[ she's too lost in thought, that despite the sheer volume of clarisse yelling her for in the library, annabeth still misses it. it happens sometimes. she's dimly aware of the loudness of it - she just doesn't register it as her name, too busy ruminating a million topics at once. ]
[ it's only when her book goes flying and she physically, literally sees clarisse la rue come down the aisle to scoop up her fallen literary comrade that she recognizes clarisse as in front of her. surprise slaps her face as the other demigod bops her with the book, but she doesn't even care about the book. she cares about the familiar. ]
Clarisse? [ she sounds pleasantly incredulous, and she moves forward on instinct before stopping herself, almost like she's going in for a hug, but her arms are still full of other books for a barrier. which - she'd had a strange compulsion to hug clarisse. they don't do that, they don't hug. but annabeth is barely out of tartarus and it lingers in her posture, in her eyes, in her, and despite their very rocky start, clarisse is someone who represents a certain solidity and rigor of home, of camp half-blood, and annabeth is aching for home. ]
[ she left new york in june. she turned seventeen in the deepest pits of the underworld, but she doesn't have an exact timeframe of how long she was there for. she just knows it feels like ages since she's seen any other half-blood who isn't percy, and she spent a lot of time with clarisse at camp in his absence. they... get each other now, she supposes, in a way they certainly hadn't as younger children. ]
[ she blinks a few times, like she's making sure she isn't hallucinating. ] What are you doing in the library?
no i love it. here have more
[ it's only when her book goes flying and she physically, literally sees clarisse la rue come down the aisle to scoop up her fallen literary comrade that she recognizes clarisse as in front of her. surprise slaps her face as the other demigod bops her with the book, but she doesn't even care about the book. she cares about the familiar. ]
Clarisse? [ she sounds pleasantly incredulous, and she moves forward on instinct before stopping herself, almost like she's going in for a hug, but her arms are still full of other books for a barrier. which - she'd had a strange compulsion to hug clarisse. they don't do that, they don't hug. but annabeth is barely out of tartarus and it lingers in her posture, in her eyes, in her, and despite their very rocky start, clarisse is someone who represents a certain solidity and rigor of home, of camp half-blood, and annabeth is aching for home. ]
[ she left new york in june. she turned seventeen in the deepest pits of the underworld, but she doesn't have an exact timeframe of how long she was there for. she just knows it feels like ages since she's seen any other half-blood who isn't percy, and she spent a lot of time with clarisse at camp in his absence. they... get each other now, she supposes, in a way they certainly hadn't as younger children. ]
[ she blinks a few times, like she's making sure she isn't hallucinating. ] What are you doing in the library?
[ there, saved it. ]