HORIZON ⸺ jason grace

ii. seymour has a goddess for dinner

VIOLET TRUDGED up the snow-coated hill toward the Big House, Jason hurrying along slightly behind.

"So," he panted. "Where are you taking me?"

Violet sighed. "To meet Chiron, our mentor. He'll know what to do about you." She paused for a moment to look at the blond boy. "Can you remember anything?"

He paused before shaking his head.

"Perfect," Violet grumbled, marching on.

She could tell Jason's arrival meant nothing good (you get the sense for these things after a while), and found herself distrustful of the boy beside her. There was also the matter of his strange tattoo, the one that seemed so eerily familiar. She didn't like that either; enough had already gone wrong recently, and she didn't need another worry on her plate.

It was for the best, then, Violet decided, that she do her best to stay as far away from this strange boy as possible. She needed to focus on getting her brother back.

Wherever he was.

They walked the rest of the way in an uncomfortable silence, listening only to the snow crunch beneath their feet.

Whoops, Violet thought, looking down. He's missing a shoe.

She didn't have time to decide if she really cared, as Jason stopped right then. He stared up at the baby blue manor as if he was frightened to step foot on the charming, wrap-around porch.

"I am not supposed to be here," he stated.

"Lovely. Very uplifting."

The clatter of hooves sounded across the porch.

"Chiron, this is Jason," Violet called out, "He fell in the lake."

Jason's embarrassed protests were cut off as the centaur rounded the corner, sporting a bright pink World's Best Centaur shirt—a Christmas gift from her and Percy last year.

The blond backed up so fast he almost fell over, which Violet had to convince herself was not a laughing matter.

She couldn't help but giggle a little, anyway. Her self-control was not very good.

Chiron stopped in front of Jason, his familiar smile dropping and taking the color from his face with it.

"You," his eyes flashed dangerously, in a very un-Chiron-like manner. "You should be dead."

༄

Chiron ordered Jason—well, invited, but it sounded like an order—inside the house. Violet shrugged and turned to go find Will or Annabeth, but the centaur stopped her.

"No, Violet. Stay."

She obeyed without question, only because he never called her by her full name.

Her bad feelings had been right. This was serious.

Chiron trotted over to his wheelchair, slipping off his quiver and bow. He backed up to the chair, which opened like a magician's box. He gingerly stepped in with his back legs and proceeded to scrunch himself into a space that should have been far too small.

Violet was unfazed—she'd gotten used to this after eight years at camp; Jason's eyes, however, resembled blue saucers, and she giggled at his expression as fake legs appeared from thin-air.

"Follow me," Chiron ordered, before adding in a slightly nicer voice, "We have lemonade!"

The living room of the Big House was decorated in the style of a Rainforest Cafe; grapevines curved up along every wall and onto the ceiling, bursting full of red grapes, despite the winter season. In the corner, a PacMan arcade game blinked and beeped. Masks littered one of the walls, with grape vines bursting through their mouths, making leafy tongues.