COME WHAT MAY — rory procrastinates a panic attack
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It had only been a couple of days since Rory escaped Tartarus. The last thing she wanted to do was be in a dress.
Don't get her wrong, she usually loved any excuse to get all gussied up (especially if it involved going out with Percy), but since Tartarus, she hadn't been feeling very pretty. So as she, Piper, and Jason trekked up the hill, navigating the rocky path, Rory was very uncomfortable.
She and Piper were disguised as Greek serving maidens, wearing white sleeveless gowns and laced sandals. Rory had never been self-conscious wearing traditional Ancient Greek dresses before, but this one in particular had a deep V-neck, and Rory kept hunching her shoulders to keep it from slipping. She hated the way that her long, silver necklaces drew attention to her chest — especially knowing what they were about to walk into. The bracelets that were supposed to line her biceps slipped and bunched at her wrists. Her hair, which had been pinned up into a bun, had come undone in the back. Her makeup started to melt from the sun beating down on her face.
She looked like a mess. The only thing that made her feel even worse about herself was the fact that she was standing next to Piper. Piper, who could be confused for an ancient statue of her mother, Aphrodite.
Before they embarked on this mission, everyone on the Argo II tried to reassure Rory that she looked beautiful. But it got to a point where Annabeth started doing her hair because they were all worried that Rory was going to freak out and lock herself in her cabin. During the whole ordeal, Rory also couldn't help but notice when Percy pulled Jason aside. Though she wasn't great at lipreading, she could make out Percy saying her name from a mile away. He wanted Jason to protect her. As if she couldn't protect herself. As if she didn't just survive Tartarus. As if she were a porcelain doll, teetering on a ledge, threatening to shatter into a million pieces. That didn't really boost her confidence.
But no matter how much she wanted to, Rory couldn't back out. Their whole plan was designed around her using the Mist to disguise Jason.
Speaking of which, she glanced over at Old Man Grace, who was huffing and puffing.
From the outside, Jason looked like an old man. His face was so wrinkled he was unrecognizable — the skin on his cheeks sagged all the way down to his jaw. The bags under his eyes were as big and dark as Rory's, which again was not helping her self-image. His hair turned stark white, and his fingers were gnarled and bony. Bulging blue veins webbed the backs of his hands. He even had an old man smell — Rory didn't do that. Apparently it just came with advanced age.
"Almost there." Piper smiled at him. "You're doing great."
Rory glanced uphill. The summit was still a hundred yards above.
"Worst idea ever." Jason leaned against a cedar tree and wiped his forehead. "Rory, your magic is too good. If I have to fight, I'll be useless."
"Well hopefully it won't come to that," she said. "We get in, get the information we need, and get out."
