The Path Of Glory (Annabeth Chase x Male Reader)

34. A Little Bit Of Makeup

The place was amazing. There was white marble and blue water everywhere he looked. Terraces climbed up the side of the mountain, with swimming pools on every level, connected by waterslides and waterfalls and underwater tubes you could swim through. Fountains sprayed water into the air, forming impossible shapes, like flying eagles and galloping horses.

They passed all kinds of tame animals. A sea turtle napped in a stack of beach towels. A leopard stretched out asleep on the diving board. The resort guests—only young women, as far as he could see—lounged in deck chairs, drinking fruit smoothies or reading magazines while herbal gunk dried on their faces and manicurists in white uniforms did their nails.

As they headed up a staircase toward what looked like the main building, Y/N heard a woman singing. Her voice was drifted through the air like a lullaby. Her words were in some language other than Ancient Greek, but just as old—Minoan, maybe, or something like that. He could understand what she sang about—moonlight in the olive groves, the colors of the sunrise. And magic. Something about magic. Her voice seemed to lift him off the steps and carry him toward her.

They came into a big room where the whole front wall was windows. The back wall was covered in mirrors, so the room seemed to go on forever. There was a bunch of expensive-looking white furniture, and on a table in one corner was a large wire pet cage. The cage seemed out of place, but Y/N didn't think about it too much, because just then he saw the lady who had been singing.

She sat at a loom the size of a big screen TV, her hands weaving colored thread back and forth with amazing skill.

The tapestry shimmered like it was three dimensional—a waterfall scene so real he could see the water moving and clouds drifting across the fabric sky.

Annabeth caught her breath. "It's beautiful."

The woman turned. She was even prettier than her fabric. Her long dark hair was braided with threads of gold. She had piercing green eyes and she wore a silky black dress with shapes that seemed to move in the fabric: animal shadows, black upon black, like deers running through a forest at night.

"You appreciate weaving, my dear?" the woman asked.

"Oh, yes, ma'am!" Annabeth said. "My mother is—"

She stopped herself. You couldn't just go around announcing that your mom was Athena, the goddess who invented the loom. Most people would lock you in a rubber room.

Their hostess just smiled. "You have good taste, my dear. I'm so glad you've come. My name is C.C."

The animals in the corner cage started squealing. They must have been guinea pigs, from the sound of them.

They introduced themselves to C.C. She looked Y/N over with a twinge of disapproval, as if he had failed some kind of test. He felt bad. Was there still some bird droppings in his hair?

"Oh, dears," she sighed. "You do need help."

"Ma'am?" he asked.

C.C. called the lady in the business suit. "Hylla, take Annabeth on a tour, will you? Show her what we have available. The clothing will need to change. And the hair, my goodness. We will do a full image consultation after I've spoken with these young gentlemen."

"But. . . ." Annabeth's voice sounded hurt. "What's wrong with my hair?"

C.C. smiled benevolently. "My dear, you are lovely. Really! But you're not showing off yourself or your talents at all. So much wasted potential!"

"Wasted?"

"Well, surely you're not happy with the way you are! My goodness, there's not a single person who is. But don't worry. We can improve anyone here at the spa. Hylla will show you what I mean. You, my dear, need to unlock your true self!"