Camp Half-Blood: Into the Storm - Closed!

[Kveykva]

──────── 𝐌𝐚𝐱𝐢𝐧𝐞 "𝐌𝐨𝐱𝐢𝐞" 𝐁𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐩
[✦] | Mars | 29 | Female | ➡ Hampton Inn, Roof Stairwell | Tags: Audra, Reapers
❝ ℎ𝑜𝑛𝑜𝑟 𝑖𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑟𝑒𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑑 𝑜𝑓 𝑤ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑔𝑖𝑣𝑒❞

Moxie couldn't say she wanted this one - or either of them, for that matter - to be carrying her anywhere, much less to the underworld. Still, she had to admit Tavie was knowledgable - or if she wasn't, she knew how to act the part. Audra pulled out an item from her pocket, but between all the fog, Moxie couldn't make out what it was before the younger girl whisked it away. "Well, I guess even they have to pass the time somehow." she said, folding her arms over her chest and leaning against the wall. Thankfully, she didn't pass through it, despite her faded state. "Jobs can get boring, you gotta make the most out of it. Something tells me these guys don't even get breaks in their careers." Moxie knew a thing or two about passing time on the clock, given that her time in the Corps was fairly lackluster until... "My leg's missing, isn't it." It was a statement more than a question, and she reached down to check. Sure enough, it ended in a stump right at the knee. Moxie felt as though that revelation should unsettle her, but she always knew about it, so why should it?

Tavie's explanation answered some of the questions - but not enough to satisfy the daughter of Mars. "What does that even mean though?" Moxie snapped, feeling anger rise up in her chest. "Die a second time? What? Who? Why? I have questions, damn it!" Although Audra looked ready to follow Tavie's beckon, Moxie wasn't convinced. "Oh, don't be so difficult now," the reaper called Tavie huffed. "I'm doing this off the clock, you know. Out of the goodness of my... I don't physically possess a heart - or any other organs - but let's pretend that I do. I'm ferrying you out of the goodness of it." Moxie scoffed. "And that means I have to go with you? I want answers, not peace. I'll face Pluto's ugly mug if he comes up here and drags me down himself. Otherwise, I'm not going." Technically, Tavie couldn't take a spirit against their will; if they clung to something, it was her job to coax them into a more willing state, but otherwise, her hands were tied.

──────── 𝐖𝐢𝐥𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐦 𝐖𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐬𝐨𝐧
[✦] | Hephaestus | 18 | Male | Cabin 7 ➡ Dining Pavilion | Tags: Tómas
❝ ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟 𝑡𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑑 𝑡𝑜 𝑠𝑒𝑒 𝑤ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑏𝑒𝑎𝑡𝑠 𝑠𝑜 𝑠𝑡𝑟𝑜𝑛𝑔 𝑖𝑛𝑠𝑖𝑑𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝑚𝑒❞

"Nice t' meet you, Tomas." Will responded. "Shame it ain't in better circumstances." The name still wasn't coming to him, so there was a chance he'd never met the other before at all. A count of the beads dangling around his neck answered the question: two beads, two years. Tomas had arrived at camp the year after he'd left, which brought Will some relief. At least he wasn't finding out about his demigod heritage just now, in the middle of all this mess. The Hephaestus camper set his weapon on the table in front of him, just a hair beyond his plate. A few of his siblings exchanged looks - ranging from marveled to fearful - but nobody asked questions. For the time being, he appreciated the silence.

" 's purple." Wilhelm answered partway through a biscuit. He didn't think Tomas knew what "purple" meant, as a reflected emotion or as a hue, so he clarified after he finished chewing. "All's at a loss fer what's 'appened. Came so quick, no one 'ad a chance to recover from yesterday when t'day hit." Following the Big House collapse, Will vividly recalled the campfire's color; it turned a sickening shade of black, washing the cabins in monochrome with persistent snow as the backdrop. It was a nightmare that never wanted to conclude, and even if the campfire had regained some color as the day went on, the darkness in everyone's minds remained.The funerals will be soon, I should be there. For Horace. For Orin. For Jude and Mateo. And in Aiden's absence, for him and for Caleb.

──────── 𝐋𝐮𝐜𝐲 𝐁𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐳𝐞𝐧
[✦] | Apollo | 16 | Female | ➡ Outside Cabin 3 | Tags: Cricket, Kathryn
❝ 𝑖 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑘 𝑜𝑓 𝑚𝑦𝑠𝑒𝑙𝑓 𝑚𝑜𝑟𝑒 𝑎𝑠 𝑎𝑛 𝑜𝑢𝑡𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑒 𝑒𝑛𝑔𝑖𝑛𝑒𝑒𝑟❞

Like many of her siblings, Lucy learned the hard way in the earlier battle that regular old iron worked wonders against the ethereal undead. As a result, her quiver was chock full of iron-tipped arrows, forged by the Hephaestus campers and spread throughout the masses by the Hermes cabin. The arrow pinning the ghost to the cabin wall was iron, as was the one notched in her bow. "You're the expert on that, doll." she hummed in response, vastly different from the cold-eyed glare she was giving the spirit. It looked rather unnerved by the site of Stygian Iron specifically, so things appeared to be in the campers' favor this time around. "Oh? Truly?" a hint of sarcasm tipped the edge of her words. Lucy had plans to interrogate the fiend, which was why she'd sent Nemo off to retrieve Chiron or, at the very least, Mr. D if the wine god was still lurking about. With the situations of the past days slowly growing worse, she wouldn't be surprised to hear he was called away to return to Olympus. This wouldn't be the first time.

"If we're planning on an interrogation," Lucy began, "then I'm not waiting for Chiron to canter his way over here after the announcements. We're doing it now." With Cricket - timid as he may be, and Kathrine, the three of them could make short work of a single ghost, especially given that its necromancer wasn't around anymore. That was a question on its own, but Lucy had a few others she wanted to be answered first. "What are a bunch of kids like you doing here, anyway?" It sounded like the spirit beat her to the punch. "Kat darling, I'll let you have this dance. You are a child of the underworld, after all."

──────── 𝐂𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐕𝐚𝐬𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐳
[✦] | Oracle of Delphi | 23 | Male | ➡ Cabin 10 | Tags: Honey
❝ 𝑠𝑢𝑟𝑣𝑖𝑣𝑒 𝑜𝑛 𝑏𝑜𝑢𝑟𝑏𝑜𝑛, 𝑏𝑙𝑜𝑜𝑑, 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑏𝑎𝑐𝑘𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑑 𝑔𝑙𝑎𝑛𝑐𝑒𝑠❞

It hurt. More accurately, however, it stung. Or perhaps saying it burned fit better. Frost bite. If the situation weren't so dire, he might've laughed at the irony of it. Despite his earlier fumbles and stutters with Honey, she seemed to have her heart set on staying. It surprised him, so say the least. "Th - Thank - Thank you." Cain struggled to get the words out, but a weight lifted from his chest once they were in open air. "I wouldn't expect you to have healing powers," that would be far too convenient. The bite on his arm hurt so much that the pain started to numb, only coming on and off in waves. He wasn't sure if that's how pain worked, but Cain didn't have a better answer to describe it. Still, a description like that could pose problems; from what he remembered, not all of the satyrs were very good at interpreting meaning, especially if metaphors were used. Cain winced as he accepted Honey's offered hand, taking aid to stagger back to his feet. "The -" a pause, long enough for the reminder to settle in. "I think Cabin Seven is the new infirmary," he corrected softly, the fingers on his right arm quaking from the cold.

[indigo']

━━━ 𝐀𝐮𝐠𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐚 𝐅𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐑𝐞𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐬

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

The thanks didn’t feel necessary to Auggie. There had never been a question of whether she was going with him or not, it was never a choice, not something that would even be considered. The corner of her mouth quirked in a smile as she watched him, noting the amount of care with which he adjusted the borrowed jacket. It was old and fairly worn out, but it had been that way when she’d inherited it. The question caused her to glance down at her own tattered hoodie, looking over herself with an exaggerated frown. “Hm? No, I have thirteen identical black hoodies and they’re all bloody and shredded,” she replied without missing a beat, the dry humour coming easily despite the sudden lack of mirth in their situation. She looked back to meet his gaze, eyes momentarily alight with amusement.

The walk to the cabin door felt like a walk to the gallows, a few steps and a piece of wood the only thing between them and certain doom, between the world spinning off its axis for the millionth time that day. They could feign optimism, pretend things weren’t as bad as they were, but it felt like they were past that. It felt a little pointless when they were both entirely aware of how the other was feeling. Auggie glanced up at him, studying his expression for a moment, the rekindling of a carefully practiced facade that had become quite easy to see through, and meeting his gaze when he looked down. She said nothing, didn't attempt to hide the worry on her face yet, simply nodded.

Cold air came rushing through the moment the door was opened, that seemed fitting enough. She drew in a shallow, shaky breath, feeling the icy breeze sting her throat. Cold had never led to good things for her, so she focused on the warm hand in hers instead, clinging to it like a lifeline. “We could,” she responded quietly. Nobody would see them. She doubted anyone would really notice her absence, and those who had been made aware of Orin’s return might convince themselves they’d imagined it, or that he was simply another ghost. But whether it was fear of the unknown, walking away from something familiar—as dark and twisted as that had become, some deranged, nightmare version of what was supposed to be her home—habit, or some inane sense of responsibility; they weren’t. They were still stepping outside, towards the crowd of campers and the dull, purple flame. That didn’t seem fair. She liked purple, she didn’t like this. “We’re not going to, though.” He already knew that. She said it anyway.

[sammy,]

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

the funny thing was that she could have been completely serious and he would have believed her. he wouldn't have doubted that she owned an array of the same garment - though thirteen did feel a bit of a stretch. "maybe one day you'll stretch into the realm of graphic hoodies. i look forward to that one," he was certain he had a hoodie with a lounging garfield on it, somewhere or another. maybe not her style.

if their own struggle wasn't enough, the rest of the camp was like a sounding board for negativity. emotions seemed to roll off them like steam, the violet flames not much of an exposition. everyone knew that everyone felt awful. he didn't like the insinuation, though, that purple was a bad colour, because in his mind - and glancing over at auggie to prove it - it certainly wasn't. purple had been the desired result of every shot of electricity fired at an empty and falsified sky. to have it reflect grief was not only rough, but perhaps a little too pertinent for his liking. he wasn't interested in the theatrics.

"no, we're not, are we?" he murmured, as though that made it certain. there were things that had to be faced. namely, the sound of the eulogies rolling through the crowds, stories shared and pained chuckles shattering in the cold. he looked further on, vision a little obscured by the dark lenses, and spotted jude, staring at the fire as though she had a thousand conflicting thoughts, spotted felix, who didn't look dissimilar, his hair white-looking in the purple glow. "i went to a wedding once that looked a little like this," he said, voice faraway in his own ears. he imagined it was supposed to be funny, one of those things he said, meant to be off-kilter, but it just sounded wrong. "less laughter there, though. more tears, somehow."

( *:･ﾟ✦ ) xx❝xx𝐞𝐮𝐩𝐡𝐞𝐦𝐢𝐚 𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐨 ！！ x─────ix ✩
x──────i ii dionysus. iii sixteen. iiii tags: hank.
ivi campfire.

"too sweet," elfie murmured. sugar was not her gig - never a sweet tooth with her. water was nice, green tea was better. but for the purposes of the nickname, and her father, who looked a little drearier than normal when they reached the campfire, she supposed it worked just well enough.

brief eye contact with the god told her all that she needed to know. there was a certain type of sorrow that she could only relate to the way one would look upon the loss of a pet - less a child, more a responsibility. she didn't imagine that the gods felt grief in the same capacity as they did, with their limited lifespans. they watched all mortals die. it was part and parcel of their communal existence. still, she didn't imagine it felt good in the slightest. not if the hole in her own chest was indicative of anything.

eulogies commenced. for dara, for bradley, whose name seemed to constrict hank's throat. he was the head of the apollo cabin - of course that was a rough ride. in a moment of sympathy, she reached to touch his arm when he choked up. "you did good," she whispered, and he had. though no stranger to the concept of public speaking, elfie's expertise extended only to the land of fiction, where funerals were dramatised and cast in cold tones. nothing like this, which felt more heavy than any scene she could have ever envisioned. the cold mind in her head said that this was good practice, good learning for future emulation. she barely caught the thought, but felt her stomach turn. was she that cruel?

regardless of the turmoil, the eulogies would commence.

( *:･ﾟ✦ ) xx❝xx𝐭𝐞𝐢𝐥𝐨 𝐠𝐫𝐢𝐟𝐟𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐬 ！！ x─────ix ♖
x──────i ii thanatos. iii seventeen. iiii tags: ash.
ivi hampton inn, room 207.

dragons had been a responsibility since he was a child. ever since he'd learned his namesake - that old saint that had apparently saved townspeople from a winged dragon that he had later tamed - he'd gained some kind of fear that the same would happen, that the mere notion of his name was a self fulfilling prophecy. it had been funny when he was a child, dormant when he was a preteen, and had come back full throttle once it was confirmed to him that yes, dragons were real, and there was a very real possibility that he was going to tarnish the name of the ancient man he had stolen the monicker of. "dragons and churches," the latter less of a fear and more of an inherent dislike, an association with the beginning of something that would be come accursed.

"risks?" he let out a breathy laugh, an unnatural sound from him. "i ran from my home on advice of a ghost who had strange dreams. got on a plane for the first time in my life. came here. that's a risk. it's all been risks." but they were different, and he knew that. because they were risks that he was told to take. he had never had complete control over his own life before. he'd played rugby because his grandfather had wanted him to; had come to camp because wilder had ordered him to; had gone on the quest because some dream deemed it so. he hadn't had a choice in any of those matters. to place complete autonomy in his hands was to place a mobile phone in the hands of a monkey. he had no idea what he was supposed to do with it. teilo needed someone to tell him what to do. it didn't appear that this was the kind of situation where that would come.

the hand on his shoulder was a surprise. he'd had it all before, the sorrowful pity, the sympathetic grief. it didn't mean anything to him. "telling you about him isn't going to do anything," he'd let it out to clive, opened a box that had been jammed shut, padlocked and chained, and where he had anticipated a release, some kind of pressure lifted from his chest, he had felt nothing but emptiness. he had believed that talking about it one day would free him of the tethers that bound, but it had done nothing of the sort. there was no point. "he was with me until i got to camp. and then he left, and i don't know where he went. he never said goodbye." realistically, teilo knew that he wouldn't have let him. "i told him -" another bitter breath, eyes shutting in the wake of the memory. "i told him i didn't know how to live without him, and he goes 'then learn'." the next chuckle sounded a little more like a sob. the line between the two was fuzzy.

ash figured it out. "nothing gets past you, does it?" except he hadn't chosen, he had been told to choose, and the choice had been insinuated by the ghost that didn't want him to die. "there's no waiting for me. i don't have to wait. it's always there. it's all i am, death. it made me. i was literally made by death. for some reason." he had never learnt the events that had led to his creation, just that his mother seemed to simultaneously know more than she let on and nothing at all. "'course i came back. you're not going to get anywhere without a driver, are you? can't kick it before everything's sorted." there it was again, his doubt for his own place in the quest group. it was true that he saw himself as nothing more than the taxi, and he was alright with that. less responsibility. just the messenger, the man who steered the horse and cart.

he wasn't sure how to feel about the peck, nor the sudden rush, like ash was hiding from some kind of wrath, from what he had done, his boldness. like teilo would explode upon impact. well, maybe he would. he didn't really know - tenderness was a foreign concept, even with wilder. it had all been loud shouts and shattered bottles, and he had liked it like that. he'd never operated in a realm so gentle or valorous. it was rather frightening to be exposed to it after such a long time, waiting for the switch to occur, for it all to sour and rot, as all things did.

he could hear it as ash drifted to sleep, almost felt it in the room when consciousness left him. for a while, it was at the ceiling that teilo stared, waiting for an answer to appear in the texture of the plaster. he had chosen to live. it felt like that had been enough. it hadn't been. he actually had to put things into motion for results to appear - that felt like a scam and a half.
his eyes drifted shut. dreams waited around the corner.

[indigo']

━━━ 𝐀𝐮𝐠𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐚 𝐅𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐑𝐞𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐬

[✩]17|she/her|Hades|Head Counsellor|Outskirts of Campfire|tags: Orin

Though not opposed to the concept of a graphic hoodie, Auggie got the feeling they had very different images in their head of what that would be. She would’ve liked to think she didn’t consider her appearance too much, unfortunately that would’ve been a massive lie, the most she stretched out being a band logo. “Maybe when I run out. Way things are going, these aren’t gonna last forever.” As if what she was wearing wasn’t already destroyed. It didn’t actually do much against the cold, frigid air biting through the holes to her bare skin. She was getting used to it. At least, she could pretend she was getting used to it.

The air around the campfire felt heavy, dense with the grief of everyone there, like the weight of each person's sadness was taking up a little extra space, sucking out the oxygen. She didn’t like being around sad people. Seeing people cry had always made her feel like crying, and though she’d learned a long time ago how to block that out, how to keep the urge inside and stay stone-faced and impassive, things had changed a lot recently. She wasn’t sure how strong that mask was anymore.

People were speaking. She tried not to listen. Disrespectful, maybe, but she didn’t think she could handle it. She didn’t want to hear the broken tones or look at the mournful faces. Too much had happened, too many people had been lost, and she was still trying to process things. It didn’t feel fair, but it wasn’t fair to anyone. She was somewhere between wanting to cry and wanting to scream, wanting to march right up to Olympus and start punching gods like she’d promised earlier on. Fighting usually made her feel better, made her feel like she was in control of the situation. Funny how that worked, that they’d been fighting nonstop for two days and she’d never felt less in control.

“Must’ve been a crap wedding,” she mumbled half-heartedly. The comment only added to the feeling of detachment from reality, Orin making some sort of joke in a dark situation, but it didn’t sit quite right, didn’t have the right tone, like even he’d given up on trying to pull something good out of the mess they’d been dealt. It would come back, despite everything, she knew that. But at the moment everything just felt numb and distant. She hadn’t been to any depressing weddings, only seen them turn sour later on. But she had been to a more lighthearted funeral. “This isn’t the first time I’ve been at a funeral with someone who’s supposed to be…” she murmured quietly, as if just realizing it to herself, yet she still couldn’t finish the sentence. “But he was…” She couldn’t finish that one either. Not standing next to Orin in the same jacket.

[Kveykva]

──────── 𝐍𝐢𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐬 𝐒𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐦
[✦] | Horseman of the Apocalypse | 56 | Male | ➡ Morgantown, PA | Tags: Kayle
❝ 𝑎𝑛𝑑 ℎ𝑒 𝑤ℎ𝑜 𝑠𝑎𝑡 𝑜𝑛 𝑖𝑡 ℎ𝑎𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑛𝑎𝑚𝑒 𝐷𝑒𝑎𝑡ℎ❞

It was quiet. For the first time in a long time. Nicholas released the breath he'd been holding in the form of a deep sigh, eyes hardly focused on his own hand right in front of him. What am I supposed to do? The question wasn't for anyone in particular, but there were a number of figures he could pose it to. Te Lyuthtya. God. Others of his kind, his divine siblings still bound by their seals. There were others, but he wasn't likely to receive an answer from any of them. A prayer unanswered by the god he was destined to serve, and the one who he held in the highest regard having no words of wisdom to give. I can't imagine Te Lyuthtya expected someone like me. It was disheartening, but slowly becoming customary.

"Stop crunching around back there and come sit with me," the horseman said after a moment. Outed, Kayle huffed and dropped herself next to her brother, the blind woman just barely able to make out the shape of the headstone by its reflection through her energy. "Still here, then." she said. "Sitting out here won't change anything, you know." Nicholas nodded. "I know."

Kayle never understood what went on inside his head. He was a lot like their mother in that regard: always thinking and rarely sharing. She liked to think she knew him better than anyone, but the truth remained that she hardly knew him at all. "You can't keep going like this, Nick." She said, gently but sternly. "You can't keep dancing around and making half promises. Things are going to happen quicker than you can play all sides."

"And what would you know about that?" Nicholas snapped. "I'm not -" "Yes you are." She didn't dare let him finish. "Don't try to lie about it, you know it's the truth. You're a lot of things, but there's one that's more important than anything else." Kayle turned and pulled him into a tight hug. "You are you, and that's all that matters. Don't be distracted by the what ifs, should haves, or would haves." She released him but held him by the shoulders. "The one thing you choose yourself, that is the truth of your universe. Don't sit back on the sidelines and watch, you have to come to a decision sooner or later."

He wanted to believe that. He wanted to believe that all that mattered for him was to be himself. She made it look and sound so easy. At this point, he didn't know who "himself" was anymore. "Horse and rider are often of one mind." Truer now than ever, they were of one body. "I want to deny it, Kayle, but it's here just as much as it is here." He tapped his heart and then his temple, continuing to avoid her gaze. "I want to choose something, something important. Something that matters. I made that choice one, and I chose wrong. That's the truth of it, I -"

"You're going to kill yourself." Kayle finished. "You're going to sit out here until all those injuries get the best of you, and for what?" She scoffed. "It's not permanent. You aren't going out on your own terms, you're making everyone worry." She eventually released his shoulders and sat to the side, shoulders slouched. "Come home, Nick. Please... I can feel you fading, and I know it won't kill you, but not everyone does." It would take a lot of convincing, but she'd learned a thing or two about persuasion from her older brother. "You won't go to the doctor, I already know that. So come home, and let me get you patched up. You can't very well ride back to your queen of diamonds looking all raggedy ass." He was silent for a long time. Too long of a time, and just long enough to spark Kayle's impatience. "Okay, let's go then."

...

"You are the Horseman, Nick.
It's only a bad thing if you want it to be.
There are people counting on you to play a part,
and you have to pick a side.
Even if it's the wrong side."

[sammy,]

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

it was a strange thing, to feel the emanation of grief from people who lamented the passage of their friends and their siblings into a realm that he had dipped his toes into. more than that, he supposed. he had delved headfirst into the source of their pain and walked out - not quite without a scratch, as he was learning, but near enough. he had made it back, whereas the others had not. orin wasn't particularly sure how he was supposed to feel about that. maybe they had been more suited to elysium than he had, more prepared to die.

which was another strange thing, because he had been certain in his belief that he would accept death in the moment it came to him. while the minutes that led up to the moment of finality were still hazy, he knew that he had been scared, and that that hadn't ever been the plan.

"neil diamond themed" was the best way he could explain the nature of the cataclysmic event. "the happy couple took 'forever in blue jeans' a little too literally. they had a tribute act who looked more like john travolta than he did. it was... something." the flames licked at the mist-shrouded air, the smoke and the cold creating an atmosphere that felt more difficult to breathe in with every passing moment. auggie's voice cut through the muttering noise, the wave of contradictory emotions evident before it crashed on the shore. when she trailed off, he let go of her hand to instead wrap his arm around her, careful not to brush her shoulder.

he was quite thankful for the sunglasses, because he had a funny feeling that the trained expression hadn't reached his eyes yet. there was something very disconcerting about knowing that some of the tears, the stifled ones and the flowing ones, were for his absence that hadn't been contradicted quite yet. jude had no idea, felix had no idea. their knowledge of him was centred entirely on the shroud that was off to the side, ready to be burnt. a flag, his flag, the one that had hung limp above his bed. desecrating his flag - that was certainly an idea that someone would be reemed for. "it's mad how -" he started, looking at the lump underneath the dimly lit fabric. that was him. had been him, but wasn't anymore. "how, uh..." he couldn't formulate the words properly, doll them up to make them sound less harrowing than they were. "how they have themed weddings but not themed funerals." that wasn't what he was going to say in the slightest, but it was easier than letting the potential words hang in the air, untouched. "would make them a little easier. probably. i mean, that's a business venture."

[sweet.peaches~]

「 ʀɪʟᴇʏ ᴘᴀʟᴍᴇʀ 」
⚡ 16 | she/her | zeus | location: cabin 1 -> campfire | tags: emmie

the smile looked.. well, sad. to be honest, it'd be more disturbing if it was a genuinely happy one. it gave her a little bit of
relief that she wasn't the only one who wasn't doing great. and she meant it when she said 'a little bit' and not 'a godly amount.' "should I change, I don't think yellow is the vibe for a funeral." i think people would be too busy crying to even notice your shirt color, riley thought. but it was one of those thoughts any functioning human would second-guess (at least, that's what she thought). not because it was inappropriate - though that was partly the reason why - but her throat felt like it was dying. "right call," she finally croaked out.

"'sure. i was. uh. heading there anyways." it was mostly a lie, but she'd look pretty bad not going to her brother's funeral when his sister was. "follow me." she walked out of the doorway and headed towards the direction of the campfire.

"this really sucks." riley wasn't sure whether or not she was talking to emmie or just saying her thoughts out loud, but it was out. "i mean, obviously it's.. well, obvious because everything's going wrong and nothing- nothing seems to be going the right way. it's going left." haha. "and we're used to the world ending and then some demigod saving it all the time, yknow.. but this just doesn't seem like that. it has this empty feeling that we're all gonna die, and maybe it's not worth it anymore because it'll just keep.. happening. i don't know. it's hard to be optimistic when you're not ignorant about the world's problems, even as a mortal."

"i got dark there. sorry. oh hey, we're here." she noticed the campfire immediately. it may not have been pitch-black but it definitely wasn't doing that great. "let's find a seat."

「 ɴᴀᴛʜᴀɴɪᴇʟ "ɴᴀᴛʜᴀɴ" ʜᴀʀᴛ 」
🌿 15 | he/him | demeter | location: demeter table | tags: jacques

he flinched when he heard a voice behind him, but relaxed once he realized that one - the person wasn't going to kill him, and two - it was jacques. "three millenia? that's impressive," he grinned. "i guess i should've have underestimated the power of an all-powerful camp." with power that's starting to crumble, nathan thought to himself. still, if thalia's tree could be poisoned and still somehow get revived, then maybe there was still hope after all. "oh, uh, of course!" he gestured jacques in.

nathaniel gave him a sympathetic smile, "not at all." giving him a little nod, he added, "it's gonna be a rough couple of days at the hermes table. you're always welcomed here, but sometimes you can't really avoid.. sadness from others. you probably already know that though, i mean you seem smart." he didn't have much of an idea of what he considered 'smart,' but jacques was definitely the part. "i think anybody could really tell actually. if their brain isn't mush. but you're still smart." now he was just starting to ramble. "oops. sorry," his cheeks flushed pink. "oh, and you might not want to stay too long if you're going to be at the funerals. okay, i'm done. now you can enjoy the table to its fullest. i think a lot here. and eat. mostly eat. plus talking. but you can do whatever."

[indigo']

━━━ 𝐀𝐮𝐠𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐚 𝐅𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐑𝐞𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐬

[✩]17|she/her|Hades|Head Counsellor|Outskirts of Campfire|tags: Orin

A little puff of air swirled in a cloud of fog in front of her face at the expansion of the circumstances of the tear-filled wedding. It wasn’t quite a laugh—even the thought of a Neil Diamond themed wedding couldn’t bring laughter out of her in that moment, standing in front of the dismal fire, by the sound of broken voices and bodies of people who had been breathing and talking and laughing not that long ago wrapped in shrouds beside them—the breath wasn’t more than an acknowledgment. “Sounds like it,” she muttered in response, unable to bring herself to force out more than that. The easy flow of their conversation had been lost the moment they’d stepped outside, frozen along with the world they'd been thrust back into.

Auggie leaned into him when the arm was wrapped around her, shoving her hands into her pockets in an attempt to gain back some kind of warmth, though she wasn’t sure the cold was actually external. She looked up at Orin when he spoke. She could tell where he was looking, knew exactly what he was looking at, could almost feel what he was about to say. But she didn’t follow his gaze. She’d been pointedly looking away, and though some kind of morbid curiosity still had it’s hold on her, some reflexive urge to glance the way he was looking, she couldn’t do it. The words seemed to stay suspended in the air for a moment, the weight of what he was about to say hanging in the mist. There was a pause, and then he didn’t. She bit down on the inside of her cheek, hard enough to make her eyes prick with tears, and looked down at the ground. “Yeah…” Her voice was barely more than a whisper, but it still sounded weak and pathetic to her.

She hadn’t been close to any of the others, and Orin was standing right next to her. It didn’t feel like she had a right to be as torn up as she felt, but that didn’t stop her voice from shaking or her hands from trembling or the sting in her throat. “I’d…” It was difficult to speak, but if he’d tried to deflect from what he’d been going to say, she wasn’t going to let the statement fall flat, let the darker thoughts crawl back in. “I’d leave...I’d write the absolute worst theme in my will. Make...make everyone dress up like clowns or something and...and listen to classical music.” A pathetic attempt at a joke when she could barely get her words out and each stuttered phrase took twice the effort it was currently taking her to breathe, but an attempt nevertheless.

[rabbit_with_a_fedora]

✞ 𝐓 𝐎 𝐌 𝐀 𝐒 -- 𝐃 𝐀 -- 𝐂 𝐎 𝐒 𝐓 𝐀 “𝐋𝐮𝐜𝐤 𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐝.”
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❨ ♂/17 years ❩ ❨ Son of Tyche ❩ ❨ 2 beads ❩ ❨ Tags/mentions: Wilhelm ❩ ❨ Location: Hephaestus table ❩ ©



“Yeah, I’d guess so.. I hope that’s not their strategy,” Whoever this ‘they’ was, Tómas still wasn’t too sure- Khione? The dead? It seemed an awfully odd arrangement. “Tiring us out before we can even get our act together..” He shivered at the thought of more attacks, hoping that the enemy didn’t have such vast numbers that they’d be able to manage such a feat. It did seem all terribly confusing, though, and Chiron was pretty sure these attacks - these casualties - wouldn’t be the last the camp would see. Somehow. “Purple? Uhh, that’s, erm, ‘better’ than black, right?” Although he didn’t exactly understand the colours of the campfire, he’d decided that memorizing the supposed ‘order’, however vague it might be, in which the colours appeared would prove useful, especially in times like this. “Red, orange, gold..” Tómas raised a finger for each word, “and then I think green, blue, purple, black, right? So at least that’s a good sign.. I think?” He hoped so, at least. If the campfire stayed black for too long, the entire camp may as well just be sitting ducks, waiting to be swallowed. Which, frankly, was how Tómas felt like right now.

.

♜ 𝐉 𝐀 𝐂 𝐐 𝐔 𝐄 𝐒 -- 𝐃 𝐄 -- 𝐋 𝐀 𝐕 𝐄 𝐑 𝐑 𝐄 “𝐖𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐢𝐟 𝐈 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐞?”
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❨ ♂/19 years ❩ ❨ Boreas/Unclaimed ❩ ❨ 9 beads ❩ ❨ Tags/mentions: Nathan ❩ ❨ Location: Demeter table ❩ ©



“Yeah,” Jacques tried to grin, but found it wasn’t as easy for him as it seemed to be for Nathan. Lucky kid, he thought wearily, I still dunno how he makes smiling so easy, even in times like this. “We’ve fought Titans and giants before, not to mention all the dangers of the ye old times that Mr. D keeps going off about.. We’ll be fine. I think.” He couldn’t help that afterthought, as most of his bravado was as much an attempt to convince himself as it was to mirror Nathan’s optimism.

Sliding in beside Nathan with a grateful nod, Jacques stared off across the tense dining pavilion for a few brief moments before focusing on the other’s voice. “Thanks,” He started, “and yeah.. I guess it’s gonna be pretty tough for everyone. But then again, like you said, it’s nothing the camp hasn’t faced, right?” He chuckled nervously, raising his shoulders. One upside to being unclaimed, he realized suddenly, was that he wouldn’t have to live with the knowledge that a sibling could have died in the events of the past two days. The Hermes campers had basically lived with him for almost a decade, and his heart shattered for every one that fell victim, but it just wasn’t the same, exactly. The same could be said for trying to cope with something like this alongside them. Children of Hermes were supposed to be mischievous, and upbeat, and energetic- the heavy silence of the table was all too unnerving.

“Oh, no, don’t worry. You can keep talking, for all I care, it’s nicer to focus on your words than, uh, yeah..” He gestured vaguely at the entire camp, thinking of a way to represent the entire mess of a situation in a few simple words. Jacques had come to this particular table and camper for a distraction as well as an escape, after all. The thought of the funerals, though, sent his mind whirling again. He sort of wanted to pay respects to acquaintances from the Hermes cabin, but he figured it’d be best to leave the actual Hermes campers alone and give them space. And Jacques didn’t exactly know anyone else too closely, so he guessed that, at the end of the day, he’d just be getting in the way. Rhymes unintended.

[tawneypelt0504]

Cassandra Peters|19|she/her|Hermes|Head Counselor|Demi-bisexual|Loc:Dining hall--->Campfire|Tags/Mentions:Delilah,open
Cass looked over at Delilah with concern when she began coughing not expecting to startle her with the mention of Mira. "Well that's good to hear" Cass murmured in response before she finished off the rest of her coffee. Cass figured there might be more to the story due to Delilah's embarrassed reaction but she didn't pry. Cass' thoughts instead to a less happy topic when she noticed the dining hall had pretty much emptied. Letting out a long sigh Cass got up and stretched "I should head down" She muttered tiredly. "If you want to join me you're welcome" Cass gave Delilah a dejected smile before heading out. Cass began to slowly head down to the campfire. She felt tempted to just skip out on it entirely and just go lie down on her bed but Cass had to put her siblings before anyone else. Especially Cammi since Gianna's death had hit her pretty hard although she had been holding up pretty well today. Cass still wanted to be there for her younger sister and the rest of her siblings/cabinmates, so she quickened her pace.