xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx♆xxxxxxƤσsειdσηxxxxxx♆xxxxxтнε ωαvεs cяαsн υρση тнε sнσяε Making sure none of the locals or volunteers who are helping clean up oil where at the beach, Poseidon walked out of the oily ocean. He he was 17 years old, but wore the same outfit. He sat down on some rocks and watched the waves crash then come to shore. The view relaxed him. Yes, the ocean was still filled with oil, but the mortals had put the stop to more leakage of the chemical which meant that it'll get cleaned up soon. A oil soaked pelican was perched on a wooden pole that sticked out of water. "Poor bird. It too suffered with the gulf coast disaster," Poseidon said to himself while getting up and walking towards it. Grabbing the pelican, Poseidon started to clean the pelican slowly when he got back to shore. As he was cleaning it, he wondered when Zeus would show up saying that he was right. Though, was he? Since both of them, Nike and Poseidon, used each other, would that really mean that the King of Skies was right? Taking off once the oil had been washed off, Poseidon wished the bird for good fortune. The bird soared in the sky as the sun slowly was rising from the east. He wondered why Apollo was slower than usual. Was he talking with Nike? Was he looking for Poseidon? Did he actually hear about last night's incident? Sighing, he laid in the sand, closed his eyes, and finally got some sleep.
xxx♆xxxxxωιριηg тнε cнασs ƒяσм бεƒσяε
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