A Tale of Griffins and Half-Bloods

Being a monster is hard enough. Being a monster who needs demigods to help you is even worse. Being a monster who needs help from demigods against other monsters is living hell.
And you thought being human was hard.

(Okay so I'm now realising my huuuuuge mistakes in consistency with the actual books so please bear with me that will be fixed I swear.)


6. Not the Best Idea. - Alyx

Chiron looked unimpressed, to say the least. His face was devoid of its usual kindliness, his eyes instead stern and unforgiving. He looked at the bird in silence. It was the expression that took residence on his face whenever a camper was trying to pass blame for some incident onto another, when it was quite clearly their fault. The bird seemed oblivious- it just kept talking. Was this thing stupid?

The further Cinder got into his little speech- as he started questioning Chiron’s own opinions, I came to a conclusion. Yes. Yes this bird very much was stupid. The pair of them stood silently when the bird finished, staring at each other for a while.

To his credit, my centaur mentor (I am great at rhymes) had listened intently and carefully, allowing the bird to rant and rave at him. After a minute or so of silence, he nodded slightly. “Tell your story, tell us who ‘they’ are.”

Cinder narrowed his eyes in suspicion, regarding the centaur carefully. “How do I know you’re not just gonna shove me back into that cell? You’ll need some new shackles by the way.”

Alright, maybe he wasn’t completely stupid. Just mostly. Almost entirely.

“Because I give you my word,” the centaur replied.

The bird crossed his arms. “That’s not enough.” It was a strange change from the childishly silly man we’d encountered only a couple of minutes ago.

Chiron spread his arms in faux apology. “I’m afraid that’s the best you’re going to get,” he said. “I don’t think you’re in much of a position to bargain at the moment.”

Cinder was quiet for a moment. I suppose he was weighing up his odds, trying to figure out whether he’d be able to escape again. Then, he gave his reluctant answer, which was accompanied with a scowl. “Fine.”

About a minute passed, and the bird still hadn’t started. Chiron shifted his weight to another hoof, and Mr D. looked bored. “Well?” I asked impatiently.

“Be patient woman,” the griffin said, glaring at me again. Back to the dumb monster. He took an overly-dramatic breath, before he finally started. “As you might have noticed, I wasn’t in the best of states when I arrived at your rather lovely camp,” he said, stretching his arms  as he spoke. “That’s not really my fault though, I’d flown… what, a hundred… miles? Is that what they’re called? Anyway, I’d flown an awfully long way with a couple of arrows sticking out of me at various angles, and-”

“Humans can fly now?” A voice said- Mr D. had spoken, interrupting the bird.

Said bird looked rather annoyed, and his eyes shifted to the Camp Director. “No, they can’t. But I happen to not be a human. I’m a Griffin, in case you hadn’t heard my rather lovely speech earlier-”

“Prove it.” The wine God sounded unimpressed. “Anyone can claim they’re something they’re not.”

Cinder looked toward me. 

“You’d better show him,” I said, shaking my head.

“In here?” He asked, gesturing to the space around him. “You want me to change shape- to one that might I just add is just a tad larger than my current form- inside this room?”

“You got a problem with that?”

“I don’t like confined spaces.”

“Right. Prove it.”


The God’s expression shifted to annoyance, and he glared at the bird.

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