[ If it hadn't dawned on him before that he'd done something in the past to really piss this god off, it was quickly becoming apparent to him now.
Cassian had never known Serenity to don this sort of gleaming gold armour nor change her voice so he's quick to rule that out. But it's her tone and sass that reminds him so much of something familial.
Unfortunately multitasking has never been his preference. As she pulls her sword free from the demigod's flesh Cassian makes his move. Like a swarm of bees the sand rushes into the creature's nostrils and down its throat, effectively halting whatever dying cry it might otherwise make as its struggling ceases and the light behind its eyes dims.
But where its light fades, a lightbulb goes off in Cassian's mind. The sand rushes away to settle beneath the marsh and he stands there looking at Annabeth, Patron of the Craft, wife of Percy, and sister. Memories trickle in like fragmented pieces of a puzzle informing him that this isn't the first time they've gotten into these spats. But aside from him forgetting (again) and dusting (again), he can't for the life of him recall what specifically she's pissed off at him about. ]
Annabeth? [ There's familiarity in his voice that mixes with frustration aimed mostly at himself. ] What did I do now?
no subject
Cassian had never known Serenity to don this sort of gleaming gold armour nor change her voice so he's quick to rule that out. But it's her tone and sass that reminds him so much of something familial.
Unfortunately multitasking has never been his preference. As she pulls her sword free from the demigod's flesh Cassian makes his move. Like a swarm of bees the sand rushes into the creature's nostrils and down its throat, effectively halting whatever dying cry it might otherwise make as its struggling ceases and the light behind its eyes dims.
But where its light fades, a lightbulb goes off in Cassian's mind. The sand rushes away to settle beneath the marsh and he stands there looking at Annabeth, Patron of the Craft, wife of Percy, and sister. Memories trickle in like fragmented pieces of a puzzle informing him that this isn't the first time they've gotten into these spats. But aside from him forgetting (again) and dusting (again), he can't for the life of him recall what specifically she's pissed off at him about. ]
Annabeth? [ There's familiarity in his voice that mixes with frustration aimed mostly at himself. ] What did I do now?