2It has been recommended that I write a Frank-centric fic, and I have tried my best. My apologies that this is a bit short - I wrote this in maybe three hours and am a bit tired after writing this, and still have to attend a roleplay session after this. Anyway, I apologize for the lower quality than usual, and sincerely hope you enjoy this.
Remembrance
Night, 25 June
It had been a long week for Frank. So much had happened since Perseus – Percy – Jackson's dramatic arrival at Camp Jupiter. First, he was claimed by his father, who turned out to be Mars, of all the gods (it was almost sickening irony, but gods enjoyed that, didn't they?) and was instantly handed a death sentence of a quest… in a way, almost literally. Then he got the chance to return home to Vancouver, and was surrounded by Laistrygonians (even if they live in the north, they are NOT CANADIANS, they are a disgrace!) the moment he had a moment of peace, and those goons set fire (why fire…) to their house…
He thought he had seen a black bird flying away from the burning rubble of the mansion. Despite this, it didn't reassure him in the slightest, since he'd essentially lost all contact with Grandmother, if she wasn't d–gone already, and he was on his way to the Ancient Lands to go to war against the Giants. To storm or fire the world must fall… no, it can't mean that…
He was missing Grandmother already. She was stern and distant to him for most of his life, but he knew, from their last encounter (he didn't know whether to say previous or final there), she cared, deep down. And she could be dead already.
Grandmother had always told him to bring glory to his family. His last promise to her was to make her proud. He was beginning to master his family gift, indeed, but…
He looked through his belongings. The 2010 Vancouver Olympics sweatshirt bought several sizes too large (oh, Grandmother… why are you everywhere?), an extra pair of pants, more clothes… and several copies of Chinese-English bilingual books. Wait, I didn't put those here… I definitely don't remember packing them…
Despite these thoughts, he knew at heart who packed the books into his bag. Grandmother had always been proud to be Chinese, even when she wasn't a first-generation Chinese Canadian. He'd listened to her preach about being dutiful, righteous, polite and courteous, and various other Chinese virtues. Part of him knew that he had already made her proud, but he was determined to go an extra length. A name label was stuck on each book, reading "張輝" first, a more simplistic version of it second (simplified Chinese?), and his legal 'English' name, Frank ZHANG, last.
Grandmother had always wanted him to learn more about their nation of origin. Whether she was dead or alive today, he could only guess, but he knew that by following her wishes, he would be able to honour her memory and make her (more) proud.
I really hope you enjoyed this! Thanks for reading!
DATE OF WRITING AND POSTING: 14 April 2020
Word Count: ~450