🌷 "We're Greek, Percy. We're all born with tragedy in our blood."
The only thing Daphne could ever be sure of was that she was not meant to be alive. Whatever you wanted to call it - a gut feeling or just some serious anxiety, she couldn't shake th...
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chapter VII
🌷 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, Daphne, Tyson, and Percy hadn't disturbed them with their bad chariot driving.
Daphne was so furious she started shaking. Who did this guy think he was? Before she could open her mouth and tell him something she would regret (probably to kill himself), Percy told Tantalus to go chase a doughnut.
He sentenced them to kitchen patrol - scrubbing pots and platters all afternoon in the underground kitchen with the cleaning harpies. The harpies washed with lava instead of water, to get that extra clean sparkle and kill ninety-nine point nine percent of all germs, so they had to wear asbestos gloves and aprons.
Daphne hated it. He only added it to her many list of chores, and she had no idea why he despised her so much.
Tyson didn't mind. He plunged his bare hands right in and started scrubbing, but Annabeth, Percy and Daphne 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 Daphne and Annabeth a common enemy and lots of time to talk. They were too busy complaining about Tantalus to revisit their fight, and were pretty much acting as though they didn't remember it at all.
(It was really confusing Percy, but whatever. He had no idea how girls acted or how to deal with them, he was just glad that their peace was lasting.)
The air around them was still stiff, but luckily for Percy, neither of them mentioned their bad blood. He thought he was going crazy. So inbetween one of the awkward silences, he told them about another one of his dreams which featured Grover that had struck last night.
It went a bit like this:
Grover was wearing a wedding dress again. It didn't fit him very well. The gown was too long and the hem was caked with dried mud. The neckline kept falling off his shoulders and a tattered veil covered his face.
