ACHILLES + PATROCLUS [p. jackson]

1.6: I KNEW I FORGOT TO DO SOMETHING

     RIP DIDN'T PARTICULARLY LIKE EVENING MUSTER, even when he was just a legionare. It was just far too formal and stuffy, and standing for too long in his armour had never felt right to him.

But, as the praetor, he could not make any excuses about feeling 'ill' or needed sleep. He was the face of the Legion, and if he wanted to keep said position for as long as he could (just one more week, he thought, though after his conversation with Octavian, he was a lot less joyous at the thought) he had to do some things he didn't particularly enjoy.

Rip sat atop his strikingly white pegasus, Alexander - or Xander, named for Alexander the Great, much to the chagrin of his fellow Roman soldiers - as he watched the other cohorts standing stiffly in well-organized lines in front of their barracks. The fifth, as always since Jason disappeared, was a disorderly mess, and he could clearly tell they could care less.

He watched as Reyna cantered back and forth in a dignified fashion, though he could tell she was far more tense then she was outwardly showing. The way her hands white-knuckled the reins and her mouth was turned downwards were clear only to him.

A few annoyed snorts further down the line alerted him to the echoing footsteps racing towards them. Rip watched with slightly concerned frown as Hazel and Nico sprinted down the stone path with their heads down. Hazel was only half armoured, missing her pauldrans and holding her helmet under her arm, and as Nico was no soldier, still wore that distinct jacket while looking far too out of place.

"Hazel Levesque," Reyna called as she halted at Rip's side. Her tone was sharp, with a hint of annoyance. "So glad you could join us."

Rip just sighed, watching as Hazel stepped into line beside Frank and Nico beside Percy, who was standing uncomfortably with a group of guards who looked just as uncomfortable. They clearly didn't trust the son of Neptune, having seen what he was capable of at the Tiber.

Percy was still coated in drying droplets of water, and his dark mop of hair was soaked and even messier than it was when he arrived. Rip pondered if Percy could dry himself off, and if so, why he decided to keep it soaked.

The Lares arrived last, their flickering forms moving through the soldiers, physically and literally. Many of the Legion shivered as one or two passed through and between them, trying to find space to fill, which took a little bit as they tended to not realize they were inside someone until the person had called them out on it.

Octavian stepped forward, eyes narrowed in a dramatic fashion. "COLOURS!" he shouted loudly.

Rip watched with little interest as the five standard-bearers stepped forward, draped in gleaming lion skin across their shoulders, as if trying to emulate the great Hercules. The poles they each carried were gleaming in the mid-day light, catching the emblems on top of each pole.

Well, each pole until the fifth. The empty pole was a haunting reminder of what hubris had brought the Legion to, and Rip could clearly tell Jacob, the boy in charge of the standard, was doing so half-heartedly. A wave of muttering echoed across the Legion, but it was halted as Reyna stepped forward, Rip close behind.

"Romans!" She proclaimed loudly. "You've probably heard of the incursion today. Two Gorgons were swept into the river by this newcomer," she gestured with an open palm towards the slightly cowering son of Neptune. "Percy Jackson. Juno herself guided him here, and proclaimed him a son of Neptune."