[ it's a little ironic that they're back in new york. years later: the buildings are repaired, the statues are back in place, and the mortals are none the wiser. ]
[ the thing with luke is, he's not really dead. all those years ago, he didn't really die. he doesn't die like he's meant to. instead, the gods decide to give him a second chance — something about how he deserves it, since he had simply been a product of his father's mistreatment, of misunderstandings and misplaced callousness. it's the least they can do for taking his mother away. he had never been given a fair chance, they say, but hadn't none of the demigod children been dealt a fair chance? ]
[ rather than returning to camp half-blood, he chooses to live his life freely. and that's how he ends up in new york, the city where it simultaneously ended and began for him. living a life free of kronos isn't difficult, but luke castellan can't rid himself of his past. it visits him every night, lingers in the shadows during the day, and he knows it continues to follow those who play the hero — literally — and are battling monsters he refuses to chase. he's not a hero — never has been, never will be. ]
[ it's been a month and a bit since he's bumped into clarisse la rue. he can't say each time has been pleasant, either — she looks at him as though he's still the lost boy who had tried to pull the world inside out. he doesn't try to correct her, either. their meetings are short — she's forever full of fire while he's full of ice. she wants to start another war while he simply wants to diffuse it. he's tired of fighting — of running, of living a life full of hate. it's fine if she hates him — he hates himself, too. ]
[ he bumps into her — literally — on fifth avenue. ] Sorry. [ he turns and stops. his mouth pulls into a line, a slight smile, but it's not one of happiness at seeing her. ] Oh. La Rue.
if you don't like this i will punch you.
[ the thing with luke is, he's not really dead. all those years ago, he didn't really die. he doesn't die like he's meant to. instead, the gods decide to give him a second chance — something about how he deserves it, since he had simply been a product of his father's mistreatment, of misunderstandings and misplaced callousness. it's the least they can do for taking his mother away. he had never been given a fair chance, they say, but hadn't none of the demigod children been dealt a fair chance? ]
[ rather than returning to camp half-blood, he chooses to live his life freely. and that's how he ends up in new york, the city where it simultaneously ended and began for him. living a life free of kronos isn't difficult, but luke castellan can't rid himself of his past. it visits him every night, lingers in the shadows during the day, and he knows it continues to follow those who play the hero — literally — and are battling monsters he refuses to chase. he's not a hero — never has been, never will be. ]
[ it's been a month and a bit since he's bumped into clarisse la rue. he can't say each time has been pleasant, either — she looks at him as though he's still the lost boy who had tried to pull the world inside out. he doesn't try to correct her, either. their meetings are short — she's forever full of fire while he's full of ice. she wants to start another war while he simply wants to diffuse it. he's tired of fighting — of running, of living a life full of hate. it's fine if she hates him — he hates himself, too. ]
[ he bumps into her — literally — on fifth avenue. ] Sorry. [ he turns and stops. his mouth pulls into a line, a slight smile, but it's not one of happiness at seeing her. ] Oh. La Rue.
[ he thinks the fates are cruel. ]