Camp Half-Blood: Into the Storm - Closed!

[rabbit_with_a_fedora]

.

✞ 𝐓 𝐎 𝐌 𝐀 𝐒 -- 𝐃 𝐀 -- 𝐂 𝐎 𝐒 𝐓 𝐀 “𝐋𝐮𝐜𝐤 𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐝.”
────────────────────────────────────────────────────── ➸
❨ Average camper ❩ ❨ ♂/17 years ❩ ❨ Son of Tyche ❩ ❨ Tags/mentions: Will❩ ©



The entire day, or, two days, rather, had been incredibly disorientating, hectic, and many other synonyms for chaotic, though two is quite sufficient to drive the point in, for this case.

The game of Capture the Flag had been innocent enough. Tomás had, as he always did, made himself useful in the strategic planning before the actual games began, stayed back as part of the defensive line, though the last part of his usual routine had been suddenly disrupted by the heavy snowfall that had somehow managed to get through the magical barrier. Then the winds blew, and the venti fell down on the demigods. Tomás had the misfortune of catching the eye of a certain blizzard spirit, and, in a freezing flurry of biting hail and sleet, immediately found himself lost in the depths of the forest. He hadn't prayed to his mother this much since one of the last quests, where Tomás figured the least he could do was try to ensure that the demigods had some sort of luck on their side.

After being found by a rather hapless satyr, which was honestly a stroke of luck in and of itself, Tomás had tried to help around the healer's den, after learning about the entire collapsing of the Big House. And there was also an entire ordeal with… horses? There were three or so people involved, one a stranger Tomás hadn't heard before, but honestly didn't feel like asking anyone else for more context, so that was that.

A night of restless sleep ensued, before an entire army of undead and blizzard spirits managed to deactivate the golden fleece. Incredibly confusing, if Tomás were to be honest, especially since it was only after the battle that he learned the entire magnitude of the attack. It was a second stroke of incredibly fortunate luck that he managed to survive unscathed, even though Tomás had started out in the middle of the battle, wandering about along the border. Sometimes Tomás thought that literally the only reason he was still alive and kicking it was because he had this sort of protective shield of incredible fortune around him, that ever so subtly deterred most serious attacks. Maybe his sight had been enough of a price to be exchanged for a chance at survival.

Now it was time for dinner, which Tomás had honestly been looking forwards to especially tonight. Not just because food was a pretty nice thing to have, but also since Tomás trusted Chiron enough to actually give detailed and complete updates and announcements. He wasn't exactly bothered by the louder volume of chatter from around the tables, nor the extremely tense air around the entire camp, that felt like it could be snapped at the slightest movement, though it was slightly deafening.

He stiffened as he sensed someone sliding in a little ways away, turning slightly in their direction. Immediately, Tomás could tell he didn't exactly know this person too well, otherwise he'd be able to recognize them. Pausing before answering, he blinked. The newcomer's breathing was slightly heavy, and Tomás felt the sounds coming from somewhere above his own head. They also had a faint dusty scent around them, though muffled by… was cloth? Either a child of Hephaestus, or someone who has helped with the funeral shrouds. Athena? I heard they were helping, too. His mind ran through all the children of Hephaestus or Athena he knew of, and who were this tall. "Uh.. hi." Tomás started, setting his fork down, and decided to just take a best guess. "Caleb?" No other names came to mind, so Tomás was pretty sure he'd got the right guy, although it'd be pretty embarrassing if not.

[sammy,]

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

"i don't run," orin said. that was very much a lie, but the fact was that he never went out with the intention of running. "but not 'cause i run backwards, but 'cause i just don't look right. i'm all limbs. it's like watching one of those inflatable tube men. it doesn't suit me. it's awful," he considered it a skill that he, shamefully, did not have. "you offended me greatly. but i may be able to move past it if i'm given time to process."

"it's okay to have flaws. having a weak flick is not that much of a problem. there are people who can help you come to terms with it, i'm sure. i've never had that problem. my flick has been described as 'devastating' by those afflicted by it, but i can get where you're coming from. i can sympathise with your plight without necessarily relating to it. it's okay to be true to yourself," he continued on, looking far too proud of himself. "you're rationalising it, but isn't it easier to just accept?"

"well. appears we've reached an impasse," orin beamed. though salient points were made about the texture of oscar the grouch, he shook his head. "i dunno. i feel like he'd be crunchy underneath. peaches have hair, they've got a sort of crunch to 'em. probably the wrong word, but - you can't deny 'em that. maybe oscar's the same." he proposed. "the incident," he repeated, not elucidating further on what exactly that was for his own amusement. "if he lives in a bin he's probably far more aware of his personal hygiene. he has to keep it up more than others. are you judging oscar the grouch on his living situation? he's a working class hero." he continued. "i think you just haven't opened your mind to this stuff."

the reference to plans again. it felt as though that was going to last a while. "i don't need a plan. it all falls beautifully into place," he answered back shortly.
definitely not a compliment. "you can't just repeat the stuff i spew back to me like that, it's not fair," he grumbled into his hand, feigning distress. "it's not right. i was trying to divert attention, and you brought it back, that's not fair." his voice barely audible, but rather whiny. "s'bullying."

he enjoyed the lightness of it all. the more they joked, the further he felt from the situation at hand - but the easier he forgot about it, the easier he remembered. even with the blunder of the mention of the funerals, he hadn't considered it in its intensity until then, the fact he would have to come back to reality officially. the camp felt a lot less stressful when he wasn't faced with the responsibility of being alive. it was a lot easier to have conversations like these when he was dead to the world outside.

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

"did you not have any powers, then? nothing that indicated, you know, that you weren't entirely human?" teilo asked, changing the subject from otters and pulling the scope off of himself. the chill in the air remained as horrific as ever, the presence of warmth only a small respite. he was holding off from shivering - wasted energy, he thought. stillness, deep breaths, a bit of control, he was of of the impression that he could control his own body heat with mere focus. foolish and optimistic, but it had been working so far. the only indication of the temperature was the pink hue his fingertips had taken and the snow that fell sparsely around them. he would not bend to the weather.
"well, depends what you mean. i'm a very powerful man. i've got a lot of charm about me. i never -" clive paused. "no. actually, i tell a lie. there was something."
"i'm on the edge of my seat," teilo deadpanned.
"you're being gobby now. i think i preferred it when you were cagey," he commented. "anyway - like i was saying - there was a bird."
"someone call the media,"
"mind, you." came the chide. "it wasn't a normal bird. it was a weird bird."
"no. never. not a weird bird."
"you are getting on my wick. going right ways for a clobbering. if i could touch you, i'd take your chin off," he was laughing, though, which was good. a noise, a little further away from them. a screech like tyres skidding against asphalt. someone didn't know how to drive on ice, teilo assumed. "it was metal. see, now you're interested. metal bird. i think. shiny, like. not shiny the way pigeons' necks are shiny, but shiny like... like, polished car shiny. and it was nasty. proper nasty. bullied me for months when i was seventeen."
"right," the snide remarks had ended. he was interested. "so what did you do?"
"i did what any concerned individual would do when being harassed by robo-bird," he answered. "went out with a lighter and a can of hairspray and made a little flamethrower. it didn't fancy being melted. flew away. clive valentine one, weird bird, nil."
it wasn't a bad idea. "did you ever find out what it was?" that screeching again, but closer.
"asked the goat man. he said something about pygmalion. i think. think that was the word. dunno, really. just ignored it. none of my business. just some pest that i managed to '-icide'. but it was big, it was - it was all - sharp, and pointy, and a bit like -" something behind teilo caught the ghost's attention. "well, a bit like that." he pointed. teilo turned.

the screeching had not been tyres. foolish of him to have believed that it would be something so mundane. the steel-feathered fiend was coming in hot and fast. barely had time to take it in before it was crashing directly into him, sending the son of death sprawling on the freezing ground.

"oh, cripes,"

[sweet.peaches~]

「 ʀɪʟᴇʏ ᴘᴀʟᴍᴇʀ 」
⚡ 16 | she/her | zeus | location: dining pavilion (table 10) | tags: ophelia, aydan

"you don't even know me," she spat back at the camper. 'should I know who you are? honestly haven't heard a peep about you,' my ass. if he knew her 'daddy' was zeus, then everything else spewing out of his mouth seemed like utter bull to her. "oh please." for once, riley didn't know what to say. she tried her utmost best to figure something out, but she was losing her motivation for, ehm, 'joking' around with ophelia. it was absolutely no fun being ganged up on. "you really think that i'm like the rest of you guys? no thanks. that'd suck." she wasn't that stupid. it was a shame he didn't see that.

what was she doing? what was she supposed to do now? riley was lost, and of course discouraged by their pity. "i..." riley swallowed. she was about to say something, maybe more lashing out, but nothing came out. nothing wanted to come out, because she felt rather dizzy again. i don't know what i'm doing, but i do know that this distraction was ultimately a failure. for now, she'd leave ophelia and whoever-this-kid-thinks-he-is alone, because she wasn't about to be pinned as a bad guy for picking a fight with people who were being 'nice.' it was probably all fake, but if they felt too sorry for her to do anything, then what was the point?

"thunderbird." what a terrible nickname. she would've laughed if she wasn't so down. but it's certainly not the worst i've heard. "thanks." riley didn't understand if she actually cared or the 'thanks' was genuine, but it was out there, and that had to matter, right? "you can have that talk now. sadly, i won't be there to give you trouble, since i'll be at the campfire." the hint of sarcasm in her tone was quickly replaced by slight sadness. don't be vulnerable, she reminded herself. now get out of here before you start sobbing. "and i'll be back, by the way. if you're so sure you want to wait."

after a small wave, she turned around and walked away from the aphrodite table.

「 ʀᴏʙʏɴ ᴀᴅᴀᴍs 」
🌺 17 | she/her | aphrodite | location: dining pavilion -> hill near cabins | tags: beck

the riley and ophelia drama at her table - she had to admit - was entertaining. and really outrageous. more outrageous than entertaining. poor ophelia had to deal with riley being super obnoxious (god, what was her deal?). then her friend butted in. she felt like she should've fallen into a ditch for not helping out but people were intimidating when they were mad. especially if those people were super powerful demigods who could kill her in seconds. robyn mentally freaked out when seeing the sparks come out of her fingers. she's gonna electrocute ophelia!!! her panic slowly dissolved once riley went away, the daughter of aphrodite personally thought she'd never leave, and now they were back to normal. er, as normal as a half-blood's life could be, which was barely normal. to the campfire, she thought as she hopped off her seat, scrapped her leftovers off her plate as an offering to her mother, please help the camp! i don't want anybody else to get hurt. after she was done with that, robyn was about to head towards the campfire until she saw a familiar face. immediately running off to the cabins areas, she squealed in delight.

"beck!! goodness gracious, it's been a whole year since i've seen you, how are you?" she clapped her hands. "is maggie alright? do you know how tweety is?" she missed her parrot along with camp and its many pleasures. and of course, her half-siblings. "were you injured during the battle? how have you been handling the snow? what's-" she stopped, realizing she was bombarding him with questions. her cheeks became tinted pink. "sorry, it's just been so long," robyn apologized. "we should be heading to the campfire soon, want to come with me? we can catch up during our walk, i bet i've missed soo much." knowing how morbid the whole day had been for everybody, it wasn't going to be a pleasant night. at least with beckett, it could be a little bit more brighter.

[indigo']

━━━ 𝐀𝐮𝐠𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐚 𝐅𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐑𝐞𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐬

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

“Well running backwards and looking like an inflatable tube man are both weird ways of running, so you still have something in common. Maybe you should give the ostriches a chance. You could start a support group.” There was a bit of a contradiction between the apology and her continued prodding, she didn’t really think it mattered. After so long of every move they made mattering, every split second decision being life or death, it was nice to have a moment of mindless teasing—just saying things with no thought and no consequences. It was almost enough to forget the chaos waiting for them, enough to push back the constantly lingering sense of dread for a while.

Auggie narrowed her eyes, glaring back at him. “You’re going the right way to get flicked into non-existence,” she threatened half-heartedly. “You think you’re safe because I’m maybe a little, tiny bit injured and sleep deprived?” She shook her head. “Maybe this whole thing is a ruse. Maybe I just want you to think I’m incapacitated so you’ll let your guard down. Then when you least expect it, I'll flick you into oblivion.”

She pulled a face of disgust at the comparison to peaches, clearly not convinced. “Bones,” she decided finally. “He’s like...an animal, isn’t he? If he’s crunchy it’s because he has bones and that’s just disgusting. You want to crunch on his bones, sicko.” Her expression of confusion only furthered at the elusive response, waiting for elaboration that never came. “What are you—why—what? What incident?” She shook her head stubbornly, refusing to give in to the praise of Oscar the Grouch. “No, because if he doesn’t have access to a better living arrangement than a trash can, he definitely doesn’t have access to a shower. Maybe you just—” She paused, corner of her mouth twitching up in a smile. “I can’t believe you have me arguing about a trash puppet. I don’t know how you do that.”

“I think I can. I just did.” The protesting of her alleged ‘bullying’ only made Auggie laugh more. “If you don’t want me to repeat the stupid stuff you say maybe you shouldn’t say stupid stuff,” she offered helpfully. “I’m not bullying you. I’m sure lots of people confuse a ninety something year old actress with a cake brand.” She shifted, turning to look up at the ceiling again, squinting her eyes slightly as if she were deep in contemplative thought. “Do you think Betty White and Vanna White are related?” It wasn’t a genuine question, simply more fodder to the embarrassment. “Maybe they have get togethers. Talk about how similar their careers are. How often they get confused for each other. All that stuff.” She glanced over at him with a teasing smile, eyes shining with amusement.

[sammy,]

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

"well, the difference there is that i don't make a habit out of running. my entire brand is not based on the speed at which i run. i have a lot of other, much better features that don't involve my flailing and uncontrollable limb movements," being compared to a giraffe was one thing, but ostriches were a step too far in his book. he had far too many qualms about the land-birds and their evolutionary intricacies. "don't need a support group. perfectly fine right where i am, actually. i've learnt to cope with my tube man limbs."

"you would threaten to flick me into the void," orin shook his head with disbelief. "i don't think you're that prepared. i think you might be trying to fool me into a sense of false anxiety." rather than the opposite that she was proposing. "i don't think that's your plan at all. i don't think you could flick me into oblivion even if you tried."

he was set on his beliefs regarding oscar the grouch. there would be no changing that, bones or not. "well, that doesn't stop the french from eating ortolan, does it? they crunch on those little birds like there's no tomorrow. cover their faces to hide their sin from god, but that's nothing to do with the bones. i don't see the trouble with noshing down on a bit of marrow." he said simply. "you know, the incident," orin said expectantly, rather enjoying the confusion. "the one that altered my perception of food for the rest of my mortal coil." as though it was obvious. "you just don't understand oscar the grouch. he's a good guy. he does his best. just 'cause he's a little bit down on his luck, you think that makes him an utter fiend. i don't agree. i think he's a decent guy, and i want to eat him. nothing wrong with that in the slightest." he concluded, certainly set in his ways.

more unintelligible muttering came as the bullying comment was lifted upon, the lack of similarity between the two being made even more clear as time went on. he made to cover his exposed ear with his inner arm. "i'm not listening to this anymore. you can't hurt me if i can't hear you," he exaggerated a couple of clearly falsified sobs. "i won't allow myself t'be humiliated like this. this has to stop now. you can't keep doing this to me, it's not right. it must go against some convention. you're committing war crimes by carrying this on. torture is actually illegal, i'll have you know." he removed his hand from his face, shook his head indignantly when he spotted the smile, and back in front of his eyes his fingers returned. "are you enjoying this?"

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

for a moment, everything was dark. time stopped, the world forgotten for a second and a half. all teilo felt was the cold ground, his head, which felt warm, pressed against crystals of snow and concrete ground. he forgot about the bird, and the ghost, and the weather, and just took it in.
"get up!" brought him out of the brief, but welcomed, daze. unfortunately, reality had to return. the gargled, tinny screech of the bird that soared and taunted overhead could go ignored no longer. to his feet teilo stumbled, reaching for the warm spot on his head to find red drenched across his fingers once they came away for acknowledgement. that was annoying. everything about this was annoying. and inconvenient. no backup, no plan, just a bird with a lust for blood and a very anxious ghost.

"have you got that lighter?" he asked, searching for some kind of weapon to use against the thing. a cold spot in his pocket went ignored.
"do i - do i heckers, like. even if i did, you wouldn't be able to use it. i'm a ghost, muggins. you need to - i mean, surely you've got something. surely they've not sent you out without a gun, or something, if it's this dangerous for youse," clive was right. he did. the cold spot. emrys, recalled. pulled from his pocket and glanced at as wings overhead cut through the cold air. "a watch. they've given you a bleeding watch - what, do you want to read your own time of death, or some-" the button clicked, the battle scythe extended. "colour me surprised."
"if you've got nothing useful to say, would you just shut up and let me handle this?" he barked, sick of the rolling monologue. a test-swing at the bird did little to faze it. it just dodged his arc, flew higher, further, squawking all the way. "come here!"

this went on for rather a while. clive shouted vague words of encouragement as teilo swung and missed and swung and missed, only serving to wear himself out. the aggravation doubling with each near-hit, becoming boiling frustration. he was tired and emotionally overdriven and his head was hurting and he was freezing cold and he was getting really sick of not having a single moment to just think without something getting in the way and ruining it.
the base of the handle of the scythe was driven into the ground as a reflection of this. nothing more was intended, but when something rushed through teilo's head, he didn't see make the immediate connection. didn't feel much different. a noise from clive. a low humming, the sound of whispers that emanated from a couple dozen mouths.

the bird looked at him. at something - some things just out of his vision, and let out a roar. he let out one of his own, the low wave rushed his mind. forward teilo launched.
"you didn't bloody - who are these lot?" clive shouted behind. the bird flew at his head, claws scraped against skin. he didn't feel it. "taffy, what have you done with your face?" vision swam, but no blood yet. it was as though the skin didn't exist to be lacerated. in his defence, it didn't. he would have known that had he been able to see himself in all of his present wonder: the draws of his cheekbones, the hollows of his nose, the eyes that bulged out of their sockets with no lids nor lashes to cover them. in the back of his mind, he noted that his fingers, his arms, looked wrong - paler, thinner than normal as they clutched the handle of the scythe, crashing it down, but he hadn't yet made the connection that they were his bones, that he was seeing his skeleton.

as soon as he made connection with the bird, it seemed rattled. teilo's vision was blurring, but the swathes of figures, figures that hadn't been there before, that were decked in armour and carried shields with insignias he recognised, holding swords and makeshift swords - launched him forward further, low drones keeping his body moving - attempting to dodge the razor-feathers flung at him, failing for the most part - whilst his mind stilled.

one more crack with the scythe sent the bird spiralling to the ground. it appeared he'd won. funny, given that he didn't particularly feel the benefit. immobile, staring at its scattered body, the shining, steel feathers it left behind. the corners of his vision thrummed with ink. his skin returned to him, the soldiers fading out of vision.
"teilo?" came the hesitant voice. knees did crumple, cold ground meeting him again. the voice came from above, cutting through growing dark. "taffy, are you - i know i - don't die on me, mate. i don't particularly want to take your chin off. that was good. you've impressed me. you'll ruin that if you die now. come on, lad, up you get. come on. clive valentine and taffy two, weird bird nil. come on."
when he had told ash not to come looking for him, he hadn't anticipated his half-hearted comment to come to fruition. he didn't expect to want to be searched for. it felt a bit late for that now. he was very tired. the cuts made by the birds offensive manoeuvres were now visible, leaving streaks of red down the sides of his face, caught by the mottled snow on the floor of the rooftop.
"can't give up now, taffs. come on," the joviality that had been terminally present from the ghost had all but dissipated, replaced by something that sounded similar to disappointment. it barely cut through the noise of his own heart thumping in his ears. "come on, teilo. up you come."

[Kveykva]

──────── 𝐀𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐧 𝐒𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐫
[✦] | Athena Head Counselor | 15 | Male | ➡ Hampton, Room 204 | Tags: Jamie
❝ 𝑔𝑖𝑣𝑒, 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝑔𝑖𝑣𝑒 𝑢𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑙 𝑖𝑡 ℎ𝑢𝑟𝑡𝑠❞

"Wow. That’s…"
"It's fine." Really, it was. "Maybe things could have turned out different, but I don't mind it much." Aiden said with a shrug. He felt no shame in his circumstance; he knew a dozen other demigods who'd had similar experiences. Delilah and Dahlia had practically been raised at Camp Half-Blood, so it wasn't like his story was anything different. "I don't see why you would have, most kids don't start going until they're thirteen. That's when it was decided the gods had to start claiming their children by, and about when the demigod scent starts getting strong enough to be tracked by monsters." He imagined those two facts had a correlation, to which he commended the one who came up with the idea in the first place (their name wasn't coming to him at the moment). "That doesn't have to do with whether you're good at it or not," Aiden began, sitting cross legged on his bed to face Jamie with his hands clasped. "That's not me saying you suck - it's in your blood. You're half god, it'll come to you. Usually, it shows up when you need it most, and then it sticks. Everyone is different, but what's important is you know it's in you. Back when kids would go, fifteen, sixteen years without ever knowing their mom or dad was chilling at the top of the Empire State Building, they would get attacked at schools or in alleyways by an empousa and not know how to react. That ignorance killed a lot of kids our age."

"But picture it now, Jamie -" he spread his hands. "You get attacked by an empousa now. You know Iris is your mother, and she gave you a Celestial Bronze knife to prove it. You also know what an empousa is, so instead of just shooing it off or, gods forbid, calling 911 and getting some poor mortals killed with you, you can just kill it. Easy, simple, done." Aiden rested his hands back on his knees. "It sounds like a stretch now, but you'll get there. We all did, for some of us it just came earlier." He hoped his pep talk had some kind of impact on the son of Iris, especially considering he was the one out of the group who seemed like they needed the biggest push in the right direction for the time being.

"Like I said, it's all pretty fuzzy." Aiden said, shoulders relaxing as the conversation shifted. "I... I remember cicadas. Pretty vividly, compared to a lot of other things. The weather was always warm in the afternoons when I took naps, but there was always a breeze so it wasn't too bad." He scrunched up his nose, head lulling as he searched deeper. "I don't know who it was, but someone took care of me in that house. She... I think she was older, and her hands were always covered in callouses." Not much else followed. "I also don't think I liked taking baths back then, but I'm not sure."

──────── 𝐖𝐢𝐥𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐦 𝐖𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐬𝐨𝐧
[✦] | Hephaestus | 18 | Male | ➡ Dining Pavilion | Tags: Tomás
❝ ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟 𝑡𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑑 𝑡𝑜 𝑠𝑒𝑒 𝑤ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑏𝑒𝑎𝑡𝑠 𝑠𝑜 𝑠𝑡𝑟𝑜𝑛𝑔 𝑖𝑛𝑠𝑖𝑑𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝑚𝑒❞

Will lumbered his way towards the buffet spread, only a select few of the options actually sounding appetizing in his current, adrenaline-starved state. A handful of biscuits and some roasted chicken were haphazardly added to his plate, with about half of the bread immediately tossed as a sacrifice to the Olympians as a thank you. They lived to fight another day, but only barely. With the leftovers tucked against his chest, Wilhelm turned to scope out the Hephaestus table across the mess hall - nearly stepping on a shorter camper in the process. He maintained his balance well for someone of his size, but the other didn't seem to notice the narrowly avoided disaster. "Er, mistaken me fer someone else." he grunted, brows scrunching as he attempted to recall the name belonging to the face before him. "Will." he corrected. "Of th' Hephaestus cabin." Whether that cleared anything up remained to be seen, but the other camper's name wasn't coming to him just yet. As he examined the other, the milkiness in his eyes became more apparent: a sign of blindness. Will's grandparents had an old hunting dog that suffered from cataracts before it died, and he struggled to recall if any campers he'd known back in the day were also blind. "Do I - 's been a while, sorry. 'ave we met before?" Will asked. "Which cabin are y' from? Might narrow down th' list."

[takara]

☤ | Reese Dawson
17 | He/him | Hades | Cabin 7 | Apollo NPCs, Open

God, why is it so bright? Reese squinted against the harshness, twisting away from the light like a reverse sunflower. Reese turned to his side, but a cold hand slid to his wrist, restraining it. Voices buzzed overhead, something like 'Hold him down, he's moving like a beached whale!' As if beached whales wriggle. Geez, be realistic here! And while we're at it, just let me die here, please. "EMMMMPH!" He eloquently explained, brain to mouth feed uncooperative. Did they hit me with something? Why? I was... well, I suppose I was pretty out of it. Prying his eyes open, Reese blearily peered at his caretakers. They scuttled about like ants, and focusing on just one threatened to give him a headache. Ma used to swear by looking at the skyline. And smelling salts. I wonder, do we have any of those.

Everything was hazy, so he braced himself against the bed, shoving up onto a sitting position. He blinked owlishly, trying to convert the bolts of color into people. They pranced about, and a moment later, hands were back on him, pushing, prodding, some overactive kid with a flashlight diving in for a PEARLA test. God, having a good first week are we? "Please stop with the unnecessary tests, they are not necessary, thank you!" He waved a hand, utterly failing to stop any of the over eager kids.

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

Jane heard rather than saw the demigod's approach. Gods, why am I like this? Already, she was at her own throat, berating herself. She gathered a bowl in her hands, scooping beef stew into it steadily. She nodded along in apposition as she listened to Winona, eyes trained on keeping the dish accident free. "I suppose it can get boring here. I've never stayed long enough to notice," She said, shrugging. It was true, the Hunters weren't babysitters, and even if they were, it was a well known fact that the gods wouldn't bother hiring them. Honestly, that alone is a reason for Artemis to chose not to have her own.

She frowned at Winona's sudden change in demeanor. For a moment, she questioned if they were once more under attack, scanning the crowds. Nothing seemed amiss. She allowed herself a calming breath, then followed without protest. That did tend to be her specialty.

As much as she'd like to talk with the girl, the bowl of stew stared up at her accusingly. She winced in return. Still have to deal with the ill children. "Unfortunately, I'm actually delivering this to the infirmary, but maybe we can talk after?" She asked, unease moths flitting to her stomach.

[WitchHazel]

Mirabelle Everhart
|♡|17|She/Her|Aphrodite|Head Counselor|Location: Hampton Inn Room 208|Tags: Aggy ➡ Ash|

A smile graced Mirabelle's face at Aggy's exuberant thanks as she was given the keycard. "You're welcome." Though she didn't necessarily want to admit it, she was starting to grow rather fond of the little human wrecking ball. Aggy's next action caught Mirabelle completely off guard, however. She - she's apologising? For what? "What? No, I can't possibly -" Her protests were cut short as the crumpled twenty-dollar bill was thrust into her hands. "Um - I mean - thanks..?" She still wasn't quite sure why Aggy was giving her money - sure, she'd paid for the diner fare and taken care of the hotel room, in a manner of speaking. But she didn't mind doing that - well, at least the first one. Charmspeak was a little more convoluted.

Thankfully, Aggy seemed perfectly content to let Mirabelle take over the shower. The daughter of Aphrodite didn't miss the younger girl's oddly stifled yawn. She had to suppress a giggle at how silly Aggy's face looked. Then the small spitfire was taking the far bed, unceremoniously crashing upon it with a sleepy affirmation that she was in fact going to sleep. Here's to hoping she's a deep sleeper. Mirabelle was relatively quiet typically, but it would still pay if Aggy was one of those people who could sleep through an earthquake - just in case. She had just set her bags down by the foot of the bed she'd be staying in when a knock came at the door. She opened her mouth to respond, but quickly thought the better of it after one glance at Aggy's blanket-clad form. She straightened herself and started walking to answer when it sounded again, more insistent this time. I'm coming, I'm coming! As she neared the door, a flood of turbulent emotion accosted her senses. What in the name of - wait... these aren't my feelings. It took her a moment to discern the difference - or what she could of it, anyways. It was like unravelling a very tangled ball of yarn. Look away for one second, and her fingers were caught between the strands. Right... clear your mind, take a deep breath. She donned a pleasant expression like a mask before her fingers wrapped around the doorhandle.

Upon opening the door, she could immediately tell that something was wrong. "Ash? What's going on, are you okay?" Ugh, come on, Mirabelle! Don't ask stupid questions - of course he's not okay! That absolute mess of emotion is certainly his, you dolt. "Um - right, sorry, that was a stupid question. Do you... want to go somewhere and talk about it? I'd invite you in, but Aggy's sleeping and I don't want to wake her." She'd kept her voice low for this exact reason. "I'm not really sure where else we can talk, at least in private..."


Juliet Pratten
|⟡|16|She/Her|Hermes|Location: Cabin Seven|Tags: Tulip|

Juliet took a huge bite out of her chicken platter, not even bothering to fully swallow before answering. "I dunno, Khione's just kinda always had it out for us. Or that's what I heard." She chomped down on some more food as she continued on, gorging herself like a starved beast. "Yeah, evil Elsa chick. V-something, I think. Her name's not important, just that she's some meshuggener who wants to kill us all or something." She shrugged, ripping off another morsel. "I'm not the best person to ask about that sorta stuff. Don't really pay attention to history and mythology lessons." A pause, where she ruminated momentarily. "Or any lessons, for that matter. Go ask one of the nerds, they'll probably know something."

Kathryn Blackwood
|☽|17|She/Her|Hecate|Location: Cabins Circle|Tags: Cricket, Lucy|

Shrugging on her dark cloak to ward against the cold, Kathryn started to follow a group of demigods towards the campfire. The small migration paused, however, when a small boy - Nemo, Kathryn recalled - came rushing past, nearly tripping over himself in the process. He seemed to be headed towards the pavilion. If Kathryn hadn't known better, she would have thought something was chasing him by the way he was tearing up the hill. Strange. She traced his steps to where a nymph was talking with - wait, was that Lucy? Her heart skipped a little - by the Poseidon cabin.

As she drew closer, she began to realise that Lucy had pinned someone to the wall with one of her arrows. What in the blazes - is that a spirit? It was difficult to tell sometimes. When she was younger, she'd had a much harder time discerning the dead from the living, and vice versa. Maybe it was just an older camper... but no, something was off. Her gut was telling her otherwise.

A nymph was already there asking Lucy if she needed any help, but they looked more like they would hide rather than fight if it came down to it. "Hey, sweet cheeks. Whatcha got there?" She shifted her weight from one boot to another, flicking out one of the Sisters. The Crone - the blade of Stygian Iron. He doesn't look so tough.

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

Liv followed Corey's gaze to the sky, but she didn't see anything. "Hey lightning butt!" She shouted up into the clouds. "Are you seriously too chicken to defend yourself? We're sassing you here, thunderhead! What'cha gonna do about it?" She continued to yell a bunch of rude words and insults at the snowy empyrean, complete with the gestures to match. Her heart nearly jumped out of her chest when a small flash illuminated the sky, accompanied by a small rumble. Maybe he really does have the guts to smite me. Liv kept quiet from that point on, though if asked she would say her silence had nothing to do with the sound from above.

"Not sure if it's supposed to be an insult; I've never taken it that way." She shrugged, a nonchalant expression settling over her face. A slight smile tugged at her lips, however, when Corey bumped her back. The smile widened into something a little more noticeable as the other demigod went on to compliment her abilities. They haven't even seen my art, and they're already impressed by it? "I'm sure you're stick figures are incredible." Sarcasm, yes, but less barbed than it had been previously. "You'll have to show me sometime. I've been told I'm a great art critic."


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

Vivienne waited for exactly two seconds upon Kayle's instruction, but soon realised she had meant it as more of a generalisation than an exact calculation. Her stomach gave a small rumble at the aromatic bouquet of flavours wafting from the kitchen. Not something she would have made for herself - she was more of a simple foods kind of person, but that was probably because she had never learned to cook. Even if it was warm food, it smelled amazing.

Vivienne stiffened as she was jolted out of her thoughts by a strong clap on shoulder. The force nearly made her stumble forwards, but she managed to keep her footing. The next thing out of Kayle's mouth put her on the defensive. "These are not mere rags, I assure you," she snapped, pulling away abruptly. "A-At least... they were not. They were - damaged." Whether it had been by combat or the tumble on the church, her clothing really was a mess. She'd shed her armour in the car, along with her axe. "A new outfit...?" Where would they acquire a new outfit? Surely it was too late for shopping, and Vivienne had no American dollars on her to begin with. Regardless of her burgeoning questions, she followed Kayle through the house.


Audra Stark
|⛈|17|She/They|Kymopoleia|Ghost|Location: Morgantown, PA|Tags: Nicholas|

Audra nearly snorted with bitter laughter at Death's whispered remark about 'playing his part'. "Yeah? And who's to say it's gonna work out for you? I played my part as a demigod, and look where it got me." She gestured to her spectral form once more. "Who's to say that - that thing will keep it's word? I wouldn't trust it as far as I could throw it." She was spitting some hard truths, but Audra wasn't one to hold back on honesty.

As Death - no, Nicholas - explained why he wasn't so scary, an involuntary shiver ran down Audra's nonexistent spine. She'd learned about the gods at camp, and how each had a divine form that would burn mortals and demigods alike to ash if they saw it. Jason Grace had been the only known person to survive seeing a god's divine form. Up until that point, everyone thought it couldn't be done. His muffled cough brought her back to reality. She raised an eyebrow, but kept her mouth shut this time. She'd said her piece already on that topic.

Audra couldn't help but chuckle when Nicholas mentioned his foul language. "Vivienne? Swearing? Now that would be a first." She didn't even think Vivienne had so much as said 'hell' or 'damn' in all the years they'd known each other. "Her trust is the only thing that makes me even consider putting faith in you." A bit harsh, yes, but blunt and to the point. He was a literal Horseman of the Apocalypse - Death itself incarnate. What other reason would Audra have to put faith in him?

Nicholas's next words thawed her frosty demeanor, however. "You... want me to tell you about her?" Her face softened as memories flashed before her distant gaze. No one has ever really asked me to tell them about June, not genuinely. "Well... she's kind of socially awkward, but you've probably already gathered that, huh?" It was one of the first things one would notice about Vivienne - the cold and impassive demeanor was just a way of keeping everyone at arm's length. "She would never admit it, but talking to other people really freaks her out. She's not comfortable in social situations - especially not crowds, which is one of the reasons she acts so callous most of the time. She also likes to use big words to make other people feel inadaquate, but most of the time she's the one who feels like she's not enough." Audra paused, her ghastly fingers twirling through a strand of grass. "Truth is, she's really, really sensitive deep down. She takes everything personally, even if it's not, and... inside, she's just... scared. More scared than she wants to admit. Even now - especially now, I see it. Now she has something to lose again, and she's terrified of losing that." She's terrified of losing you. The thought went unspoken, but he could probably hear it anyway. "When she's afraid of losing someone, there are two different ways she goes. She'll either cut you out to spare herself the pain, or she'll cling onto you like a lost child." Her phrasing could have been interpreted as judgmental, had it not been for the soft, gentle tone she used. A voice filled with melancholic nostalgia. "Probably the latter, with how she is now. So just - be prepared for that, I guess." She fiddled with the cuffs of her jeans. "But along with being insecure and sensitive, she can be really sweet and caring. Believe it or not. She - she loves Emily Dickinson and has pretty much all her poetry memorised, as far as I know. When she gets nervous, she recites it in her head. She likes chocolate and coffee, and loves peppermint. Don't ask her to choose between coffee and tea; she loves them both equally - so long as they're cold." As Audra went on about Vivienne, it became very apparent how much she cared for her. Her indigo eyes wandered further into the distance, her voice filling with bittersweet fondness. "Her favourite food is cucumber sandwiches, seasoned with dill or lemon pepper but preferably both. She doesn't like the heat because it makes her skin feel uncomfortable, and she hates feeling looked down upon or disrespected. Empathy is fine, but she despises sympathy.

"She's kind of a control freak, but Khione sucked that out of her. She likes cold weather because it makes her feel like she belongs. Oh, and she loves heights. She was a small kid, so she learned to climb up high when she was little so the bigger meaner kids couldn't get to her. She doesn't know how to use a lot of modern technology because we never really had access to it growing up, except at school. She was always good in school. Grades-wise, I mean, or so she said. Either she's not dyslexic or she's just adapted really well, because reading is like second nature to her. She loves books - poetry and encyclopaedias mainly, but also classical stuff. And she likes to write notes and her own poems in the margins of her books." A small sigh of contentment passed through Audra's lips, heavy with the scent of memories. "She has an analytical mind and always wants to know the logic or reasoning behind something so she can understand it better. Knowing how things work is important to her. She's never used contractions; not since I've known her. She doesn't like it when anyone except me calls her June, and neon colours hurt her eyes. She never learned how to dance or cook, not really. She likes stargazing because it's something we used to do together, and she feels less alone every time she looks at the stars. She loves animals but is afraid of dogs, especially large ones. She had a traumatic incident involving fire that scarred her left ankle and her mind, and now she's terrified of open flame. Doesn't matter how big. When she's really frightened, she likes to hide in small spaces. That's why she doesn't like wide open spaces like fields or meadows - nowhere to hide. She's more likely to run from her problems than solve them or face them, and she needs more support than she'll let on. She always sits with her back against the wall in public places so no one can attack her from behind. She can be pretty paranoid and has a hard time with trust - that's why you're lucky. The thing that scares her most is abandonment, though - in any form. Including loss. That's why she's afraid to get close to people - she's afraid of losing them." Pain flashed in the sea of Audra's eyes, but it was quickly replaced by wistful longing.

"Her internal clock and sense of direction are spot-on, as is her memory - the last of which she says is more a curse than a blessing. She loves classical and baroque music and has always wanted to learn violin, but never really had the chance. She loves thunderstorms, the smell of the sea, and forget-me-nots because they remind her of me." Eventually, Audra seemed to come back to herself. Realisation dawned upon her face when she noticed how long she'd been talking. "Sorry, I - no. No, I'm not sorry. You asked about her; I shouldn't be apologising." She straightened herself up, bringing her gaze to meet Nicholas's once more. "Some of these may seem like little things to you, but it's the little things that make someone beautiful. The little things matter just as much as the big ones, if not even more."

[rabbit_with_a_fedora]

.

✞ 𝐓 𝐎 𝐌 𝐀 𝐒 -- 𝐃 𝐀 -- 𝐂 𝐎 𝐒 𝐓 𝐀 “𝐋𝐮𝐜𝐤 𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐝.”
────────────────────────────────────────────────────── ➸
❨ Average camper ❩ ❨ ♂/17 years ❩ ❨ Son of Tyche ❩ ❨ Tags/mentions: Wilhelm ❩ ©



Will.. Tomás had met this guy, he thought, when he’d just arrived at camp, though the memories were a bit fuzzy. He was sure he hadn’t spoken to them often, or else this Will person wouldn’t have forgotten about that one blind demigod at Camp. “Oh, sorry.. Yeah, I though you were the other tall one, from Athena’s cabin.” He started sheepishly, frowning in slight embarrassment. With that done and over, he tried running through everything he knew about this new person. Will hadn’t been at camp for quite a while, though it was also possible that Tomás could have just not been made aware of their presence, so it was hard to think of any pre-conversation knowledge, which Tomás usually preferred to have. “Nineteen.. Tyche.” He answered after, trying to smile slightly. “We might have met before.. though I haven’t seen you around for quite a bit. I mean, not actually seen, just- you know.” He rambled nervously, laughing softly in embarrassment. An almost whispered “Sorry-” was added quickly after, as Tomás’ unexistent gaze flicked back to his plate, and he chewed quietly on a fry.

[indigo']

━━━ 𝐀𝐮𝐠𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐚 𝐅𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐑𝐞𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐬

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

“Oh yeah? Like what?” She obviously didn’t doubt he had better features than flailing limbs or ostrich legs, but the indignance with which he’d reacted made it too hard to resist the continued goading. “You know, for someone claiming to have connections in the underground ostrich racing world, you really seem to hate them.” She nodded solemnly as he continued on. “Right. Good for you.”

She gave him another look of mock-offence, then seemed to concede, letting out a dramatic sigh. “Yeah,” she paused, nodding slowly. “You think that. You go right ahead and think that. Falling right into my trap.” She scoffed. “I absolutely could. Like I said, I’m not going to because I don’t want to. But I could.” She wasn’t giving in on that one any time soon. She wasn’t going to attempt to prove herself, but she definitely wasn’t letting the argument go.

There seemed to be a repeated occurrence of Orin being just as stubborn as she was, but being stubborn over a desire to eat a muppet—or lack thereof—was a little better than being stubborn over an injury. She made another face at the mention of marrow, scrunching up her nose in disgust. “I don’t think that’s better. I think the French are just as insane as you are.” She gave an exasperated groan as he continued speaking of the elusive ‘incident’, clearly amused by her confusion. “No, I don’t know,” she laughed. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” She shot him a glare, though she was still smiling as she shook her head at him. “If you’re trying to be the most frustrating person to ever exist right now, you’re succeeding.” Her views on Oscar the Grouch and his cleanliness were not going to be changed, and she definitely wasn’t going to agree that he seemed edible. “I never called him a fiend. I never said he’s a bad guy, I just said he’s probably super unhygienic. You can’t convince me otherwise.” She let out a huff of a laugh. “There’s plenty of things wrong with that,” she muttered, willing to let the conversation drop, but not without getting the last word in.

There was a brief pause in the bombardment of teasing, only because she couldn’t get a coherent sentence out anymore through her laughter, only furthered by the false, over-dramatic sobs. “I’m committing a war crime?” she managed to repeat finally, eyebrows raised. “God you’re dramatic.” She caught his gaze only briefly before the hand returned to cover his eyes. She rolled back over to face him, pulling his arm back gently in an attempt to pry his cover away. “I am, actually. Very much.”

━━━ 𝐉𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐞 𝐀𝐥𝐞𝐱𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐖𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞

[✿]16|he/him|Iris|Hampton Inn, room 204|tags: Aiden

Jamie nodded, glad that Aiden didn’t seem upset by the sharing of his story. He hadn’t expected him to be. Most of the demigods hadn’t grown up under perfectly desirable circumstances, that was an innate part of having godly blood, but they’d all kind of accepted things for how they were. “Yeah, I guess so.” He stared down at the floor as he considered it, finishing the last bite of his granola bar. It was probably a good thing he’d come to camp when he had and not any sooner. It likely wouldn’t have made a positive difference if he’d made it there earlier on. He cracked a smile at the following comment, letting out a breathy laugh. “Yeah. Yeah, no, of course.” He hadn’t thought Aiden was saying he sucked, but he’d interpreted it that way himself. He nodded along as he listened, saying nothing as he let the words sink in. He wasn’t sure he actually did know it was in him. Sure, he had godly genetics or whatever, but maybe there was more to it than that. Maybe the other demigods—the heroic ones—had some extra sort of courage and power that he just didn’t.

A nervous, high-pitched laugh escaped him at the simple way that Aiden described taking down an empousa. “Yeah, right. Easy,” he repeated, giving the other boy a look of disbelief. He let out a long breath and nodded, expression sobering. “Yeah, you’re probably right.” He hoped he was. It seemed like if ever there was a moment for his abilities to kick in, it would be now, on a quest that could mean life or death for all of them, but it seemed he just had to trust that they would. He looked up to meet Aiden’s gaze again, giving a slightly forced smile. “Thank you. I appreciate it. Glad someone believes in me.” The last part was said in a slightly joking tone, but it was nice to hear someone sounding like they genuinely thought he could manage to kill an empousa—like he wasn’t a total lost cause.

He flopped back onto bed, realizing how exhausted he was the moment he was no longer forcing himself to remain upright. “It sounds nice,” he replied quietly. “Well, not the cicadas. I don’t know, we don’t really have those where I live. But the rest of it.” He was quiet for a moment, listening and taking it in. “I wonder who she was,” he commented idly before letting out a laugh at the following statement. “What kid does? Little kids are like cats. Except...not self cleaning...that was a bad comparison.”

━━━ 𝐂𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐲 𝐁𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐬

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

Corey stared up at the sky as Liv shouted her flurry of curses at the heavens, not bothering to watch where they were going. Their eyes widened at the flash of lightning, mouth spreading into a grin as they looked over at Liv. “Nice,” they said with a nod, as if angering a god were an impressive achievement. The girl seemed a bit stunned, they couldn’t say they blamed her, but they were accustomed to the strangeness of camp enough that they weren’t exactly surprised by the reaction. They were mostly disappointed it hadn’t happened in response to them.

“Oh, they are,” Corey assured her, nodding enthusiastically and ignoring the sarcasm in Liv’s voice. “Oh yeah? For sure. I’d love to get some criticism, maybe some tips, you know? Well…” They tilted their head, considering their own words. “Maybe not tips. I don’t need tips because they’re already so perfect, right? But you can definitely take a look and then tell me how perfect they are. I’d love to hear it from someone else,” they stated with a sly smile.