Jesus of Suburbia, Scene I
Title: Excerpt from Jesus of Suburbia, an extreme all-mortal AU involving the Sightless universe.
Author: Sister Grimm Erin (sistergrimmel). Whole fiction is co-written with blueinkedlines [Neko Kuroban], but this scene hasn't been gone over yet.
Fandom: Percy Jackson and the Olympians.
Rating/Warnings: Some sexual implications, but nothing more than your average teen chick-flick.
Word Count: 1,185.
Summary: "No one ever died for my sins in hell-- at least the ones I got away with."
Author's Notes: A rough draft. I'm looking for CC more than anything, please!
A girl of sixteen- with lightning blue eyes and hair as black as a raven's wing- pulled into the driveway. There was no screech of tires, but the way the car door was slammed as she left the ancient Mustang convertible more than spoke for itself.
The embrace was gracefully broken, but their manicured, lily-soft hands remain entwined. "Thalia," Evie called, smile a mile wide. "Come meet Cally!"
Calanthe examined the girl. It was nearly impossible for her to believe Thalia was even Evie's second cousin, let alone her daughter, though they were both equally beautiful and shared the same pale, smooth skin. She supposed their body types were similar- but Thalia projected so far beyond her actual body space that only a fool would call her delicate. She wore jeans that were torn from use rather than acid wash, a scarlet ribbed tank top, and a broken-in leather jacket.
"Evie, I'm not in the mood," Thalia told her mother in the tone one would use to address a particularly petulant child. She took a deep breath. "There was this boy at school, and you can say 'entitlement issues' in frigging neon lights and still not be as obvious about it as he was."
"Let me guess," Evie said contemplatively. "He's sinfully attractive."
"More like an obnoxious pretty boy with a trust fund the size of an oil tanker. My virgin-f*cking God, he had this Latina girl just about sitting in his lap- even though she had this guy the size of a truck hanging on her arm. Plus there was a redhead -who, by the way, had a permanent case of bitchface- trying to keep her poser boyfriend off of him. Not to mention that doe-eyed farmchild who just nodded along with everything he said." She was gesturing with hr hands.
"Not your type, then," Evie questioned, making sure.
"Not unless I was interested in saving the plantation and finding myself a dumber Rhett, no," Thalia snorted.
"Well-," Evie said, making adorable green eyes.
"Forget it, Eves. He'd just run off with the pool boy." Thalia turned around and saw the woman standing beside her mother. The girl did not look at all embarrassed. "Hey. Did you bring another casserole? We subscribe to the Holy Temple of Bagel Bites here, so it might go to waste."
Calanthe smiled politely. "Chocolate, coffee and flowers. Nothing that'll interfere with your preferred method of worship."
"You're the angel of mercy, then," Thalia replied. She crossed the porch to find the welcome basket sitting on the porch seat. "Thanks, Mrs. Castellan! Tell your son I said to leave me alone!" She whirled around to face Evie. "I did the laundry. Give me the number of the new bank and I'll talk to the nice people. And how many times do I have to tell you to find a new agent? I don't want to pimp you out or anything, but someone's got to pay the bills, and waitressing isn't going to cut it. Not even here."
Evie nodded meekly. "I'll call the SAG. And the bank left their number on the machine."
Thalia swore. "All right, Eves. I'll make an appointment for you and sort out the checking account funk. Meanwhile, pick out a damn dress. There's a charity ball at Yale." She rifled through her black bag and found a credit card. She placed it in Evie's palm with a cautionary frown. "It's got a three-hundred dollar limit. Have fun shopping with your friend, and do not break the minor." Thalia Grace scooped up a fine Swiss chocolate bar and stuffed it in her bag. She turned back into the driveway and nearly dropped her car keys.
"So. Care to save the plantation?" said a highly amused Luke Castellan. "It might take more than an oil tanker to stop Sandra if I tell her you told your mother she had a permanent case of bitchface."
"So she has a name in addition to a gay boyfriend," Thalia Grace drawled, recovering quickly. "Sleeping with her, too?"
"Who do we look like, Mormons?" Luke asked defensively.
She merely stood there, very loudly saying nothing.
"You have something against open relationships, don't you," he said with deliberation.
"As far as I'm concerned, everybody else can f*ck anybody else in whatever way gets them off as long as nobody gets hurt. I just happen to like saying no."
"It's not as though we invited you to a threesome," Luke said defensively. "There's no need to be scandalized."
"I grew up in Los Angeles. Nothing scandalizes me. I'm just a lesbian, that's all."
Luke snorted. "You're not gay."
"How do you know? You don't know anything about me," she challenged. He noticed absent-mindedly that that blue flame of defiance in her eyes caught the light of the fading October sun like a match.
"If you were gay, you would have described Silena a lot more enthusiastically." Luke put his hands in his pockets and smirked.
"Maybe she's just not my type," Thalia said determinedly.
"So what is your type?" he inquired skeptically, albeit while appearing thoroughly amused. The rat bastard.
"Flower girls who don't mind if I watch my hand move for hours on end," she replied promptly.
"Buffy quote," Luke noted. "You're straight."
"Just for that, I might go kiss your mother full on the lips," Thalia said rebelliously.
"That," Luke murmured, "would be cheating."
"Cheating on what?" She demanded.
That seemed to catch her off-guard.
"I don't want you, Grace," he told her abruptly. "I just want to argue with you. You're a change from doe-eyed farm children."
"You want me," Thalia said, chin tilted in the air proudly. "I don't know a whole lot about sex, Castellan, but you want me."
"Want to bet?" Luke smirked.
"I'll bet you ten dollars that you'll go hard if I kiss you right up against this door," Thalia said wickedly. She didn't stop and think about what she was doing. Life was too damn short for regrets.
"Deal," he said simply.
She stepped up to him and kissed him boldly, savagely. Thalia didn't know where it came from- she'd had all but one kiss before, and nothing like this. Nothing in a driveway, pressed against a stranger with a searching, hungry mouth and the hard, smooth planes of his body. She all but glued herself to him, hands looped in his back pockets.
Finally they came up for air. His eyes were defeated, but there was a hungry look to him that required her to control a pleasant shiver.
"You win," he managed after a few breaths. He pressed a ten-dollar bill into her hand. She snatched it and smiled icily. Satisfaction filled her. She’d managed to break his cool after all.
Thalia turned away. There was no swing to her hips, but she knew he was watching her profile. Guys had done that before, and it had disgusted her.
Right here, right now? At least she could predict it.
“So,” Evie asked casually from the porch. Her eyes were full of mirth and Calanthe was holding back giggles. “Not your type?”
Author: Sister Grimm Erin (sistergrimmel). Whole fiction is co-written with blueinkedlines [Neko Kuroban], but this scene hasn't been gone over yet.
Fandom: Percy Jackson and the Olympians.
Rating/Warnings: Some sexual implications, but nothing more than your average teen chick-flick.
Word Count: 1,185.
Summary: "No one ever died for my sins in hell-- at least the ones I got away with."
Author's Notes: A rough draft. I'm looking for CC more than anything, please!
A girl of sixteen- with lightning blue eyes and hair as black as a raven's wing- pulled into the driveway. There was no screech of tires, but the way the car door was slammed as she left the ancient Mustang convertible more than spoke for itself.
The embrace was gracefully broken, but their manicured, lily-soft hands remain entwined. "Thalia," Evie called, smile a mile wide. "Come meet Cally!"
Calanthe examined the girl. It was nearly impossible for her to believe Thalia was even Evie's second cousin, let alone her daughter, though they were both equally beautiful and shared the same pale, smooth skin. She supposed their body types were similar- but Thalia projected so far beyond her actual body space that only a fool would call her delicate. She wore jeans that were torn from use rather than acid wash, a scarlet ribbed tank top, and a broken-in leather jacket.
"Evie, I'm not in the mood," Thalia told her mother in the tone one would use to address a particularly petulant child. She took a deep breath. "There was this boy at school, and you can say 'entitlement issues' in frigging neon lights and still not be as obvious about it as he was."
"Let me guess," Evie said contemplatively. "He's sinfully attractive."
"More like an obnoxious pretty boy with a trust fund the size of an oil tanker. My virgin-f*cking God, he had this Latina girl just about sitting in his lap- even though she had this guy the size of a truck hanging on her arm. Plus there was a redhead -who, by the way, had a permanent case of bitchface- trying to keep her poser boyfriend off of him. Not to mention that doe-eyed farmchild who just nodded along with everything he said." She was gesturing with hr hands.
"Not your type, then," Evie questioned, making sure.
"Not unless I was interested in saving the plantation and finding myself a dumber Rhett, no," Thalia snorted.
"Well-," Evie said, making adorable green eyes.
"Forget it, Eves. He'd just run off with the pool boy." Thalia turned around and saw the woman standing beside her mother. The girl did not look at all embarrassed. "Hey. Did you bring another casserole? We subscribe to the Holy Temple of Bagel Bites here, so it might go to waste."
Calanthe smiled politely. "Chocolate, coffee and flowers. Nothing that'll interfere with your preferred method of worship."
"You're the angel of mercy, then," Thalia replied. She crossed the porch to find the welcome basket sitting on the porch seat. "Thanks, Mrs. Castellan! Tell your son I said to leave me alone!" She whirled around to face Evie. "I did the laundry. Give me the number of the new bank and I'll talk to the nice people. And how many times do I have to tell you to find a new agent? I don't want to pimp you out or anything, but someone's got to pay the bills, and waitressing isn't going to cut it. Not even here."
Evie nodded meekly. "I'll call the SAG. And the bank left their number on the machine."
Thalia swore. "All right, Eves. I'll make an appointment for you and sort out the checking account funk. Meanwhile, pick out a damn dress. There's a charity ball at Yale." She rifled through her black bag and found a credit card. She placed it in Evie's palm with a cautionary frown. "It's got a three-hundred dollar limit. Have fun shopping with your friend, and do not break the minor." Thalia Grace scooped up a fine Swiss chocolate bar and stuffed it in her bag. She turned back into the driveway and nearly dropped her car keys.
"So. Care to save the plantation?" said a highly amused Luke Castellan. "It might take more than an oil tanker to stop Sandra if I tell her you told your mother she had a permanent case of bitchface."
"So she has a name in addition to a gay boyfriend," Thalia Grace drawled, recovering quickly. "Sleeping with her, too?"
"Who do we look like, Mormons?" Luke asked defensively.
She merely stood there, very loudly saying nothing.
"You have something against open relationships, don't you," he said with deliberation.
"As far as I'm concerned, everybody else can f*ck anybody else in whatever way gets them off as long as nobody gets hurt. I just happen to like saying no."
"It's not as though we invited you to a threesome," Luke said defensively. "There's no need to be scandalized."
"I grew up in Los Angeles. Nothing scandalizes me. I'm just a lesbian, that's all."
Luke snorted. "You're not gay."
"How do you know? You don't know anything about me," she challenged. He noticed absent-mindedly that that blue flame of defiance in her eyes caught the light of the fading October sun like a match.
"If you were gay, you would have described Silena a lot more enthusiastically." Luke put his hands in his pockets and smirked.
"Maybe she's just not my type," Thalia said determinedly.
"So what is your type?" he inquired skeptically, albeit while appearing thoroughly amused. The rat bastard.
"Flower girls who don't mind if I watch my hand move for hours on end," she replied promptly.
"Buffy quote," Luke noted. "You're straight."
"Just for that, I might go kiss your mother full on the lips," Thalia said rebelliously.
"That," Luke murmured, "would be cheating."
"Cheating on what?" She demanded.
That seemed to catch her off-guard.
"I don't want you, Grace," he told her abruptly. "I just want to argue with you. You're a change from doe-eyed farm children."
"You want me," Thalia said, chin tilted in the air proudly. "I don't know a whole lot about sex, Castellan, but you want me."
"Want to bet?" Luke smirked.
"I'll bet you ten dollars that you'll go hard if I kiss you right up against this door," Thalia said wickedly. She didn't stop and think about what she was doing. Life was too damn short for regrets.
"Deal," he said simply.
She stepped up to him and kissed him boldly, savagely. Thalia didn't know where it came from- she'd had all but one kiss before, and nothing like this. Nothing in a driveway, pressed against a stranger with a searching, hungry mouth and the hard, smooth planes of his body. She all but glued herself to him, hands looped in his back pockets.
Finally they came up for air. His eyes were defeated, but there was a hungry look to him that required her to control a pleasant shiver.
"You win," he managed after a few breaths. He pressed a ten-dollar bill into her hand. She snatched it and smiled icily. Satisfaction filled her. She’d managed to break his cool after all.
Thalia turned away. There was no swing to her hips, but she knew he was watching her profile. Guys had done that before, and it had disgusted her.
Right here, right now? At least she could predict it.
“So,” Evie asked casually from the porch. Her eyes were full of mirth and Calanthe was holding back giggles. “Not your type?”