𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐆𝐓𝐇, Clarisse la Rue

𝐢𝐱. a glimpse of nabi's true desires

STRENGTH
━━ act two, chapter nine.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

   THE WIND BLEW AS NABI WATCHED THE WAVES WHICH BROKE OVER THE PROW. The Queen Anne's Revenge was pretty darn fast, but that was probably because of Percy's crazy water powers.

Nabi leaned against the rail, her arms crossed with her head tucked low as they sailed through the night.

   Percy was quiet next to her, he seemed like he was wrapped up in his own head — Annabeth had tried helping with lookout earlier, but sailing didn't agree with her. After a few hours of rocking back and forth, she went below to lie in a hammock, her face a shade of green. Now, it was just the two of them.

"What are you thinking about?" Nabi asked.

He answered, "How much I miss Tyson. How much I'm worried about Grover."

Nabi muttered a sad agreement, her eyes still fixed on the water. Percy asked, "What about you? Is Clarisse...?"

"Alive," Nabi mumbled, "she's still alive."

Now that they were out of danger, with all the witches and guinea pigs and pirates out of the way, all Nabi could think about was how much she missed Clarisse.

She wanted so badly to just get her back, wherever she was, and squeeze the living daylights out of the girl. Then, probably scream at Clarisse for making her worry so much.

With all Nabi's thinking, it brought her to how Clarisse made her feel... odd, in ways that other people didn't.

And now that she had no clue how Clarisse was? Nabi's feelings were a huge mess. Sure, she obviously cared about all of her friends, but she cared about Clarisse just a little more.

   ...Maybe a lot more.

   Nabi closed her eyes for a moment and envisioned the way Clarisse's lips would curve into a smirk; the mirth in her brown eyes.

Her heart hurt.

Gods, Nabi wanted so badly to just find her and tell her... tell her what...?

Nabi watched the horizon. She focused on the monsters that they passed, a plume of water as tall as a skyscraper spewed into the moonlight; a row of green, reptilian spines slithered across the waves. Sometime after midnight, Annabeth came up on deck as they sailed past a smoking volcano island, the sea bubbling and steaming around the shore.

"One of the forges of Hephaestus," Annabeth said, "where he makes his metal monsters."

"Like the bronze bulls?" Percy asked.

She nodded. "Go around. Far around."

   Percy didn't need to be told twice. They steered clear of the island, and soon it was just a red patch of haze behind them. He turned to Annabeth. "The reason you hate cyclopes so much... the story about how Thalia really died. What happened?"

It was hard to see her expression in the dark. Nabi didn't know much about Thalia, but she knew the simple details — Luke, Thalia and Annabeth getting to camp with Grover as their satyr. That was it, really.