Persephone Jackson (
kelpheaded) wrote2024-04-16 11:01 pm
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get up and shake the glitter off your clothes now
When she wakes up, she doesn't realize anything's wrong at first. She's in a bed, soft but supportive, tucked under a thick blanket. She's cuddled up against a warm body, her head pillowed against a firm chest that moves up and down steadily with even breaths. It's comfortable, and when she cracks her eyes open and sees she's in a (hotel?) room that's empty aside from her sleeping companion, no monsters (why would she be looking for monsters?) or anything else dangerous in sight, she almost shuts her eyes again to fall back asleep.
It's the thought that she doesn't quite remember how she got here that really wakes her up. Because: how did she get here? Where is here? It might be safe... ish... in that she might not be in immediate danger, but there's a lot of unknowns right now, including the question of who the frick is in bed with her.
It would probably make more sense to stay quiet and take in more of the situation, but the realization that she's in bed with a stranger causes her to flail backwards in a way that would absolutely have had her falling off the side of the bed if the mattress itself wasn't surprisingly large. Instead, she ends up tangled gracelessly in the sheets and slightly frozen in place, like the guy waking up won't see her if she's completely still.
It's the thought that she doesn't quite remember how she got here that really wakes her up. Because: how did she get here? Where is here? It might be safe... ish... in that she might not be in immediate danger, but there's a lot of unknowns right now, including the question of who the frick is in bed with her.
It would probably make more sense to stay quiet and take in more of the situation, but the realization that she's in bed with a stranger causes her to flail backwards in a way that would absolutely have had her falling off the side of the bed if the mattress itself wasn't surprisingly large. Instead, she ends up tangled gracelessly in the sheets and slightly frozen in place, like the guy waking up won't see her if she's completely still.
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Then he sort of realizes he doesn't know why it's not what he expected, and his eyes snap all the way open, taking in the simple but luxurious decor, the clear blue sky outside the window...
The wide-eyed girl tangled in the sheets next to him. The girl that he absolutely does not recognize.
He starts, sitting up himself and scooting back just a little, but given that the blankets are tangled around them both, he can't get very far. He turns a look that's just as wide-eyed on his unknown companion and asks, "Who are you? What are - what am I doing here?"
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“I don’t know? I’m, um - I think my name is Percy?” It’s the name that pops into her mind when she considers herself, and it feels right, so that’s good. Hopefully. Setting aside everything else. “And I think we’re in a hotel room, but apart from that, your guess is as good as mine?”
She should take stock, actually. Right? She is… in a hotel room, with a confused stranger. She is wearing (she glances down at herself) a slip? Maybe? It looks and feels unfamiliar. She doesn’t think it’s something she would normally wear. There’s a bag on a dresser, and she untangles herself from the bed to go explore it.
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Spoiler: It doesn't.
He frowns, almost not sure of what's going to come out of his mouth until it does, and he says, "Jason. I'm Jason."
She starts getting up and so he does the same, disentangling himself from the sheets only to realize he's in a white tank top and boxers that don't... really leave much to the imagination. And he is intensely uncomfortable with that.
Not to mention, he realizes, there's a tattoo on one of his arms. He's staring at it, trying to decipher its meaning - and definitely coming up blank - when he hears Percy slide out of bed and pad over to the dresser; he glances up, then asks, curiously, "What's in there?"
Maybe it's something that will help them figure out what's going on.
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While she’s digging, she notices a gold band around her finger that feels as unfamiliar as the slip she’s wearing. She tugs it off, and the inside of it has lettering (half of it is Greek, her mind supplies from somewhere) inscribed. The Greek part is her name, she’s pretty sure.
“Uh…”
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"What's that?" he's asking, but then his own hand catches his eye, on the arm that doesn't have the tattoo, and... he's got one too.
He frowns, fingering it. "I have the same one, I think."
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She would bring him the clothes so he can pick out what he thinks will fit him but she's now way more distracted by a Certain Realization, so instead she's scrambling back onto the bed so she can compare rings.
"I'm not an expert, but these kind of look like wedding rings?"
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He frowns, holding it up. "That's my name," he says, slowly, staring at the letters like maybe if he keeps looking, they'll change, and it won't be. But it is. And it doesn't change.
He glances at her. "We'd... remember if we were married."
There's a definite uptick in his tone at the end. It's not a statement, so much as a question.
Besides. "Aren't we a little young?"
He thinks. Maybe? He's not sure.
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She'd guess they're in their teens. Older teens? It's so weird, not knowing her own age. The rings are pretty much identical, though, aside from size differences. And they really do look like wedding rings.
Gods. Okay. She gives back his ring before grabbing that bag again and pretty much dumping it out on the mattress. The smaller jeans (hers, she's guessing) have a pen in one pocket, and a few twenty dollar bills folded into the other, but no wallet or phone or anything, unfortunately.
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He definitely goes for the larger pair of jeans, more interested in tugging them on first and checking the pockets later. It turns out there's a gold coin in one of them, and a similar amount of cash in another, but that's about it.
He flicks the coin between his fingers, frowning. It feels... familiar, but he can't say how. "What do we do now?" he asks, though it's less because he's completely at a loss and more because he wants to consult her. Whatever they do, he feels it should be something they both agree on, somehow.
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He nods, because, "That's a good idea. I can call down to the front desk?" That's going to be an awkward conversation, but there's really nothing for it.
Plus, she's eyeing the bathroom like she'd really like to get changed in there, and that's... probably a good idea. He can switch shirts while she's in there, too.
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“I’m gonna take a quick shower. See if that clears my head at all.”
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He waits for the door to close before he swaps out the tank top for the purple t-shirt, and then takes a deep breath, picks up the receiver, and dials the front desk.
What he gets is... not entirely bad news, but it's not particularly helpful, either. When he hangs up, he does root around in the hotel binder on the desk until he finds the room service menu and starts paging through it, though he'll wait for Percy to get out of the shower before ordering. He has no idea what she wants.
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She pulls on her own jeans and an orange t-shirt before heading out and finding him looking at the menu. “Do they have pancakes?”
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"Yeah," he confirms, holding out the menu for her. "And... we can order anything we want. The room's been paid for, and there's an account set up for room service."
He pauses.
"But we're not the ones who paid for it, and they can't tell me exactly who did."
Which... seems more than a little suspect.
But maybe not suspect enough to at least get breakfast out of it. His stomach might be doing some of the thinking for him, though.
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She accepts the menu. And squints at it. The words are not… super easy to read? But she recognizes where the pancakes are, and she’s pretty sure it says blueberry is an option, so that seems good enough.
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Not that there weren't awkward moments while figuring out how it was going to work. Percy had plenty of, uh, nightwear, but very little of it looked comfortable or appropriate, so instead she wound up appropriating one of the shirts they'd technically bought for Jason. It may not be significantly more modest than the slip she'd woken up in the first day, but at least it's more comfortable?
They fall asleep on opposite sides of the bed. In the morning, they're... well. Um. Percy's not sure whose fault it is, but they're definitely not on opposite sides of the bed anymore. She's somehow gotten herself tucked up along his side, an arm thrown over his waist. And while she does stiffen up a bit at the realization, she's way less freaked out than she was yesterday waking up with him. (Not that her memories have magically returned either, which she low-key had hoped might happen.) And instead of panicking and trying to throw herself off the bed, she just kind of - sighs and tells herself to relax. This isn't that bad.
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When he finally starts to climb back into consciousness in the morning, he realizes quickly that he's pressed up against something warm. And soft... ish, and breathing, and really nice-smelling, and -
Jason snaps awake with a little jerk, but then immediately holds himself very, very still, because he isn't sure if he's the only one awake - and he's free to try to slide out of whatever position they seem to have gotten themselves into overnight - or whether Percy's awake, too. He isn't sure which option he's hoping for, actually.
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"You didn't suddenly remember everything about who we are overnight, did you?" she ends up asking, in a way that makes it pretty clear she has little hope the answer is yes, but she might as well make sure anyway.
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Or the little shiver that accompanies it.
"No," he says, and manages to turn the huff into a sigh. "You either, huh?"
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She should probably give him his personal space back, but she's still feeling sleepy and warm and comfortable, and he is her husband, isn't he? He's something to her, at least. And that something makes her feel okay with breaking boundaries that she would otherwise not want to break with someone she technically only remembers knowing for a day. "That would be too easy."
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"Yeah," he agrees, with another sigh. "I guess it's better than just one of us remembering." Although he's not so sure. Knowing anything would be better than where they're currently at.
"I think I had some pretty weird, dreams, though. But maybe that's normal."
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She thinks she would trust him to tell her the truth. And that would basically be the important thing about only one of them knowing who they are, right? Trusting the other person to steer them right.
"What'd you dream about?"
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As for the dream: "A woman," he starts - and then realizes how that sounds. "I mean. An older woman? Who didn't seem very happy with me. She told me I wasn't following the plan."
It had felt so real. Like a real conversation. Like it really happened, but not a memory. In real time.
"I don't think she was my mother."
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She's just saying. She feels like the two of them were not set up for success. Whatever success would be in this situation.