I figured all of you would wanna know how this part is gonna go.
Replies:
Undeath9087: Rachel pictured her breaking the other direction- she definitely didn't imagine what actually happened lol. And I mean, with Nico clearing out the forest they wouldn't be dealing with any arai at this stage.
Guest: He wants to know the truth, which fair enough- he's processing a feeling of betrayal because of the fact that she did manipulate him when he lost his memories, but he does also care about Leo and Nico hence the fact that he's taking her to Damasen.
Drizzle: I know- and you wanna bet that when Leo makes the connection he's gonna be super happy to tell Bob about his awesome granddaughter,
Guest: I mean, Percy's already kinda OP, able to literally blood bend. And honestly- Bob is awesome and I love him- willing to fight Tartarus himself for Percy and Annabeth in canon, he's one of the good guys.
To say that things were stressful was an understatement- Jason missed Leo. He missed his best friend- the guy who could always say something stupid and make them all laugh. And he felt guilty- guilty for not realising what was happening- gods but he could fly- if he'd been there he could have pulled Percy and Annabeth back up, or something.
Instead three of them were now in the pit and they were all feeling the heat.
At least Hazel seemed to be getting the hang of using the Mist- and when they'd dealt with Sciron and the and his turtle she'd actually met with her father- which- Jason was trying not to feel jealous of. He'd never even seen his father, all of the others had met their parents other than him, even Thalia had. So that... that stung a little.
And then there had been Jason's dream. A memory really- of a conversation he and Reyna had had years earlier, which had prompted him to tell the others they needed to got to Dalmatia, to visit Diocletian's tomb.
And because there was a high chance of running into ghosts Jason had recruited Bianca- which had earned him a truly poisonous look from Hazel, which made him feel even more guilty about the fact that he'd messed up and implied they couldn't trust Bianca.
Admittedly he didn't really know her very well yet- but she did seem to be nice enough- he didn't think she was a traitor or anything, not seeing the way she'd reacted when Percy, Nico and Leo had fallen.
In any case, he and Bianca had headed inland, leaving the others on the Argo II.
They were wandering along the esplanade outside of the city when Jason spotted it- a guy with wings buying an ice cream bar from a street cart. The vendor lady looked bored as she counted the guy's change. Tourists navigated around the angel's huge wings without a second glance.
Jason glanced at Bianca, "Are you seeing this too?"
"It's hard not to see it." Bianca eyed the figure wearily. "Think we should get some ice cream?"
As they made their way toward the street cart, Jason worried that this winged dude might be a son of Boreas the North Wind. At his side, the angel carried the same kind of jagged bronze sword the Boreads had, and Jason's last encounter with them hadn't gone so well- and this time Leo wasn't here to heat things up and scare them off.
But this guy didn't quite fit the bill. He wore a red tank top, Bermuda shorts, and huarache sandals. His wings were a combination of russet colors, like a bantam rooster or a lazy sunset. He had a deep tan and black hair almost as curly as Leo's.
"He's not a returned spirit." Bianca said, eyeing the man wearily, "Or a creature of the Underworld. I know that much."
"No. I doubt they would eat chocolate covered ice cream bars."
"Percy's technically a returned spirit and she would." Bianca pointed out.
"Okay- most wouldn't." Jason shook his head.
"So the question is, what is he?"
They got within thirty feet, and the winged dude looked directly at them. He smiled, gestured over his shoulder with his ice cream bar, and dissolved into the air.
Jason couldn't exactly see him, but he'd had enough experience controlling the wind that he could track the angel's path—a warm wisp of red and gold zipping across the street, spiralling down the sidewalk, and blowing postcards from the carousels in front of the tourist shops. The wind headed toward the end of the promenade, where a big fortress like structure loomed.
"That's the Palace." Jason pointed, "That's where he's going." he grabbed Bianca's arm, towing her along with him, and even after two millennia, Diocletian's Palace was still impressive. The outer wall was only a pink granite shell, with crumbling columns and arched windows open to the sky, but it was mostly intact, a quarter mile long and seventy or eighty feet tall, dwarfing the modern shops and houses that huddled beneath it. Jason imagined what the palace must have looked like when it was newly built, with Imperial guards walking the ramparts and the golden eagles of Rome glinting on the parapets.
He almost felt bad that they hadn't brought Annabeth- she'd have loved the architecture but- she hadn't been in a state of mind to appreciate stuff like that since the fall.
The wind angel—or whatever he was—whisked in and out of the pink granite windows, then disappeared on the other side. Jason scanned the palace's façade for an entrance. The only one he saw was several blocks away, with tourists lined up to buy tickets. No time for that.
"We've got to catch him," Jason said. "Hold on."
"But—"
Jason grabbed Bianca and lifted them both into the air, and Bianca cried out, latching onto him tightly, pressing her face into his shoulder as they soared over the walls and into a courtyard where more tourists were milling around, taking pictures.
A little kid did a double take when they landed. Then his eyes glazed over and he shook his head, like he was dismissing a juice-box-induced hallucination. No one else paid them any attention.
On the left side of the courtyard stood a line of columns holding up weathered gray arches. On the right side was a white marble building with rows of tall windows.
"Don't do that." Bianca pulled back quickly, slapping his arm when they landed, "I hate flying." she was shaking slightly- and Jason felt a rush of guilt.
"Sorry but we needed to catch him."
"Uh huh." Bianca shook her head and looked around, "I've been here before. I was like eight I think, with my mom and Nico. This is the peristyle, the entrance to Diocletian's private residence."
"You-" Jason blinked, "When you were a kid."
"A weekend trip from Venice." Bianca's smile was a sad little thing. "I remember how Nico wouldn't stop talking. It used to drive me insane."
"I dunno if I'd say he's super talkative." Jason voiced almost hesitantly. He wanted to make an effort but it was weird. "Friendly enough I guess but not-"
"That was when he was younger." Bianca shook her head, a guilty look flashing across her face before she looked away. "Before I left him behind."
"I-" Jason hesitated, "I don't really know-"
"Of course you don't." Bianca's voice was sad, "I doubt any of them talk about me much. Why would they?" She wrapped her arms around herself tightly. "I'm just the girl who abandoned her baby brother."
"I-" and what was Jason supposed to say to that- he could almost feel the guilt rolling off of her, "I'm sure it's not that sim-"
"I don't want to talk about this." Bianca shook her head, "Especially not right now when we're surrounded by angry dead ghosts. Lares, Lemures, they're everywhere and they're angry."
"At us?" Jason's hand went to his sword.
"At everything." Bianca pointed to a small stone building on the west end of the courtyard. "That used to be a temple to Jupiter. The Christians changed it to a baptistery. The Roman ghosts don't like that."
Jason stared at the dark doorway but Bianca was speaking again.
"And over there." she pointed east to a hexagonal building ringed with freestanding columns. "That was the mausoleum of the emperor."
"But his tomb isn't there anymore," Jason guessed.
"Not for centuries, "When the empire collapsed, the building was turned into a Christian cathedral."
Jason swallowed. "So if Diocletian's ghost is still around here—"
"He's probably not happy."
The wind rustled, pushing leaves and food wrappers across the peristyle. In the corner of his eye, Jason caught a glimpse of movement—a blur of red and gold.
When he turned, a single rust-colored feather was settling on the steps that led down.
"That way." Jason pointed. "The winged guy. Where do you think those stairs lead?"
And Bianca eyed them, a strained smile on her lips. "Underground. The stairs lead underground. Bet you wish you had Nico or Hazel here."
And, honestly Jason kind of did- he wasn't that close to either of them but he knew them better, knew their skills better. Besides, he was willing to admit that after the nightmare with the hypogeum with Piper and Percy.. well, he wasn't the biggest fan of the underground stuff.
Together they crept through a vast cellar with thick support columns holding up a vaulted ceiling. The limestone blocks were so old, they had fused together from centuries of moisture, making the place look almost like a naturally formed cave.
None of the tourists had ventured down here. Obviously, they were smarter than demigods.
Jason drew his gladius. They made their way under the low archways, their steps echoing on the stone floor. Barred windows lined the top of one wall, facing the street level, but that just made the cellar feel more claustrophobic. The shafts of sunlight looked like slanted prison bars, swirling with ancient dust.
Jason passed a support beam, looked to his left, and almost had a heart attack. Staring right at him was a marble bust of Diocletian, his limestone face glowering with disapproval.
Jason couldn't help but stare at it for several long moments before a voice called, "Hello!" and he was so startled that he sliced off the head- which made the bust topple and shatter against the floor. "That wasn't very nice," said the voice behind them.
Jason turned. The winged man from the ice cream stand was leaning against a nearby column, casually tossing a small bronze hoop in the air. At his feet sat a wicker picnic basket full of fruit.
"I mean," the man said, "what did Diocletian ever do to you?"
The air swirled around Jason's feet. The shards of marble gathered into a miniature tornado, spiraled back to the pedestal, and reassembled into a complete bust, the note still tucked underneath.
"Uh—" Jason lowered his sword. "It was an accident. You startled me."
The winged dude chuckled. "Jason Grace, the West Wind has been called many things…warm, gentle, life-giving, and devilishly handsome. But I have never been called startling. I leave that crass behaviour to my gusty brethren in the north."
Bianca's brows furrowed at that, "The West Wind? You mean you're-"
"Favonius," Jason realized. "God of the West Wind."
Favonius smiled and bowed, obviously pleased to be recognized. "You can call me by my Roman name, certainly, or Zephyros, if you're Greek. I'm not hung up about it."
Bianca pulled a face, "I've heard of you from Lady Artemis, Lord Apollo never forgave you. Why aren't your Greek and Roman sides in conflict, like the other gods?"
"Oh, I have the occasional headache." Favonius shrugged. "Some mornings I'll wake up in a Greek chiton when I'm sure I went to sleep in my SPQR pajamas. But mostly the war doesn't bother me. I'm a minor god, you know—never really been much in the limelight. The to-and-fro battles among you demigods don't affect me as greatly."
"So…" Jason wasn't quite sure whether to sheathe his sword. "What are you doing here?"
"Several things!" Favonius said. "Hanging out with my basket of fruit. I always carry a basket of fruit. Would you like a pear?"
"I'm good. Thanks."
"Let's see…earlier I was eating ice cream. Right now I'm tossing this quoit ring." Favonius spun the bronze hoop on his index finger.
Jason had no idea what a quoit was, but he tried to stay focused. "I mean why did you appear to us? Why did you lead us to this cellar?"
"Oh!" Favonius nodded. "The sarcophagus of Diocletian. Yes. This was its final resting place. The Christians moved it out of the mausoleum. Then some barbarians destroyed the coffin. I just wanted to show you"—he spread his hands sadly—"that what you're looking for isn't here. My master has taken it." "Your master?" Jason had a flashback to a floating palace above Pikes Peak in Colorado, where he'd visited (and barely survived) the studio of a crazy weatherman who claimed he was the god of all the winds.
"Please tell me your master isn't Aeolus."
"That airhead?" Favonius snorted. "No, of course not."
"He means Eros." Bianca looked very nervous at that, "Cupid, in Latin."
