𝐖𝐀𝐑 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐒 | percy jackson

missing fingers

Percy walked into the waterbed palace alone. 

He was weirded out by the surfeit of animal patterns and floral pillows. It was disturbing, to say the least. A little song played when he opened the door, and the wind that followed him made the waterbeds ripple. The walls were bland, apart from honing ugly green paint. If Ciarda was with him, he could imagine the insults thrown out carelessly. 

Subtle jazz music played from the ceiling, where hidden speakers supposedly lay. Lampshades bunched together like grapes, in a corner, opposing the reception desk with a shiny bell laid on top of it. Percy's eyebags were gone after the four stayed in a cheap hotel for the night and gained rest, as well as drying out their clothes and taking hot showers. That was the happiest he had ever seen Ciarda, bundled up in a shower robe.

"Welcome, weary traveller. Come on it and take a load off," A warm cheery voice shook Percy from his memories. "These beds will change your... life," The worker walked out from a storage cupboard, plastered in a lime green suit and a brilliant magenta shirt. He stopped walking, making Percy trek continuously toward him. 

"Well, hello there," The man took on an interested tone, his long grey hair slicked back by gel. "Missing our mommy, are we?" He wondered, clearly taking on the impression that the child was lost. Percy stopped in the middle of the room, facing the man. 

"I know who you are. You're Procrustes. Son of Poseidon and murderer of travellers," Percy declared with no fear in his voice. His mission was to get to the Underworld. If the world was ending, he would fearlessly sit there in his last moments, but it would be next to his mother. 

"Crusty, please," The man presented an unnerving smile. Unlit desk lamps were laid out in rows behind him, in different shapes and colours. "And you... you've got Dad's eyes," Procrustes' green eyes were wild, like a feral predator. Percy swallowed. The demigod wandered toward him with keen interest. Percy, now that his half-brother was close, could see the stringy grey hairs, bushy eyebrows and plethora of wrinkles. 

"Take a load off, relax for a minute," Procrustes nodded, gesturing to the waterbeds. "The beds are a trap. That's how you do it. How you murder your guests," Percy stated. If Ciarda was there, she would have already dragged Procrustes by his ear and thrown him into a waterbed herself. But she wasn't. And Percy was. 

"I do?" Procrustes didn't seem entirely offended by Percy's accusation. "I know there is a secret passage to the Underworld here. And I know you were left here to guard it. But I need you to let me through." Percy was asking nicely, in his opinion. His hair had darkened from a few days out of the sun. He was tired of following a breadcrumb trail which led him to God's who sent him to die for a shield, or who wasted his time before telling him they couldn't help him. 

"Please?" He added, politely. Procrustes thought about it, turning his head which revealed sharp cheekbones and sagging skin. Percy could have sworn he saw whiskers. "In addition to being incredibly comfortable, these beds do wonders for your self-confidence. They show you how to fit," He continued, even over Percy's denying of the offers. 

"Fitting is not easy for guys like us, am I right?" Procrustes stepped forward again, detecting the vulnerability in Percy's stare. "Our parents make it so hard. Stretching us and twisting us and hacking off pieces to make us seem more like them," His slender skeletal fingers wrapped onto Percy's shoulder like poisonous ivy. Percy looked into his eyes and nodded with newly proclaimed anger. 

"Anywho... these beds take all that away," Procrustes moved over to a dark purple bed and slapped it, the water reverberating off the top. "With these beds, you just... fit," He shrugged. Behind the bed lay thousands of wooden cabinets and drawers. The sheer number of things in the shop made Percy feel dizzy. "Try it, won't you? I think you'll feel much better," Procrustes smiled. 

Percy looked at him, and then down, his glossy eyes blurring when he nodded. "You first," He offered. Suddenly, Procrustes flew onto the waterbed with a short-lived shriek. The blanket swathed his body tightly, making him disabled to any defence. Annabeth took her invisibility hat off, proving that she was the one to have pushed him. "You okay?" She questioned Percy when Ciarda and Grover walked into the shop. 

"Yeah. I'm fine," Percy tried to sound convincing when glaring self-consciously at Procrustes. It seemed to fool Grover and Annabeth, but not Ciarda. She knew that face, that feeling, all too well. She and Percy stayed back as Procrustes tried to convince Annabeth to let him go. 

"I see you," Ciarda mumbled to Percy when Procrustes started yelling. Percy's neck snapped in her direction. "What?" His eyes were wide, the rims of them white as sea salt. Ciarda said nothing to confirm his suspicions and walked toward the bundled up demigod. 

"I wish I could've seen it," She sighed with a smirk. "You won't save her. You're not the first person to try and bring someone back from the Underworld. You won't be the first to fail," Procrustes spat. Percy stepped forward to defend their cause in anger. "Hey, you're lucky we're letting you keep your head, dummy," Annabeth threatened. 

"A couple of toes won't be missed," Ciarda trailed the tip of her golden Achilles sword along Procrustes clown shoes. The rubber peeled away under the sharpness, leaving his feet bare and struggling. "Don't push it," Annabeth warned Procrustes while pushing Ciarda's sword down back to her side. "No fun," The La Rue murmured. 

"Let's go," She huffed, pushing her way into the manager's office. Scattered filing paper, multiple discarded pieces of stationary and books with dog-eared pages were littered everywhere. The three demigods and one Satyr stood beside each other, watching the 'DO NOT ENTER SIGN' on the other door in the room. "Are you sure this is the right way?" Percy asked aloud, the three of them turning to Ciarda. "Why the hell would I know?" She snapped. Grover, bravely, pulled open the door.  

The four were met with darkness, along with Grover's constant coughing over the smell. He pulled a sour face, clearly unhappy about the entire dangerous, unnecessary journey to the Underworld. Ciarda looked around the room before grabbing a squeaky dog toy and throwing it to Grover, who squeaked it a few times. "Better?" She offered. "Much," He nodded gratefully. 

"If we get into trouble, these are our tickets out," Percy pulled five shiny pearls from his back pocket. Ciarda looked down with a judging face. "No one is turning back until we all turn back," She stated harshly. The travelling voice of Procrustes vibrated in the air. "No one comes back."

"Now that I think about it, I'm missing some fingers from my collection too," Ciarda bit back at the entrapped demigod whilst scraping her sword against a locker. "We have no idea what is down there. I just think it's safer if I'm not holding them all," Percy offered sane advice for once.  Each of the four took their designated pearl and stuffed it in a pocket. 

And then, they descended into the Realm of the Dead.