Their extraordinary world was tinted green.

Under the gods' porcelain facades of perfection grew a bubbling envy. Not constant, mind you, and not identical for each, but brewing nonetheless. They had the expanding inclination to be normal. Not simple or unfortunate, perhaps, but normal in the general sense.

The gods, or most of them, had begun to desire feeling the way mortals did. They wanted to understand happiness and sadness and time, which could simply not be done with their immortal existences. Perfection was not enough. They envy the ordinary, and with it the age of the gods grows slimmer.

Percy envied the ordinary, too. He'd used to be that way: ordinary. And true, he was happier being unordinary, but he told himself that this was only because of what accompanied it. He would have given anything not to be the child of the prophecy, not to put all of his friends and family at risk. But that was the price one paid for getting their wish.

Years later, he is both normal and incredibly not so. He is a demigod, and yet without the attachment of the prophecy, it is not so bad. Sometimes, though, he still forgets what ordinary feels like. He got his wish, and it is not enough. After all he's seen, he envies the middle ground.

Annabeth envied the content. She was always wanting something. A happy family, a successful career. Nothing was enough, and she hated herself for having that mindset. Her skin was stretched with endless desire and bitter self-pity. She felt as if she held the short end of the stick; maybe she did and maybe she didn't, but it was a painful sort of envy regardless.

When she is older, she realizes that she has everything she wants. She has a happy family and a successful career; all of her envy has been realized. She's received all she's wanted, and it is enough. Annabeth waited for her dreams, and in payment, they came true.

Grover envied those who were exalted. Just once, just once, he wanted to be fawned over. He wanted to be congratulated, to be emulated like so many of his friends were. He was always the second-best sidekick, and while it was okay most of the time, every once in a while he wanted the spotlight.

He finally received such a thing, when he was made head satyr. It was a wonderful moment, and he knows he will always remember it. But other than that, he remains to the left of center, sitting to Percy's side as he makes history. Despite his own happiness, he still craves just a moment of center attention. His life is not enough. He wants something else, and he sits and waits for it.

Thalia was never sure what she wanted. She slid back and forth, from dreams of ordinary and extraordinary. She wanted one thing, and later she wanted another. Her childhood and teen years represent two very different roads she'd dreamed of.

She's still indecisive. She is a hunter now, which makes it easier to define herself, but she remains uncertain. She doesn't know which path to take, and is glad for the predictable road of the huntresses. Predictability is enough, and she takes it without choice. She hasn't got what she wanted, but she hasn't learned what that is, either.

Nico wants power and attention. It's simple in outline, but grows so much harder when one thinks of the consequences. Nico hadn't thought of them either, and found it slightly troubling once he found out. It was too late then, though, and he could not go back.

He got what he wanted, but it was not the way he wanted to get it. He envied everyone: his sister, his friends. He envied what they had and who they were, and even once he received what they possessed, it was not enough. He got what he wanted, and wished that he hadn't.

Luke wanted vindication. He felt as if he'd been cheated. The gods, they neglected their children. He felt as if he was the only one who saw their true nature – his friends were blinded by the glory of it all. He wanted to feel better, and that's what he tried to achieve.

He never got what he wanted. He should have, really, but he never felt it. Even after everyone had suffered for the fraction of pain he'd felt in his lifetime, he didn't feel any better. He didn't get what he wanted, and he died before he could.