- ──── Aiden Seaver
【✦】| Athena Head Counselor | 15 | Male | Medical Tent ➡ Dining Pavilion | Tags: Teilo
❝𝚐𝚒𝚟𝚎, 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚐𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚞𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚕 𝚒𝚝 𝚑𝚞𝚛𝚝𝚜❞
In response to Teilo's question about mortals and prophecies, Aiden nodded. "Yeah, actually. Oracles are completely mortal; not a drop of demigod blood in them. We have one here in camp, actually. He gave us the prophecy in the big house. He's a bit of a shut-in though, so you probably wouldn't have seen him around." He rubbed his nose a second time. "Only thing special about oracles is that they see through the Mist really easy. Better than even the Hecate kids. I'm not saying your buddy was an oracle, but it's not unheard of for mortals to be involved in this stuff. Just rare. This is the first time I've heard about someone having dreams about this before now. I don't think anyone knew we were seeing the signs." He shifted his hands in his pockets. The question, offer, it kept coming up in the back of his mind. He didn't want to admit it. He didn't want to think about it.
"I..." The sentence trailed off barely as it began. Aiden's voice cracked, as did his facade. "I want to go on the quest." He said, caving. "Mirabelle, Jamie, Skylar... you, even. They're all campers I know. Mira's kept the Aphrodite cabin off my back since she became a head counselor. Skylar and I are almost always on the same team during camp events, though it's a mystery how or why. Jamie's tried to get me to teach him how to play chess for years now, even though I still always beat him." He threw up his arms for effect. "I know them. They're all my friends, and I can't--I can't just sit here inside the camp and let them go. I care about the camp, but... I care about all of them more, and if there's something I can do to help, I'm going to."
- ──── Nicholas Storm
【✦】| Horseman of the Apocalypse | 56 | Male | ➡ Harper's | Tags: Vivienne
❝𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚘 𝚜𝚊𝚝 𝚘𝚗 𝚒𝚝 𝚑𝚊𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚗𝚊𝚖𝚎 𝙳𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚑❞
"Careful now,"
The voice of the bouncer, Paul, addressed Vivienne. "Wouldn't wanna scratch the paint. Nick loves that car. Gift from his dad." A look back to Xaliphax would reveal not a horse, but a car. An off-white, cream-colored '67 Ford Mustang Fastback. Where her hand had been on the horse's muzzle, it now rested on the hood of the car. Yet somehow, even in this form, Xaliphax still maintained a hair of its haunting aura.