violent delights, percy jackson

chapter fifteen

VIOLENT DELIGHTS
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( fifteen! )

HERA WAS A BITCH. Well, not a complete bitch, like the girls at school that teased Azalea nonstop — but still a bitch. She was like the soccer mom that just had to do better than everyone else at a bake sale fundraiser, and track meets. Hera was perfectly dressed, with a perfect smile and was the type of mom who donated homemade gluten-free, sugar-free brownies, and was always on time without a single hair out of place. It was annoying and kind-of overbearing. She was like the cookie cutter cut of a hovercraft parent, hovering over everyone's shoulder making them all look bad.

Azalea didn't doubt for a second that even her mom, ( who was literally the exact same in some cases ) would find her to be a pretentious snob.

Percy and Annabeth apparently had met her before, the dirty blonde haired blonde girl presumed from their other quests, like the master bolt retrieval and what not. But, even they seemed on edge around her. This uneasiness didn't lessen at all amongst the group, especially for Grover who looked seconds away from bolting away down the caverns. At least Tyson was enjoying himself though.

Hera was unlike any God or Goddess, Azalea had the displeasure of meeting ( excluding Dionysus as he was truly a one in a million ). Demeter had been a gluten free lunatic who was a little too into nature for her liking. It was almost inevitable that they would bump heads on some economical issues. Not that Azalea had anything against saving the world from global warming and all that, but if that lady kept trying to shove her Nature Valley Bars down her throat, she might have bitten off her cocoa coloured fingers. Hence, when Hera had brought up a picnic styled meal for them all to enjoy at the marble white table, Azalea was more than a little apprehensive. Then again, what was the harm in getting one more major goddess out for her blood?

She was really normal looking too. Demeter hadn't been so put together in a grass skirt and woven crochet top, —very bohemian slash hippie-like— but Hera was different. She wore what any other proud soccer mom would when cheering her son on, with a business styled white blouse and flowing black pants and flats to match. Her hair was now in a sleek pony tail after her impromptu change from her Grecian styled gown in a snap of her fingers. Azalea couldn't lie that she was a little envious of the ability to change outfits at the snap of her fingers. She had thought only Aphrodite would be able to do that.

To complete the perfect mom etiquette, once the three demigods, Grover and Tyson were all seated at the table she had politely started handing out sandwiches paired with lemonade. Yeah, Hera was a bitch, but less of a bitch than Demeter apparently.

"Grover, dear," She reprimanded politely, as they all ate in relative quiet. "Use your napkin, don't eat it."

Azalea wanted to start eating her own napkin just to prove a point, because if there was one thing she was good at being, it was petty. Because if Grover wanted to eat napkins over sandwiches gifted by a bipolar goddess, he should he allowed to. He's a certified trashaterian.

"Yes, ma'am," Grover replied quickly, dropping the piece of cloth and smiling at her embarrassedly.

"Tyson, you're wasting away." The woman gushed to the cyclops, with her eyes glittering in the cavern. "Would you like another peanut butter sandwich?"

Tyson stifled a belch, and Azalea had to screw her face up in a pretend cough to not snicker at the woman's quickly disposed of frown. Had she really been expecting a cyclops to learn proper table manners on the streets?