|♡|Mirabelle Everhart|17|She/Her|Aphrodite|Head Counselor|Location: Ma's Diner|Tags: Quest Group|
|⟡|Juliet Pratten|16|She/Her|Hermes|Location: Bushes by the Cabins Area|Tags: Lucy|
"I ah... didn't think it totally through," Juliet admitted, attempting at a lopsided grin. "But come on, Hades? The dude lacks the gall for something like this. OOOH! Unless this isn't a war movie at all; it's Alien, and something's controlling his mind... waiting for the right moment to pop outta his chest and jumpscare us all, hehehe. That'd be something I'd wanna see."
When Juliet was silent long enough to pay attention to her surroundings, she noticed something odd. The sounds of gunfire had faded out around them, and all at once it was eerily quiet. "Do ya think we're in the clear?" It was a loud whisper to be fair, but not loud enough to be noticed should anyone be in earshot. "They stopped. Why'd they do that?"
|☽|Kathryn Blackwood|17|She/Her|Hecate|Location: Cabin 7 |Tags: Emmie, Aoife|
In the haze of exhaustion, Kathryn dimly registered that she was being handed off to someone - Aoife. Good grief, I'm being passed around like a rag doll. Still, she lacked the strength to do anything about it. The Irish girl was saying something. Something about ghost bullets. "No no, gorgeous, 's was all me," Kathryn slurred out. "But boy, you shoulda seen the show I put on. Shadow tendrils 'n rival armies." She paused to laugh a little, though it lacked any semblance of cheer. "I dida lot. A lotta stuff. It was'splendid. Juuust get me some of that sweet, sweet nectar and I'll be all fixed. All fixed up." She offered Aoife a woozy smile before promptly collapsing against her.
|❀|Chuck Oakes|He/Him|Satyr|Location: Canoe Lake|Tags: Hannah|
Hannah had a good plan - well, at least Chuck thought so. He wasn't much for plans himself, all that thinking tended to give him a headache. He was more of an ideas man, if he did say so himself. Leave the actual execution to someone more qualified.
But then the skeletons were... stopping? So were the ghosts, Chuck realised. The undead ranks seemed to be more confused than anything at this point. Chuck couldn't blame them; he was just about as confused as they were. Why did they stop? It wasn't because of his playing, was it? As he finished his last song, it became evident that wasn't the case. They were looking at each other as if they had just noticed they were dead; the eerie glow fading from their sockets. Huh, that's like totally goofy, man. The remaining venti glanced around at their confounded compatriots, almost as if unsure of what to do. They must have decided that the battle was over, because most of them started dispersing into cold breezes and snowdrifts.
The satyr turned at Hannah's question; his own befuddlement clearly written across his freckled face. "I uh - I dunno."
|⊙|Zahra Al-Amin|217/Looks 32|She/They|Magician; Eye of Sekhmet|Location: Cabin 8|Tags: Laika|
|❄|Vivienne Isole|18|She/Her|Khione|Location: Centralia, PA|Tags: Nicholas, Orin, Astoria|
Vivienne had only been absently paying attention to the conversation at hand; her distaste for small talk rearing its head. But something piqued her interest; something she had assumed was coming though hadn't expected this soon -
"who are you?"
Nicholas' first answer wasn't a shock - it would not be intelligent to reveal his true nature. Orin was an enemy. Wait a minute... did he say Orin killed his father? What in the name of Tartarus is he on about? Then the gears clicked; a puzzle piece falling into place. It must be a pop culture reference. How quaint.
What came next made Vivienne's eyes widen.
He revealed his identity. To an adversary. She shot Nicholas a scathing look; or at least it would have been had her face not been battered and tear-stained. In that attempted glare, something caught her eye. A glimmer of gold in the obsidian feathers of the unbroken wing. Ichor. Is he - is he still bleeding? That cannot bode well. Guilt squirmed in Vivienne's chest, causing her to turn and duck her head once more. Damn it all. It wasn't worth pointing out - the Horseman had evidently noticed, and there wasn't anything Vivienne could do about it. Growing up, she had learned how to care for her own injuries to an extent. That extent was bandages and bitterness. But gunshot wounds? Godly gunshot wounds? That was far above her knowledge, though she hated to admit it. Are they seriously continuing to blather? She couldn't help but roll her eyes. When can I take my leave of this blithering nonsense?
Mirabelle had heard Aiden talk about his past before, though the instance was rare enough that it didn't fail to spark her interest.
His mention of school sent her mind drifting back to her own school days; back when her life was glazed with the taste of love and safety. A glimmer of sadness shone deep in her stormy gaze for a split second before it was quickly swallowed up by her cheery façade. Right. Now is not the time for a walk down memory lane.
She was saved from responding by the arrival of the food. That was fast. Either Sofia got that rush she said she'd ask for, or the lunch rush must've been less bad than she'd thought. Lunch rush? At this rate, it's almost dinnertime. The cold weather really set us back. It wasn't far to Laurel's Aunt's house now; according to her roadmap. They would make it there within a few minutes of leaving the diner if they were quick about it. Though she was in no hurry to go back out into the cold, or get closer to the inevitable car ride, it was best they make time. She had wanted to reach the city before nightfall - though that left the question of lodgings. City hotels were expensive; and Mirabelle doubted even her emergency funding could cover a stay for ten people.
"Who had the tossed garden salad?"
The waitress's clear voice drew Mirabelle out of her worried thoughts. "That's me." She regarded the dish as it was placed down in front of her, giving a heartfelt thank-you to the waitress. Her appetite hadn't improved much, but she knew she had to eat to keep up her strength.
The salad wasn't bad, she discovered after an experimental bite. It left some things to be desired, though overall it could have been much worse. Her body would have preferred a warm meal, she knew. But nothing warm on the menu had looked especially inviting to her. Save the grilled cheese, but that was a mildly heavy food. Not to mention greasy. She wasn't sure it was the best option given her knotted stomach or the fact that they would be getting in a car shortly. At least the hot chocolate helped to take the edge off.
|⟡|Juliet Pratten|16|She/Her|Hermes|Location: Bushes by the Cabins Area|Tags: Lucy|
"I ah... didn't think it totally through," Juliet admitted, attempting at a lopsided grin. "But come on, Hades? The dude lacks the gall for something like this. OOOH! Unless this isn't a war movie at all; it's Alien, and something's controlling his mind... waiting for the right moment to pop outta his chest and jumpscare us all, hehehe. That'd be something I'd wanna see."
When Juliet was silent long enough to pay attention to her surroundings, she noticed something odd. The sounds of gunfire had faded out around them, and all at once it was eerily quiet. "Do ya think we're in the clear?" It was a loud whisper to be fair, but not loud enough to be noticed should anyone be in earshot. "They stopped. Why'd they do that?"
|☽|Kathryn Blackwood|17|She/Her|Hecate|Location: Cabin 7 |Tags: Emmie, Aoife|
In the haze of exhaustion, Kathryn dimly registered that she was being handed off to someone - Aoife. Good grief, I'm being passed around like a rag doll. Still, she lacked the strength to do anything about it. The Irish girl was saying something. Something about ghost bullets. "No no, gorgeous, 's was all me," Kathryn slurred out. "But boy, you shoulda seen the show I put on. Shadow tendrils 'n rival armies." She paused to laugh a little, though it lacked any semblance of cheer. "I dida lot. A lotta stuff. It was'splendid. Juuust get me some of that sweet, sweet nectar and I'll be all fixed. All fixed up." She offered Aoife a woozy smile before promptly collapsing against her.
|❀|Chuck Oakes|He/Him|Satyr|Location: Canoe Lake|Tags: Hannah|
Hannah had a good plan - well, at least Chuck thought so. He wasn't much for plans himself, all that thinking tended to give him a headache. He was more of an ideas man, if he did say so himself. Leave the actual execution to someone more qualified.
But then the skeletons were... stopping? So were the ghosts, Chuck realised. The undead ranks seemed to be more confused than anything at this point. Chuck couldn't blame them; he was just about as confused as they were. Why did they stop? It wasn't because of his playing, was it? As he finished his last song, it became evident that wasn't the case. They were looking at each other as if they had just noticed they were dead; the eerie glow fading from their sockets. Huh, that's like totally goofy, man. The remaining venti glanced around at their confounded compatriots, almost as if unsure of what to do. They must have decided that the battle was over, because most of them started dispersing into cold breezes and snowdrifts.
The satyr turned at Hannah's question; his own befuddlement clearly written across his freckled face. "I uh - I dunno."
|⊙|Zahra Al-Amin|217/Looks 32|She/They|Magician; Eye of Sekhmet|Location: Cabin 8|Tags: Laika|
Zahra took a seat where the woman had indicated, offering her a grateful smile. "I don't have much time, but I will share what I know." She could feel Sekhmet's influence inside of them; itching to plunge herself back into combat. Their Nome needed her. The Magicians needed her. They would have to make this brief.
"What I know is that an ancient force of Isfet - chaos - has awakened, and is set on destroying everything," Zahra explained. "Or... no, 'destroying' isn't the right word..." Silence enveloped them momentarily as she wracked her brain. "Eat! Yes, eat. No, absorb. Yes, that is correct." The thought crossed their mind that she should potentially be more careful with their information. But the woman - the lioness - had been helpful to her, in her own brusque way. And Chiron seemed to trust her... yes, perhaps it was okay. "They are called the Ogdoad. Eight gods of chaos, eight who had long been sleeping. I do not know what awakened them, nor why they are so angry. What I do know is that they have churned the Sea of Chaos into a frenzy. It is... expanding, I believe." They paused a moment to let it all sink in. "The Nomes have been getting attacked by demons consistently over the past week. I believe these to be connected to the Ogdoad and the Sea of Chaos; Isfet is growing in power. There have also been reports of something else, a... shadow? A creature, killing with a signature. Like a serial killer, but something not mortal. I have heard it is responsible for the slaughter of the Hundredth Nome... my heart is saddened by this news." Zahra's face was an open book; it was no surprise when pain and grief flashed across her graceful features. "I do not think any of these events are unrelated. Now, there is snow during summer, and I have heard a goddess may be involved. A politician exposing the Roman camp. It is too much a coincidence to be just that. There is a connection somewhere, but what?"
|❄|Vivienne Isole|18|She/Her|Khione|Location: Centralia, PA|Tags: Nicholas, Orin, Astoria|
Vivienne had only been absently paying attention to the conversation at hand; her distaste for small talk rearing its head. But something piqued her interest; something she had assumed was coming though hadn't expected this soon -
"who are you?"
Nicholas' first answer wasn't a shock - it would not be intelligent to reveal his true nature. Orin was an enemy. Wait a minute... did he say Orin killed his father? What in the name of Tartarus is he on about? Then the gears clicked; a puzzle piece falling into place. It must be a pop culture reference. How quaint.
What came next made Vivienne's eyes widen.
He revealed his identity. To an adversary. She shot Nicholas a scathing look; or at least it would have been had her face not been battered and tear-stained. In that attempted glare, something caught her eye. A glimmer of gold in the obsidian feathers of the unbroken wing. Ichor. Is he - is he still bleeding? That cannot bode well. Guilt squirmed in Vivienne's chest, causing her to turn and duck her head once more. Damn it all. It wasn't worth pointing out - the Horseman had evidently noticed, and there wasn't anything Vivienne could do about it. Growing up, she had learned how to care for her own injuries to an extent. That extent was bandages and bitterness. But gunshot wounds? Godly gunshot wounds? That was far above her knowledge, though she hated to admit it. Are they seriously continuing to blather? She couldn't help but roll her eyes. When can I take my leave of this blithering nonsense?