obsidian black ● jason grace

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 "This sucks," Jason muttered.

He was old. He was trying to climb up the side of a mountain. And he smelled like mothballs. When Daria had seen his transformation, she had burst out laughing and Jason wanted to remind her that unfortunately, this was the life she'd signed up for.

"You've mentioned that," Piper retorted. "Once or twice,"

"Or more," Annabeth murmured, which was easy for them to say. They were dressed up as magical serving girls. All they had to navigate through was flowy dresses and silver bracelets.

"But still," he insisted. He could practically hear Leo's laughter from the boat below as his friends traded off looking through the spyglass. He hated being old. "If I need to fight, I'll be useless."

"Maybe someone will hit you on the head again," Piper said hopefully. "And then we'll get a few days' peace from Mr. Mopey."

Annabeth laughed, apparently noticing the sweat pooled up on Jason's forehead because she paused. "Let's rest for a bit," she suggested. "We could all use a breather."

She didn't mean all of them; Jason knew that. Two things had happened since he'd returned from Tartarus. The first one being that his lungs were absolutely shot, even without his old person disguise. The second, and the reason Piper had called him mopey, was that Jason was being just as depressing as Nico di Angelo. Maybe even as bitter as Pluto himself.

At no point did he mean to come across as sulky, but he found it harder to be alert, in a good mood. He got tired faster and his body felt weaker than it ever had, which was saying a lot. He supposed this was a side effect of Tartarus, but the issue was, Daria seemed fine.

The last few days, Jason hadn't seen much of his girlfriend. She shut herself in her room, probably to find some peace from him, but she wasn't angry. She didn't snap at people for no reason. She was calm, collected, the same Daria that he'd grown up with. Ironically, that made Jason more frustrated.

"Are we sure this is even the right mountain?" Jason asked. "It seems kinda...quiet."

"Yes," Piper said firmly, just as much of a leader as the girl that had led everyone to Epirus. "I saw it in my dagger. Plus Hazel's magic-"

"I know," Jason interrupted, which maybe wasn't cool. "'The biggest gathering of evil spirits I've ever sensed,'" he quoted, struggling to his feet. "I can't wait."

He hoped, foolishly, that the ghost he'd been dreaming about wouldn't be there. A woman with such a familiar lavender scent, with such a sweet voice that Jason almost wanted to forgive her for dumping him at the Wolf House as a child.

I'll be back for you, dearest. She said. We'll see each other soon.

He had wanted to tell Daria about the dream, but even though she seemed to be in good spirits, the bags under her eyes said differently. Daria had never slept easy, which was why he would talk to her until she did, even if it was until 3 am (a bonus of Coach Hedge being gone was that Jason didn't have to justify the severity of his nightmares to anybody). But more mornings than Jason could count, he would wake up alone, just a dip in the pillow to remind Jason that she had been there.

So he'd left her alone, which was probably for the best. His moods had been unpredictable, even sweet Hazel had called him out on it, and Daria didn't need a fight right now.

A crowd roared, the sudden outburst of sound making Jason flinch; or would have, if he wasn't seventy-five years old. It reminded him too much of the colosseum in Rome, and the events that happened afterwards.

"Sounds lively," Piper said grimly.

The partiers hadn't noticed them yet, so Piper and Annabeth skirted around the edge of the cliff. Jason hoped they would stay safe. Apart from the fact that they were Jason's close friends, they were the only people who could save him if something went horribly wrong.