¹Pocket Full of Posies.

𝐈𝐕. impossible decisions

pocket full of posies
❛ iv. impossible decisions ❜

━━━━━ THE WAY TANTALUS saw it, the Stymphalian birds had simply been minding their own business in the woods and would not have attacked if Annabeth, Posie, Tyson, and Percy hadn't disturbed them with their bad chariot driving.

It was completely unfair, but Percy didn't help the situation by telling Tantalus to go chase a doughnut. Posie figured that comment alone was the reason why Tantalus sentenced the four of them to kitchen patrol—scrubbing pots and platters all afternoon in the underground kitchen with the cleaning harpies. The harpies washed the dishes with lava instead of water, to get that extra-clean sparkle and kill ninety-nine point nine percent of all germs, so Annabeth, Posie, and Percy had to wear asbestos gloves and aprons.

Tyson didn't mind. He plunged his bare hands right in and started scrubbing, but Posie, Annabeth, and Percy had to suffer through hours of hot, dangerous work, especially since there were tons of extra plates. Tantalus had ordered a special luncheon banquet to celebrate Clarisse's chariot victory—a full-course meal featuring country-fried Stymphalian death-bird.

The only good thing about their punishment was that it gave them time to talk ( and for a common enemy for Annabeth and Percy to hate; it hadn't been that long, but Posie was seriously getting sick of being pulled in two different directions because of Annabeth and Percy's standoff ). After listening to Percy's dream about Grover again, Annabeth looked like she might be starting to believe him. Posie backed Percy off, trying to fill in details where Percy lacked ( because his memory was abysmal at best ). It seemed they were starting to crack Annabeth, who gnawed on her bottom lip nervously.

"If he's really found it," she murmured, "and if we could retrieve it—"

Posie shifted on her feet, which were killing her. "Do you really think he found it?"

She had been mulling over what Percy had told her, and about the dream she had with the glittering shawl in the distance, maybe it was a stretch, but Grover might've found the Golden Fleece. Percy said something about Grover finding the very thing that would save Camp, Posie dreamed of a lush island—might just be the very island Grover was stuck on, about to be wedded—and she caught a glimpse of something gold on the island.

It made sense—kind of. But at this point, Posie was used to things only half-way making sense. She just had to take that little bit and run with it.

"Hold on," Percy said. "You act like this ... whatever-it-is Grover found is the only thing in the world that could save Camp. What is it?"

"I'll give you a hint," said Annabeth. "What do you get when you skin a ram?"

Percy tilted his head and frowned. "Messy?"

Posie snorted. "You get a fleece, Percy. That's what you call the coat of a ram after you sheer it. And—well—if the ram's coat just so happens to be gold—"

"The Golden Fleece," Percy realized. "Are you fucking with me?"

Annabeth scraped a plateful of death-bird bones into the lava. "Percy, remember the Grey Sisters? They said they knew the location of the thing you seek. And they mentioned Jason. Three thousand years ago, they told him how to find the Golden Fleece. You do know the story of Jason and the Argonauts?"