabeth have died and somehow stumbled into this place, it seems unlikely. annabeth thinks she'd remember dying. she also doesn't think dying would send her into the future, or to a place that promised some other abilities, ones not granted by her lineage.

annabeth is especially sure they wouldn't wind up in a place that promised to take away the gifts they've been given, something she's aware will reveal itself soon if she had read the guide right. )

We're not dead. ( she doesn't know anything else, but she can offer percy that. a small comfort, but no real answer. ) Silena's sure of it.

( there's a moment, a brief delay as annabeth shifts, turning so that her side can lean into his front, her hands curling over his extended arm to tug it in close. )

I don't want to stay here. ( in the safehouse. amongst other people. it's too open, too constricting at the same time. she does not want to have nightmares in public. ) Silena has an apartment. She said we could stay with her. Not permanently, but until we find something.

( annabeth doesn't have to say that she wants a place of her own for percy to know that she needs it. he knows her soul well enough to know what it needs. )

[ripstides]

( the science of it all is better left to the mechanics and tinkerers, those with brains designed for engineering. he thinks that if leo were here, he and annabeth would be even more unstoppable. this place is already on thin ice, splintering further once annabeth can start telling him where to chisel. they can’t do anything from in here. percy’s doing his best not to sink to his knees under the pressure. there are three of them in new amsterdam now, not just one, and percy can’t accept it like he may have if he were alone. )

That makes sense. If this was the chance for rebirth, she wouldn’t still be Silena. ( that’s what rebirth means, isn’t it? a fresh start. a new beginning. a gnarly sense of deja vu, memories of another life almost present but never quite, and hopefully a life designed better than the first one. he nibbles on the inside of his cheek pensively, not equipped to slot the pieces of this puzzle together. he’s grateful for annabeth leaning into him and grabbing his arm for emotional support.

he corrals her in with his knees but annabeth can spread out as much as she wants because one foot remains on the floor. the arm she hasn’t kidnapped curls around her side, hand resting gently on her hip to assure her that she has him. she has this. she’s as safe as any one of them can be. )

I know. I don’t like it either. ( although percy typically has the luxury of conking out anywhere, it’s envious. ) They said we have to stay here for four days and then after that, it’s anyone’s guess. We’ve slept in worse places. I can keep first watch tonight. And then we can crash with Silena for as long as it takes to find somewhere we can afford.

( does working mean he doesn’t have to go to school??? )

Do you think there’s a place willing to hire an attention-deficit, unmotivated, slob?

[intellects]

We're still us, too. Percy-and-Annabeth.

( they always would be. no matter what this or any other universe throws at them, they are always a set. it's the one constant, the steel-plated backbone that keeps her going. a pair with a future, bonded and true; she dreams in plural futures now, and she won't stop just because they've been thrown into another maze that requires skill to get out of.

her head dips, her chin settling across his arm as it wraps around her torso; behind it, her chest rises and falls with each steady, purposeful breath. she counts to fifteen in greek in her head — which somehow just feels like counting, wildly enough — and quizzes herself on random facts, choosing a different grecian city as topic each time, willing and then demanding her mind find some clarity amidst all the confusion.

if she can steady herself, she can figure this out. one piece at a time. one brick in the wall, one column and then another, until the parthenon comes together in brilliant, beautiful marble in her mind. right now, she's still drafting up the blueprints. )

You could work for a courier service, maybe. Those have to still exist. Point A to point B, right, as fast as you can get there, and then you do something else? ( and for motivation, well. annabeth's pretty sure not starving to death would be motivation to make a little money for anyone, regardless of diagnosis. ) They said they'll give us a few credits to get started. Like my dad sending Christmas money, only less...

( she trails off, absentee a bitter word she swallows down. )

But you can't be a slob if we get our own place, Percy. You have to at least pick up your shoes.

[ripstides]

Percabeth. What, no? Are we not going for that? Like PB&J? ( he can’t see annabeth ponying up for a foam finger than consolidates their names into one entity. they’re not. he orbits around her like she’s the sun, not as if they’re two conjoined planets ( that has to be impossible anyway ). he’s glad that whoever put the implants in their heads hadn’t tampered with their memories. that’s one experience he’s cool without reliving. if a goddess failed to burn annabeth out of his mind, he doubts scientists or medical staff could succeed. she’s rooted into the core of who he is. to remove her now would destroy every part of him that she’s touched.

he falls backward onto the cot, dragging annabeth with him. it doesn’t disrupt them terribly, though it may take a little wiggling to find the epitome of comfy. it’s a cot, not a california king. he thinks he could sleep on jagged rocks as long as annabeth’s nearby. )

Okay, I could do that. Probably not a great idea to hotwire anything within in the first week. So bikes? Maybe we could get our hands on a used one. ( he has the cardio for delivery on foot. somehow, he doubts that’s the assumed speed people are going for. ) It still feels weird. Like a consolation prize. 'Hey, we know you were experimented on, are practically bald, and are being held against your will but here's twenty bucks. Don't spend it all in one place, kid.'

( he glosses over the unspoken burn at frederick chase as much as he can. does it sound like a similar ideology? maybe but he's trying as of late, which is.. not perfect and not his place to push more than he has. she can't see the way his eyebrows shoot up at her comment on his shoes. )

You know you're only saying that because you can't hoard books here. ( marta told him they didn't actually have them in paper copies. annabeth will be tidy not because she inherently is once she goes into research mode ( burrowed in blankets and blueprints, stacks of books, pencil in her mouth, pen in her hair, with a graveyard of coffee mugs and untouched bagels ) but because she doesn't have the same options. ) Lucky for you, I don't have clothes to leave on the floor.

[intellects]

Might be difficult to hotwire things that don't use physical keys to start.

( difficult, annabeth concedes, but not impossible. there are challenges she fully expects to be temporarily thwarted by, new rules that she acknowledges will take time to learn (and more time still to learn how to evade them), and an entirely new set of geoeconomic structures to curse as limited currency continues to be a thorn in her side. )

If whatever company you go with doesn't give you a bike, though, we can probably find one. We'll probably have to fix it up.

( which would be easier if charlie was here. it's a thought annabeth doesn't even have to repress; her guilt and sorrow do that enough all on their own. it would be easier, too, if they had more money than sense. king midas might have been sad, but he was never uncomfortable in his grief. solid gold always fetched a good price.

they'll make it work, though. they always do. even if it takes time or energy or sheer force of will, they have always managed to overcome whatever obstacles gods or monsters or bad luck have put in front of them. annabeth has no doubt in her already stubborn mind that this will just be another plated victory in some months' time, another story to paint on a metaphorical grecian pot, another memory to weave into a bedtime ritual for a hypothetical child with messy black-brown hair and impossibly stormy gray eyes. )

And if you promise never to refer to us as Percabeth ever again, I promise I will limit my complaints of 'no physical books' to once a day. ( or, immediately correcting: ) Twice a day on weekends.

[ripstides]

Yeah, at first, but how long do you think that’s going to slow us down? ( as far as percy’s concerned, they invited this morally gray behavior when they kidnapped his friends. two wrongs don’t make a right, sure, but he’s not above delinquincy when necessary. it’s not going to be his first choice, he’s going to review the alternatives. it helps that, for right now, there aren’t monsters pursuing them, forcing hasty decisions. ) Between your brain and my bad habits?

( percy shrugs behind annabeth, not about to remove any pieces from the drawing board this early. she’s much better at the long game than he is. it’s why he defers to her repeatedly, seeking counsel when both options sound terrible. he can forge a path but annabeth’s the one that drafts it, that inspires him, motivates him to be better than minimal effort. he’s not scared of what they’re going to have to do, not after surviving tartarus. there’s a voice in the back of his head that implores: what won’t you for her? but percy ignores it, like he ignores the other lines he’s crossed. )

Mmmmm, ( considering the notion ) no promises. I like when you complain, it reminds me you're mortal. ( flawed, still perfect. and if she agrees to lessen her moping about books, then he'll have to shake on not complaining that he's hungry ten minutes after he ate a meal. annabeth's mutterings are hilarious ( they shouldn't be, that's a fine way to earn her ire ), sometimes adorable, usually frightening, but percy rarely sighs and gets frustrated with her for it. those are the times when she needs his patience and persistence the most. he should know better than to intervene with her projects by now but percy's dedicated his life to grabbing her by the wrist and spinning her out into the world — sunlight, sustenance, support. the three S's. hasn't failed him yet and neither will she. )

What do you think you'll do? Would you want to work for someone else?

[intellects]

For now.

( a multi-layered answer. she'll work for someone else — for now. she's mortal — for now. their inexperience might slow them down — for now. but that's now, and tomorrow is then, and annabeth has never let anything get in the way of finding the right answer or devising the right plan.

she just has to figure out the next step. preferably when it feels like her brain and her body are functional and not just running on fumes, a realization that allows annabeth to sink into the embrace that's offered, her eyes slipping closed as she draws in a deep, slow breath. one of the sons of apollo taught her meditation once, she recalls the lessons now; a sense of peace is more valuable in this moment than anything she could attempt to buy with money she doesn't have.

after a while, annabeth exhales, her face turning so that her nose brushes against some patch of skin on percy's body. doesn't matter where or what, so long as it's him. )

Someone has to build all of these buildings. I'll find out who, and work for them.

( when all else fails, go back to the blueprints. )

[ripstides]

( she smells the same. he doesn’t know how that’s possible, out of time and place, without any of her possessions. the shampoo’s wrong, the soap’s basic, and the top of annabeth’s head carries the association of home when everything else is absent. percy has concerns, he’s worried, he’s scared ( they don’t have a dagger between them ) but annabeth’s the most superior weapon to tuck up a sleeve, and she needs this. she needs percy’s steady breathing and his blasé perspective on survival. he can do that, he can be a shield in the face of paralyzing uncertainty when she’s always been both his defense and offense.

annabeth tucks her face into his neck, touches her nose to his skin and he knows in an instant what he has to do.

he could let her overthink. he could let compile plans a-z. he could let annabeth get some shut-eye, right here, semi-on top of him. but he’s percy so he does percy stuff instead, like latching onto her for dear life like a koala and forcibly evicting her from her thoughts. )

Not tonight. ( if she wants free, she's going to have to wrestle him right off of their cot. ) Tonight you've got more pressing concerns. We're stuck like this.

[intellects]

( it is a small miracle that annabeth does not outright yelp. instead, she smothers a sound of indignation against his skin, mouth pressing firm into whatever patch of it is close enough — shoulder, arm, the crook of his neck, she does not care, so long as she can firmly spill out a grumble against it. )

Percy, ( exasperated and firm, though there's no venom in it. she recognizes what he's doing, the abrupt necessity of distraction. it's just unfortunate that this safehouse, much like any of the cabins back in camp, offer absolutely zero privacy. ) We're in public.

( but, note: she does not wriggle out of the grasp, only to adjust, to ensure his tight squeeze does not actually prevent her from doing something necessary like breathing or feeling her limbs in the morning. )

[ripstides]

( does her objection discourage him? no. okay, maybe some. he doesn't want people looking at them. )

Move it along, ( he announces boisterously. he can't see anyone over his shoulder and while he's aware of the shuffling of people and the activity and movement ( here and there ), he doesn't think anyone's sitting around watching teenagers, which is to say he extremely hopes that isn't the case. eugh. ) Nothing to see here!

( she hasn't thrown them both onto the cold, hard floor yet. percy takes that to mean that she isn't that mortified. by what? by being held in his arms, squeezed by his knees, pinned? it could be a lot worse. more incriminating. they're not doing anything he couldn't get away with back in his apartment with his bedroom door ajar ( halfway open, percy, i mean it ) or on the couch with sally baking in the kitchen. it's flagged content, sure, to be monitored. )

Problem solved. My problem. Not so much yours.

[intellects]

You are my problem, Seaweed Brain.

( as sharp as the words spill from her lips, there's no denying the flash of something bright against the storm-gray of annabeth's eyes. percy might have been the presumed lightning thief, but he has been the light in her life for so long, the lightning no longer frightens her.

she's not a little girl anymore, no longer seven and fashioning shields out of trash can lids to keep the monsters at bay. she's a decade older and a lifetime wiser and — somehow, by some grace of the gods or despite their lack of it — alive to tell the tale. )

You are always going to be my problem.

( and her person to startle into silence, a reaction she hopes to earn by pushing up with her elbows against the cot, lifting herself up just enough to catch his mouth with her own. it's — more than she'd normally opt for, to be fair, especially amongst strangers. but when you've kissed your boyfriend right before you're ready to die more than once, a little pda seems less... horrible in comparison.

there's nobody around to gasp anyway, just whoever's footsteps are heading in the opposite direction, so she really doesn't care. she just has to wait until she pulls away to mutter, quiet enough that only percy can hear: )

We have to get out of here.

[ripstides]

You know you keep saying that. I think you like it. Yeah. You like keeping a walking riddle around. You could solve me, but you—mmph.

( his mouth can run faster than his feet. it goes ahead of him, slowed by next to nothing for very long. of course, annabeth is stronger than certain death and shock. she elicits responses from percy that she alone is privy to. she electroshocks the need to deflect the universe’s antics with sarcasm right out of him with her mouth and he doesn’t have the good decency to be mad about it. his grip on her slackens, loose fingered and stupidly in love, enough to drop his guard. annabeth is amazing, period, but that specifically—how she decimates him with a single kiss, that’s just not fair.

it’s only the passing of lips, a lingering press, and percy lowering his face towards annabeth. he can pretend he isn’t blushing prior to her statement but what’s the point? ) What, like, right now?

( his seagreen eyes harbor no more shrewdness than interest ( oh, he's open to it ), percy's just not positive they're having the same conversation. she could mean later. she could be alluding to their future. their some day studio. he wants to jump to conclusions and under other circumstances, he might. is he whispering? did he murmur that? he's pretty sure he blurted that out a bit louder than her own volume. sue him, okay, he wants to make out with his girlfriend properly. )

[intellects]

What? ( she blinks at him, owlish and confused for half a second, before her low tone suddenly is supplemented by laughter. ) Not — there's no vents to climb out of, I already checked.

( it was her first pass. her first, her second, maybe even her tenth; until she was well and truly satisfied that she'd checked every nook and cranny of this place, until she'd known for certain that the compulsion drugs had passed out of her system and thus the risk of artificial knowledge had gone with it, annabeth had tried with every fiber of her being to find a way out. a gap in the wall, a loose vent cover, a secret password or hand shake with some unseen guard in the hall — she'd have settled for anything if it had granted them freedom.

none had been found. there had only been that reminder of their temporary imprisonment, the promise of identity and necessity dangled in front of her face. four days, they said. to acclimate, to get comfortable. demigods had raced olympus in less than that, she'd wanted to spit back, but there was no one to argue with.

so, in truth, she'd been speaking metaphorically. about their future, their place. she wanted a space of their own so bad she could feel her limbs reaching for it.

but the blush on percy's cheeks is easy to feel even in the dark, the heat of it rolling off his skin against her own. there's the swell, too, in the empathy bond. his desire, his love, his wanting — all familiar feelings, echoed back by annabeth's own. a feedback loop. )

But like that too, I guess.

( annabeth is not shy, per se. she is not ashamed of the fact that she enjoys kissing percy jackson. she just... rarely has opportunity to say as much, in the kind of life they lead. )

[ripstides]

( she’s laughing at him ( he’s used to that by now ) and where he should be sheepish, he’s only warmed by the musical sound. her happiness is worth the whole world. he doesn’t care if it’s at his expense, it’s a pleasant reminder of the good things. the smile’s also because he’d been right about annabeth when asking what she would do in his place, she would have found a vent to climb out of. her resourcefulness is admirable. if there was a gap anywhere in the building, she would have used it. percy had been much more docile in his imprisonment, pushed on by the inevitable predictability of being uprooted and dropped into gods know what. )

Yeah. I can feel that. ( he’s modest, not reluctant in his affection. if anything, he’s too proud of their relationship. he likes to boast, not necessarily about the intricacies of their love life, but that she hasn’t gotten tired of him and kicked him to the curb. it’s a force of habit, probably, but percy doesn’t see it as one. he’d been fascinated by her existence from day one and annabeth was busy telling him he drooled. ) It’s…

( he shuts his mouth, brows drawn in ( not frowning but considering ) and he looks away momentarily, deciding against defining what it is to feel their emotions intermingled. he intends to laugh in return but the sound isn't there, just the visual like one of them is underwater. )

At the top of my list. Getting our own space. For you more than me. ( he's selfless like that. ) You can watch the sun come up without interruptions. Oh, and I'm snoring in the background. You kind of hate it but you love your pillow too much to smother me with it.

( what subject change? it's related. )

[intellects]

Shut up.

( but she's smiling, warm and affectionate and relaxed for the first time since arriving in this strange new world, and so the words don't carry the same bite as they might have otherwise. instead, there's only her hands reaching to tug him over, until he's resting on his side instead of hovering above her, so that she can pull herself as close in as possible, her forehead touching his own once he settles.

is there really room on this cot, the size of it somewhere between a twin and a double? no. but they're making it work. if she has to steal another cot and shove them together, she will. )

I'll smother you with your pillow, how about that? Two birds, one stone.

( she won't. she likes the way he talks in his sleep too much to kill him. it's just a good thing he's finally outgrown the drooling phase. )

[ripstides]

( in the adjustment of positions, percy doesn’t oppose annabeth. he has no reason to open his mouth. they make the cot work in a precarious tangle of knees. he crosses his useless arm under his head, getting it out of the way. it’s fallen asleep under worse conditions so he doesn’t think twice about sacrificing it now when they need all the extra room they can invent. he should probably find it weird that he doesn’t have a snappy comeback for her, something that may trip annabeth up and put an end to her streak but he doesn’t question it.

she’s in front of him. he can forget every intrusive stupid detail that scrapes at his confidence, threatening to expose a sense of hopelessness and a creeping rage. annabeth is here, they’re together, and if it came down to trading powers or having her next to him, he’d do it again. it isn’t as if anybody asked him anyway, percy just knows which he’d pick. this. annabeth’s forehead pressed against his like a firm reminder that everything will be alright.

he doesn’t know why he doesn’t call her out. his eyes aren’t heavy or anything. he doesn’t exactly feel like it. he does reach for annabeth’s hand near her hip with a knowing smile though. hearing no, you won’t out loud isn’t necessary. what is? interlacing their fingers and guiding their joined hands up to cradle under his chin, tucked away for safekeeping. it's going to take more than friendly death threats to convince percy that he isn't totally onto her. )

[intellects]

( sometimes, the silence is overwhelming. it's an indicator that fear or nerves or anger, some strong emotion that can't be quelled by quips and commentary, has taken root inside of him. now, though, annabeth doesn't feel overwhelmed. the silence is comforting, like sinking into a warm bath or sipping on nectar; she curls into him with a fluttered exhale, her hand squeezing in the embrace as it's tucked away against his throat with one of his own. )

We'll stay here a couple days, ( a murmur coming eventually, an audible ladder to a conversation annabeth's been having in her own head. ) Until they give us our stipend and our ID, and then we'll go. ( it's a plan, but it's also reassurance. reminding herself and percy at the same time. ) Silena said we can stay with her. She has some sleeping bags. We'll just... Cabin Eleven it for a while.

( too many people all crammed in a small space. )