[ annabeth is currently - a little scatterbrained. she will not be acknowledging this in the slightest, and she's plowing through, but her tendency to overthink is colliding with a series of very unfortunate events starting in rome, adventuring in tatarus, then being whisked away into a whole new world whereupon some all powerful totem in the middle of nowhere decided to make everyone gods - so, she doesn't have a plan yet for being in abraxas. not a solid one. ]

[ she frowns at the stressed remark, and it takes her a moment to catch what clarisse means; she mirrors percy without realizing it, idly touching the re-imagined gray running through her hair. she missed them when they grew out, but she doesn't know what it means for the singularity to have returned the gray, or why it decided they needed them in the illusion in the first place. ]

[ dryly: ] It was a very difficult eight hundred fake years.

[ it's been a difficult transition back, maybe some of the grays were born naturally at this point. ]

Or maybe the Singularity just thinks it's funny. Did it... leave you a present too? Seems to be a thing happening.