Wildfires, Heroes of Olympus ₂

069, AND ITHACA'S WAITINGGG

CHAPTER SIXTY-NINE
FINLEY              BRIGGS

Jason was old.

Yes, for the smart-asses reading this story, Jason was older than Finn no matter what. Thirty days older, in fact.

But right now he was really old.

As they climbed the hill, his lungs rattled like a box of rocks. Finn almost thought it was Sylvie making those noises, but then she would look and see Jason's heinous face. His fingers were gnarled and bony. Bulging blue veins webbed the backs of his hands.

He even had that old man smell—mothballs and chicken soup. How was that possible? He'd gone from seventeen to seventy-five in a matter of seconds, but the old man smell happened instantly, like boom.

"We're almost there, Peepaw," she told him. "Let's get a move on."

"Shut up, Briggs," Jason wheezed miserably.

Finn failed to restrain an amused grin. "If this is how you're going to be when you're old, I wouldn't try to make it that far."

"Stop enjoying this so much."

It was easier for her to than for him. Finn and Sylvie were disguised as lovely Greek serving maidens. Even in their white sleeveless gowns and laced sandals, they had no trouble navigating the rocky path.

Now, that wasn't to say how they were dressed was what Finn was enjoying. Her copper hair was pinned up in some braided spiral that Annabeth had whipped up. Too many silver bracelets adorned her arms. She looked innocent and pure and dainty, and it pissed her off a little bit. Sylvie wasn't doing much better. Ever since falling into... The-Land-That-Shall-Not-Be-Named, she didn't seem keen on putting on a dress any time soon. But here she was. Wearing a dress quite soon.

"Worst idea ever." Jason leaned against a cedar tree and wiped his forehead. "Hazel's magic is too good. If I have to fight, I'll be useless." 

"So not much different than usual—"

"Shut up, Finn, I knew you were going to say that!"

"Y'all, please," Sylvie sighed. "Finley, he's right. You're enjoying this too much. Jason, don't manifest us having to fight. I really don't want it to come to that."

It was no surprise she looked uncomfortable in her serving-maiden outfit. She tugged at the fabric in either an anxious habit or an attempt to keep it from slipping off her frame which had slimmed a concerning amount since surviving Tartarus. Her pinned-up auburn bun had come undone in the back and her hair dangled like long spider legs.

"We infiltrate the place," she said. "We get the information we need, and we get out. And we don't bicker the whole time about stupid stuff like Jason smelling horribly."

"Hey!" Jason protested.

"Sorry. But you do." She set down her amphora, the tall ceramic wine (yes, wine, ironic, Finn knows) jar. "We can rest for a second. Catch your breath, Jason."