Sunburn- phoebus apollo

--i. i don't know how it gets better than this

RHEA JACKSON

Sometimes, Rhea looked at the gods and saw remnants of a bygone era in their postures, in their faces. There was a jazz age looseness to Apollo's ambling gait and nonstop tapping, a quiet frankness to Artemis's fixed stare that reminded her of a portrait she'd seen once of Virginia Woolf. Time lined their angles and bones, and there was no mistaking just how old they all were, despite the fact that many of them preferred looking reasonably young for appearance sake. But Rhea knew better—she'd seen so many of them up close, after all, and she'd grown up seeing them in her dreams. She knew what they were capable of, and she didn't think she'd ever be able to fully let her guard down around them, regardless of how comfortable she was starting to feel around—

Well, around the two idiots that wouldn't leave her alone.

It was New Year's Eve, just on the cusp of January, and Rhea was sitting outside, the party still in full swing in the background, but she had a hard time understanding if it was her heart that hammered between her rib cage or if it was the bass of the music drumming through her head. It made her feel a little dizzy. Rhea didn't like parties, but a friend of her mother's from work had told her how her son was throwing a house party for kids around Rhea's age, and Rhea's mother had been so hopeful that she would go, that she would socialize, that she would try to be a little normal, try to make friends, try to get out of the house and get out of her own head, and so Rhea had agreed. But there were too many people inside, too many outside, even, but at least the front porch had fresh air. It was enough that she'd shown up, right?

She shuffled uncomfortably in her spot as a group of friends walked past her, and she tried not to think too much, but it wasn't working.

The thing was, Rhea had never paid any mind to whether she could be considered pretty or not. She'd always had far more important things to focus on, like preventing death and destruction. But she could understand why people like her would feel insecure in a party like this—there were plenty of gorgeous girls here, all clearly having put immense care into their appearances, and it wasn't a bad thing at all, really, but Rhea could understand feeling out of place in an environment like this. Maybe in another life she would've, but right now, she was just too busy trying not to lose her mind. It was too loud.

The bickering on either side of her wasn't helping, either.

"You're drinking? I feel like I'm at a frat party," Hermes said bluntly, eyeing the red solo cup in her hand.

"I'm not old enough to drink," Rhea admitted, "but I filled it with water so no one would come pester me about it."

She wasn't sure if anyone would have even cared, though. Nobody knew her here, but she didn't want to take any risks of further social interaction.

"That's my responsible little darling," Apollo cooed, pinching her cheek. She allowed it with a bored expression on her face.

"Do you do this often? Come to parties and sit miserably on the sidelines? This doesn't seem like your scene, kid," Hermes said, smiling curiously.

She didn't think it was necessarily their scene, either, but gods acted according to their own whims and did what they wanted to without thinking about the logistics. They were weird like that.

"My mom wanted me to come," Rhea explained, with only a hint of distaste. Too much and it would ruin her image. "I figured I might as well, if it made her happy. It's not fair that she didn't make Percy go. I tried to drag him with me, but he refused."

"What a good daughter you are," Hermes complimented, still smiling, although his lips looked pinched at the corners now. Undoubtedly, he was thinking about Luke and wishing he was as dedicated. Apollo seemed to have noticed the other god's mood plummet as well, because he instantly tried breaking the tension.