GREEK TRAGEDY [PERCY JACKSON A.U] ✓

SEVEN: JOURNEY TO THE ISLAND

Althea closed the heavy wood door behind her, crossing the bedroom to the attached washroom, and found that it had no shower, only a claw-foot tub that matched the aesthetic of the rest of the sophisticated mansion.

    Before she could start to run the bath, an aura, beautiful as a summer breeze, floated through the wall.

    "Please, miss, let me." The wind nymph said in a quiet, velvety voice. She was translucent, almost see-through, and had an elven face, with green eyes, high, delicate cheekbones, and silvery hair that fluttered as if there was a phantom breeze blowing through the room. She wore a pale blue dress made of thin silk.

    The aura drifted over to the bathtub and turned the faucet, pouring some sort of oil into the steaming water and sprinkling flower petals over top of the bath. She shut off the tap and began to glide out of the room again.

    "Thank you!" Althea called before the aura was gone through the wall.

    She peeled off her clothes and dipped a toe in the water, smiling softly at its temperature. She let her body sink into the bath and sighed blissfully.

    Althea leaned her head back on the rim of the tub and closed her eyes, admiring how the steam felt on her skin and how the room smelt heavily of lavender. After the past three days, with all of the monster attacks, newly acquired information, stress, and unsure, conflicted feelings, a soak in a hot bath in a fancy mansion was just what she needed to forget about all of her past, present, and future problems.

    The only thing that might have made the situation any better was a good book, but at the moment, she couldn't complain one bit.

    She let herself be immersed for a while longer before opening her eyes and reaching for one of three glass vials on a stand next to the tub, the one that had shampoo written on it in shiny gold lettering. She poured some into her hand and began lathering it into her blonde hair, breathing in the strong scent of eucalyptus the shampoo gave off.

    When she had finished washing her hair and body, she pulled out the stopper at the bottom of the tub and let the water drain, stepping out of the porcelain basin and grabbing a fluffy white towel from the rack.

    She walked back out into the bedroom to find a set of clothes laid out across the freshly-made bed. Her lips quirked up in a smile, mentally thanking the aura that had set them out.

    The clothes, while they weren't anything Althea owned, were just her style: a pair of sturdy black skinny jeans, a gray long-sleeved henley shirt, and a windbreaker made of lightweight black fabric. They were cute, but they also were functional and appeared to be comfortable and malleable enough to allow her to fight if necessary.

    Althea put the clothes on and marveled at how they fit her perfectly, almost like they were tailored to her exact proportions.

    She grabbed her backpack from where she had dumped it next to the bed the night before, putting it down on the dark wooden dresser and unzipping it before emptying it of its contents.

    The multitude of weapons clanged loudly when she dumped them out, with various other objects, both magical and nonmagical, falling on top of the heap of metal.

    She began to sort the items, placing them in piles according to their function. She put her stock of nectar, Medea's healing potions, and slightly-squashed ambrosia off to one side of the dresser, threw her wrinkled clothes on the bed behind her, and put the pouch of drachmas she had yet to use in her pocket.

    The blonde, moving on to weapons, found an object that she'd forgotten that she even brought with her on the quest.

    It had been a gift from her father—a small, gold pinecone attached to a short handle. When she wrapped her hand around the shaft, it grew, expanding until it was a five-foot long rod of solid gold that thrummed with raw energy.