Camp Half-Blood: Into the Storm - Closed!

[indigo']

━━━ 𝐀𝐮𝐠𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐚 𝐅𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐑𝐞𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐬

[✩]17|she/her|Hades|Head Counsellor|Cabin Thirteen|tags: Orin

Auggie’s face fell at the shocked response, seeming to consider what she’d said for the first time. After a moment, she shrugged. “In certain contexts, yes. But don’t push it, Gorman,” she threatened, brow raised. She narrowed her eyes at the comment on her injury, then tiled her head in another half-hearted shrug. “Maybe. Probably.”

It seemed that Auggie made choices in her pessimism, and making stupid mistakes didn’t fall under the umbrella of things that were pointless and painful without reason. There’d been plenty of times when she had thought that way, but looking back at the things that had happened to her—the ones that she had actually caused herself—it was a better way to learn lessons than tragedies that fell beyond her control. “Maybe you’re just not very good at getting away with things, did you ever think about that? I’d offer to teach you my ways but I don’t think you could handle it,” she added with a smile dripping in false smugness.

The tsunami story earned a breathy laugh from her, though the amusement faded as she considered the point. Maybe it was a futile thing to chase, something that would always remain out of their reach. “Bet she never had to deal with a god messing up her life personally. I don’t think anything they do is that well thought out and if it is, screw them.”

Finding out the person Orin had met in the Underworld had been her uncle was a shock to say the least, the reveal feeling like a drop into cold water. But it seemed to be affecting him worse, and it made sense why, so she shoved the feeling aside, attempted to control her pounding heart in favour of trying to keep him grounded. There was a calamity of thoughts in her head, questions she wanted to ask that weren't quite forming into words, but she didn't want to overwhelm him, and it didn't feel like her voice would work if she tried. She was silent for a moment, letting the thoughts sink in, letting reality settle again.

He seemed to calm down a bit, but her nerves jumped at the laugh, the obvious distress the situation had brought about. “No kidding,” she muttered. Weird felt like a drastic understatement. It was difficult to even comprehend that he’d spoken to the man in the photo. She hadn't seen Jack in years, and yet Orin had had a conversation with him that day. “There’s no way you could’ve known, it’s not like you’d seen that picture before. It’s—” She shook her head. “You have nothing to be sorry for.” She shuffled closer until her uninjured shoulder was pressed against his, no longer knowing what to say or what to think. “Was he…” The question died on her tongue, unsure what she actually wanted to ask or if she wanted to hear the answer.

There was a nagging thought in the back of her head, something she was trying not to pay attention to, but it refused to leave. If Orin had come back, and Jack had been in the same place that he had… It was selfish to think, the kind of thing she didn’t actually want to put into words. “Was he...okay?” she managed finally, voice significantly quieter than it had been before.

[WitchHazel]

|♡|Mirabelle Everhart|17|She/Her|Aphrodite|Head Counselor|Location: Hampton Inn Lobby|Tags: Quest Group; Ash → Hotel Clerk (NPC)|


Mirabelle stiffened when Ash put a hand on her back, though the soft circles he was rubbing helped to ease her nerves. My father used to do this for me. Whenever she'd been upset or just not feeling well, his warm, strong hand was always there for guidance and comfort. The nostalgic thought went unspoken, filling her heart with a sorrowful guilt.

The suggestion of a future baking endeavour pulled her out of the bittersweet haze of memory. "That would be nice." So long as we make it back in the first place. She wanted to thank him again. He's been so kind to me... even though I've done nothing to deserve it. She wanted to, but it might've seemed weird. Instead, she listened to his next words in silence as the final pieces of her mask fell into place, shielding her tender emotions. Accept myself first? Easier said than done. She offered a grateful smile nonetheless.

Ash's mention of a hot shower filled her with longing, despite the fact that he hadn't been addressing her. It sounded heavenly - just the thing she needed to shake the chill that had dug its bony figures into her lithe body. Focus, Mirabelle. Get us all some rooms first, and then you can have your reward.

As usual, Mirabelle held the door open for the other demigods before finally entering herself. She sniffled as she stepped into the warmth of the lobby, resisting the urge to rub at her nose. She was no unhygienic child. With another small sniffle, she quietly cleared her throat and took a deep breath. I can do this. I can do this. For my friends, I can do this. There was no way they had enough money to afford even two rooms, let alone four. Charmspeak was their only option. Well, their only tactful one. She just hoped the charmspeak would last.

One more breath and she was smoothing her hair as she walked confidently towards the front desk. A short brunette of a woman was seated behind it, tapping away at a computer. Mirabelle cleared her throat again in an attempt to politely garner the clerk's attention.

"Hello, we'd like a few rooms for the night." Despite the self-consciousness ripping at her roots, she flashed the woman - Brenda, her nametag said - a dazzling smile. Brenda took one look at the ragtag group of teenagers and raised an eyebrow. "Can I see some ID, miss?" Mirabelle couldn't help but sigh. Well, here goes nothing. "You've already seen my ID," she purred, weaving charmspeak into her words like a spider spinning silk. "My name is Jane Iredale, age 21. These are my siblings and cousins - we’re meeting up for a family reunion. Everything is in order. Now, can we get four two-bedroom rooms for one night, please?" The name was from a line of natural makeup, but Mirabelle doubted the clerk would know that by the look of her. "Certainly," Brenda stated as if in a trance. The price that followed would have made Mirabelle's eyebrows shoot off her face had she not been wearing a carefully crafted façade. "Here you are - I believe this will be enough to cover everything." She slid over a ten-dollar bill, though the act of lying and manipulating that mortal woman made her feel sick to her stomach.
"Yes, thank you," the clerk stated bluntly. She meandered off to get the room keys, soon returning with a set of four keycards. "Here you are. Rooms 204, 205, 207, and 208. Enjoy your stay."
"Thank you," Mirabelle said simply, accepting the keys. "You have a nice night now." She beckoned for the group to follow her as she turned to put some distance between herself and the woman at the desk. She had no idea how long her charmspeak would hold out, and it was best not to be present when it inevitably wore off.


|⟡|Juliet Pratten|16|She/Her|Hermes|Location: Cabin Seven|Tags: Tulip; satyr/nymph NPCs|

"Uh, well, duh!" Juliet retorted when Tulip asked if they had been attacked. "Why do you think we're all lying around here, Shabbat?" She snorted, shifting amidst the mound of covers Ryan had draped across her. As the satyr went on about losing her stuff, Juliet's heart rate increased a little. "Hey, I didn't touch your stuff! And I'm being totally honest for once! Does it look like I can run a heist right now?" She gestured to her blanket-clad body with her good arm. "Nope! I don't think so! Besides, what would you have that I -" Tulip had found her bag. Feeling a little stupid, Juliet clamped her mouth shut.

Thankfully, Tulip seemed more interested in the attack than any 'theft' of her precious belongings. "Do we know who did this? Uh, DUH. It's that evil Elsa frozen chick and her meshuggener of a mother!" She sat looking quite pleased with herself, as if that explanation would mean anything to the satyr. This time, she was saved from elaborating by the arrival of a very nervous-looking nymph carrying a towering platter of food. A few hunters were also hauling someone inside, but Juliet was more concerned with filling the void in her stomach than by whoever was apparently dying as they placed him on a nearby cot. "Ah, there's my dinner! 'Bout time. Come to mama."

|✂|Liv Keary|15|She/Her|Iris (Unclaimed)|Location: Dining Pavilion|Tags: Corey|

Liv nodded along with Corey's comment about the Hermes kids. "Like I said, stupid. If you're gonna steal, at least be discreet about it. Jeez." She snorted, rolling her eyes as she took another bite of her dwindling food. The way Corey said the next phrase had Liv wondering whether they were joking or not. Just in case they weren't, she sent a scathing glare in their general direction. "If it keeps their grubby little fingers off of my stuff, then I'm all for taking their hands. Maybe I'll even mount them on the wall. Get a plaque made. 'Hands of brainless moron who tried to steal Liv's stuff'." Her black lips curled up in a dark and twisted smile.

A small silence allowed Liv to address the thought that had been nagging at her the whole time they had been talking. "Hey so... I don't mean to be rude about it, but what are your pronouns?" Sure, Liv was naturally abrasive. But there was big difference between abrasive and ignorant, not to mention discriminatory. "Unless you want me to keep using 'idiot/idiot's' in my head."


|❀|Chuck Oakes|He/Him|Satyr|Location: Dining Pavilion; Mr. D's Table|Tags: Aydan|

"Uh, yeah, man." So he did know her - or know of her, at least. "Ophelia - uhh, like, yeah, I know her," he mumbled. 'Friends' would have been a strong word in reference to their relationship, so he refrained from using it. In short, he was mildly terrified of the girl. She was about as tall as him, for one, not to mention her intimidating personality. "She's uh - she's cool, man. Like, totally radical." That wasn't a lie - she was cool, so cool in fact that it added to her intimidation factor.

Chuck followed Aydan's gaze to where the demigod in question was talking with - oh no. "Like, uh, that doesn't look friendly." He began to eat his napkin, though he didn't seem particularly aware he was doing it. "That other girl - that's like, Riley. Uh - daughter of Zeus. She's like, bad news, man." Riley was far more intimidating than Ophelia; at least to him. Ophelia had a good heart, he thought. Riley... well, one too many pranks at his expense had coloured his opinions. "Uh... should we like, do something?" Like no, man! Are you bananas? By pan's pipes! The last thing he wanted to do was get involved with whatever was going on there. But Ophelia was Mira's sister... and Mira wasn't around to intervene. Ophelia's like, totally tough. She can like, fight her own battles, man. Still, he felt some sense of duty towards his absent best friend. Mira would do something. Besides, did he really want to leave anyone to be tormented by the likes of Riley?


|❄|Vivienne Isole|18|She/Her|Khione|Location: Centralia, PA|Tags: Nicholas, Kayle|

Half-sister. So not a Horseman - er, Horsewoman - of the Apocalypse. Vivienne wasn't sure whether to be confused or relieved. If she wasn't a Horseman, did that mean she was mortal? "Mortals are lesser beings and should be treated as such." Khione's voice in her head; ever-present, ever-irritating. She was too tired to fight it anymore.

Despite the docile attitude of the dog, Vivienne kept a close eye on it. Her posture was stiff and cold, even moreso than usual. Her gaze possessed a sort of wariness to it. Anyone with eyes could tell that dogs made Vivienne nervous. Perhaps it was the fact that she was already set on edge. Perhaps it was her exhaustion. Whatever the reason, Vivienne hesitated. Can I trust this... loud, crass individual? She glanced from Nicholas to Kayle; uncertainty written all over her face. What choice do I have? Besides, Nicholas seemed to trust her... she was his sister, after all. Was that enough for her?

The bone-dragging exhaustion won out in the end. With a soft, uneasy sigh, Vivienne followed Kayle up the stairs.

[sammy,]

( *:･ﾟ✦ ) xx❝xx𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐧 𝐠𝐨𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐧 ！！ x─────ix ♔
x──────i ii zeus iii eighteen. iiii tags: auggie auggie auggie.
ivicabin thirteen.

orin's head tilted as he considered his position on getting away with things. "well, thing is, i'm great at getting away with stuff. i could get away with murder if i wanted," there was more to that sentence. the place he was going felt a little dark, the metaphor a little too potent for his liking, but the words followed through before he could vet them. "but then i'd get stitched up for a bank robbery, or something, and that'd be me in the mud. i'd get away with everything if it weren't for other people." perhaps one of the denser things he had said out of context, but it fit in the moment. best not to think about it too much. he didn't want to focus on the things that lay underneath those words - the bitterness had mostly faded for the time being. bringing it back felt like a lost cause. a waste of time in the moment. there would come a point for it to be considered. equally, there would come a point where he would have to make a decision about what to do about the whole scenario. it wouldn't be brushed under the rug.

"well, she had a demigod messing up her life for a little while. so maybe it applies," he pointed at himself, recalling some of the antics from the days where innocence didn't feel like it was a continent away. where fun was to be had in the chase of a reaction, where he performed for comedic reaction rather than for the sake of appearances. "maybe i'm the tsunami. or a twister. maybe she's the woman on the bike from the wizard of oz." he didn't like that film. it fit, though. that was what mattered.

the revelation was a difficult one. for the both of them, he knew. if the shoe had been on the other foot, if auggie had met someone from his past - there were a few to call upon, but one that stood out in particular, one that he thought lined up with the scenario, even if the contexts were a little different - then he wouldn't have known what to say. what to ask. there was a torrent of emotion triggered from the mere existence of a photo that he happened to notice -

and there it was, destiny again, writing itself in front of his eyes. he didn't like it. recalled the words of the horseman as clear as day. how was he supposed to write his own destiny when it seemed to be writing itself in front of him? was everything he did so predictable, so set out? if that was the case, then was he supposed to wait for that long? was it a test of some sort? had all that he had believed to have been a mistake actually been a point, something that his father, or the fates, or someone was trying to prove?
once again, everything felt determined. he felt like a cog in a machine that had broken down. "i know," he couldn't have known. he should have anyway. "i wish i had." conveniently ignored was the fact that even if he had known, he wouldn't have been able to remember. caught in the trance of the wisps of memory, he stared straight ahead, ever-so-slightly leaning into the shoulder as it bumped against his.

"okay?" he was dead. she knew that. so she was talking about something else. the thought was slow to come, but then dawned. "yeah. he was just... passing by. he'd -" to grasp the words that had been spoken was a slog. "he was asked to give me the glasses. said - said something about the jacket. and then, that was it, he was gone. didn't jump into the lethe or anything. i would've noticed. he must've just walked away while i wasn't paying attention." he wondered what else he'd missed, what else had filtered through the cerebral void. "he wasn't scattered." that was the point he had been trying to make. "i think he was smiling."

it was difficult to reach. like it had happened to somebody else. "i could've -" he didn't know what he could have done. could have ushered her uncle back to life, brought him through the doors alongside himself and auggie. could have brought others, too. raised an army of the undead for the sake of a few happy reunions. there had been a qualm in his chest ever since he'd stepped into that church, the repeated why of the layers of coincidence. "i dunno." people died all the time. people fell and it was sad and then they were gone and then it was over and the living moved on. either his destiny was set in stone - he was meant to do something with the newfound life; or it wasn't - he had just stumbled upon the right situation at the right time - and both were equally terrifying in their own little ways. he'd been quiet for a while. so had she. there were many things to think about, and none of them particularly good. "do you think everything's meant to happen?" was how he broke his own silence. "the fates and their strings, do you think they account for everything?"

( *:･ﾟ✦ ) xx❝xx𝐥𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐝𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐳 ！！ x─────ix ♘
x──────i ii ares. iii eighteen. iiii tags: caleb. ivi dining pavilion.

the swimming vision began to clear, and haphazardly organised thoughts got back into their militaristic lines. though a few strayed from the norm, it was easier to ignore the frayed edges. the focus was no longer on the potential conversational abilities of rocks - already, he was beginning to regret that tangent. "i didn't just get shot. it was at least an hour ago," leo corrected, on the back foot already. "you seem more bothered than i am, and i'm the convalescent." an eyebrow crept up an aching forehead.

it was the vulnerability that was making him frustrated, and he knew that. but knowing it didn't really do anything to help the spark of annoyance, the defensiveness that was making itself rather more clear. he would have preferred to have ruined it. a preventative measure. the inner child of his mind screamed that when he allowed people to care, they ended up traipsing down the yellow brick road. if he corrected that measure, nipped it in the bud, then it would feel as though he had made the decision for himself. "i never asked for your help," he said, the inquisitive stare darkening a shade. he was brittle, a little damaged, but he could still utilise one of the gods-granted gifts - raising a little reaction. just for the sake of it. he watched with wide eyes that barely masked his internal rage as the goblet was passed over, took it, and slammed it on the table. "you got a guilty conscience or something, caleb? you think that jumping on that high horse is gonna do anything? i never asked. i never wanted it. i can pour my own gods-damned water. i can do it all myself." doing it all himself had been what had gotten him so profoundly shot. he chose to ignore that. "don't need you, don't need any tinker, tailor, soldier or child of apollo telling me what i should be doing."

he stood. maybe a little too quick. the outburst - though controlled in tone and blisteringly cold - had been a struggle to get out in its entirety, and the rush to his head was an immediate effect. still. he wasn't going to allow himself to fall again. the natural revert to anger was enough to put his frail state aside for the moment. "the infirmary's gone, by the way. you'd probably know that if you hadn't been hiding out of the line of fire this whole time." he didn't mean it. wanted to say that he didn't mean it. couldn't. let his body take over from a scattered mind and stomp him over to his assigned table, instead.

there was a pressure on his chest that he didn't want to give a name.

( *:･ﾟ✦ ) xx❝xx𝐭𝐞𝐢𝐥𝐨 𝐠𝐫𝐢𝐟𝐟𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐬 ！！ x─────ix ♖
x──────i ii thanatos. iii seventeen. iiii tags: quest group.
ivi hampton inn

that conversation was over and done with, and he was thankful for it. he didn't want to get into the nitty gritty. too tired, too high-strung, too distracted by other factors to look the problem in its face. there was something else at play. there was something going on that none of them had had the grace of seeing just yet. the problem with knowing that he didn't know something was that he was stuck in the loop of ignorance. something laid just beyond the veil. being aware that there was a creature hiding just out of view did nothing for helping him identify it.

the thought spiral out of the way, they were making their way into the hotel, which was a thankful distraction. the way that mira's charmspeak worked was admirable. for a moment, he believed her - believed that they were family, that they were just visiting, and the vision of a reunion infiltrated his mind. all thoughts of gods and monsters dissipated for just a moment as he indulged in the hypnotic fantasy. it sounded so nice. the feeling of anticipation for a falsified uncle's specialised barbecue technique, the way the smoke would smell in the air - sunlight and laughter and poorly-chosen music -
and then it was gone. they were being passed their keys, illusion shattered.
it was a shame. teilo would have liked to imagine it for a little longer.

"bagsy 207," he said once they were far enough out of earshot from the woman at the desk. it was a good number. lucky number. a happy number, which had once again risen in his mind for reasons unparticular. a mental note to play the heavily disgruntled tourist should the receptionist begin kicking off about their presence. he had the voice for it. certainly held the frustration, as well.

[indigo']

━━━ 𝐀𝐮𝐠𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐚 𝐅𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐑𝐞𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐬

[✩]17|she/her|Hades|Head Counsellor|Cabin Thirteen|tags: Orin

Auggie wasn’t taken aback by the confidence he had in his ability to get away with murder, not thinking too deeply into the statement at first. There were lots of people who could get away with things—or who thought they could—it didn’t mean they would ever act on that belief. “Really rude of people, ruining things like that,” she muttered half-heartedly. She knew there was likely more to it, that maybe she should have been concerned given the vehemence with which he’d threatened to kill Leo, but she’d said the same thing on multiple occasions. She’d meant it when she’d said it, she thought she might still, but it wasn’t something that needed to be worried about just yet.

There was simultaneously nothing to say and too much to say in regards to the meeting with her uncle. It was an absurd situation, something so surreal that there wasn’t any way either of them could know how they were supposed to respond, and yet it had happene, and they were left scrambling, pieces of unfinished thoughts and words that wouldn’t quite form into sentences all blurring together.

She winced slightly at the repetition of her question, knowing how little sense it made when spoken out loud. Of course he wasn’t okay. He was gone, and despite the contradiction sitting next to her, nothing was going to change that. But there was something else on her mind. The fact that he’d been there confirmed that he was still there, in some sense. His soul was still in existence, and she wanted to know if that existence was painful. Maybe ‘okay’ was the wrong wording. Maybe ‘okay’ was a human construct, exclusive to the living, but it was the only word that seemed able to articulate what she wanted to know.

The confirmation eased her mind a little, but it didn't take away the confusion. “Why was…I don’t get it. Why him? Why would he be the one to give you the glasses?” She knew Orin didn’t have any more answers than she did, but she wasn’t really expecting one, simply voicing the confusion. “Was it…do you think your dad just picked a spirit and…it just happened to be him?” She didn’t want to think of it like that, didn’t want to reduce the man who had practically raised her to nothing more than a single spirit in a field of the dead, but she didn’t see how there could have been a reasonable intent behind it. But he was there. He was still there and that seemed important.

There was an obvious struggle behind the realization, and though she wished it could have turned out differently, it was less painful to think that what had happened was the only possible outcome. People left and the wounds never really healed, it never got any easier. It never faded like people pretended it did, it simply left the forefront of your mind, and every reminder reopened the wound. This felt like more than reopening, this felt like a fresh cut.

She was pulled out of her thoughts by a question, and she looked up in surprise, the words taking a moment to break through the fog in her brain. “I don’t...I don’t know,” she admitted eventually, staring down at the floor as one hand absently pulled at the guitar pick around her neck. “Messed up if it is. I think...I think there’s things that are more likely to happen. People react based on the things around them, so everything they’ve lived through influences their choices and leads to certain outcomes but...I don’t think we’re set in that.” She didn’t want to think that. Their existence felt futile enough without the belief that nothing they did mattered, that they couldn’t control a single step or word out of their own mouths. “It can’t be that precise, can it? It would be impossible to track every single thing every person does, not to mention pointless.” She didn’t sound very confident, and truthfully, she wasn’t doing a very good job of convincing herself. But she would have liked to think the Fates could be surprised, that maybe their movements could be predicted, but a sharp left turn could catch them off guard. She fell silent for a moment, considering it as she dragged the pick back and forth across its chain, the little metal loop creating a soft, rhythmic clicking noise. “I hope not.”

━━━ 𝐂𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐛 𝐓𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐬

[➳]18|he/him|Athena|Dining Pavilion|tags: Leo

Caleb hadn’t been expecting a pleasant reaction in response to the goblet of water, hadn’t even been expecting a ‘thank you’. What he also hadn’t expected was the sudden outburst of anger. He’d thought they were past that at least, but it seemed he was mistaken. He grit his teeth as the water was slammed down, the question raised, any trace of his earlier amusement gone in favour of a stone-faced expression, returning the glare with a hard, cold gaze. The accusation made his skin prickle. He knew it meant nothing, that the son of Ares was just grasping at straws in an attempt to make any sort of jab. He knew he hadn’t done anything to lead Leo to believe he was acting of some ulterior motive, that he simply didn’t have a leg to stand on in his emotional outburst of defence, but it still took a practiced amount of strength not to flinch at the jibe.

“Are you that bloody thick?” he spluttered finally. “Are you really that concerned about your—your image or…whatever, that you’re going to chew me out over a glass of water?” He knew he was overreacting, that they both were. He knew Leo was just getting defensive and under any other circumstance, he wouldn’t have let it get to him. In any other situation he would have brushed it off with a smile, not given it a second thought and let them both carry on with their respective facades, but the first comment had gotten to him, struck an exposed nerve he’d been doing his best not to think about. “Do you honestly think that me trying to help you has something to do with—with me compensating for something? You think everything I do is just an act born of a superiority complex?”

Despite the earlier concern—the attempts at help that had gone down like a lead balloon—he didn’t react when Leo stood, simply watched, muscles tense but refusing to move. “You’re ridiculous,” he said finally, voice low as he regained some semblance of control. “So terrified of being vulnerable that you can’t let someone hand you a damn cup of water without lashing out and acting like I’m the villain.” There was a whisper somewhere in the back of his head, an incessant hiss reminding him that he was, that people had died and it had been his fault. That, whether he knew it or not, everything Leo was saying was true.

The following comment came like a slap in the face, a reminder of all that had happened within the last two days, all the things he hadn’t been directly responsible for, but hadn’t done anything to stop. “I knew—” He didn’t have a chance to finish before Leo was storming off, leaving Caleb with a pit of anger in his chest and a feeling that he’d been exposed.

━━━ 𝐂𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐲 𝐁𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐬

[✦]16|they/them|Kymopoleia|Dining Pavilion|tags: Liv

“Yeah, man, exactly. When I steal stuff nobody has any idea. I’m great at playing the innocent.” Their tone was light and casual, deadpan expression returning to solidify the lack of clarity on whether they were serious or not. They nodded solemnly again at the continued threat of cutting off hands, though a hint of a smile tugged at their lips. “Oh, yeah, definitely. Keeps away unwanted thieves and makes nice decor for the cabin. I’m all for that.” The girl seemed sincere, and anybody else may have been concerned by the menacing smile, but Corey wasn’t particularly fond of taking things seriously, and that included everyone around them.

Corey’s eyebrows raised at the following question, a laugh escaping them as Liv continued. “Well it wasn’t rude until that. Although I think that could work for me.” They appeared to consider it for a moment, giving a little shrug and a nod before returning to the conversation at hand with slightly more sincerity. “They/them. Should I ask yours? Or are you one of those ‘dare to perceive me and I’ll add your hands to my collection’ kind of people?”

[sammy,]

( *:･ﾟ✦ ) xx❝xx𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐧 𝐠𝐨𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐧 ！！ x─────ix ♔
x──────i ii zeus iii eighteen. iiii tags: auggie auggie auggie.
ivicabin thirteen.

"i don't know," was the only answer to the question that auggie posed, because it was the only thing he knew to be true. maybe it was chance or maybe it was a cruel joke or maybe it was meant to mean something. i think he wants you to figure it out.
he resented that. he resented those words. he didn't want to figure it out. he wanted things laid out in front of him, because navigating a world of darkness with nothing more than a candle was proving rather difficult. "i don't know." was repeated. "if i knew - i wish i knew, i wish i -" he clenched and unclenched his fist, let out a frustrated sigh. that seemed to be a trend, not knowing.

orin wasn't expecting anything particularly grand or revealing when it came to the question of destiny. in his mind, he thought he was just hoping to know that someone shared his trepidation in the face of the idea. "i used to be okay with it," he said. "you know, 'cause, if everything's for the plan of the gods, if everything's lined up the way it's supposed to happen, then it means something. everything's not for nothing if there's an end point. but -"

a memory. not of the underworld, not of his death, the first or the last, but of something that happened the year previous. a smiling face in an alleyway. the smell of blood. speech came jilted and too quick. "there were so many things that happened, and so many things that carried over, and - and like, the conversation with vivienne, that feels like it was scripted, there were things that happened there, things she said and things that just lined up so perfectly, and if that's not destiny, then i don't know what it is, and if it's not destiny then - then it's - then it was for nothing. i lost - for nothing, and i'm not okay with that." barely a second to breathe before the next part came.

"but if it is for something, then that means that - that the gods are sadistic, right? that all of this stuff happened, and it was meant to happen, and you can't blame anyone, and there's no point trying because everything'll just - just happen. i shouldn't've got into elysium. that can't have been right." he wasn't sure how it had shifted to that. but it went on. "i've done awful stuff, awful, awful stuff. i - i nearly killed two guys because of - because - and i just - you know, it just -" it became rather clear that the desperation, the clamour of getting the words out before they exploded on his tongue, was a result of some kind of panic. the dread of existentialism, the nihilistic fear that had been so comfortable previously finally boiling over. he hadn't talked about it. the only people who knew were the victims and the witness. "it just happened, and it nearly - i nearly - and i would've, but i was stopped, and it just - i wasn't judged, and i should've been judged, because if i had been judged, they wouldn't have sent me to paradise. i would've been pushing a rock up a hill for the rest of time. i would've been - but i wasn't judged, so i made it back here, and that - and that feels like it means something, but if it means something then none of us have a choice. there's no choice. there's no point. can't do anything. and i wanna do something. i wanna - i wanna do so much that i can't say because it's bad, and i met your uncle and i didn't even know who he was, i didn't know who i was, and i should've, i should've been given that chance, but there's no -" finally the tirade ended with a fist to his own knee, cutting the words off.

a tentative breath.
he knew that none of that made any sense. a blanket of dread.
orin let himself drop backward onto the bed, lying to stare at the ceiling rather than the wall. a change of pace as he caught what was left of his breath.
"i dunno if i want it to be pointless or if i don't want it to be pointless," he said finally, the conclusion of it all.

( *:･ﾟ✦ ) xx❝xx𝐥𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐝𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐳 ！！ x─────ix ♘
x──────i ii ares. iii eighteen. iiii tags: caleb. ivi dining pavilion.

allowing himself to get angry made things easier. not just because it was the natural state of being nowadays, but because it cleared his head. his body and mind were preparing for the verbal attack like it was a war, and with it, the focus shifted. he could almost feel the shift in the air, sensed every body in the room, every exit, every potential weapon - he could snap the spine of the goblet and ram it through caleb's eye, if necessity beckoned. objectively, he knew it wouldn't. but the primitive rage-mind was the suppressor of pain, and therefore, a miracle.

it was also the one that picked up on the little things. the tiny shifts. the things that would rise his perceived opponent into a state of malice and erraticness. he had said something that had triggered a response. it wasn't difficult to pinpoint what it had been. instead of thinking too hard on it, delving into the thought, leo kept it in his head. he didn't need to analyse the weakness, nor consider the repercussions, just exploit it. "maybe i am," he answered brusquely. "you don't know anything about me, no one does. i don't know anything about you. we've had one conversation and you think you're gonna be the saviour of all saviours because you're pretending to give half a -" he cut himself off, levelled his voice. "me? concerned about my image? are you joking?" a short, venom-dipped laugh. most of the people in camp saw him nothing more than the picture of his father, a landscape of violent imagery, a warzone wrapped in skin.

and maybe it wasn't about caleb helping. not about caleb specifically. maybe it was about the people who had 'helped' in the past. maybe it was what they had ended up doing. maybe it was what he had ended up doing for them. maybe it was the fact that if he knew, if caleb knew, if the rest of the camp knew, then that 'image' would be cast in obsidian. unforgivable. so, no, he didn't think caleb was compensating for something, but it had gotten a rise out of him, and it was easier to pretend that that was the case than confront the truth of the matter. "maybe it is. i don't know. i don't know anything about you honestly. you've got all your airs and all your graces and nothing seems to be true with you." was that projection? best not to think about it.

he broke into another laugh when denoted as ridiculous. "yep. yeah, yeah, go on. keep going," leo challenged, the wide smile present again, just as it had been earlier in the day. "i'm ridiculous. i've got no sense. no use. i'm nothing. just cannon fodder. so please, please, get it into your..." he tapped his own head. "into your skull -" he paused. "no one's gonna thank you. no one's gonna think you're better. no one's gonna buy into your game. throwing the 'villain' word around, have i struck a nerve? are you hiding more than the occasional bout of cowardice? you can tell me, caleb. who's gonna believe me over you? 'cause, you know. i'm ridiculous. that's sure." he took a sharp breath in, a radiating pain in the back of his head.

if caleb said anything after he walked away, he didn't hear it. the fuzz of the aftermath lessened the blow, made everything feel just a little farther away.
"lover's tiff?" asked one of his siblings as he settled down. "looked pretty intense."
he punched them in the shoulder, perhaps harder than necessary. that shut them up.

[demolition lovers]

Winona
✖✖✖✖✖✖✖✖✖✖✖✖
☾18|she/her| Hecate|Dining Pavilion

Winona had tried to stay in the background of Camp as much as possible the last few months. She had held her own in the battles, but it killed her to see the camp destroyed. She had left for a couple months to visit her father and the twins, her stepmom was in Paris for a bit, so there wasn't that issue to deal with. Winona had tried traveling, and found for a brief time, a group pf witchy monster hunters, which had been wicked neat. But Camp Halfblood was home, so she'd come back. Her bags were dropped off and unpacked into her usual bunk, and had gone up to the dining pavilion for food and whatever Chiron's announcement was. She grabbed her food, standing a little longer at the offering fire than usual. "Hey mom, thank you for the friends I made outside of here. I know you were looking out for me. Help us keep this place safe." She murmured, scraping the offering in. She headed to her table, noting the new faces. Jeez, things had been busy.

[indigo']

━━━ 𝐀𝐮𝐠𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐚 𝐅𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐑𝐞𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐬

[✩]17|she/her|Hades|Head Counsellor|Cabin Thirteen|tags: Orin

“But isn’t that pointless?” she countered before she could think better of it. “If it’s all lined up...if it’s all planned out then...nothing we do actually matters.” She didn’t like the idea of fate. It didn’t feel synonymous with purpose the way he seemed to be implying—that if things were planned out, had a reason to them, then there was a point to it all. It felt more like a trap, like more of the lack of control that she’d always feared. Auggie had never believed in destiny, not in the usual sense, never had any sort of feeling that someone was on her side or that the things that were thrown at her throughout her life had a reason to them. It had always felt sporadic, unplanned and unfair.

She was quiet for a while, listening to Orin talk, letting him get out the flurry of words that only seemed to build in intensity as he went on. Her head shot up at the statement that he shouldn’t have made it into Elysium, brow creasing in a look that resembled anger, though it wasn’t directed at him. “What do you—“ she barely had a chance to challenge the statement before he barrelled on, the barest of explanations being provided, something that should have frightened her—surprised her at the very least—but created nothing more than a feeling concern for the unknown hypocrisy in his previous words.

The rant finished and for a beat, Auggie just stared, not quite at a loss for words, but waiting to see if the explosion of existentialism was really finished. There were a lot of things she could have said, a lot of words that could have come out in a variety of emotions; anger, despair, spiralling along with him, giving in to the dread of their pointless existence. But what came out first was none of that, and it came much softer than anything previous. “How can you even say that?” She stared at him, not with pity, but genuine confusion. “How could you think you didn’t—how can you—do you even hear yourself? You told me that I still deserve forgiveness for what I’ve done and you think because you—because of something you did in the past that you deserve eternal damnation?” He didn’t understand what he’d been telling her, she hadn’t given him enough of the story for him to really know what it was that made her so fearful of seeing Stella, and despite the new revelation, she wasn’t sure she could actually give that information up. “You’re not a bad person. You’re not. I’ve never been certain of anything in my life but I know that much.”

Self-worth and the hypocritical defensiveness they seemed to share aside, there had been more to the speech than his doubt towards where he’d ended up after death. “Maybe it does mean something. Maybe it means something because you did it, not because it was supposed to happen.” Her gaze fell to the floor, the hand that had been worrying her necklace falling into her lap. “Then screw it. Screw all of it, the gods and the Fates and—and all of it. It doesn’t matter.” That was a poor choice of words. “It doesn’t matter if it matters,” she clarified, dropping down beside him a moment later, conscious of her injured arm but not doing much to coddle it. “Screw them. Make it matter.”

━━━ 𝐉𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐞 𝐀𝐥𝐞𝐱𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐖𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞

[✿]16|he/him|Iris|Hampton Inn|tags: quest group

Jamie didn’t have to be told twice as the others started making their way inside, various complaints about the cold being spouted off, as if that would do anything to fix it. He muttered a quiet thanks when the door was held open, slipping inside without hesitation. The warmth was nice, quickly undoing the effects of the frigid air outside, but the burning cold against his skin had at least served to distract from the bigger problems, from the source of the out of place weather that filled his stomach with dread. He wasn’t sure how comforting a moment of respite would really be if it gave his thoughts room to show their ugly faces again.

He hadn’t been paying much attention to his surroundings, wasn’t aware of what was going on until Mira had returned with four keycards and was ushering the group away from the dazed looking receptionist. He blinked in surprise before following along without question.

━━━ 𝐂𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐛 𝐓𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐬

[➳]18|he/him|Athena|Dining Pavilion|tags: Leo

He could feel it slipping, the carefully trained control withering away as he fell victim to petty taunts, words that meant nothing but were still sharp enough to dig under his skin. He should have shut his mouth, shouldn’t have given in to it, but the words had already fallen out, defenses had already been raised. “Oh, boo-hoo, nobody knows anyone. It’s all very tragic. Very dystopian young-adult novel of you, he bit back, the panic in his head muddling his thoughts but not quite seeping through into his venomous tone. He narrowed his eyes at the response, gave a little disbelieving huff of breath and shook his head. “Why do you assume I’m pretending? How stuck in your little warmonger brain are you that you can’t believe someone could possibly care about your wellbeing without some ulterior motive?”

Caleb grit his teeth again, felt a muscle twitching in his jaw at the onslaught of accusations being thrown at him. None of it mattered, Leo was lashing out like a child and he’d responded in the same way. It was ridiculous, but they both were, and he couldn’t seem to stop. “Shut up, just—shut up.” One hand clenched into a fist, rings digging into his fingers. Leo didn’t know anything, and the only reason he acted as if there was anything to suspect was because of the way Caleb had reacted. He knew that, yet it didn’t do anything to calm the pounding of his heart or the fire in his veins. He drew a breath, stared the son of Ares down with a look that wasn’t exactly calm, but more controlled than it had been before. “Get over yourself,” he seethed, voice low. “Get over yourself and stop projecting your little—your little sob story and your ‘nobody knows me, nobody cares’ thing onto me. I was trying to help you.” He raised his hands in surrender, eyes wide and slightly manic. “Won’t happen again.”

He watched him go, staring blankly ahead as the retreat was made. He wasn’t sure how long he stood there, rooted to the spot, but when he finally snapped out of the stupor and cast a glance towards his cabin’s table, it was immediately clear he couldn’t find solace there. He couldn’t face any of them, and he certainly couldn’t put on the mask of loyal and devoted head counsellor.

[sammy,]

( *:･ﾟ✦ ) xx❝xx𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐧 𝐠𝐨𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐧 ！！ x─────ix ♔
x──────i ii zeus iii eighteen. iiii tags: auggie auggie auggie.
ivicabin thirteen.

he wasn't expecting it all to come out in the way it did, all shattered and fragmented, pieces of glass that were near-impossible to piece together. it didn't feel like a weight had been lifted yet. it was just a spiral of panicked words, things that had ruminated for the worse part of a year, things he had had time to think about, to ponder over. if it wasn't all lined up then he had things to confront. the things that had been brushed under the carpet were beginning to pile up. the mound had become an eyesore.

the ceiling was easier to look at. it was further away than the wall. it didn't look much like the ceilings at home, the mottled, textured things that only served to baffle the eyes. he had asked about them once. a stylistic choice. he didn't quite believe that. he had thought that they were ugly then, and confronted with the plain, flat surface, he had it confirmed. so focused on the ceiling that the question, when it came, was almost missed.

he knew it didn't make sense to her. it made sense to him, but he knew it all. he had seen it all, been everything under the sun, had centuries underneath him, and yes, actually, if he had stood in front of the judges with all that had occurred in the four-year period between his first and second death, they would have changed their minds. "i don't take my own advice," orin repeated, barely above a murmur. "and it's different. it's -" he chewed absently at the inside of his lip. "i don't regret that it happened, i regret that i was stopped."

if fate had stopped him from being a murderer, then fate had barricaded him from the only redemption he had truly believed in. "if it wasn't meant to happen then it's my fault," he decided finally, because that was how it worked in his head, and that was the infernal battle that was being lost.
he turned his head a little when auggie dropped next to him, thinking on the words for a moment. "but it's everywhere," he murmured. "i mean, it's like, even beyond all of that - there's stuff happening right now that we're not doing anything about because it's not as bad as it could be. we've got no prophecy. the fates haven't decided it's a problem yet, and - and it's just... it's always the same. it always happens the same way. there's no change, there's no diversion, it's just... 'oh, well, couldn't've known that it would get as bad as it did, guess we'll have to learn from it', and then they never do. again, and again, and again, and -"

"i dunno. just being stupid, probably,"

( *:･ﾟ✦ ) xx❝xx𝐥𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐝𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐳 ！！ x─────ix ♘
x──────i ii ares. iii eighteen. iiii tags: caleb. ivi dining pavilion.

the joke was on caleb. leo had never read a dystopian young-adult novel.
that didn't feel like it would be the retort it had solidified itself as in his head, so he kept it to himself. "my little warmonger brain," he repeated the words with chilly amusement. "maybe i'm just a little soldier. maybe that's all i am. all i'll ever be to you. to most of you, and that's fine. i'll let you have that. if it helps you sleep at night. or maybe i just see people a little more clearly than you do." he had enough to lean on.

he couldn't deny the rush when the anger was reciprocated. the outburst, the passion behind it, desperation, and was that a clenched fist? it felt like christmas. "or what? are you gonna hit me, caleb?" he asked, a challenging sweetness in his voice. "you're gonna pour out water for the injured man, gonna catch him when he falls, and then hit him? oh, that doesn't seem very diplomatic of you." a grin. "but you're not gonna, 'cause you're scared. 'fraid of coming down to my level. a bit of advice for you, my guy - don't clench your fist if you don't plan on throwing it. a less reasonable man would see that as an invitation." he wouldn't throw the first punch. he wouldn't allow himself to.

the control seemed to return, the following words scathing and bitter. he didn't like them. sob story. "no, you're not getting it." his head tilted. "it's not a sob story. that's not the point. you're missing the point." he lowered his voice a touch. "it's an advantage." that was how he saw it. that was how he needed it to be. "and, come on. i never asked for your help. the only reason i would ever ask you for help is to shoot me if i ever asked you for help," he said. "oh, no, sorry. shoot me again. that's awkward." he shook his head.
maybe he did want the help. that wasn't going to be something that he admitted any time soon.

when the haze cleared, his sibling thumped, leo came to a decision. he was going to have something to eat. so it was over to the buffet, sprawling and vast, to stare listlessly at the array.
"are you okay?" the little voice from the side, dulled at the edges. a glance toward the familiar but frowning face, not looking at him but at a collection of fruit at the edge of the wide table. sounded like a question she should have been asking herself. either way, he didn't have an answer. not a true one, anyway.
"did it again," he said. because she knew, because jude had known for a while, actually. but it wasn't the time to go over it.

[indigo']

━━━ 𝐀𝐮𝐠𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐚 𝐅𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐑𝐞𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐬

[✩]17|she/her|Hades|Head Counsellor|Cabin Thirteen|tags: Orin

“Well maybe you should.” Auggie didn’t see how it was different, didn’t believe that it was different. Because despite her tendency to shut people out, her habit of running away at the first signs of closeness, she had trusted him. She did trust him, and whether he believed it or not, she was never going to accept the fact that he could be evil, not any more than she was. She didn’t bat an eyelid at the confession of regret, but she was silent for a moment, thoughts forming in her head. “What did stop you?”

“Well it’s…” She bit the inside of her cheek, considering it before she spoke. She wasn’t entirely sold on his conclusion. It didn’t feel so black and white, and it didn’t feel like a good thing for their lives to be planned and predicted, that all their choices—good or bad—weren’t their own. “Is it really better if it isn’t? Is it really better to think that none of this has anything to do with us? I mean...so you did something. And maybe it wasn’t a good thing, but I’d rather think bad things come from the circumstances we’re put in than some conniving puppet master controlling every move we make. That’s messed up.”

There wasn’t much that she could say in the face of it all, no words that could fix the problem or stop the spiral from turning into a freefall, and she felt slightly guilty for it. She was getting broken pieces of a story, but it was a familiar way of speaking—words getting lodged in your throat, coming out in fragments because it was impossible to say them all at once. She still got the point. “Well what are we supposed to do about it? They’re the ones with all the power. They’re the ones with control. We’re just ants.” It may have been an abrupt turn from her previous attempt at seeing things clearly, but she wasn’t well-versed in optimism. “We get stepped on and they let it happen.” She glanced over at him. “You’re not being stupid.”

━━━ 𝐂𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐛 𝐓𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐬

[➳]18|he/him|Athena|Dining Pavilion|tags: Leo

Caleb couldn’t help the exasperated sigh that escaped him when the taunt came regarding his clenched fist. Ares kids missed nothing. He released his hand, never having actually planned on taking a shot, but the idea was becoming more and more appealing as the other went on. “I’m not going to hit you,” he replied calmly. “Because I’m not an idiot and I have no reason to hit you.” That may not have been entirely truthful, but nobody knew that besides him. They weren’t on the same side, they weren’t on a level playing field, and the things he’d done had already hurt Leo and the rest of camp more than a good punch to the jaw could ever do. But he didn’t know that. And he wasn’t going to sink down so low as to start a fistfight in the Dining Pavilion. “But thank you for the advice,” he added curtly, lips pressed in a tight line.

There was more behind the words, more behind the aggression than anything Caleb was able to comprehend, but that was fine. They each had their own secrets, their own reasons for reacting the way they did, and whether Leo appreciated the choice of words or not—their own pathetic sob stories. “Alright, whatever you say. But just so you know, a simple thank you would have sufficed.”

The wave of anger receded slowly once Leo had left, though he wasn’t sure if that had anything to do with the general aura of children of Ares—the ability to bring out the worst in people—or simply his own emotions getting the better of him. Regardless, he’d been standing there for too long. He needed to move, needed to do something before he really did resort to starting a brawl over the lunch table, so without thought, he turned and left the pavilion, feet carrying him in an unplanned direction.

[takara]

❥ | Ophelia Rogers
16 | She/her | Aphrodite/Cabin 10 |Dining pavilion |Aphrodite NPC's, Riley

Gods, I'd love to slap that smirk off her face. Or slice it off. That would shut her up. But she couldn't. Any physical altercation would end with Ophelia in the dirt. Riley was too much of a firecracker to hold back- especially now. Ophelia chewed the inside of her cheek, stewing on her own venom. She shifted her weight, balancing her stance and using her body to press forward and shield her table from the fiend in from of her. She could practically hear the whispers, all 'she's weak' and 'oh gods why did Mira choose her?' and 'this is so dumb, we should just let Megan lead!'

Ophelia blinked hard, swallowing her anxiety before she could puke it onto the demigod before her. Riley would kill her if a word what was in her head got out. She quirked an eyebrow and stretched, a faux show of nonchalance. "Oh really? Care to test that theory?" She asked, her voice all high-pitched and bright. Riley was getting too close to the truth, to the things that kept her up at night. So she did all she could to throw her off the scent. She leaned down to get in the girl's face. "I wouldn't," She purred, drowning out the growl that wanted to come out. Just because her powers were subtle, didn't mean they couldn't be put to good use to take out a bully. Riley would find that out soon. Very soon. Sorry Mira, it had to be done. Mira would understand. Someone had to take the girl down a notch. It wasn't Ophelia's fault that she lacked her sister's tact and patience.

❀ | Jane Daughtry
Appears 19 | She/her | Hunter of Artemis | -> Dining pavilion | Winona

Jane made quick work of crossing the snowy bluffs that lead to the dining pavilion. She was on a mission, and it felt good, to once again be assigned a purpose. She let her mind wander, humming a fragment of some tune that had been lost to time. Her skirt swished around her, and she couldn't help the childish joy that bubbled up over such a simple pleasure. She ran her hands through it, letting the dark fabric swirl around her. She arrived at the pavilion quite suddenly, and briskly smoothed down her skirt and settled her expression. These kids did not need to know that the only adults here were only technically grown up. After three hundred years, she should be doing better at pretending to be more, to be bigger, more real, than she felt.

Standing to the side of a grand table. Jane tilted her head, perplexed. The last time she had been at camp, the eating arrangements had been more...straightforward. She considered the buffet, wide eyes taking in dishes of everything from chili to whole grain naan. This was bad. Was she supposed to have asked the campers what they desired? It was a little late for that now. Unsure, Jane scanned the crowd until her eyes lit on someone who looked less intimidating. She landed on a brunette who was cutting over to a table, but lacking the purposeful stride of someone who didn't wish to be interrupted. Perfect.

Her target located, Jane rushed over before she could reach the table and once more be out of the Hunter's reach. "Excuse me Miss, is there anything on the menu that you'd suggest?" She asked, hardly needing to look down to meet her eyes/

➶ | Hank Walker
17 | He/him | Apollo [Head Counselor] | Dining pavilion(Table 7) | [Izzy], Finn

"Well, me too! I can't say that I'd be that tasty!" He laughed. Something felt off. Maybe it was the wrong type of table? Hank didn't press the thought, as it made his head hurt.

Finn's next question was easier. "Elfie! She's awesome!" He frowned. "When she's not sad. She scares me when she's sad." He admitted. Then he turned to Finn. "Can you help her with that? With the sadness?" He asked, full of hope. Then he realized all he was asking for and looked down into his spaghetti. "I mean, it's a lot to ask, I understand if it's too much," He took a forkful into his mouth, folding in on himself.

☠ | Aggy Clemson
15 | She/her | Unknown (Ares) | Hampton Inn | Quest group, Mira

Aggy bristled at the condescending tone Ash gave her. For that alone, she should have his hide! "It was fine, Geezer," She growled, throwing in a jab at his hair color. She turned her back on him and pranced after Mira. She missed his later remark. A good thing, as it would have sent her into a tailspin of chasing that smug face off Ash and into the hotel pool, fully clothed.

Once inside, Aggy set about loosening her coat. She stood near Mira, plopped her bag on the floor, and unzipped the puffy coat. She half listened to Mira, only looking up when she gave a clearly wrong name. Then proceeded to pay with a ten dollar bill! Her eyes widened, and she watched Mira in awe. "Woah!" She breathed, then snatched her bag and ran to the blond's side. "Can you teach me how to do that? Please?" She begged, throwing in her puppy dog eyes for good measure.