Wassup, everybody! Merry Christmas, and since my timing sucks, a belated one! I had meant to publish this Christmas day, actually, but up until then me and Shingeki No Kyojin (BEST ANIME EVER!) or, in English, Attack on Titan, were inseparable. I decided Christmas was worth spending with my family. (3 family!)

By the way, no, I am not one of those girls who spend every waking moment ranting and raving about the Japanese manga characters they deem perfect and the lives they live and the hell-born monsters they constantly battle – I have school, you know! And, yes, there is actually a story following this little bolded bundle of holiday gushiness. Thank you for reading it!

READ THE BOLDED AT THE END I KNOW SOME PEOPLE DON'T BOTHER BUT TRUST ME YOU WILL NOT REGRET IT! And that is all. Other than, enjoy!

"Ha! Swing and miss, Jackson," she smirked at me triumphantly, "that makes the score 5-4, nine points. I win." She grinned widely, revealing pearly white teeth with canines oddly resembling fangs.

I smiled back at her, dropping my sword with a thud and raising my hands in the air sarcastically. "Parlay," I drawled. Ria chuckled, rolling her eyes at me.

Once she had lowered her sword and replaced it in its sheath, I did the same and approached her.

"Nice riposte," I commented. Swordplay was not her best method of hand-to-hand combat, and I was mildly impressed at her besting me in a match. Of course, I say mildly. After first meeting her, I had quickly learned to never underestimate the Ria Brennan.

"Actually, it was a counterattack," she responded snarkily, her smirk returning, "There was no need for a parry." I could see right through her little façade. She was doing her best to keep a cool face, when inside she was doing backflips of joy.

We placed our swords back on the rack and left the training room. Once in the hallway, I mentioned how her skills seemed to be improving. "They're still not quite at my level though," I added before walking away towards the dining hall; I could smell dinner over even the immense sweat stench that loomed in the training room. A quick glance over my shoulder confirmed what I had hoped: she was staring daggers at my back in a way that even my mother, Annabeth Chase, wouldn't have been able to match. I couldn't keep the smile from my face.

"Hold up, Jackasson," [A/N: no, not a typo] Ria barked at me, catching up in just a few long strides, "what makes you think that you…" I stopped listening to the words and started focusing on pretty much everything else. Whenever Ria went into ranting mode, she never raises or lowers her voice while doing it, so its pretty easy to tune it out into a constant hum. Every once and a while I would grunt or mumble a short answer, just to keep her talking.

"... and so there is no reason that science-fiction/fantasy realities don't exist in another dimension." Ria concluded, taking a few deep breaths to steady herself. Another thing: Ria Brennan was more of a never-go-back type of person, so her rants tended to get off topic and she never bothered to correct it.

We had reached a 'crossroads' in the hall; I needed to go right, she needed to go left. I looked down at her, a small smile on my face "You done yet," I asked.

Ria glanced up at me and blushed before beelining for the left hall and rounding a corner, disappearing. I rolled my eyes and kept walking in silence.

After passing a bunch of archway doors, I came to a dead end. Well, almost a dead end; an enormous archway that led to the dining hall. I walked in. Once in, I turned a full circle and breathed in deeply. I don't like small, cramped spaces, but I despise crowds. The dining hall was - currently - neither.

We who live here call it the dining hall. In reality its more of a royal ballroom. On the two side walls, ancient painting of both greek and roman legends; Pompeii, Athens, Atlantis (much to my discretion; Atlantis does not exist, any self-respecting demigod sailor will tell you the same), Ogygia, Olympus (the real one, not the Mountain), and a painting of a roman Olympian meeting.

The back wall was all windows. When I was younger, I didn't understand why they hung such a pretty mural on a glass wall. I finally figured out it wasn't a mural. Beyond the wall is the closest thing most mortals would ever compare to the Christian Garden of Eden. Willow trees with gold-like petals lined our little bit of paradise. Right by the window was a garden filled with daisies, tulips, poppies, bluebells, paisleys and multiple others. Roses lay on two rows in front of the trees. Underneath one of the gold-rimmed willows that was at the edge of the garden, a park bench that was always in the shade was. I say edge, but really I should say shore. Beyond the garden was the body of water that made Long Island, Long Island.

On the same wall as the entrance, two giant family trees were hung on the wall. Each picture had a label underneath saying the person's name, their date of birth and death, and the name of their spouse. Each picture was connect to its prescedor by a delicately drawn stem, creating the tree. At the top of each tree was the family name. On the left, the name read "Chase." On the right, "Jackson."

I groaned and lay down on my back on the cold, marble floor of the dining hall. When I was younger, I always used to think I was underdressed when I came in here, but now its just a part of home. Lying there, I stared at the ceiling. Or rather, I stared at the mural on the ceiling. The dome-shaped room was well-dressed enough, but an Ancient Greek mansion just isn't complete without an Ancient Greek mural of an Olympian assembly painted over your head. *Note sarcasm*. It was a nice touch, though.

After a bit, I felt myself falling asleep, so I decided to do it in my own bed. I pulled myself off the floor, the white marble looking gold in the evening sun. Right before I left the hall, I paused and looked up at the words engraved into the wall above the doorway: Artis Non Habet Artifex. It was latin, but so were most demigods.

Built on the remains of Camp Half-Blood, Jackson Manor was home to few. I was lucky enough for it to be home to me.

Artis Non Habet Artifex. Jackson Manor was a place where elemental demigods could harness their powers specifically. As the motto said, 'No Craft Has A Master.'

TADAAH! See, I TOLD you it was going to be published faster than Genetics! Still no excuse, but I'm getting better!

So, here's that BOLDED THAT I TOLD YOU TO READ!

Look out for a New Years post that I will be publishing in my *shocker* PJO posts, on... *another shocker* New Years! Its a quick preview of things to come in this story and I really think you'll all love it. (I really hope you do, I was squealing inside while writing it!)

Well, that's enough exclamation points for one A/N. Peace out, R&R, Happy Early New Years and LOVE TEN/PERCABETH! Shit. Exclamation points got in there somehow ;P.

-CoVW

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