Melancholy Kaleidescope | PJO

Ch. 12: Flesh-Eating Sheep

Despite being told to get some rest, Jinora did not. It wasn't because she wasn't tired, because she was sure she'd drop any minute. But no matter how long she closed her eyes and pretended to sleep, sleep would not come. Eventually, she gave up and headed back upstairs. Not before throwing off the dress and replacing it with an old white billowing shirt with shredded sleeves and a pair of black breeches that definitely belonged to a smaller man. She also tried wiping off as much of the make-up as possible, which didn't leave a lot of work for her since the ocean had done a pretty good job. No matter how hard she scrubbed, though, the smeared eyeliner wasn't budging.

Annabeth slept in one of the hammocks, mumbling incoherently every now and then. She'd wanted to talk to her the night before about taking her dagger and all that. Jinora wanted to make sure her friend knew it wasn't her fault. It wasn't Annabeth's fault, it was Jinora's for being so stupid.

She walked up the steps and squinted at the sunlight as the sun climbed up the blue expanse. Percy turned at the sound of footsteps and frowned.

"You sleep at all?"

She thought about lying, but if she looked as tired as she felt it would be no use. So she shook her head.

Jinora was hugging herself awkwardly in an attempt to cover the deep white markings on her skin. Her hair was pulled back like she'd had it for most of the week, resting just above her shoulders and pulled away from her face.

Percy frowned slightly and walked over to her. He shrugged off his blue flannel and handed it to her. A small smile formed on her face, and she thanked him as she took it, fiddling with the button at the end of the sleeves.

He hadn't said anything about them, but she knew he was curious. Everyone was when they saw them. The younger campers were usually quicker to start asking questions, but the older campers were pretty good about shutting them down.

An hour later, Annabeth emerged from below deck. Percy had moved to the front bow of the ship, looking out for Polyphemus' island. Jinora decided now was as good a time as any. Better to talk to Annabeth about the previous afternoon before running to fight a Cyclops.

"Are you mad at me," Jinora asked softly. She kept her gaze on the contrasting light and dark blue squares on the sleeves. "Because I'm sorry. I...I should have known better, but I..."

"I'm not mad at you, Jinora," Annabeth told her. She looked up from the button on the sleeve and turned toward her friend. "If I'm mad at anyone, it's myself. I should have known better than to have my dagger on me when I went to tighten your bindings."

Jinora didn't know how to respond to that. She wanted to assure her friend that she didn't blame her, but that would hardly matter for Annabeth. She prided herself on planning for anything, so when something falls through the cracks because she didn't "plan for it," she beats herself up about it. So, Jinora stayed silent.

After a couple minutes of quiet sailing, Annabeth asked, "Is that Percy's flannel?"

Jinora's cheeks turned the color of a cherry, and the color only deepened when she looked over and saw Annabeth smirking at her.

"Shut up," she mumbled. Annabeth snickered.

*****

When you think of "monster island," you probably think of craggy rocks and bones scattered along the shore–kind of like the Sirens' island. Yeah, Polyphemus' island was nothing like that. Sure, there was the rope bridge that reached across a chasm, which was an immediate red flag. That in and of itself was an announcement that something evil resided there. Aside from that, though, the island looked like the images on those postcards her siblings who went home for the school year would bring back for her (it started out because seven year-old Jinora thought the pictures were pretty).