اوووه! هذه الصورة لا تتبع إرشادات المحتوى الخاصة بنا. لمتابعة النشر، يرجى إزالتها أو تحميل صورة أخرى.
chapter seven. ☄︎. *. ⋆
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AS MUCH AS I, and my half-blooded brethren, like to blame our issues on our godly parents, I find it to be much more appealing to blame things on Percy Jackson. He takes shit personally and gets all riled up, especially when I'm the one pointing fingers at him.
Annabeth had fished from her pocket a square of Ambrosia that I ate slowly and in little bites, and Grover had done some sort of nature-trick on my wound (which wasn't really too bad-looking, once you wiped away all the blood. I suppose I could have been overreacting.) I was back in business within five minutes.
But, despite my quick healing process, I was still furious that I had even been put in such a situation.
"Can't believe Chiron threw me on this stupid quest with him," I murmured to Annabeth, glaring at Percy, who was walking ahead of us with Grover at his side. "He almost killed me on that bus."
After a few yards of my grumbling comments, I seemed to have broken Percy in. He spun around angrily and got up all in my face, saying, "You did it to yourself, Sunshine. This was not my fault."
"You veered the bus halfway off-roads!" I argued, gesturing furiously back to where we had hiked from the exploded bus. "Was I supposed to have known you were gonna do that, and put my dagger away in preparation?"
"Even if you hadn't gotten it out at all," he said, scowling, "it's not like it would have made much of a difference."
I rolled my jaw and flared my nostrils, glowering at him. I could have sworn his eyes had shifted colors—from their usual shade of sea-green, that of the healthiest lagoons and tropical coves, into a murky green, like a polluted river canal. I childishly hoped mine could do the same emotion-shift-thing.
"Maybe if you hadn't jumped into the fight—"
"And let you guys actually die? No way!"
"It's not like we needed your protection," I said angrily. "We would have been fine!"
"Sliced like sandwich bread," added Grover, "but fine."
My sarcastic, perfectly-crafted reply to this completely unnecessary comment was cut off, as Grover had found his reed pipes and blew into the highest pitched tone. He grinned. "They still work!"
"Great," said Annabeth quickly, clearly eager to change the subject. "Do you know any path-finding tunes?"
He hesitated, then blew into a few chords of his reed pipes.
