Author: Jelly Bean Omelette PM
Lena here, reporting from The Olympiad. Goddess of Gossip, Patron of Paparazzi and those other stupidities. Danger: Spending time with me may cause any secrets to be rapidly uncovered and spread like wildfire. Don't say I didn't warn you.Rated: Fiction T - English - Humor - Chapters: 3 - Words: 3,208 - Reviews: 4 - Favs: 2 - Follows: 4 - Updated: 11-03-12 - Published: 05-29-12 - id: 8162771
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Chapter 2: Caffeine Jitters and Comma Splices
A.N. I'm writing this; even tough I said this'd take a back seat to my other stories. What can I say? I write when I have inspiration, and muffins. But I digress. Onwards we ride into Lena's world of immortal newspaper politics!
'Stephi!' I yell, 'I need your piece on that underground weapons ring!'
'IknowIknowIknow.' The bespectacled tree-nymph rushes past me, laptop in one hand and coffee in the other. She plonks it onto the desk causing coffee to slop over the sides and I can see that, due to the caffeine jitters we're all suffering from, more of it has ended up on the carpet than left in the mug. 'I am sending it to you right… now!' Her quivering fingers blur across the keyboard, then slamming on the enter button; she jumps back, giving a slightly frazzled beam.
A window pops up on my screen, bearing Stephi's email address and a miniature paperclip, indicating an attachment. I instinctively reach for the mouse only to be met by the bare table top. My lips twist into a scowl as I move my hand back to the track-pad. What ever happened to those good, old corded mice?
I open the tab and quickly scan the document. It's a trivial piece about dull politics, included only because the rumoured ring-leader is Kizzy Lord; elusive ex-hunter and daughter of Apollo. Expert trouble-brewer and scandal-creator.
I would prefer to spend ten minutes checking over her work but we're already one hour late—a new record—and Henry's piece is in a much more dire need of attention.
Meet Henry FitzRoy—eternal nuisance. Haven't heard of him? Open a History book; the Tudors, Henry VII's children—specifically—illegitimate.
Henry's god of some late, medieval sport that vaguely translates into modern-day bowling (he's under the impression that this gives him the right to saunter round wearing bowling shirts with cheesy slogans like 'my drinking team has a bowling problem' and grin like it's the funniest thing in the world) and he adamantly denies any accusations that pig-headedness is another aspect of his divine rule.
But, I think, you'd have to be pretty darn pig-headed to stumble in, drunk, to an Olympian Counsel meeting. I had the epic misfortune to be sitting in the corner dutifully taking notes. Henry still has 48 years of being grounded to my print room left; that's 2 496 issues-worth of comma splices I have yet to correct. Woe betide me.
And onto paragraph 4.
'Look out ladies—long time couple, Jenna Mulberry and Scott Harrington (the Annabeth and Percy of their time) are on the rocks. Don't let her Jenna's petite features and cutesy blonde hair fool you, she's a right little devil when it comes to boys. And rumour has caught her and Jace Campbell in a compromising position at his party, Saturday night. Where was Scotty during all of this? There's a question, but he has been spending less time with his girlfriend as of late and more time with Kizzy Lord—'
'FitzRoy!' He appears at my shoulder looking down at me, wearing an extremely smackable smirk. 'Who tipped you off 'bout Jenna and Jace?'
He scrunches up his eyebrows, staring, deep in thought, down at the table as if the names would be carved into the wood. 'The Appleby twins first; but they're right gossips and not exactly reliable so I asked around and, as far as I can figure, it is true.'
I nod slowly; most of our information comes from tip-offs (and the Appleby twins only ever too eager to dish) sometimes with myself or Stephi investigating—she's brilliant at eavesdropping because nobody ever looks to check if the tree is listening in or not. 'And Harrington with Lord?'
Henry shrugs, 'I don't know. S'just a rumour I heard.' He straightens up, oblivious to my scowl, wanders over to Stephi's desk and takes a huge swig of her coffee.
Stephi shoots me a scandalised look, snatching back the mug and giving Henry a swear-ridden scolding before returning to rearranging the lay-out to accommodate new changes.
'Stephi, can you cut that last bit out of FitzRoy's article?' He makes an incoherent noise of protest. I wrinkle my nose. Henry shows potential—I swear, he really does. (Although, that could just be me hoping he's actually learnt something from me over that past 112 years.) 'We publish facts, not common rumours. Besides, it's Kizzy Lord—' I smile wryly, 'she doesn't need to steal other girls' men.'
The clunking and whirring of the printers fills the room. Before I can even shut down my laptop the towering stack of copies is rapidly growing, each pamphlet bearing the title The Olympiad.
'FitzRoy.' I say, sliding off the stool to grab my own bundle, 'Can you take Olympus this week? I'll get downtown—I want to pay a visit Miss Mulberry.'
A.N. This chapter was initially going to be about 3000 words long, stretching from here to Jenna's then back to Lena's apartment at Olympus. But I made a decision to make the chapters of this story shorter—so they're more like scenes than a rounded section of the story developing in a linear sequence. So I'm sorry for lying in my last chapter.
That's not to say that each chapter will be 700 words… I've got a feeling that some might be as long as 3000, while some as short as 300. I'm not making any promises, this story has no plan and the only characters invented so far are the ones on the page.
One thing you might like to know—all my stories (yeah, all 3! So many!) run parallel to each other. Jenna originated in Sidelines. As did Jace (and Scotty and Kizzy to an extent). This story is predominately going to be set in the Manhattan world of the ex-camp half-blood demigods. So, as Jenna is part of that crowd, she, Jace, Scotty and Kizzy will all be minor characters, who will be expanded later.
Disclaimer: I own nothing, all rights to Rick. Henry FitzRoy did actually exist so technically he's not mine either.