#wakes azrael up in the middle of the night by clinging to him like a koala

[hobgayblin]

Man these are super lazy and messy but god..... a bitch is yearning for hold or be hold

[jflashandclash]

Tales From Mount Othrys

Ajax: Birth of the Triple A Chimera

 Warning: cute fluffy creature death. I tried not to make it graphic. :/

             The fall splintered your body. It ruined your mind.

           Like Lucifer grasping at the heavens, wondering, But you said you loved me, your hand extended towards her, clinging to a snapping string, to your love, admiration, and respect. To the world how it once was. To a world how it should be.

           But she let you crumble into oblivion. That angel of Justice. Your Michael. The slick-fingered Azrael. She condemned you to be lost forever.

           Banishing herself into the bosom of a merciless moon queen, she left you there, on the cliff’s bottom, a scattered mosaic with nothing but Achilles’ curse keeping your meat suit together. Your eyes stare out like the exit of a well. Blank.

           Dead? No. I trembled to think you dead.

           Your injury is hidden behind a sheet of skin, but I can see your mind break. She betrayed your trust and betrayed your love. Your eyes gaze to the heavens as I cradle you, and you think you are lost.

           I won’t let you fall apart. If God doesn’t want us in his court, we shall build our court up to him and make him love us.

 --Jack, The day Thalia kicked Luke off a cliff

            “Can you babysit Ajax this Friday?”

         Pax wasn’t supposed to be eavesdropping on Axel and Alabaster and probably wasn’t supposed to hear that question. He was supposed to be moving boxes from the front of the new laboratory’s atrium to the center of the laboratory. This is where he hoped he would be turned into a variety of rodents (or mustelids, as Alabaster had corrected him: otters, minks, weasels—and that one time Axel was turned into a wolverine—were all part of the mustelid family).

         Technically, Pax was still doing his job. He just slowed down when entering the central hub of the laboratory, where Alabaster and Axel were talking.

The two had dragged in a massive crate of magical artifacts from different colonies of Greece. Really, Axel had carried his side while Alabaster was cursing and swearing over a hand that had been smashed in the doorway. Axel pulled the box open with a crow bar. Alabaster withdrew a lion mask that he said had mislabeled from Numidia, grumbling that he’d need to fix the labels once they were ready to put things on shelves.

         Between grumbles and devious chin strokes—which Pax thought made Alabaster look quite esteemed—Alabaster nodded. “I can watch him. Same time as your normal matches?”

         Axel’s Adam’s apple bobbed. He set the crow bar atop a stack of unsorted wooden boxes with a thunk. He undid his hairtie, shook the mane of braids and locks out, and went to retying his hair. Recently, Axel had quarter-shaved one side when he found a wad of gum in his bed. Pax knew it was Mercedes. Would anyone else believe him? No. Pax got blamed.

         “Thirty minutes earlier. Jack and Luke want to add in a pre-show. Apparently, they’re going to be recorded and sent to Antaeus. Luke… thinks he’ll like them.” Axel puffed up his cheeks and popped them. The motion made the shadows under his eyes look like a pit of Cocoa Puffs.

         “Ajax mentioned that you haven’t been sleeping well,” Alabaster said. Although he held the mask up, like he was examining it with the aloof expertise of someone that Indian Jones would rob, his gaze narrowed at the older boy.

         Pax hoped Axel would listen to Alabaster.

         Instead, Axel glared at the door entrance, where Pax hovered with another box. Pax thought he’d been inconspicuous. He’d been wrong before though, like the time he tried sneaking into the girl’s bathroom with Matt. Their wigs and fake boobs had taken Pax a full ten minutes to assure they weren’t lopsided.

         “You little snitch,” Axel snapped.

         Pax gave him an innocent grin. “That’s literally my job.”

         Alabaster sighed. “Get out.”

         “You told me to carry in boxes,” Pax complained, setting his atop another with a huff. This box was, in fact, full of various bird feathers and did not warrant a huff, but he relied on Alabaster and Axel not to check the label.

         “Yes. To carry boxes in. Not to eavesdrop. Take a camou blanket and go find Sphinx.” Alabaster pointed to the door.

         Sphinx was Lou Ellen’s Mist cat, one that (Pax was disappointed to discover) could not sprout wings or a tiny human head. Alabaster often pretended Sphinx had escaped to give Lou Ellen and Pax busywork. Pax loved it. They could pretend they were hunting through the savannah. Shoddily-made safari hats included.

         Today, Alabaster gave him a meaningful look. After Axel’s last match, Alabaster had agreed to talk to Axel about the nightmares. If nothing else than to get Pax to shut up for thirty minutes. Pax agreed to fifteen and they had themselves a deal.

         Pax knew the real solution was to end Axel’s arena fights. Killing legionnaires for sport in front of a live audience? Good for super villains. Not good for secretly-squishy older brothers.

         Axel always had nightmares, but he could hardly get through a few hours of sleep without waking up screaming. The nights that he carved a new scar into his cheeks—one for each person he killed—were the worst. “They deserve to be remembered,” he had explained. His morbid collection of trinkets from the dead had grown too large for their room (and too much like a “ZOMBIE VENGENCE HERE” sign for the inevitable apcocolype). Scarification was Axel’s new method.

         Apparently, Luke wasn’t about letting Axel stop his fights; Jack said the ratings were too good.

         As such, Pax hoped Alabaster could magic the nightmares away. That seemed like a healthy way to repress trauma, right?

         “Ajax,” Alabaster said in his Don’t Make Me Remove Your Mouth voice.

         Pax scrambled to a box with some of his, Jack’s, and Axel’s band equipment. Prometheus—likely in attempt to gain Alabaster’s eternal hatred—had suggested the boys do band practice in the laboratory while it was being set up. The lab was out in the middle of nowhere and non-disruptive for anyone but Alabaster (a hermit who loved silence). Luke thought this was a grand idea.

         Pax’s fingertips found the cold, stretchy fabric of the camou blanket. They hadn’t figured out what to use it for, but Jack was sure some inspiration would hit while they were practicing.

         In the meantime, Pax tossed the blanket over his shoulders and slunk out the door.

         There were only a few rooms in the building. Boxes littered the front atrium and back entrance. His fingers twitched to think of all the magical ingredients mishmashed in the cylinders resting on walls and various, mysterious jugs. Supposedly, Alabaster had labeled everything. Unfortunately, Matthias was in charge of dropping off their stuff from the Princess Andromeda and had taken the courtesy to do artistic renderings over each label. To put it kindly, Matt was a genius of ideas, but would starve as an artist.

Alabaster’s new laboratory was a pioneer project—the first land-based operation center, functioning almost independent of the soon-to-be self-built Mount Othrys. Pax had ignored most of the politics involved in asking Kronos for the separate space (an area Alabaster, Lou Ellen, and Lamia didn’t need to worry about blowing up the Princess Andromeda while experimenting with magic of mass destruction). All Pax cared about was why they weren’t wearing pioneer hats if this was a pioneer project. He had even offered to reenact dying from cholera a la Oregon Trail, though no one paid him much mind.

         This was super top secret. No one knew where it was. Not even Axel and Pax knew where they were going until that morning. Pax wondered what Matt knew about it and how Alabaster had managed to commandeer Axel and Pax during would-be band time. From what Pax had heard, Jack was conspiring to visit as a surprise (which meant he, and by extension, Flynn knew the location). If anyone could puppy-dog-eye information out of people, it was Jack. Pax aspired for such unassuming, devious cuteness.

         Pax crept over a Styrofoam box he could only assume contained dry ice and perishable ingredients where Matt had sloppily etched a Yeti. Or those spiky bits could be a crown of thorns for a stick-figure Jesus. Pax would have to talk to Matthias about blasphemy later.

         At the front, there were pillars on either side of the entrance, and a low wall between the two of them, forcing anyone advancing to pick one side or the other to enter. Alabaster explained this was in honor of Hecate and there were—in fact—three different paths to take. This led Pax and Axel to energetically vault over the low wall. It warmed Pax’s heart. Alabaster pretended he didn’t care about them, but, for whom else would he personally design an obstacle course?

         A tail flicked on the other side of the wall.

         Pax crawled up against it.

         The front had a concrete patio with no walkway, just long grass, scattered trees, and rolling hills. Soon, the children of Hecate would make runes around the place to ward off attention. They had already put some in place to make it so no one could stumble upon it unless they knew to look for the laboratory. Pax called it paranoid. Alabaster called it preparedness.

         The stone wall felt cold against Pax’s back as he flattened himself, keeping the blanket wrapped around him. This gave him a good view through the doorway—in case he could spot Axel or Alabaster for more eavesdropping—and a narrow view outside.

         There, curling around the end of the low wall, was Sphinx. Her black hair bristled. Pax assumed she had see him and was lazily coming his way for pets.

         However, her head wasn’t turned towards him. Her ears were alert, gaze surveying the tall grass.

         Pax opened his mouth to chirp at her.

         Something thudded into Sphinx’s neck, pinning her to the building. It happened so fast, Pax didn’t register that Sphinx was dead.

         He was accustomed to seeing violence against humans in his favorite gore movies, his father’s “entertainment nights,” and the few cage fights he’d seen Axel do. He was used to it against mythological creatures.

Seeing the thing protrude from her scruffy fur made Pax cover a scream.

         An arrow. It had been an arrow.

         “Bryce, what the fuck!?” someone hissed, only a few yards away. “It was a cat! You could have given away our position.”

         Pax froze, keeping his hands clamped over his mouth. Had he made a clapping sound when he covered his lips?

         “A witch’s familiar, Centurion. It might have alerted the leader of Hecate to our presence. It wasn’t a real cat.”

Not a real cat. Pax thought about the times Sphinx had chased him around the ship’s laboratory when he was various rodents, the times she’d snuck into the Pax brother’s room to curl up on Axel’s chest as a space heater, the way Lou Ellen giggled with glee to see her “baby girl” lose all her grace and elegance to the superiority of a laser pointer.

Her Mist body crumbled and collapsed, leaving the arrow pinned into the wall.

         Tear burned the rims of his eyes. The urge to sob reminded Pax that he hadn’t been breathing. He couldn’t tell if the world was spinning from a lack of air or from panic. A warning slithered in the back of his head, if you breathe, they’ll know you’re here.

         The camue blanket had fallen to his shoulders when he grabbed his mouth. Hands trembling, he clutched the edges.

This voice drifted from the other side of the low wall.

         They’re surrounding the building. Pax swallowed. Centurion. Romans.

         “You’re fucked up, Bryce,” a third mumbled. “We weren’t supposed to move until Cahoon cut the power.”

         If they cut the power, all the phone lines would go down. Unlike other demigods, Kronos’ men didn’t fear drawing monsters with technology; they welcomed new recruits. But, Iris wasn’t exactly cool with delivering messages for the opposing side. If they lost the power lines, they might not be able to get word out.

         Pax’s breath went from nonexistent to ragged.

         Alabaster had wanted privacy and quiet to set up his lab. Matthias was only supposed to do one drop off that morning. They didn’t know when Jack would show up.

         They were alone.

         “I can’t wait to mount a lion’s head on my wall,” the second guy, Bryce, muttered. His voice had a bouncy energy to it. Pax had heard of pre-battle jitters. These sounded too light.

         A Lion’s Head. Pax choked on a whine. They’re talking about Axel.

         “The lion’s head is mine,” a feminine voice stated softly.

         “Alright, Ari. Sheesh, we get it. You’re mad that that cannibal ate Julian after he killed him.”

         A tiny, detached part of Pax wanted to squeal a protest. Julian? Praetor Julian? The first person Axel had killed. He hadn’t eaten him—Axel fought to get Julian a proper funeral so he would remain uneaten.

         Everything felt like it was tunneling to the arrow on the wall. How much time had he wasted cowering here? His brain fumbled. This was it. This was his job. He was the recon guy. That’s what Mercedes had been—

         What would Mercedes do?

         Pax fumbled to his belt, to the mirror she had specially made for him. It was reflective, but the surface was dulled to minimize glare. He forced himself to take two regularish breaths, to not picture Axel’s head on a wall.

         “Damn it, Bryce. How did you get put on this mission? Just remember we’re not supposed to kill the younger kid with the two colored eyes. You heard command. He’s their spymaster’s assistant and a whole wealth of information.”

         They know a lot. They know too much.

         With as little noise as he could manage, Pax shifted the camue blanket up his arm, so he could hold the mirror with a covered hand. He leaned against the edge of the wall, tilting the mirror to see into the fields.

         Memo to self: request magical one-way camue blanket that he could see-through but others can’t.

         “He needs to be able to talk. Doesn’t mean he needs to be able to walk.”

         “I reiterate: you’re fucked up, Bryce.”

         “Quiet,” the feminine voice, the centurion, growled.

         There they were: not people, but ominous divots in the grass. They might have been wearing camue blankets too, though Pax doubted it. These weren’t professionals. Pax could tell from the loud chatter. He wondered if they’d been gathered in a hurry and hadn’t been able to vet out people like the cat-killer, Bryce.

         About thirty feet away, beyond the long grass, two people stood by the power line in construction workers outfits. From what Pax could see, something glinted under the bright orange reflectors: armor. The perfect, quick cover. Alabaster even said they’d been struggling with power and relying on backup generators. Would the Romans know to cut the backup generators?

         One thing was certain: there was no referee to yell at the Romans for bringing too many players onto the field. If Pax had to guess, the back door and windows would be covered too. He shivered to remember Mercedes’ fingers glide across his shoulder. Pax Two, I will give you a piece of candy if you can tell me how many doors and windows we passed in this building.

         He wished she were here, barking orders about the obvious things he had missed. But, then she’d be in danger too.

         If Pax made it out of this alive, he vowed to write a Hey Mr. ADHD song that promoted concentration and calm. There was a back exit, a front exit, and several windows in every room except the very center of the building, where Axel and Alabaster were unaware of their plight. Pax puffed up his cheeks, barely catching himself before he popped them. He didn’t know if there were any secret exits. That would be prime information.

         As he crept back through the atrium, he tilted his mirror out the window. Maybe thirty feet away, he caught sight of movement: snipers. The Romans had scouted the building. They would be watching every exit, and likely had attack forces at each entrance.

         Panic later. Move now.

         The Romans were far enough away that they wouldn’t be able to hear missteps past the atrium, but Pax focused on the memory of Mercedes’ bells strung at his neck, shoulders, elbows, wrists, hips, knees, and feet. If one of the imaginary bells rang, the Romans might know. They might come in here, skewer Axel, shoot Alabaster in the head with an arrow, and drag Pax off, kicking and screaming.

         By the time he reached the central lab, sweat trickled off his face, threatening to make a plopping sound onto the floor. Axel and Alabaster’s voices echoed amongst the boxes. Although they spoke at a normal level, each word made Pax’s ears ring like a cannon.

         He couldn’t decipher what they said. The boxes, tubes, and wayward lab and band equipment blurred as he stepped up to Axel, his feet knowing where to go while his mind was numb with fear.

         His hand was on his brother’s arm. Axel and Alabaster froze, mid-talk, staring at Pax in worry. There must have been something wrong with his face.

         “There is a Roman hitsquad outside. I counted five in the front. There are likely five in the back and there are snipers at every window. They want to kill Axel and take me alive for interrogation. Unsure on their intentions with Witch Boy.”

         Once the words were out, it became real. It wasn’t his turn to keep it together. It was Axel’s, the planner.

         Which was good, because Pax felt himself tremble with panic.

  Thank you for reading! Stay tuned next week to see how well three teenage idiots panic over being surrounded. I hope you guys are staying safe and healthy!