¹Pocket Full of Posies.

𝐕𝐈. grudges run deep

pocket full of posies
❛ vi. grudges run deep ❜

━━━━━ IT WAS APOLLO'S FAULT.

               Okay, not really, but in some roundabout way it was.

               Josephine tried to look for the good in situations; to counter-act her constant pessimist thoughts and feelings and to make her feel better about all her shortcomings. And it was nice to know that there was a reason for all her shortcomings and crappy predicaments—it was her father, Apollo, God of the Sun. Josephine could easily blame him for all the wrongs in her life.

               And she did. Somewhat.

               Apollo hadn't been the one to cause the explosion on the bus, but it lead back to him in a long, confusing, twisting way of fate. If he had never sent Josephine to Beau Easton on April 13th, 1994 in a golden cradle, she wouldn't be in the mess she was.

               In some odd, strange way, it was nice to know there were Greek gods out there because then, Josephine had someone to blame when things started to go wrong. For instance, when a Greyhound bus has just been attacked by monster hags and blown up by lightning, and it's raining on top of everything else. Most people would just think bad luck had really been on their side; but being a half-blood, Josephine knew better, she knew that some divine forces were really trying to fuck with her day.

               It also was Josephine's incredibly horrible bad luck, but she also blamed that all on her father, Apollo.

               All in all, Apollo was her scapegoat. If he hadn't created her from the mortal genuity of Beau Easton and the godly genuity of himself, Josephine Easton wouldn't be here.

               So there they were, Annabeth, Percy, Grover, and Josephine, walking through the woods on the New Jersey riverbank, the glow of New York City making the night sky yellow behind them and the smell of Hudson reeking in their nose.

               Grover was shivering and braying nervously. His big goat eyes turned slit-pupilled and full of terror. "Three Kindly Ones. All three at once."

               Josephine was still in shock. The explosion still rang in her ears. The adrenaline rush was crashing, her head was pounding, her arms sore, and her eyes burned from unshed tears. However, Annabeth kept pulling them along, saying, "Come on! The further away we get, the better."

               "All our money was back there," Percy reminded her. "Our food and clothes. Everything."

               "Well, maybe if you hadn't jumped into the fight—" started Annabeth, glaring at Percy.

               "What did you want me to do? Let you guys get yourself killed?"

               "We would've been fine. You don't have to protect us."

               "Slicked like sandwich bread," Grover put in, "but fine."

               "Shut up, goat boy," said Annabeth.

               Grover brayed mournfully. "Tin cans ... a perfectly good bag of tin cans."

               They sloshed across some mushy ground, through nasty twisted trees that smelled like sour laundry.

               After a few minutes, Josephine fell in step next to Percy. "Thanks for not leaving, though," she said. "Back on the bus. You could have left, but you didn't. It was really brave."