Camp Half-Blood: Into the Storm - Closed!

[takara]

➶ | Hank Walker
17 | He/him | Apollo [Head Counselor] | Campfire | Elfie

'A little friendly competition'

Hank could only nod at the soft words from Elfie. All around him, the funeral service continued, but he didn't comprehend much of it over the sense of wrongness about the whole affair. Another name was called, and it was like sucker punch to the gut, watching kids no more than tweleve stutter through eulogies for their friends. This isn't what camp is. At least, not what it should be.

Hank scratched the back of his neck. There's, there's a lot of them, isn't there? He mused, shifting his weight. Without his bow, his shoulders felt bare, weightless. Unnaturally weightless. It bothered him like an itch that he couldn't quite reach. Easy, bolting won't help, besides I don't know where I left my bow--gods, I don't know where I left my bow! Hank's eyes widened, and his hand strayed back to his neck, going at it with a fervour. He broke the skin this time, but it resealed quickly. The panic however, did not pass as he fought to keep himself focused on the somber ritual at hand, and not where his weapon had last been.

[sammy,]

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

though he had vehemently denied being a ghost to those he had encountered thus far, orin could see the case that had been made. to watch everything from afar, with only a select few aware of his existence, only one aware of him in that moment - the detachment was bizarre. the scene of the mass funeral was one that felt false, scripted. a bit of him believed that if he turned his head quickly enough, he'd catch the edges of the screen this falsehood was being showed upon, that he'd break the wall and end up somewhere else entirely. he was, for all intents and purposes, a ghost, looking at his own body, waiting to be burned. a rooted fear that he'd somehow feel it, the lick of the flame as it rose. unreasonable, he knew, but there nevertheless.

having auggie there, though, was a blessing in its own right. an anchor that was an undeniable reality. there was no running away from this now. you've made your coffin, now lie in it. is that what you'd consider a joke, jasper? is that funny wordplay to you? and no response, the exposition enough to silence the soul once more. "make it into a competition. best clown impersonator gets all your worldly possessions," he said softly, the concept stupid enough to raise a little, inappropriate bubble of laughter in his throat that popped without reaching the air.

it was looking closer to the time, the tearing of the mangy and feral cat from the bag. could see jude fiddling with her hands, clearly deep in thought, could see leo, who stared just as absently as ever into the heart of the fire. "god help me, i'm getting stage fright," he whispered. thinking of something else felt like the ticket. the moon in the sky or the smoke that rose toward it, the concept of stage fright as a whole. "when my school did productions - i mean, awful things - they, um..." quiet, just reciting the tale for distraction's purposes, to ignore the fact he was alive and about to present as such. "right before the first show, the senior cast would talk about this... this initiation ritual called the hustle. legendary thing. highly confidential. happened every year. there were always these rumours about - about having to streak across the field, things of that kind of nature, embarrassing, horrifying stuff for little midgey teenagers." his voice did stabilise a little, still quiet, but better. "the rumours would go 'round every year, and every year they'd gather all the first-timers on opening night, the production team, all of the cast, and they'd drag 'em into this dark room, shout really - really nasty stuff at 'em, just to get their hearts going, get 'em nervous, and when they were all in the room, the older kids, they'd..." he let out a short breath of air. "they'd turn on the song, and that was it. the hustle, the song. everyone would just - do the hustle. and it was so stupid, and so tiny, but everyone would just calm down. forget the stress of the first night, and that was it." and there it was. "i was barely involved in 'em, but they asked me to spread the rumours. because i could make stuff up like that. and - my point, i suppose, is that i would kill for the hustle to start playing right now." he scratched the back of his head with his free hand, rearranged his fringe. "opening night. don't even have lines to forget."

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

the eulogies continued on, but elfie was fixated on the way hank seemed to scratch at an itch that was almost certainly mental. it was easier to watch, the way nails scrabbled to sate something that would never truly be fixed. a part of her wondered whether it was the result of the tail end of the mania, if that was something that she could take the blame for - silly to think, in the circumstances, but there had to be blame placed somewhere.

with nothing else to do, and attempting not to be too confrontational about the ordeal, elfie reached and flicked his hand, unsure he was even aware the ferocity that he was attacking himself with. "you'll scar if you do that too much," she murmured over the morose drone. the solution to the issue was not particularly rooted in vanity, but it was far easier to make it about that. "don't scratch, tap." to demonstrate, she beat two fingers rapidly against the same hand she had flicked. it was no fantastic solution, but it was something. "otherwise everyone's gonna think you've got psoriasis."

[indigo']

━━━ 𝐀𝐮𝐠𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐚 𝐅𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐑𝐞𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐬

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

A mass funeral in a place that was supposed to be safer than anywhere in the world for them all. The irony of that had been exhausted in the past few days, brought up enough in her head and by the people around her to make even considering the thought seem pointless. She’d been angry for a while, and now it felt like there was nothing left to get angry over, nothing left but emptiness. Everything was a contradiction. The stillness in the air and the hushed voices of those giving eulogies feeling too quiet, but at the same time every word, every crack of the fire, every breath, felt amplified and too loud, like if someone spoke with just a bit too much force it would shatter the ice they all seemed to be suspended in.

Laughing at funerals had never been difficult, though that wasn’t likely something to be proud of. It wasn’t like being in the presence of people mourning someone who was gone too soon was anything new, but it all felt far away now. The attempts at jokes came out numbly, like reciting lines that had been long since memorized and had lost the proper tone and inflection to make the act feel real. “Yeah, but who gets to decide which clown wins? Maybe it should just be a battle. Clown battle to the death. Winner takes all,” she said flatly.

Her gaze wandered back to the crowd around the fire, careful to avoid the still, fabric covered shapes. It was almost funny, with the eerie light from the fire shining across pale, tear-stained faces, the air around them shimmering with fog, they looked more like ghosts than the attacking soldiers had. It was an image from a story, or some overdramatic horror movie; the sad, moaning wraiths in the graveyard, weeping for something they’d never get back. They were the survivors. They were the ones still living, but it didn’t look like it at all.

Auggie looked up again when Orin started speaking, sharing a story that was clearly meant to serve as a distraction. She attempted a smile, small and weak, but there. She didn’t have any interjections, no story to add on to help take away from the growing sense of dread, nothing left in her head to block the rest out. She pulled one hand from her pocket and rested it gently over his hand, silent for a moment, then, “I would pay you a hundred dollars to go up there and start doing the hustle right now. Two hundred if you sing it.” Not that she had anywhere close to that kind of money, but she sounded as serious as ever.

[Kveykva]

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

With his mind set on attending the funerals, Wilhelm wolfed down the morsels he collected for himself in an unstately fashion, listening to Tomas' musings in the meantime. He shared the other's concerns about the attack, but he doubted they could dwell on it now. The campers needed time to recuperate, but if the villains were planning to strategically tire them out, they wouldn't get that chance. "Purple reflects th' suffering." Will answered, brushing crumbs from his chin and standing. "Better than black" was a stretch at best; shock versus depression. Everyone was going through the stages of grief. "Don't be dallyin' now, th' startin' th' funerals. I 'ave some things t' say fer my brother."

Will couldn't say it was his responsibilty to give a eulogy for Horace. If anyone had the resposibility, it would be Chiron, or maybe even Mateo since he was their cabin's counselor. Will didn't work with Horace the longest or know him the best, and that was enough. The child of Hephaestus didn't wait around for Tomas to follow him to the fire; if he'd been at camp for two years already, he felt pretty sure Tomas could find his way there on his own. As he approached, heavy-stepped, he heard the names of Dara and Bradley. Sullen faces spanned as far as the eye could see, and an eerie somberness settled over the crowd. They were all grieving, some differently than others, but mourning nonetheless. Chiron was in the proccess of introducing eulogies for others to take on, or doing them himself if no one spoke up in a timely manner, before the shrouded campers were laid to rest on the pyre. "... Horace Smith, of -" "Chiron!" Will hadn't intended to interrupt, but it looked as though he might miss his chance. "I want t' say a few words fer 'im, please." Understandingly, the centaur stepped back and allowed the son of Hephaestus to take the stage. He didn't like this feeling of being in the spotlight, but he wouldn't be there long.

Briefly, he searched the crowd for a face he recognized; Jude's was the first, and she appeared in better health than she had been an hour before. Except for the tears staining her face, likely shed for Dara, and only more to follow for Horace. "If anyone here's goin' t' miss Horace," he began slowly, piecing a eulogy together on the fly. "It'll be the satyrs." he said, referring to his brother's habit of keeping scraps on hand to feed them when they came by with a rumbling stomach. "Horace was kind an' selfless, an' that means he died th' way he would've wanted. Like most of us, he 'ad dreams t' follow. He wanted t' go t' trade school an' start 'is own shop, but... I don't know if 'e ever started down that path." The regret for taking so many summer off for himself began to sink in; he felt a responsiblity to care for his brothers and sisters... "an' now he's gone, but if 'ades 'as a brain rattlin' around that skull of 'is, he'll realize Horace is th' catch of the century. Nothin' will ever be without fixin' in 'is mansion." Will stopped before the rest of the words caught in his throat, dipping into the crowd to mourn with them. He found his way to Jude, settling beside her. "Far from over, ain't it?" He said solemnly as he watched their brother laid to rest the way he lived: surrounded by flames.

[The Fox]

Chad

Location: dining pavillion

Tag: Elios

(My header didnt stay copied )

Chad looked around one last time before looking back to Elios.

"You know, I'm not seeing the two that I was looking for. I suppose I'll just find them later.". Chad follows quietly behind Elios. He watches intently, trying to get a read. Quite a few questions fill Chad's mind, but he decides to ask only one of them. "So, why didn't you go to them from the beginning?"

[sammy,]

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

a clown battle royale certainly sounded like the trick. that would certainly do it. the eulogies shifted to that of horace's - a face in his periphery, a vague memory. he hadn't seen any of the dead in elysium - maybe he should have. maybe it should have been on his list of things to do. he imagined it would have been a little more helpful. or a little more painful, depending on which way it was that he looked at it. spoken by will, who was near unrecognisable from the last time orin had laid eyes on the son of hephaestus. he listened, half-rapt.

"yeah? a whole ton? you sure about that?" he whispered. "'cause i'll... i'll do it, if -"
"orin gorman, of cabin one -"
the voice in his skull said run. but he was rooted to the spot, watching, waiting, playing those scenes of the hustle in his head at rapid speed, thinking of everything but his body being carried onto the fire, the voice that was speaking through a strained smile. "showtime," he said, almost inaudible, mostly to himself. the sunglasses came off, the smile already painted on. he pulled auggie closer, kissed the top of her head, and when the opportunity came - almost too perfect, he thought - forward he stepped, the hanging lights from the cabins surrounding flickering with his nerves.

( *:･ﾟ✦ ) xx❝xx𝐣𝐮𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐱 ！！ x─────ix ♗
x──────i ii hephaestus. iii seventeen. iiii tags: campfire lot, wilhelm,
orin daithi gorman (dust biter). ivi campfire.

the eulogies were rough, but jude's mind was on other things. the words that spiralled around her head, the absences around the fire - auggie, who was missing, likely nursing some wound, and those who were being ushered into the next realm. the goodbyes being spoken were brutal and truthful and too, too sad.

horace was no exception. she had been ready to say something, but her voice caught, and thankfully, will, living up to his name, took the helm, a blanket of dread lifted for the moment. time to simply listen, to reflect on the missing spots around the fire. she stopped fiddling with her hands as her brother spoke, gave him her full attention, eyes forward, watching every second, and when it was over, and will was sitting next to her, talking through a muffle of internal cotton wool. "pretty damn far," she murmured. "you did - you did good. he would've been -" but there was nothing left to say, and she felt that that the quiet was just as important as any fluffy words that she could pull from the dense atmosphere.

she knew it was coming when the shrouds were shifted, but the warning - "- orin gorman, of cabin one -" - did little to lessen the blow of the words.

maybe a little too quickly, jude stood. "can i -" she asked, and when the centaur nodded, she took a breath in, made brief eye contact with felix, and began to talk. "when i came here, to camp, i was really scared. it’s been half a decade, but i still remember it being confusing and weird and i just sort of wanted to disappear. i wanted to go home. and then i met orin, all hair and curses and weird references, and he showed me around, and it was - i don’t know. he made everything feel a little bit more normal. i think that was what i liked about him. no matter how chaotic stuff got, he was always the same. he was just orin. i could look him in the face - well, not really in the face, not after he shot up - but i could look at him and i just knew that no matter how bad times got, there was a joke to be made somewhere. just had to look for it."

her voice did not wobble or waver, just carried on. “but orin daithi gorman is no more. he’s kicked it. bit the big one. he's met his maker. he’s snuffed it. joined the eternal choir, and - and i know that a few people here are gonna hope he gets fried. pray for gorman-flavoured bacon. and i say let them. i say good riddance to him. what an idiot.” she paused, let out a pathetic little laugh. “see, i don’t mean that. but he’d never forgive me if i threw away an opportunity to make fun of him one last -” her throat closed up. she coughed. “i know a lot of things have been said. i don’t know what’s true, and what’s not, but i know that he was my friend, and i’m going to miss him, and it’s not fair that he didn’t get to have all of the fun that i think he sort of deserved. but i do know that he’ll be kicking it up, duetting - horribly - with don mclean down there, and…” once again, the loss of words. she'd barely had time to prepare herself. she didn't think she'd be blamed.
“don mclean’s not dead,” said a voice in the crowd. "and even if he was, i don't think he'd make it to elysium. unless you're insinuating i went to the fields of punishment, which - i mean, that's just offensive, isn't it?"
her head rose rapidly. she knew that voice, had hoped for that voice, and over the fire and the lights that were dotted around, flickering with new energy, she made direct eye contact with the man she was saying goodbye to. “what?”
“sorry. god, i couldn’t help myself. hello,” he waved, wiggling his fingers. the combined lights caught a streak of white in his hair. new. wrong, different. not dead. wrong. different. “chuck, would’ja do the honours?” a click of fingers in the direction of the satyr and a slowly growing smile. “sorry i’m late, by the way. awful for it. they always said i'd be late to my own funeral, and here i am. but you know how it is sometimes. traffic was hell.” in the last sentence, his face flickered from the exuberance it had held onto, but only momentarily, the change as fluid as the spiralling smoke in the air.

[*Lovel*]

『❄❅』 Aydan Hunt『❅❄』

Son of Khione ☃ Cabin 22 ☃ 16 ☃ Heterosexual

≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎

Tags: Ophelia
Location: Between Aphrodite and Artemis Cabins

Aydan flinched at the volume of her words. Guess I should've lead with that. he looked back out toward the fire making sure no heads turned. Thankfully when he looked he didn't see anything. "Will you please lower your voice." his eyes darted from her back to the fire. No one needed to know his business. Like your business is worth listening to. he shook his head.

He caught hold of her swing and looked into Ophelia's eyes. "Lead with that! You -you-you thick skulled buffoon I already said yes did I not?" see, told you, told you you're an idiot. he let both their arms go slack then let her arm go. "I know, I know, it's fine." he didn't know where to look. He didn't want to look in her eyes any longer in fear of surprise tears. Sure she'd already seen him cry once or twice but this was different. If she saw him crying for his dad then it'd all be real, to real. He looked away to the wall next to her, staring at the god awful pink wall.

"It's fine, it's fine, it's fine." the last words were more hushed. He took a deep breath "It's not like we were that close. He'd always shove me off to my grandma, probably to see that family of his. He said sorry you know. I saw him, he told me ,he told me that he was dead and that he was sorry. Sorry for casting me away like a little kid he lost interest in. His words." he paused thinking about how crazy he must sound. "I swear I'm not crazy or delusional." are you sure? she was patting his shoulder awkwardly. His eyes floated back to Ophelia, then she added salt to the wound by asking a question that was most likely supposed to be comforting.

The awkwardness then went away as quickly as it came and Ophelia was rubbing his shoulder. He would've been lying if he said it wasn't relaxing. "I think I just need to lie down." his head was suddenly spinning. It was all a lot, on top of finding out his dad died, he confessed and seeing Vivienne was just all too much.

▶ ▷ ☁ ◁◀Emerson "Emmie" Grey ▶ ▷ ☁ ◁◀

Daughter of Zeus ☂ Cabin 1 ☂ 16 ☂ Heterosexual

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Tags: Riley and campers
Location: Campfire

Riley seemed to take a while to answer Emerson about her hoodie. Though she meant it to lighten the mood even just a little it didn't seem to actually have that effect. She chuckled a bit awkwardly as Riley agreed. "Good good." she stated softly as she fidgeted with her hair, the habit making it even more obvious she was nervous. As Riley told her to follow her Emerson scratched the back of her neck. Does she think I don't know how to get to the campfire? Oh well, may as well just go with it. she took a few steps "Oh- oh of course." she opened the door for them and followed Riley's lead.

Emerson was unsure what to say to Riley's words so she settled on a simple nod in agreeance. She stayed silent as Riley rambled "Khione and her goons seem to have that power, making you feel like the world has gone down hill." she felt a harsh cold breeze rush through her. She grimaced pulling her hoodie tighter around herself. Then they were at the campfire , she scanned for Nathaniel and Reese. She frowned as she didn't find either. Hopefully they are ok. She picked a spot closest to the fire trying to be respectfully quiet so she didn't interrupt whoever was speaking.

Emerson had drown most of what everyone was saying. That was until she heard it, his voice. The voice she'd been wanting to hear but didn't think she would get the chance to again. She bolted up completely forgetting her sister's presence beside her. She ran up to him ignoring all inhabitation. Her hands were sparking "I could put you on your ass. Who are you, you can't be him." her mind was going a mile a minute. She put her hands up by his chest."What were the last words you said to me if you are him." she could feel the hot tears rolling down her cheeks. She needed proof, needed to know it wasn't another monster that had made it's way to gain their trust before attacking. She needed to know.

[WitchHazel]

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

A rush of pride ran through Kathryn at Lucy's praise, even if it was relatively tame. Her satisfaction only grew when she noticed how nervous the spirit seemed by her weapon of choice. "Oh, you don't like stygian iron, sweetie? Well, that'll make this quick." She brandished the dagger before her, all too glad to take the lead when Lucy handed her the reins. "We'll be asking the questions here." As if a switch had been flipped, Kathryn's entire demeanor changed in an instant. Her face slackened, turning as cold and serious as her voice. "Tell me what you're doing here. All your compatriots have faded or become... well, useless. So why not you? Why are you still here?" Her tone was commanding and powerful, fueled by her desire to protect her home.


Chuck Oakes
|❀|He/Him|Satyr|Location: Campfire|Tags: Jack, Tulip, Campfire Group|

Chiron announced another name - his name. Chuck knew what was coming, but he still couldn't help but feel a bit surprised. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a figure step into the flickering firelight. "Oh man! Like, that's my cue!" he pulled out his panpipes and began a hearty rendition of 'Don't Fear the Reaper'. He was a decent player; it was thankfully on-key and rather soulful. Celebratory, even. Jaunty. A jaunty tune.


Audra Stark
|⛈|17|She/They|Kymopoleia|Ghost|Location: Hampton Inn, Roof Stairwell|Tags: Moxie, Reapers|

Audra shrugged when Moxie spoke about jobs, a look of disinterest spreading across her features. "I've never had a job." Apart from protecting Vivienne, but that wasn't an occupation - more of a dedication out of devotion. Then the missing leg was mentioned, and Audra blinked. "Er... yeah. Yeah, it's missing." She hadn't wanted to say anything, but since it had been brought up... well, it would have been odd not to respond. She wondered how it had come to happen - monster attack? Car accident? Whatever the method, it doesn't really matter. It's none of my business.

Audra let out an exasperated sigh when the older woman started to protest leaving. "Look, I know you have questions. But do you really want to stay up here? No one can see you, aside from other spirits and the occasional underworld child. And most of the aren't very chatty. If you really wanna stay, I'm not gonna stop you. But let me offer a piece of advice. It's..." she hesitated, almost unwilling to say the word. "...lonely. Watching your loved ones tear themselves apart because you're gone... it's one of the most painful things you could do to yourself. Even if they carry on as if nothing has happened, it... it will incredibly hard. And that's an understatement. Do you really want that?" She met Moxie's hazel gaze, her own eyes sad and distant.

[indigo']

━━━ 𝐀𝐮𝐠𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐚 𝐅𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐑𝐞𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐬

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

There were more eulogies than there reasonably should have been, the names and the stories were all starting to blur together, words made fuzzier by the sense of impending doom lurking in her peripheral. She made her false bribe, was prepared to continue the convincing—not that it seemed like it would be difficult—and then they were interrupted by Chiron’s solemn voice calling out his name. She glanced up at Orin briefly, as if to remind herself that he was still there. He was still beside her and what was happening at the campfire didn’t matter because he was alive and he was there. Jude was talking, but it was difficult to focus on. The parts she did catch didn’t sit right, felt distant and muddled, like something out of a dream, words that sounded right tonally, but didn’t make sense if you listened too closely. The shape covered by the shroud was becoming a little more difficult to ignore. She squeezed her eyes shut briefly, and then Orin was making his entrance. And it was certainly an entrance.

Auggie stayed where she was at first, watching from the safety of the shadows beyond the pale circle of light and the flickering of the cabin lights. As Chuck’s panpipe serenade began, she remembered Orin mentioning that the satyr knew about his return, apparently they’d also come up with a plan. She almost would’ve laughed, but then Emmie was stepping forward, making her challenge and Auggie was already moving. She didn’t cut in, but was close enough behind to see what was going on, close enough to step forward if she needed to. She knew Orin could handle himself, but wasn’t actually sure if he would—not against one of his siblings. Her hands were out of her pockets, colder than they had been, but without looking down she didn't notice that it wasn’t the usual ice coating her fingertips, but swirling darkness pooling around her hands.

She understood the questions. She understood the immediate shock and the doubt, it wasn’t like she hadn’t accused him of being a ghost herself, or at least had the thought briefly. But the daughter of Zeus looked ready to attack, and if anyone else planned to have an emotional lash out, she wasn’t going to be hiding in the background.

[sammy,]

( *:･ﾟ✦ ) xx❝xx𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐧 𝐠𝐨𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐧 ！！ x─────ix ♔
x──────i ii zeus iii eighteen. iiii tags: emmie, riley campfire gang.
ivi campfire.

well, this was going down about as well as anticipated.
the jaunty tune that rang from chuck's reed pipes was enough to raise a genuine chuckle out of him, cut off by the sudden shout, a flash of red hair, and hands that sparked and touched. "i'm a very handsome and incredibly charming male reincarnation of the queen of sheba. who do you think i am?" he asked, but the joke fell flat when he saw tears. a tug at his chest. "it's me. it's me, obviously it's me. i don't -" the last thing he said to her - well, he had had a lot of time in between, as a brief defence. a lot had happened in the span of his deathtime. good thing he'd had his memory - and all that came with it - jigged by the waters of the mnemosyne, really, because otherwise he would have looked a damned fool. "something about being terrified of incurring your wrath, which seems to have come to fruition now. i think i also said that it'd be really annoying if you died, which is very ironic, if you think about it." a laugh that sounded a little more like something more torn. his hand moved atop one of hers. "tough as nuts. i knew you would be." and dropped to a low murmur - "i've come a long way to get here. please don't send me back yet."

orin took a sharp breath in, looked between her and the rest of them. "did you really think something as little as death would stop me? really? i'm invincible. riley knows that. and speaking of -" his free hand reached into the inner pocket of the borrowed jacket, a photo pulled from the depths and held up in the direction of his other sister. "my ticket from oz." wiggled, and then placed back into the pocket.

glancing around at the rest of them, his eyes landed on jude, who had not said a word since that singular what, and who looked shellshocked, to say the very least. he'd get to that in a bit. "from what i hear, all hell broke loose when i, uh, joined the eternal choir, and i suppose that's exactly how i got back. the doors of death are open - were open. i dunno. i didn't really stick around to find out the logistics. we'll call it ajar. but you can either believe me, or you can kill me at my own funeral." it was a sweeping statement, nerves peeking through the words. he caught a glance of auggie over crowd, shrouded, he noted, but there nevertheless. "but i'd really prefer if you didn't do the latter. 'cause i've got new stuff on my bucket list. s'funny how dying makes you rearrange things like that."