━━━ 𝐀𝐮𝐠𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐚 𝐅𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐑𝐞𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐬
[✩]17|she/her|Hades|Head counsellor|outside cabins, woods|tags: Leo, open
She grit her teeth as he spoke, staring back unflinchingly. They weren’t fighting now, not the way they had been earlier, but every word from the son of Ares felt like a punch in the gut—one that hurt more than the actual impact of a fist to a rib cage. She didn’t let the effect of the taunts show on her face, keeping up the fiery glare that had appeared the moment she’d laid eyes on him. It was true, that’s what stung. She had wanted a fight, regardless of whatever motives she’d had, part of her had enjoyed driving her fist into his jaw. Despite everything, she hadn’t changed much from the angry, headstrong kid who swung a punch at the first classmate who said a bad word against Stella. She could almost see the disappointed face of her uncle. But being seen was the worst part, Leo thinking that he understood her or thinking he could explain her behaviour, the idea enraged her.
“You don’t know anything,” she bit back, voice tight and strained, her anger barely contained. “You were the one attacking someone without reason. I was helping him. If I hadn’t hit you then you could’ve—“ She bit her tongue, took a breath. “You can project your violent tendencies onto me all you want but the truth is, you started it. You were the one beating on someone who didn’t do anything to deserve it. If you want to pretend we’re in the same boat go ahead, but I hit you for a reason.”
Auggie had to resist the urge to roll her eyes. She was done with the son of Ares and his little speech, acting as if he knew anything about her. She narrowed her eyes at the last comment, watching him for barely a moment before deciding it wasn’t worth it and walking away. It wasn’t the first time that day she found herself walking without reason or destination, but she somehow ended up in a similar place. The Stygian iron knives didn’t even make it out of their sheaths before her anger was released this time, a bare fist driving into the trunk of a tree instead. She drew in a sharp breath through her teeth at the pain that jolted through her hand and up her arm. It didn’t help that she was still sore from everything else that had happened.
Her sword was still strapped to her side, having been in it’s true form since the venti attack. She unsheathed it, fully prepared to unleash her rage against yet another innocent tree before she thought better of the urge, driving the blade into the ground with a huff of frustration instead. She slumped down to the forest floor, mostly dry under the cover of the trees and sat with her back against the trunk of one, absently eyeing the blood that dripped from her split knuckles.
━━━ 𝐕𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐨 𝐕𝐢𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐨-𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐳
[♠]17|he/him|Ares (unclaimed)|outside Cabin 11|tags: open
The last few days had been eventful to say the least. From the fight he had somehow gotten involved in on his way home, the revelation that the man who had attacked him wasn’t in fact a man at all, to his aunt’s slapdash, lackadaisical explanation that his father wasn’t just some jobless bum who had run off before his mother did, but some sort of Greek god. He should have felt relieved. He should have been glad to know he wasn’t crazy, and that there was a reason for all the strange happenings that had plagued his life since birth. He wasn’t. The confusion and apprehension had only increased when this place that was supposedly the safest place for him and others like him—there were a lot of them, especially in the cabin he’d been shoved into—had been the cause of eighteen deaths.
Vittorio wasn’t entirely convinced that any of this was real. It didn’t feel real, the snow in June didn’t help, but somehow he hadn’t woken up yet. Avoiding confrontation of the thought seemed to be the best move, not thinking about the connotations of a godly parent or the looming threats on the horizon. He wasn’t apathetic to the lives that had been lost the day previous. He hadn’t known any of them, but he tended to take everything hard, and the shock of it all had hit him immediately. Avoidance of this thought was how he ended up on the steps of the Hermes cabin, a book in his hands that wasn’t really being read, flipping through pages with a blank stare that couldn’t actually process the words.
