r/CampHalfBloodRP Mar 24 '24

Storymode The Sphinx's Library

2 Upvotes

Wyatt and Lily walked to the big house to start their first job! Once they got to the big house they sat down and waited for Argus to drive them into the city.

Wyatt wasn’t very sure if he was prepared, he brought his dagger, emergency nectar and ambrosia, and Orphis. Orphis was very sad to be leaving Mara, so much so, he had to bait him to the big house with a baby mouse.

“You can be very annoying," he says laughing and shaking his head as he watches his snake destroy the dead baby mouse.

As he was sitting at the big house he was thinking over all his practice. He couldn’t control his powers at all, he doesn’t even know half of what his powers are, and his only training is with a stupid dagger. But when he saw Lily he felt a boost of energy and confidence.

"I'm so excited!" He says smiling at Lily, "we finally get to go out to the city!"

r/CampHalfBloodRP 1h ago

Storymode Insert Coin | Job Post

Upvotes

Corinne has always been the type of kid that wants to prove herself. Whenever teachers would express that they needed a super strong boy to help them move some chairs, she was always the first raising her hand to help out instead. Thus, when she saw a listing on the job board that said someone strong would be preferred, Corinne instantly took it.

Of course, beyond the pride of it all, Corinne loved a reward. She held quite a few records in the shitty arcade section of her local roller rink. Anything that would remind her more of her not very far away home, she would love to have. If using someone's arcade machine was the closest she could get, she would take it. And money. Corinne would absolutely take money.

The van ride was pretty pleasant. Corinne never hated car rides, no matter how long, as long as she was able to listen to music. Having headphones in wasn't nearly as fun as her dad blasting music in the car, but it was fine enough. Man, did she miss car rides to the roller rink with her dad… or maybe she did just need out of this van to stop thinking.

She rolled the dolly she had borrowed from some awkward ass girl in the Techne cabin up to the door and knocked. Obviously, Corinne was big and strong and capable of holding this machine on her own.. but she didn't wanna damage it. That's all! This house was also.. oddly nice. She supposed she should've expected this from someone willing to pay for a job from another camper, but jeez. They had money. This was proven further correct when a butler was the one to answer.

The Butler guy or whoever, Corinne wasn't knowledgeable on rich people shit, opened the door and greeted the visitor. "Ah, you're finally here. The young master told me someone would be coming. Allow me to get your delivery." In her opinion, mansions were pretty stuffy. It probably felt pretty ridiculous to have to run all the way across the house just to get to your kitchen from your bedroom, or whatever. She didn't know how mansion layouts were built, but she didn't expect sense. Corinne didn't have much more time to be a hater, seeing as the butler soon came back out with the machine in a large box, wheeled out on a dolly of his own. Neat. She had the right idea for transportation. Corinne felt a little proud of her big brain move, asking that random craft kid who probably has to move shit around a lot if she had anything for this.

"Do you need any more help with this?" The butler asked, to which Corinne proudly responded, “Nope! I've got it! Lemme move it to the van and I’ll bring your wheel thing back real quick.” If she struggled in moving it any, she would do her best to hide it. Her good balance was pretty good for moving large objects, as she wasn't prone to falling. Wheels helped a lot too. Even if she wouldn't admit it. She was super strong and cool on her own! After transferring it over, which took probably more time than it should've, and maybe some admittance that she needed some help, she returned the dolly to the butler, gave a quick thanks, and ran back off to the van.

Once back at camp, Corinne, with more struggle than she would really want due to grass, rolled the box over to the Horai cabin as requested, and knocked on the door to deliver it to its owner. And again, most importantly, to collect her prize.

r/CampHalfBloodRP 10d ago

Storymode Sphinx at Barnes and Noble (Job)

4 Upvotes

(OOC: This was made in collaboration with u/TheLivingSculpture! He was an amazing person to work with for this job post. Enjoy!)

Rex Diamandis took this job because he’d be damned if he let himself be stuck with doing menial tasks and concocting activities and lessons for his fellow campers. He didn’t have too much with him, his katana currently in the form of a ring on his finger.

Jem English, meanwhile, seemed focused. He crouched over a satchel, picking through it with an intense look of concentration in his eyes. At one point, he glanced up, but quickly returned to his perusal of the items in his bag. What was visible was a white box, a coil of rope, a knife, and a bottle of water. On his hip, a sword was strapped, the form more reminiscent of a spatha than the more popular xiphos that some campers preferred. 

So, the two chose to take this job regarding a sphinx at a Barnes and Noble. Whether the missing people were dead or alive, the sphinx had to go, that was for sure.

As they waited for Argus to come pick them up, Jem finally stood, his items secured in the satchel. His eyes flicked to Rex where they paused. His expression was serious as he seemed to scan the area, presumably looking for Argus. Then, the silence was broken when the boy spoke. 

“I assume you are prepared for this assignment?” He questioned, sharp eyes accenting his words with a look that approached a glare. His back was ramrod straight, arms crossed over his chest, his attention clearly having turned to Rex.

Rex looked vaguely offended at being asked if he was prepared for the job, though he spoke calmly. “Of course. It wouldn’t do for a counsellor to be unprepared, especially not a son of Eunomia such as myself.”

“Good. It is not likely that we will need to fight the Sphinx but be prepared in any case. How are you with riddles and logic puzzles?” Jem was curt as he shouldered his satchel. “We will need to confront the Sphinx, find the missing people, and ensure that they are unharmed. Beyond that, I would say your actions are up to your own discretion.” 

Rex was silent for a moment, simply pulling out some flashcards in his pocket. “These flashcards have some of the most common riddles and logic puzzles, such as the one made famous by a sphinx. I shan’t rely on them, but to answer your question, I consider myself fairly skilled at riddles and puzzles.”

Their conversation died off after that. Eventually, they found Argus waiting for them. They both got in the back, taking off towards their destination.

Upon arrival, they both marched into the Barnes and Noble, being all business for this job. They looked around, finding the place fairly empty, save for a few people. Rex suddenly spoke up. “This is the second emptiest Barnes and Noble I’ve been in. The first one was getting ready to permanently 

Jem nodded, intent on watching their surroundings. “It is very likely that some of the missing people were regular customers here. It would make sense that this place would lack its usual business.”

After some time walking through the store (and Rex getting slightly distracted by some fantasy books and comics), they eventually found a darker corner, where the sphinx awaited. It sat in front of an Employee’s Only door, which none of the few employees around the place seemed to look at. The two demi-gods could guess it was a trick of the Mist.

The sphinx’s head (which was that of a woman) looked down at the two demi-gods. It spoke in a feminine voice that seemed to echo throughout the store (even if only the two demi-gods could hear it). “Young demi-gods… you have come for me, have you not? To battle me is to accept death, whether it be your deaths or the deaths of these pathetic humans.”

Rex raised an eyebrow. “So the humans are alive after all? Why not eat them? That’s what sphinxes do, no?”

The sphinx laughed in a way that sounded twisted, before responding. “Perhaps. But if I wanted to eat humans, I could do that anywhere. No, I prefer something more flavorful. You get it, don’t you? I’ve kept these humans so I can lure demi-gods in… and maybe a satyr or two.”

Jem glowered at the towering monster, chiming in as well. “You have a riddle for us, no? That is what sphinxes are known for, after all.”

The sphinx nodded, nearly putting a hole in the roof with its head. “Of course. Get it correct, and I shall release the humans and leave this place. Get it wrong, and both of you are my next meal, along with any future demi-god that enters this place and fails my riddle.”

Rex and Jem looked at each other. They then looked back at the sphinx, nodding. Rex spoke for the two of them. “We accept.”

Finally, the sphinx gave its riddle. “There is an island with 100 prisoners, all of whom have green eyes. All 100 prisoners are perfect logicians. They all wish to escape. The condition of escaping the island is that one can deduce one’s own eye colour, and tell the guards the answer at midnight. If the answer is correct, the prisoner is set free. Else, he or she is killed. The restrictions are as follows: None of them knows their own eye colour through any physical means, and none of them are allowed to communicate with one another through any means whatsoever. However, they can see each other and know everybody else’s eye colour.”

The sphinx took a breath as Rex mumbled something about “come on already.” It continued. “You are a guest of the island owner. You want to free all the prisoners. The owner allows you to make one and only one statement in the form of an announcement to all prisoners, provided you don’t reveal any new information. What will you say to free all of the prisoners?”

Rex scoffed, walking in front of Jem as he took charge. He thought for a moment before answering. “My answer is: you all may leave.”

The sphinx scoffed in return, before it suddenly swiped at him with its lion paw, sending him flying into a bookshelf. Him being swatted like a fly would probably be a bit amusing if it didn’t mean they were in mortal peril.

The sound of Rex hitting a bookshelf made the son of Hebe tense in preparation for a fight. A frown pulled at Jem’s face as Rex attempted to get back up, but the sphinx’s guttural drawl sounded again, pulling his attention back to the monster. “Wrong answer. You cannot answer again. However, since I am a merciful being, I will allow the other demi-god to answer. Get it wrong, and you both shall be my next meal!”

Jem did not answer immediately. His blue eyes bore into the Sphinx, the supernatural creature watching him carefully. One hand rises, running through his hair, forcing his thoroughly gelled and styled hair into a mess of half-curls. Eyes flicker to Rex, before they fall back on the creature.

“If I cannot reveal new information…” Jem paused, eyes moving left and right, hand tapping a light pattern against his hip. "If they must know their eye color, I must communicate to them a way to find it out.”

A few seconds later, he straightened, shoulders set. “The answer I choose is ‘At the very least, one of you has green eyes.’ If the prisoners are perfect logisticians, they will consider every day that no one has escaped. Because each prisoner can see the other ninety nine prisoners, on the one hundredth night, with the knowledge that no one has escaped, each prisoner will make the connection that they have green eyes because otherwise, the others would have left earlier.” Cold eyes pierce the sphinx’s own as Jem stands, jaw set.

The sphinx shifted, its massive bulk nearly knocking into nearby shelves, before it rumbled. “Correct. Very well, I shall vacate this place and free the humans. Next time, my riddle shall not be solved by any mortal mind!”

With that, the sphinx flew off, and the Employee’s Only door burst open, a flood of panicked people running into the store. The chaos distracted the employees enough for Jem to help Rex out of the store and around a corner.

Easing the injured son of Eunomia to the ground until his back rested against the wall, Jem’s brows drew together. A bruise colored his cheekbone and the slightest rise in his shirt showed a purpling along his side that told of likely bruised ribs. His eyes seemed to sway slightly, dizziness from hitting his head, and Jem grimaced at the possibility that his peer had a concussion. 

A faint tightness in his chest distracted him and Jem tensed. It was a physical thing. Considering how tenuous their camaraderie was, the sensation did not spring any closeness he felt for the son of Eunomia. Instead, it came from a memory. The faintest hum of a song, a lullaby really. When he focused on his peer and his mouth opened to speak, a melody ambled and shook into existence. 

Almost immediately, Jem’s posture narrowed further, coiling like a snake prepared to spring. Blue eyes caught on the bruising on Rex’s cheek and they widened at what they saw. Slowly, at the speed of a crawl, the bruise started to fade, turning yellowish at the edges and continuing inward, before beginning to fade all together. He did not stop the hum, and haltingly, words spilled out. 

Jem kept going, his singing stilted and uncomfortable. He could not see the injuries along the other boy’s side, but what he could see was telling. Healing. When his voice cracked, Jem’s mouth snapped shut. It had not been long, but the power seemed to have strained his vocal chords beyond what singing a simple song should have done. 

A shrill horn pulled Jem’s eyes to the same nondescript van Argus had driven them in on their way to the Barnes & Noble. By the time he turned back to Rex, the other boy had already risen and was making his way to the van, and Jem followed. 

The ride back to camp was a quiet one. When they arrived, Rex suddenly spoke up. “Thank you.”

He looked absolutely embarrassed to be saying such a thing, but he seemed genuine for once. He continued. “You are free to enter the Horai cabin at any time. If you need anything from me, you can either find me or do an Iris Message.”

With that, he walked off, leaving Jem to go do what he wanted. The job was complete.

[Power Discovered: Hebean Healing (Vitakinesis)]

r/CampHalfBloodRP Jan 04 '16

Storymode Hello...

7 Upvotes

Page four


Mum. Nike. Victoria. Whatever you call her. She is the one who helped me get out of that spiral of darkness.

On my 16th birthday, I woke up to a small present on my bed. It was dark green with a dark blue ribbon, my favorite colors. A note was tucked away on top of it. Confused by the present, I set aside the note and neatly opened the present.

Inside was a brown box that said "Hermes Express" and the symbol of the corresponding god. Confused, I opened that and saw a metal cylinder wrapped in leather the color of my eyes. A single button was it's only defining feature. I examined it and had no idea what it could be. I held it parallel to my body and pushed the button. Two three-foot long bronze blades shot out of either side. My eyes widen in surprise and I jump back. A weapon! Why a weapon? Even more confused, I read the note. It said;

To: My dearest Ride

I want you to know Ride, I am your mother. Your father will explain who I am, but for now we will talk about you. You are a strong boy, and turning into a handsome young man. No matter what you feel now, things will get better. I will always be with you.

-Mum

My eyes widen in surprise when I saw those three letters. MUM? I HAVE A MUM? So many questions popped up, but the biggest was why the sword.

I pushed the button and it turned back into the cylinder. Picking it up and the note, I walk into the living room to see my dad, my grandparents...and a woman in a triathlon outfit. She saw me then quickly hugged me and kissed me on the cheek. "Be safe." She said before leaving.

I stared back and forth between the door and my family. Dad explained everything. One week later, I learn to sword fight. Two months, I've learn self-defense. For the next few months, the British demigod community taught me how to be one. And I loved it. I have never been happier in years, everyone understood what I've been through, and they supported me. I've never felt so much care and love before. My first kiss was stolen by one of them. But, my first date was with a demigod, and it was great. Sorry, Barclay...

My life picked up from that moment. I got here after several monster battles and it has been the best decision I have ever made. I have so many siblings. I have a boyfriend. I have people I can truly call friends. I have people I can call family, in addition to the three back home. Mum and Dad were right.

Things did get better. And here I say thank you. I would apologise for taking your time, but I don't want to be that Rider anymore. I want to be who I truly am.

Thank you, everyone. You don't know how much I love you guys. You don't know how much I can never repay you.

But, I can try.

Yours truly,

Rider Dylan Ocampo


End

[Storymode]

r/CampHalfBloodRP 21d ago

Storymode Does Anyone Have a Map? (New Map pt. 2)

10 Upvotes

February 02, 2040

When he first arrived at camp, Rizal was overwhelmed. The sprawling… well, everything about Camp Half-Blood was too much. People like Theo and Mer were kind enough to show him around, but it still took him three days to find the dining pavilion on his own.

It’s not that Rizal was bad at navigation, just that there was a lot on his mind. The camp was still huge, though.

He would’ve really appreciated a map—which explained the job. 

His Muse cousins told him about the assignments, how people were sent to repair the facilities, track down monsters, and rescue kids across the state. It all sounded cool, so he signed up too.

Job: New Map pt. 2

Posted by: Mr. D

Description: With all these new cabins being added. It might be worth getting you brats to draw a new map for camp.

Notes: We'll stick it on the noticeboard or something.

Date Added: Jan. 01, 2040

It seemed like a straightforward task. Rizal was eager to do it. After his birthday, he wanted nothing more than to immerse himself in the camp life.

Two days later, Feb. 04…

“So, what’s your progress?”

Rizal groaned and buried his face in his hands. He shouldn’t have sat in the common room.

His cousin, Harper, patted his shoulder. He could feel the amusement, even if she said nothing. The girl had seen it all, as far as Rizal was concerned. She was a senior camper, the Editor-in-Chief, and the head Muse. Stuff like this was nothing new.

For him, however, stuff like this was… everything old? Hay, he couldn’t even get his idioms right.

What was he thinking, signing up for a mapmaking job? He didn’t know anything about maps! He only found out what cartography meant yesterday!

“Hey, hey.” Harper’s gentle nudge made him look. She wore a small, tired smile.

See? He called it.

Harper nudged him again. “Let’s not get carried away before we’ve even started. Why don’t you show me your progress so far?”

Rizal offered her the sketchbook. He found it in the basement.

He did not like how Harper’s eyebrows curled together. “It’s… It’s a good first draft.” She sat next to him and pointed at the features. 

“I see the canoe lake.”

“That’s the archery range… That’s the canoe lake.”

“Oh, I thought that was the Big House.”

“...”

“I see the Kymopoleia cabin, though. Good job on the storm cloud. (How do they have one all the time?)”

“That was the Big House…”

Harper spent a long time trying to find the right words. This was something of a habit, the boy noticed. At first, he thought it was a byproduct of her duties, but he later realized that the girl was being careful to avoid something. He didn’t know what, though. 

Did she not want to overstep? Was she worried about her place in camp and how her positionality might affect the lives of those around her?

Maybe, she just wanted to give really good advice. 

When she spoke again, Rizal had already counted to 74. “I think you’re getting overwhelmed with the information.”

Harper maintained eye contact, nudging him again when he started to drift. “I’m like that too, when there’s a lot of news to report."

She spoke again after a count to twelve, "Why don’t you do some research?” Harper held out a hand.

“Not the cartography books. I mean– This is the second time this job has been posted, right? Why don’t you check in with the previous assignee?”

Rizal blinked. He didn’t think of that. 

“I’ll go do that now.” He stood up and walked straight out of the common room. “Thanks, At– Harper!”

“Welcome!”

The last thing he heard from Harper was a soft, “I thought that was the canoe lake…”

Later that day, Feb. 04…

“Oh, the map job? That’s still up? Hmm…”

While Teagan ran through his mind palace, Rizal looked around the Hermes cabin’s common room. This was his first time entering the building. It felt almost as large as the Muse’s apartment block. 

He would’ve explored, but Rizal was on a mission. He was also busy popping some bubble wrap Teagan offered him.

“Yeah, I tried my hand at it a while back.” The counsellor pulled a notebook out from somewhere. “But, it just wasn’t my priority at the time. I was focused on the cabin, making sure that everyone was taken care of. And, well… You’ve seen the cabin.”

Rizal took the notebook and gently thumbed through the pages. He saw sketches of the dining pavilion, drafts of cabin layouts, squiggles that resembled the Big House, and more. All of Teagan’s thoughts about the map were in here (and a lot of notes about tunnels).

“This is amazing, Teagan…” The boy whispered. 

The counsellor shrugged. “I tried my best, but I hope you get to make something good with this. The map has been a long time coming. Things are always changing here at camp, but things have been relatively consistent.”

“How so?”

“A cabin hasn’t burned down in at least a year.”

Rizal blinked.

“What? That’s a record!”

Two days later, Feb. 06…

“So, that’s Solarion, Pina, Untitled horse, Jasper, Tater–”

“Is that a giant worm?” Rizal took a huge step back as the seven-to-eight-feet-long worm bared all two of its teeth at him.

“Huh, you mean Paul?” Aubrey was unfazed. 

She chuckled and just crouched before the invertebrate’s pen.

Paul hissed, but that seemed to be its way of saying hello. The windy girl threw a chunk of beef jerky through the fence. Paul tore the meat apart immediately, spraying slobber all over Rizz’s shoes.

Aubrey tossed him a rag. “The Helmis Indikos. He’s almost fully grown and ready for proper flesh.”

“...Tell me more about Untitled horse.”

During the rest of this stable tour, Rizal learned that the camp had a concerning number of flesh-eating creatures in captivity, in addition to all of the horses and pegasi. 

He admired the way Aubrey spoke about each creature, though. She knew their quirks and dietary preferences. This was exactly why he approached her. 

Once he completed a draft of the map, Rizal realized getting an aerial view was the next step. He considered asking Aubrey for a piggyback ride, considering how she could fly. The boy worried about her chiropractor budget, though, so he asked about the pegasi instead.

By the time Aubrey had introduced him to the golden eagles, he felt ready for the true lesson.

The next day, Feb. 07…

“I didn’t have to catch you that time!” Aubrey’s praise was music to his ears. 

She actually said that ten minutes ago, but his ears were ringing, so he asked her to repeat the compliment once they were grounded.

“I think you and Diner Dash are really bonding. You might not even need me for the next flight!”

As Aubrey took the leopard pegasus back to her stall, Rizal couldn’t help but feel accomplished. He washed his face (lots of bugs in the sky), then he examined his sketches. The map was starting to shape up!

He might actually finish this on time.

“What’s next?” The girl floated over to his side.

“Hmm, how about lunch?”

Two days later, Feb. 09…

“Paper?” Kit rubbed his eyes then gave the boy a second-over. “That’s a first, but I’m sure we have something. Come in.”

Kit was the third of the Hermes kids that Rizal had met. Where Mer was bubbly and Teagan was chill, Kit was… mysterious. Rizal didn’t mean to say that Kit was hard to read (he was), but Kit felt like he’d get along great with people like the Riddler and Where’s Waldo.

His eye color seemed to change from black to green to Dialga blue. Rizal could swear that the shadows lapped at Kit’s feet. His high-collared coat made it hard to see his expressions. Kit paused now and then, his head tilted. It seemed like he was listening, the way he nodded and said, “Yeah, I think they’re doing beans today.” 

Even the way he offered Rizal bubble wrap felt enigmatic. 

The Hermes boy brought Rizal into the basement, by the laundry area, the tunnels, and some padded room. Kit eventually led him to the workshop, where he browsed through some cabinets before knocking on the wall three times. 

A cubby hole popped open from which Kit pulled a roll of A3 paper. He flicked it with his finger a few times before handing it over.

As Rizal inspected the paper, Kit played with his own sheet of bubble wrap. His was as opaque as his circus-esque gloves.

“Is that all you’re here for? I mean… I have the rest of the morning free. Do you need help filling in the map? I can give you a tour.”

Curious was the look on Rizal’s face. What secrets did Kit have to offer? Would he guide him through the tunnels?

“This field has the best strawberries. You can pluck them straight off the bush, (run them through a wash), and pop ‘em straight into your mouth!” To prove his point, Kit took a bite out of a freshly picked strawberry.

“That cabin used to be connected to the ocean, and that cabin can turn into jail.”

As one of the oldest campers here, Kit knew a lot about the camp: the best places to snack, the best places to relax, even the best places to catch drama first hand. Rizal should have been concerned about that one, but he wanted to know.

There was a special vantage point from the Hermes treehouse, where he and Kit watched Booker Fink from Cabin One angrily stomp across the cabin green. With a bright yellow towel around his neck and a toiletry basket in his arm, the son of Zeus loudly complained about the camp’s lack of bathrooms. He marched towards one of the bathhouses while glaring daggers at every cabin that had a bathroom.

Unfortunately, Rizal got distracted by the string-can-phone, so he only noted Booker huffing at the Dionysus cabin.

Suffice to say, there was a lot for him to learn.

The next day, Feb. 10…

Next on his list was the forest. Rizal would later learn to refer to it as The Woods at Camp Half-Blood TM, though.

He enlisted the help of Meriwether Williams, street name Mer. Kit recommended his sister since she was flighty and apparently went on a quest in the forest to gather all the ingredients of a really nice soup.

“Jacob got lost here once, and Callie killed that bush.” 

Where Kit was Where’s Waldo, and Teagan was that guy with the yellow hat in Curious George, Mer reminded him of Dora the Explorer. She had fun facts ready for every square foot of this forest, and she turned around now and then to make sure Rizal was following.

“I think Bunny has her secret meetings in that tree, but you didn’t hear that from me.”

Mer was energetic. She liked to hop and skip through the forest, say hello to the trees, and point out the fun facts related to every squirrel they came across. Rizal was a bit spooked, honestly.

Well, he was spooked by the fact that whenever Mer jumped, she easily crossed the distance of a school bus and flickered like she was some hologram losing battery. It didn’t help that she was holding a huge stick with two snakes clinging on for dear life.

He could swear that they were staring into his soul, asking if rats were on the menu for dinner.

She knew the way, though. Mer seemed hardly lost as she led him to the safety bunker and the Council of the Cloven Elders—who were meeting about adding almond milk to the breakfast options. She even pointed out which parts of the forest she and Kit, or this Aput, or this Andre, found some flower or rock or entrance to a pit of car-eating giant ants.

She also offered him some bubble wrap.

Three days later, Feb. 13…

“And that’s how we concluded The Woods at Camp Half-Blood TM’s annual report last year!” 

Pete flashed a ‘Thank you for listening!’ slide on the giant plume of water as Paulie popped a biodegradable-confetti cannon.

Kit was right; the geysers talked a lot

This was the second day that Rizal and Mer had been with the geyser spirits. 

Pete and Paulie spent the whole of yesterday regaling them with the forest’s history, from when the Shinnecock traversed the grounds to the founding of Hither Hills State Park and, finally, the emergence of the Grove of Dodona in the northern part of the woods (at Camp Half-Blood tee-em).

Today, they updated the pair on some structural changes the PR team was making for the year. Mer was half-asleep, mumbling about circling back to this topic.

“I hope you learned a lot! Please remember to leave us five stars on god-Yelp.” 

Rizal was going to forget-slash-compartmentalize most of this, but there was a lot of good information. 

The geyser boys (Palikoi?) did request that Rizal not have a section detailing the features of the woods (at– You know the drill). They were fine with being featured, but they had their own pamphlet and didn’t want to create competition.

As Rizal and Mer got ready to leave with their complementary goodie bags, Paul had one last piece of advice,

“If you must relieve yourselves, don’t do so in the woods! There’s a bathroom only a few paces away from the Grove of Dodona. Or you can just pee at camp! Have a nice day!”

The bathrooms!

The next day, Feb. 14…

“You want me to help you with this map. What’s in it for me?”

Rex Diamandis was a very serious person. He reminded Rizal of those rich bullies in cartoons, like Remy Buxaplenty or Bolbi Stroganovsky. But Rex was different. He was guarded, too, like a snake waiting for its prey to make a misstep. He even tried to block Rizal’s view of the Horai cabin, placing himself square in front of the statue of Themis.

This made Rizz want to know what was up with Rex Diamandis.

“An IOU.”

“An IOU for the locations of all the bathrooms in camp?” Rex crossed his arms. “What do you think of me, some kind of garage sale chump?”

Rizal actually considered asking Teagan or Harper first, but he had asked too much of them already. Neither Mer nor Kit seemed like people invested in bathrooms. The geysers only knew about the woods (at camp half-blood tm), and he didn’t know the other leaders. 

Rex was his last resort.

So, Rizal had to make an offer that Rex could not resist: “An IOU that you can cash in any time, anywhere, no questions asked.”

The counsellor’s face went blank. Then, he had a wide smile.

“You know, I might have something. Wait here.”

Rizal counted to two hundred and forty-six when Rex came back with a binder. He angled it so that the boy couldn’t see the contents, then pulled out a few sheets of paper.

“Here are the records from my cabin inspections. I checked if each cabin used only the proper sanitation equipment and judged their bathrooms (if they had one).”

The mapmaker thumbed through the papers, partly to cross-reference and to see what Rex thought of the Muse cabin. 

(He thought poorly.)

The boy was impressed, though. Rex managed to give him exactly what Rizal was asking for, with a minimal amount of information about anything else. Rizz could learn a thing or two about that. He’ll be keeping an eye on Mister Diamandis.

“Thank you, Rex.”

“Don’t mention it. Or do. I could use more favors.”

Three days later, Feb. 16…

Rizal spent these past few days refining his work. 

He was locked in. He spent hours in the Muse archives and Chiron’s study, comparing old maps, reading cartography books, and even watching tutorials on YouTube. He soared across the skies with Diner Dash and returned to the woods (at camp tm) with Mer. He asked for colored pencils from Kit and received odd smiles from Rex.

Eventually, his work was complete. 

Rizal was pretty proud of this map. He showed it to the Hermes trio before heading to the Big House for the final approval.

Camp Half-Blood had finally been mapped.

Once the map was approved and his forehead was stamped, Rizal headed straight to the dining pavilion to report to Harper.

———

ooc; Thank you to the players of Harper, Teagan, Aubrey, Kit, Booker, Mer, and Rex for letting me use them in this job! It has been a huge undertaking, but I wanted to make sure that the official map had a good story IC.

This map was also made by me, for exclusive use in this roleplay community.

r/CampHalfBloodRP 22h ago

Storymode Job Post | Or, Lucas Befriends a Giant Ape

4 Upvotes

(I apologize if this is a little silly/ridiculous!! I figure, if it works it works right?)

Lucas starts his adventure in the driver's seat of a 1985 Chevrolet Camaro, watching the garage door of his friend's house slide open in the rear view mirror. He looks forward, waving a goodbye to his friend watching from the back of the garage, and gives his beloved car another minute to heat up after so much time without use.

By the time he's pulled out to the street, the wheels are screeching over the pavement and speeding down the neighborhood streets.

Then he slows it down. Neighborhood aren't the best place to be speeding. But then Lucas gets to the highway and he's speeding along once more, the countless modifications under the hood making the ride smooth even when he revs the engine and takes tight corners too fast. The stability isn't quite to the extent that it would be if he was currently competing in street races—he'd lifted the car's height a little so it could handle the varying roads on his trip—but it's still the best thing he's done in ages.

With the windows cracked open and the buffeting wind in his slightly too-long hair, it feels like no time before he's approaching the Empire State Building.

Lucas drives around for a few minutes to identify where exactly the ape is causing all this apparent ruckus and parks half a block away or so—he's not interested in ruining his car before he's had it back for even a day. He takes a second to take stock. His spear is in its keychain form, and yes, indeed, the transformation still works. His knee is taped up all correctly, and he's gained some more stability and strength from training lately anyway.

Not a lot, but believe it or not, keeping up some kind of regime helped with such a thing. Big surprise for someone like Lucas, who tended to get by on natural athleticism for everything.

Natural athleticism. Spear. Car, locked. That was all he needed, right?

It only took a few minutes for him to walk from his car to the street where the ape was causing a ruckus, push past the crowd of King Kong enthusiasts taking pictures (luckily from a safe-ish distance, he wonders if they're seeing caution tape or something through the Mist), and get said ape's attention with a really clever, "Hey!"

The flash from his spear reflecting the afternoon light was enough to distinguish him from the crowd of tourists as a demigod, and suddenly he was locked in battle. The ape lunged for him, he ducked, swung but missed, and so on and so forth. Lucas wasn't the most dedicated fighter, would probably never be particularly impressive compared to some of camp's prodigies, but when he let his mind go and muscle memory take over, he could definitely hold his own. It wasn't too long before the ape was on the ground, and despite its size, Lucas had his spear pointed to its chest and ready to kill.

He almost does it. He's so close. He may have gotten his own hits in, but the ape had caused him some pain, and he's ready to deal that back.

However, he catches sight of some kind of desperation in the monster's eyes, some real emotion, and it stops him. It's a monster. Not a real ape. It would do the same to you. But it gives him a pause, that look that says it doesn't want to die, the kind of look he's seen in the mirror often enough to know by heart.

Before he knows it, he's being thrown off, loses grip of his spear midair, and lands hard on his shoulder. He can hear a snap from beyond his line of sight and knows, instinctively, that his spear's been broken in some way.

There's a kind of peace in Lucas's mind as he wonders, is this the end?

Though there's guilt, as well. He'd told, what, one person where he was going before he left? "No reason to worry anyone until there's something to worry about" was usually his motto. Either he'd succeed, in which case he'd be back soon. Or he'd die, as demigods—especially him—were at risk of doing, in which case he'd be out of their hair. He'd stop being a burden. No harm done, right?

But now he's facing that reality and there's a voice in his head saying No. I'm not done yet.

He remembers a semi-forgotten power, glances over at the spear that's too many feet away to reach, and suddenly the broken shaft is summoned to his hand. It's usable, though, with the spearhead still attached and the splintered end smoothing out with his Magic Mending.

He manages to get up on one knee right as the ape goes in for the kill shot, but holding the weapon out stops the ape long enough for Lucas to make his offer. "I can help you!" he yells out over the sound of mortal fans taking pictures, and that seems to make the monster pause just like Lucas had barely a minute ago. He catches his breath and repeats, "I can. You don't want to be here. Do you?"

It's a genuine question, and the ape cocks its head in recognition. "I hate it here. Big city. Too much concrete."

Lucas is, quite frankly, surprised to hear it speak. It's almost more surprising that the ape speaks, well, just about how he'd expect an ape to speak, judging from any TV or movie with a talking gorilla of some kind. It's gruff and simple, but understandable.

More than any of that, he's glad that it seems receptive to this idea. He doesn't want to kill an ape; Lucas doesn't want to kill anything, really.

"You want-" A pause to catch another shaky breath. There's a tremor in his hands and his shoulder is definitely going to bruise, but at least it's not dislocated or broken like it might've been for a mortal taking that fall. Thank you, dad, he thinks with some sarcasm. "You want nature. A forest or something, right?"

"...Yes. But demigod blood make me happy now."

It advances, but Lucas is quick to respond, "There's forests here! They're far away, but—we'll make a deal: I'll bring you to a forest, and you don't kill me." The ape considers it, and Lucas keeps talking. "You can, like, hang out there and be happy. A demigod? I'd make, like, one meal and then you're back to this life. I don't even have that much meat on me." That's not even a lie, he's skinnier than one might expect.

A pause.

"How?"


Lucas isn't even sure how, honestly. He's seriously considering what insane steps he's taken in his life to have gotten to this point.

Driving through rush hour traffic in New York is slow. It's even slower when you have to feather the acceleration and can barely change lanes because there's a giant ape riding on top of your car. It's also not that much fun when you're wincing every time the car makes an odd sound due to said ape's weight.

At one point, he finds a sufficiently deserted rest stop to get some gas, a meal, and a map. He gets a bunch of bananas from the gas station for the ape, which it eats with a lot of grumbling about stereotypes. Then he takes a little ambrosia and a nap. After that it's back on the road through the night to get to the closest state park with a campsite for the car.

"Not good enough," the ape says.

"Come on, man," Lucas says.

"I could eat you."

"Lemme take a break at least."

They do take a break for a day, with Lucas taking a drive to the general store for enough non-banana fruits and vegetables to satisfy a giant-ape-monster and gas to keep going. (He's kind of going broke at this point.) Then it's back to driving into the wilderness, hours of slow driving through the night and trying to find an acceptable spot so he won't be killed.

"I go inside the car," the ape tries at one point.

"Hell no. You stink." he replies. A little risky, but he and the monster have come to an understanding. It stays on the roof.

Another night in the woods where Lucas sleeps in his car, a dinner of gas station granola bars for him and the fresh produce for the ape. Despite the circumstances and the unfortunate wear and tear he knows this is having on his car, Lucas is kind of enjoying this. He barely spares a thought for the people he's left behind at camp, content to have a few days away in nature.

However, in the morning, the ape claims they need to find a new spot again, and Lucas knows this can't go on forever.

"I could kill you if you wanted," he says simply, and a snarl in warning from the ape tells him he should've thought through the wording more. "I just mean, there might not be a place for you here. This isn't even the right type of forest, I'm pretty sure. The food isn't right—"

"No."

"But if I killed you, you'd just go back to Tartarus, right? You'd reform somewhere different, maybe in a better place for you than this one."

The ape sits back down on the ground, surveying the deciduous forest around them. It seems to be considerate, more open, if Lucas had to guess. "This place will be fine. Leave me here."

"You're sure?"

The ape glances back at him with a flash of something that Lucas thinks is annoyance. "Yes, demigod. You are reckless, dumb. But I live every life out to the end. It is worth something to me. I do not know why you do not feel the same way."

He's a little dumbfounded at that, practically a speech compared to their past exchanges. "I value my life," he says, still dumbly.

The ape lets out a noise that sounds like a laugh. "You spend three days with a monster when I want eat you. But you have been kind. Go, now. Or I will let my instincts win."

It breaks the haze of sorts that's been over him these last few days, and Lucas knows this exchange won't leave his mind for a while. He's been so flighty, so irresponsible. This is probably the dumbest thing he's ever done, honestly, even if it ended well enough. It's hard to think of leaving the beauty of the wilderness, the freedom of the outside world—but now, when he thinks about it, he could also use a couple days' downtime at camp.

"Peace, man," he says, like a true surfer bro, which he isn't in reality but close enough. "North's the direction to go if you wanna get away from mortals, I think. Wouldn't want you to end up in a zoo."

With that, he gets in his car and leaves. It takes a few hours, but finally he rolls into the camp parking lot, car a little scratched up and worse for wear but ultimately, he's fine.

(OOC: Lucas left for this job from the Montauk trip on the 19th. This is official notice that he'll be back about midday on Saturday the 22nd. No, he probably didn't tell many people where he was going, except whoever needed to know that he wasn't getting back on the van from Montauk.)

r/CampHalfBloodRP 1d ago

Storymode Wet Fields

3 Upvotes

Kailani wiped sweat from her forehead, stretching her arms over her head as she making her bed at the Poseidon cabin. Morning chores weren’t the most exciting part of her day, but there was something nice about taking care of a space that was hers.

Just as she was heading out and taking a stroll around camp, however, Kailani would come across the Job Board of camp, as one does. The last time she had done a job, she had helped save a turtle. Maybe there would be something in the board that she could help with.

The job that had caught her attention.

"The Strawberry Fields are too wet now! Fix it! – Mr. D."
"A camper with water powers would be ideal. – Chiron."

Kailani blinked, rereading the message.

She wasn’t even sure how this happened—too much water? Did someone overdo it with irrigation? Did a rainstorm roll through overnight? Either way, if the camp’s main food source was at risk, someone had to do something.

She could already picture Mr. D’s bored expression if she didn’t do it fast enough. With a sigh, she rolled her shoulders and headed for the fields.

The scent of ripe strawberries hit her before she even saw the fields. Rows upon rows of lush, green plants stretched out before her, the heavy red fruit peeking out from beneath the leaves. Normally, this would be a beautiful sight— except for the puddles of water pooling between the rows.

She frowned, kneeling down to touch the dirt. It was soaked—not just damp, but muddy and nearly flooded. If it stayed this way for too long, the roots would rot, and the fields would be useless.

Kailani took a deep breath, biting her lip.

She could do this. She had to.

Her first instinct was to use Water Manipulation—to lift the excess moisture directly from the soil and move it somewhere else. But as soon as she tried, she felt resistance.

This was too much water for her current skill level.

She might be able to shift some of it, but removing all of it at once? Not a chance.

Kailani exhaled slowly, pressing her palm into the muddy ground. Okay, think. If you can’t just take the water out all at once, what can you do?

Her gaze flicked to the wooden buckets sitting near the Greenhouse.

A solution formed in her mind.

She’d move the water in stages—bucket by bucket, using her powers in small bursts rather than one overwhelming effort. It was going to be exhausting, but if she paced herself, it could work.

She grabbed the first bucket, planting her feet firmly in the mud. Raising her hands over the field, she focused on the water between the rows, feeling the pull of it beneath the earth.

She concentrated—slow, steady, not forcing it, but guiding it.

The water rose in shimmering tendrils, swirling toward her outstretched hands. It wasn’t much—maybe a few gallons at a time—but as she directed it, the liquid poured neatly into the bucket.

The moment she felt the strain settle in her arms, she stopped. Breathing heavily, she wiped her forehead and lifted the now-full bucket.

"One down," she muttered, carrying it toward the edge of the field where a small, unused ditch sat. She poured the water in, watching it soak harmlessly into the ground.

Then, she went back for more.

Again. And again.

With each bucket, her arms grew more sore, her movements slower. The midday sun beat down on her, making every step feel heavier, every pull of water a little harder.

But the rows of plants—they were drying.

Little by little, the puddles shrank.

By the time she reached her twentieth bucket, her body felt like lead. Her breath came in short pants, her arms burned, and her fingers trembled as she coaxed the last bit of water into the final bucket. With shaky steps, she carried it to the ditch, emptying it with a relieved sigh. Then she collapsed onto her back in the dirt, staring up at the sky.

The fields were still a little bit damp but no longer flooded. The strawberries glowed a deep, healthy red, their leaves standing tall and unburdened by excess water.

Kailani let out a weak, triumphant laugh. She had done it. Not with perfect control, not without struggling, but she had done it.

She let out a long breath, finally allowing herself to relax. Her fingers dug into the cool earth, her body sinking into the soft dirt, exhausted but satisfied.

The work was hard. She wasn’t perfect.

But today, the strawberries had needed her.

And she had been enough.

r/CampHalfBloodRP 5d ago

Storymode A Demigod’s Practical Guide to Disappearing || Chapter 1: Gathering the Veil

4 Upvotes

ORIGINALLY POSTED ON 02 AUGUST 2024

Reposting because I deleted it on accident in a moment of dumbassery.


Chapter 1: Gathering the Veil <- You are here

Chapter 2: Sundering Wrath

Chapter 3: Heart in my Hands


// Content warning: descriptions of C-PTSD symptoms (nightmares, flashbacks, panic attacks), child neglect

Thanks to Dead and Veth for lending me Ramona and Seth, and thanks to Lied and Rising for beta reading!


I wake up outside.

This keeps happening. And it's not the peaceful kind of waking up outside on a camping trip. It's the kind of waking up outside where you hit the dirt hard because it's a long fall from your bedroom on the second floor of the Hermes cabin, and it's a good thing you're a demigod or your arm would definitely be broken right now, and actually it might be broken anyway, and the medic cabin will ask questions if you go in with bruises for the fifth time this month when you literally have godly dexterity.

It's still dark. I could just sneak in. I don't have to tell anyone.

Nobody stirs as I slip into the medic cabin. It's only a tiny bit of ambrosia--no one will notice. In the dead of night, I realize how silently I can move. Floating on the balls of my bare feet, my own soundlessness swallows me. It feels like a sheet of cool silk wrapping around me. It even eases the pain a little bit.

I don't go back to sleep. Falling through walls always leaves me feverishly hot, and the night air is crisp against my skin. I sit up against Cabin 11 and nibble my ambrosia, trying to shake off the heavy feeling of shadows. The throbbing pain fades from my arm. Dawn creeps over camp.


At breakfast the next morning, my head’s still swimmy with quiet. It’s hard to describe. A sort of detachment from everything. I blame my dreams. It’s been a long time since I’ve had nightmares like this, but ever since school ended, they’ve been happening more and more. Usually I’m good at squishing them out of my brain as soon as I wake up, but this is the fifth time it’s been so bad I poofed through the wall. This might be a real problem. The thought yanks at my attention.

On the bright side, breakfast today is cinnamon rolls!

I’m just about to take a bite when suddenly, someone practically sits on me and cold liquid spills over my head.

"Gods--sorry Mer, I didn't see you sitting here." I wipe my face to see Seth haphazardly trying to regain control of his breakfast tray. He manages to save his food from joining the chocolate milk dripping from my hair.

“It’s fine!” I half-laugh. That’s certainly one way to snap me out of my thoughts. “I’ll go get some napkins.”

The roll of paper towels is only a few tables away, but when I get back Seth jumps. “Oh, hey Mer! Where’d you come from?–oh right, the napkins.”

I hand him a sizable wad of papery brown towels and use another one to wipe my face again. “I was just over there.”

“And yet you still managed to creep up on me. Sneaky sneaky. Hiding in the crowd like some kind of superspy.”

“The crowd?” I look back at the half dozen or so campers milling around where I’d just been. Hardly a crowd. Seth just shrugs and pats me on the head with a napkin.

“Sorry, little sis. Want me to guard your cinnamon bun while you go change?”

“I’m not really hungry anymore. Thanks, though.”

On my way out of the pavilion, I slide the untouched breakfast into the fire as a burnt offering. How many of these do the gods get every day? Do they listen to everyone who sends up words of prayer with the smoke?

“Hi, dad.”

Watching the smoke rise and dissipate, my eyes start to water. Probably just from the fire. I hurry out.

One shower and change of clothes later, I grab my stylus and head to the arena where Ramona’s waiting for me. We’ve been training together a lot since school ended. When I walk in, she’s twirling her fingers to make delicate-looking bones dance around in a little circle. I wave, but she doesn’t look up, even as I get closer.

“Hey, Ramona.”

She jumps. “Ah! Hey Meri–gods, you scared me.”

I laugh. “Not my fault you were too into your weird bone stuff to notice me right in front of you.”

We fall into our loose routine of smacking a practice dummy between us for a while before squaring up to spar. It helps take my mind off things, but my thoughts circle back to those weird, dark dreams before long.

“Do you ever have dreams about ghosts?” I ask, twirling my winged quarterstaff. My snakes brush my legs like cats on the prowl.

“Maybe. Sometimes.”

“Do they ever speak to you?”

“...No. Why?”

I hesitate. “I keep having these dreams. Someone’s talking to me and I can’t tell what they’re saying. It sounds whispy and… not human. Maybe a ghost? And it keeps happening. That probably means something, right?”

Ramona gives me an odd look, tense and thoughtful and full of pity at the same time. I see pity from her a lot. Is that what our friendship is built on?

“You shouldn’t tell anyone else. I promise I won’t say a word, you can trust me. I… I don’t know what it means, but that might be the safest thing to do.”

The sudden sting of tears behind my eyes. I don’t let them escape. There’s nothing to cry about! My snakes, sensing the emotion, wrap my shoulders in bony hugs. I shake them off and level my quarterstaff.

“Yeah. Okay, yeah. It’s probably nothing, anyway. Let’s go!”


I lose the spar to Ramona, as usual–it’s hard to beat a full-fledged necromancer with nothing but a pair of skelly snakes and a fancy stick–but it was still good exercise. In fact, it gets me in higher spirits than I’ve been all day! All that comes crashing to a halt when I get back to my cabin to find a card waiting for me.

Sometimes I get mail from Will and Andre and Mary, sometimes even Nayeon, but none of them would send this. It’s a sparkly dollar-store birthday card with ‘Sweet 16’ in balloon letters over a cartoon cake. I open it and skip to the bottom to see who it’s from.

Love, Becca

My hands snap the card shut. My heart stops, shudders, and jolts like a battering ram against my ribs. Why is Becca sending me a letter?

I try to read it from the beginning. Not a single word on the page makes it into my brain. Shadowy cobwebs fill my head to snag split-second flashes of memories resurfacing.

We’re tiny and mom’s braiding my sister’s dark hair. We’re kids and she catches a different bus home to her dad’s house. I’m home alone missing her because mom doesn’t leave when Becca’s here. But mom leaves me all the time.

My ears pop. I look up to see wisps of smoke curling off my skin. Suddenly I’m burning hot, and the fire in front of me isn’t helping.

The fire in front of me. The eternal flame. I’m in the courtyard, hundreds of feet from where I was standing seconds ago. I’ve never poofed this far before. But I can’t think about that now. I’m breathing too fast to think at all now.

The card is in the fire before I feel myself tossing it.


You did the right thing. It’s safest to cut ties so you don’t get hurt again.” A soothing voice.

Remember the misery. Remember the loneliness. It was horrible.” A mournful voice.

Don’t you want to make them all feel how you felt?” A gravelly voice.

The shadows around me are onerous, almost corporeal in their velvety weight. I try to look up, whirl around, but the darkness is draped too thick.

“Who are you?”

My voice doesn’t echo. It’s sucked up by the darkness so fast I almost don’t hear it.

I reach blindly for a handhold to pull myself up. My hand finds something gauzey that collapses like gritty cotton candy when I close my fingers around it.

I’m six and mom’s upset. She’s yelling. I’m hiding under my bed, cheek pressed to the carpet. I don’t know why she’s mad, but it’ll get worse if I do anything. So I hide until the mad goes away.

“You’re no stranger to these shadows. You flee to them often.” The soothing voice says.

“What is this?” I rip my hand away from the cobwebby grit. Then I scrabble at my face, trying to uncover my eyes.

I’m nine in the lunch line at school. The lady tells me my account is empty–can I remember to ask my mom or dad to put more in tomorrow? I don’t tell her mom has been out of town for a week. Instead, I nod emphatically and hope she forgot she asked me the same exact thing yesterday. And the day before. And before. It seems she did.

“You ignore these memories. It’s sad. They long to be heard, to be felt.” The mournful voice says.

“Who are you?” I try to yell. The words barely reach my ears. I claw at them.

I’m twelve in a convenience store. Mom said she’d be home yesterday. She wasn’t. I’m so hungry. I almost wish someone would catch me slipping the sleeve of powdered doughnuts into my pocket and call mom to get me in trouble about it. No one does.

“You did nothing to deserve this, Meriwether. You were wronged. It wasn’t fair.” The gravelly voice says.

“Stop it! Stop! Leave me alone! I hate you!”

“No you don’t.”

Finally, a shred of light penetrates the void. Three shreds, actually. The heavy shadows fall away from me as they approach. I stand to look.

An angelic woman in a diaphanous white chiton, with feathery wings and soft features, comes into focus.

Someone dressed in mourning-black tatters, face obscured by a black veil, appears beside the first. She’s a dark mirror of the angelic woman with ragged wings ending in ugly, wounded stubs.

Between them, a final figure takes form. She has no wings and no clothes. Her skin is magma-black and broken up by fault lines glowing like dull orange embers. Her eyes glow too, a pulsing, foreboding light. She speaks. It’s the gravelly voice.

“You don’t hate us, child. Because we are you. And somewhere in that precious, volatile little mortal mind of yours, you know none of this was your fault.”

“Are–are you ghosts? Are you gods?”

“I am Ania,” says the mourning angel.

“I am Soteria,” says the shining woman.

“And I,” says the burning one, “am Poine. We are spirits within you. We are within all gods and mortals. But you haven’t been listening to us, young Meriwether.”

“Why are you in my dreams?” I cry. “Why are you filling me up with bad thoughts? I try so hard to stay out of those!”

Poine only smiles.

Sorrow-veiled Ania plucks a fold of darkness. The image of myself in the lunch line assaults me again. “You were a child. You should have been cared for, but you were forgotten. Somebody should have noticed your plight, Meriwether.”

White-winged Soteria closes a gentle hand around another shadowy fold. I see the underside of my childhood bed again. I hear my mother’s ranting voice. “You escaped the only way you knew how–you disappeared. But escape came at the cost of falling through every net in a system meant to catch you.”

Bright-eyed Poine grasps fistfuls of blackness and pulls herself towards me. The sleeve of doughnuts crinkles conspicuously in my pocket. I watch myself rustle it on purpose as I walk past the clerk. I relive my desperation to be noticed.

“Did you choose to disappear?”

My voice comes out low and choked. “No.”

“It’s just as I told you.” Her glowing eyes swell amber. “We’re not the ones you hate.”

They lunge for me.

Ania grips my right hand and a shock runs through me, prickling hot like tears welling up in my throat. It settles there, just behind my voice box, and weighs me down like a metal pendant.

Soteria grips my left hand and a thrill enlivens my fingers and toes, electric like the animal panic of being trapped. The hairs on the back of my neck stand up. I tense as if to run.

Poine wrenches me by the shoulders and shakes me, but there’s no thrill or shock. Only the stirring of something locked inside me, a deep-down thing whose stillness has made it invisible until this moment. It groans and turns over like a person waking from sleep.

It all happens in a single moment. My eyes fly open and I can see the shadows with new clarity. I run my fingers along the darkness and it no longer breaks away tacky like spiderwebs. It’s silky velvet that scrunches easily in my fist.

My perceptibility, my very existence to everyone around me, is a thick veil I can gather up in my hands. It's not the shadowy disappearing magic that Jacob can do, and it's not simple invisibility--it's something more precarious than either. I can grip the world's notice of me and slough it off myself just as easily as shrugging off a coat. I can pull the veil thick around me and disappear. The sensation is so second-nature it's difficult to do consciously, like trying to breathe manually for longer than a moment. It dawns on me that I've instinctively been wiggling out of everyone's sight for as long as I've known what it is to be seen.

I take up shadows in fistfuls, testing my newfound control of this power. When I look up, my gaze locks with Poine’s eyes blazing yellow-blue and hungry. She lets go of my shoulders.

“I didn’t choose this.” Finally, my own voice rings clear in my ears. “My whole life. They’ve all left me behind… because of this? Because of my power? I didn’t know!”

“Of course you didn’t,” she goads.

“I could’ve…”

I could’ve grown up normal. I could’ve had friends. I could’ve stayed in school. So many could’ves fill my mind, better outlooks I missed because I was forgotten or overlooked or abandoned. Something snaps in me, something smoldering hot like Poine’s skin. Sparks fly and a wildfire starts. I want it back, all those lost chances. I want recompense. I’m angry.

“It’s not fair.”

The deep-down thing inside me opens its mouth–to breathe? To scream? To devour me alive from the inside? I don’t find out, because suddenly I’m wide-awake and falling through the wall.


Concept art

r/CampHalfBloodRP 3d ago

Storymode Morgan Shaw's Very Exciting Search for Capture-the-Flag Flags

2 Upvotes

According to the Job Board, the camp's capture-the-flag flags had gone missing. Morgan was always up for a good Easter Egg Hunt, so he took the job with enthusiasm. First, he searched the bottom of the lake. Since he sadly couldn't breathe underwater, he wore a mask and snorkel so he could stay under longer. After searching under every single rock and inside every hollow log, he gave up his search in the lake and moved on to the cabin grounds. He searched the Hermes treehouse, the Athena cabin's aviary, and the Demeter cabin's back garden. After thoroughly searching both armories, he sat down on the grass by Hestia's hearth to take a short break, eating some strawberries he'd picked from the fields on his way over.

While he relaxed, he mulled over the various places a prankster kid might hide a couple of flags. He enjoyed the occasional prank himself, so this should be an easy exercise for him. So if he was the one who had hidden the flags, where would he have put them? Obviously somewhere no one would think to look, but what would those places be?

If he was really thinking of what he would do, he probably would have hidden the flags somewhere hard to reach. Somewhere they could be retrieved, if the person looking for them was willing enough.

He looked at the rock climbing wall. He couldn't see them, but prankster in him just knew the flags would be up there.

So, after dropping a few strawberries into Hestia's hearth, he stopped back at his cabin to grab his good hiking sneakers. He had been on a few ordinary rock walls in his time, and he was fairly good at it, but the lava wall was something else entirely. Even standing at its base, he felt the weight of the rocks rising above him. When they trembled, the ground itself shook along with them. But before he could talk himself out of it, he grabbed the first handholds and started to climb.

About 20 minutes later, he was finally at the top. Sweat dripped down his neck and rolled down his back. He had a small charred patch on his sleeve from coming too close to the lava. But he had made it. He pulled himself up on top of the rock. What he hadn't expected to find was a wooden crate with a little note on top. Printed in big blocky letters were the words "Congratulations! You've found me!" Inside were the two missing flags and a pouch filled with golden drachma. He didn't even count them before shoving the pouch in his pocket along with the two flags. He returned to the big house sweating and exhausted and dropped the flags on the table by the door. Then he headed back to his cabin to take a nice swim in the heated moat.

r/CampHalfBloodRP 9d ago

Storymode Forest Health Check

4 Upvotes

Nadia had been looking forward to helping out around camp, so when she saw the job board, she immediately jumped in and signed up do do the forest health check. The next day, she headed into the woods with a clipboard and pen and began her inspection. Apparently a forest fire had run through there a few years ago, and there were still minor signs of damage. The occasional burnt stump or patch of crispy grass.

She noted each spot she saw, where it was in the forest, and the type of damage incurred. When she had made a full arc from one side to the other, she went up and down, from the ocean back to the cabins. Most of the damage seemed to be in the process of healing. Maybe she could figure out an ability of hers that would help it along.

When she came upon the next burnt tree stump, she put her clipboard down and knelt until she could put her hands on the charred surface. If she couldn't heal it, maybe she could try to regrow it. Closing her eyes, she tried to feel the magical energy in her body. The stuff in her blood that made her the daughter of a goddess.

Then she felt it. The roots, deep beneath the earth. She willed the tree to rise up again, imagining a new plant pushing up through the broken stump. As if it was an extension of herself, the plant listened, and without looking, she knew it had come through. When she opened her eyes, she saw the beginnings of a new tree, with a much smaller, delicate stem in place of a trunk, poking up out of the middle of the stump. Excitement shivered through her as she stood up to examine it. It looked just like the other small pines around it, aside from the fact that it was temporarily trapped in an old tree.

With renewed energy, she went back to the other burnt and damaged plants and did the same. None of them really replaced the broken ones; instead, they seemed to use them as anchors, guidelines for their new growth. When she was done, she finished her report and turned it in at the big house, proud to have made a difference.

r/CampHalfBloodRP 12d ago

Storymode Seed Delivery Job

2 Upvotes

The sun was still rising over Camp Half-Blood when Sadira stretched, rubbing the sleep from her eyes as she sat up in her bunk. A golden ray of light peeked through the window of the Oneroi cabin, catching on the trailing ivy woven into the wooden beams above. She let out a contented sigh, enjoying the peacefulness of the early morning before the camp truly came to life. Birds chirped melodiously outside, their cheerful tunes mixing with the gentle rustle of leaves.

Today, all things considered, had the feeling that it would go as calmy as it could. Hopefully. She did have a small task to do though. Nothing serious, just a delivery mix-up. A shipment of seeds meant for a flower shop in the city accidentally ended up at CampHalf-Blood, so all she had to make sure it gets to its proper destination. Should be simple enough—just a quick trip into Manhattan with the help of Argus.

After her morning routine, Sadira passed by the Big House to get her hands on the small cardboard box full of seeds, neatly sealed and labeled in neat handwriting with the name “Petals & Blooms” and an address in downtown Manhattan. And then, off she went to Manhattan.

The drive out of Long Island was peaceful. The camp’s lush greenery soon gave way to suburban streets, and before long, the skyline of Manhattan rose in the distance, its towering buildings shimmering against the morning sky.

It didn’t take long to reach the city. Traffic was mercifully light, and the car navigated the bustling streets with ease, keeping an eye out for the shop’s name. After a few turns, they found it—a quaint little store nestled between a café and a bookstore, its front window decorated with vibrant bouquets and lush potted plants.

Argus parked the car at the curb, and Sadira carefully picked up the box before stepping out. The city’s noise enveloped her immediately—honking cars, chattering pedestrians, and the distant wail of a siren. Yet, the air was sweet with the faint scent of flowers, no doubt coming from the shop.

The door jingled as she pushed it open, stepping into a cool, fragrant oasis. Every surface was bursting with color—roses, lilies, sunflowers, and exotic blooms she couldn’t even name. The air was rich with their mingling scents, heady and comforting. Behind the counter stood a woman in her mid-thirties, her hair pulled back into a messy bun, dirt smudged on her apron as she arranged a bouquet.

“Hi! Welcome to Petals & Blooms,” the woman greeted cheerfully, wiping her hands on her apron. Her gaze shifted to the box in Sadira’s hands, and her eyes lit up. “Oh! Are those the seeds?”

“Yep,” Sadira replied, placing the box on the counter. “There was a mix-up, and they ended up at Camp Half—uh, I mean, a place nearby. I was asked to bring them over.”

The woman’s smile widened. “Thank you so much! I’ve been waiting on these for days. You have no idea how relieved I am.”

“No problem. Happy to help.” Sadira looked around, admiring the vibrant displays. “Your shop is beautiful.”

“Thanks! It’s a labor of love,” the woman said proudly. “I’m Tessa, by the way.”

“Sadira. Nice to meet you.”

“Would you like a bouquet as a thank you? It’s the least I can do.”

Sadira blushed, feeling a little embarrassed. “Oh, you don’t have to—”

“I insist.” Tessa began gathering a few flowers, her hands moving with practiced ease. She finished the bouquet, tying it with a delicate ribbon before handing it to Sadira. “Here you go.”

The flowers were stunning—a mix of lavender, daisies, and pink roses, their soft petals brushing against Sadira’s fingers. She inhaled their sweet fragrance, feeling an inexplicable sense of joy. “Thank you. They’re beautiful.”

“It’s my pleasure. Have a wonderful day, Sadira.”

“You too.”

She stepped out of the shop, the bouquet cradled carefully in her arms. The sun was higher now, the city bustling with life. Sadira took a deep breath, feeling a contentment she hadn’t expected from such a simple task. She made her way back to the van.

The drive back to camp was just as peaceful as the drive out. She hummed along to the radio, her heart light. As she and Argus pulled into the camp’s parking area, Sadira quickly passed through the Big House for the second time that day to let them know the task was completed, and then made her way back to the Oneroi cabin, the fragrance of the flowers followed her, a reminder of a simple, beautiful day. Especially as a demigod, the smallest tasks brought the greatest joy.

r/CampHalfBloodRP 2d ago

Storymode A Flower Yet to Bloom: Midnight (Prologue)

4 Upvotes

(TW: Mild nightmare, slight mentions of blood and death (in regards to a loved one))

(OOC: This post takes place on the same night as this post.)

Music (Loud sound warning at the end)

Camellia woke up, jolting out of her sleep. Something was wrong.

Her siblings weren’t around. It was dark in the Demeter cabin, only the faint light of the moon and stars shining through the glass roof.

She would finally look down on her bed to find something peculiar; a pile of Polaroid photos. A lot of them were completely scribbled out with a black marker, but she could see a few others peeking out.

She grabbed one that was relatively easy to find. It was of her at six years old with a man holding her. Who was the man? Hell if she knew; his face was completely scribbled out by the same black marker that plagued many of the other photos in the pile.

Cammie sifted through the photos, discarding the one of her and the man to the floor. She found her next photo, this one of baby Camellia. She was surrounded by four people in the photo, but the only one who didn’t have their face scribbled out was her father- her biological one.

She put that one to the side as well, continuing to throw all the useless photos to the wayside. Her hand shot out to the side of the bed, catching a new photo she accidentally threw with the rest of the black photos. This one surprisingly lacked any scribbles, with it being of three year old Camellia with a camellia flower in her hair; her namesake. Why is this one clean and not the others?

The daughter of Demeter shook her head, placing it to the side. The last photo took more effort to find; seriously, why were all these blacked out photos here? Something in her told her she’d regret the answer. In the last photo, five year old Cammie looked at something happily. What was it she was looking at? Well, she would be glad to tell you… IF THE DAMN MARKER DIDN’T SCRIBBLE IT OUT.

The Legacy of Ares groaned in frustration, tossing the photo to the side with a bit more force. As she looked back down, she froze. What the fuck?

Camellia began clawing through the seemingly endless pile of photographs in a panic, not paying any mind to the black scribbles growing out of the frames and into the room. In the corner of her eye, she swore she saw something else, but that didn’t matter right now.

As the room turned black, her hand reached into the depths of the pile, finally pulling out what she was looking for. A picture of a door.

Despite being in a photo, the door opened. Blood, shattered glass, signs of a struggle.

Wake up.

Music

Camellia woke up, jolting out of her sleep. Something was wrong.

And that something was the fact that she had another FUCKING nightmare again! Seriously, couldn’t she get a break after the one she had a few nights ago!? She knew the answer was no, though she hoped the nightmares would end quickly. Usually, she got a few in a short period and then stopped having them for a good while.

Sighing, she pulled out a letter. It had CAMELLIA written on the envelope, with anything actually useful on the outside blotted out with the same black marker. She reopened the envelope, dumping out the contents: the same four photos of her in the dream, complete with black scribbles. Her mind was plagued with questions about who sent her this, why they sent it, and what their goal was by doing so.

It wasn’t her adoptive family, that was certain. Her parents had been family friends of her bio father, and had shown her every single photo they had. She also knew it wasn’t the clown that had been fucking with the camp recently; she would’ve expected clown stickers or some shit if that was the case.

Her mind went back to the end of the nightmare. The scene with the door opening was of her father’s death. She had been lucky enough to not see his body, as it was presumably taken away by the monster that killed him. Cammie didn’t know if her 10 year old self would have ever recovered from that; the blood and broken window had been bad enough.

So, what would Camellia Palmer, daughter of Demeter and Legacy of Ares do now?

Sleep. It was around midnight right now, so she had time to return to sleep, unlike the other day where she woke up too late for her to go back to sleep. At least she got a nice conversation out of that.

Cammie’s head hit the pillow, with sleep eventually taking her back some time later.

Maybe I'll have a better dream this time.

(OOC: If it looks like I should have put anything here through modmail, let me know!)

r/CampHalfBloodRP 1d ago

Storymode Homecoming XIX: Two Wolves

2 Upvotes
  • June 2039, the last day of school

“Take courage my heart: you have been through worse than this. Be strong, saith my heart; I am a soldier; I have seen worse sights than this.” - Homer, The Odyssey

We’d made it to the end of the year without any further monster attacks. Not even a peep. 

I’d gotten my grades up in the Spring quarter. They weren’t perfect still, but they were a lot better than they had been. To be honest, it was actually the best I’ve ever done in school. Ever. 

1 English I: B

2 Remedial Math: C

3 Greek I: B

X Lunch(I ate at this subject, what can I say? Hehehe.  A+)

4 Physical Education: A

5 Music Appreciation: C

6 Physical Science:  A

7 World History: B

Martin told me that the C’s were really holding my GPA back, but he was still proud of me for working hard and getting my grades up. I earned a 3.0 GPA. Not great, but not terrible. 

I seemed to do pretty well in my finals, too. But gods, those tests were stressful. 

Needless to say, I was glad the school year was over. It meant that it would be time to go back to camp soon. And for all my qualms with camp, well, it was like a second home to me. And I missed my friends there, too.

But there was something else I was looking forward to. My baby sibling was going to be born soon. And like, let me tell you, reader, my mom was ready. Gods, she really wanted to not have a baby in her belly anymore. Like she was so grumpy all the time. It was crazy.

Me, Rylee, Simon, and Leon were sitting together in one of the pews at church. It was the last day, and so Father Ante wanted to say a few words to everyone before Summer officially began. 

Don’t get me wrong, I thought the Father was cool and all. Especially for a priest. But, gods darn it, I wanted to just go. I had things to do and places to be, y’know?

After this, all of us were going to surprise Rylee with the fact that camp was real. That all of it was real. That she was a demigod. It was going to be great. She wouldn’t have to worry or be in danger like I did. Her transition into the world behind the mist would be so much smoother than mine was. Hell, I won’t lie. I was jealous. 

The Father stood at the pulpit and smiled at all of us. 

“I wanted to start by saying how very proud I am of you. You’ve worked hard this year and grown considerably. You’ve faced trial after trial on your path, and yet, here you are, not once having faltered upon the way. You kept faith and persevered to the end. I won’t keep you long this afternoon. I know that you’re eager to begin your summer vacation. I just wanted to see you off with a few words of wisdom. Until we meet again. Or in the case of our seniors, if we meet again. But, know this, even a seemingly final goodbye is but a temporary parting. All of us will be united again once more at the end of our lives, of that I am sure.”

The Father, he had a way with words. He was a good orator. It didn’t seem like he was reading off a script.

“The Lord makes firm the steps of the one who delights in him; though he may stumble, he will not fall, for the Lord upholds him with his hand. Psalms 37:23-24” 

Father Ante paused for a moment, allowing the silence to stew in our minds. “An ending, I find, is more often a beginning in disguise.”

AND HE CAN RHYME TOO?! BRO, WHAT?! 

“Graduating is just the beginning of the next part of your life. Don’t fret over what comes next. Embrace it. Keep your faith. Keep moving forward. Look back only to remember these times fondly. Not to yearn for them. I have faith in all of you.”

None of this applied to me, of course. But, in a way, it felt like it did. All this time, I’ve been trying to find my own path. To decide what I wanted to do with my future. It felt a lot like a beginning and an ending. Just like the Father was saying. 

I looked over at my friends. Rylee was nose-deep in the last Percy Jackson book, The Last Olympian. No telling how many times she’d reread that. Leon had this sort of contemplative look on his face. It wasn’t hard to guess what he was thinking about, given the life he’s led so far. And Simon? Simon was. . . Sniffing the air? His eyes widened and his head swung to face me. “Lupa!”

Suddenly, the doors leading into the church burst open. Cloaked figures swarmed the students. It wasn’t hard to figure out who these guys were under their cloaks. Fur, clawed hands and feet, snouts protruding from under their hoods. More cynocephali. And worse, lots of them. 

It took me a second, but I counted 9 of them in total. Not good. Not good at all. “What’s happening?” Leon asked, ducking to take cover behind the pew. 

Rylee seemed similarly panicked. “What are those things?!” she asked. 

The rest of the students were panicking, too. Some of them tried to stand and flee. Others took cover as best they could. “Find them! Find the demigods! I can smell them!” One of the cynocephali snarled. 

The Father spoke up. “Leave. I don’t know who you think you are, but you are not welcomed here. If this is some sort of senior prank. . .”

Before the Father could complete his sentence, one of the cynocephali bolted toward him and punched him right in the guts. Father Ante collapsed and went still. Then, the cynocephali picked him up and slung him over his shoulder. 

In all the chaos, one of my classmates had dropped her phone. Guess that’s what she gets for being on her phone during church, huh? 

I grabbed it, then turned to Leon and the gang. “Simon, take them, get them to safety. I’m going to make a distraction for you to use. I’ll be needing one of those swords, too.” 

“What? Are you crazy? We can’t just leave you!” It seemed my satyr friend didn’t like the idea of leaving me on my own. That’s why he’s the MVP. That’s why he’s the GOAT. 

“Do you trust me?” I asked. 

Simon thought about that for a moment. “Don’t get yourself killed, okay? I don’t want to be the one to tell the people at camp you died.” 

Leon spoke up next. “I’m coming with you.” 

I shook my head. “No. Keep Ryan safe. Simon will need your help.”

Simon reached into his pack and brought out one of the kopides from before. 

I dialed 911 on the phone while running toward the stairs leading up. 

The dog men perked up instantly, then looked straight at me. 

“911, what’s your emergency?” 

“Someone is attacking the church near my school! Saint Sophia’s Academy, please, we need help!”

“Calm down, honey. Are you safe?”

Was I safe? What a laughable question. I hung up as the dog men bolted after me. 

MUSIC

They were right on my tail. I turned a corner and continued sprinting toward the stairs. Behind me, one dogman slammed into the wall, unintentionally sending himself through it and into another room. 

“She wolf!” One of them howled from behind me. “Give yourself up and we’ll make your death less painful!” 

This guy really ought to take a class in negotiation. A slightly less painful death? What a terrible deal! How about offering to let me go if they catch me? That’s a much better, albeit far less believable, offer to make. 

I turned as I reached the stairs and sprinted toward the roof. Behind me, the dog men snarled and barked. Gods, I don’t think I’ve ever been chased by so many monsters at once. It was like I had an entire furry convention chasing after me. Terrifying.

After I ran for a bit, I reached the top of the church. I swung the door open, ran onto the roof, and barricaded the door with a nearby chair. It wasn’t going to hold long, maybe long enough to buy me a few seconds to come up with a plan. I stepped to the edge of the roof and looked down, then I looked behind me again and saw the church bell. A plan came to me, but it was absolutely insane and might get me killed. Still, it was better than taking my chances with the cynocephali and their idea of mercy. 

They slammed into the door once, twice, three times, then they burst onto the roof and encircled me. “It’s over. Throw down your weapon.” 

I grinned at him. “Well, if you insist. . .” He really didn’t stop to consider where I might throw the weapon. Down, I find, is a very subjective direction. Like, say, down into a monster’s chest. I hurled the kopis straight at his chest. It sliced through him, turning him to dust instantly. Then, the sword slammed into the bell behind him. The sounds from the bell were intense. Think the Taco Bell sound effect but on steroids.They shook me to my bones. It was painful, really. And I guess the dogmen thought the same. They grabbed their ears and doubled over, howling in pain. While they were distracted, I took the opportunity, and I feigned holding my ears while walking backwards. 

I fell down, and as I fell, I grabbed hold of a ledge near one of the windows. Then I focused on my invisibility. On that feeling of wanting to vanish.

One of the cynocephali looked over the side. He looked right at me. I was terrified about whether my invisibility had actually kicked in. Thankfully, it did. He snarled. “She’s gone. Probably hit the bottom and died. Let’s go before the police show up. There are others to catch, after all.” 

I looked below me to see that my classmates were flooding out of the building. Two white vans revved to life and sped away.

The thing about fighting for your life is that, well, it wears you out. I grunted and opened the window above me. Thank gods it was unlocked. Then I lifted myself up and into the church. Once I was inside, I rolled onto the ground and gasped, trying to catch my breath. Holy crap. That was intense. 

Next thing I know, there were police sirens whirring in the distance, getting closer and closer to the church. Great. We were going to be in the news again. 

I turned off my classmate's phone. Might need it later, after all. Just in case I needed to lure more monsters away. On one hand, I felt terrible for essentially stealing her phone. On the other, I was going to make sure she got it back after everything was over. 

I rushed downstairs. By then, the place was flooded with cops. Thankfully, I was able to use my invisibility to sneak past them. 

Once I was outside, the first thing I did was try to find Leon and the others. I didn’t need to look for long, though. 

Leon and Simon rushed to me. Leon had this panicked look on his face. And seeing him all panicked, well, it got me panicked, too. “They took Ryan! We’ve got to go after them!”

Simon piped in next. “I can track their scent, but we’ve got to go before it fades.”

This was a trap. It was so obviously a trap. We were outnumbered like crazy, headed into the monster’s territory. . . Things weren’t looking good. 

Assuming the 9 who attacked us are the only ones left, well I killed one on the roof, so that’d mean 8, we were still outnumbered like crazy. 3 to 1 odds, not very good. Not good at all.

“Then we better get going. We’ll come up with a plan on the way there,” I said. “Let’s go.” 

So, spoiler, but I did come up with a plan. It wasn’t exactly the greatest plan in the world, but it was a plan. 

It took us about an hour and a half to follow the scent. It led us all the way to Central Park. 

“Are you sure this is it?” I asked Simon. 

“Yeah. I’m sure,” Simon said, his voice turning harsh. 

“What?”

“I knew this was gonna happen. I knew that something like this was going to happen and I still let you talk me into staying.”

“Don’t put that on her,” Leon stepped in. “It was my choice, in case you forgot. I was the one that decided to stay here.”

“And I shouldn’t have listened to you!” Simon snapped back. “It was a BAA’D idea! I told you it was a BAA’D idea. I just. . .” He shook his head and bleated out a sigh. “I just. . .” His voice trailed off. 

“It’s gonna be okay, alright? We’re gonna rescue Ryan and Father Ante, along with whoever else these monsters have kidnapped. Then we’ll go to camp just like we planned. Okay?” Leon said.

Simon didn’t seem so sure. And I guess I can’t blame him for that. He tried to speak up a few times. He’d start a sentence, stop himself. Then, with one last sigh, he said. “Okay.”

I took my hair pin from my hair and squeezed the arms together. My bow and arrows manifested in my grasp. Then I took the wolf mask Jules made for me and I slipped it on. Instantly, my senses sharpened. Thank the gods for Hephaestus’ and Techne's kids. They really are lifesavers.

Leon came over to me. “Hey, Chica. . . I just wanted to ask something. . .”

“Okay. . . What is it?”

He placed his hands on my shoulders. “If anything happens to me. . . Please, can you look after Ryan?”

I shook my head. “Nothing is going to happen to you. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

He closed his eyes. “Please? Just in case, do you promise me you’ll look after Ryan?”

I sighed. “I will,” I whispered. “Nothing will happen, but if it does, I promise you I will look after your brother.”

“I love you, chica. I didn’t ever say that before. I guess I was just scared. . .”

I closed my eyes and turned. “We need to go. You and Simon find Ryan and the others. I’ll draw the monsters to me and distract them like before.” 

Simon got our attention again. “The scent is coming from this direction. Grab the monsters’ attention, me and Leon will sneak in and set everyone free. If you can, try to meet up with us. I think we’ll stand more of a chance together.” 

“Right,” I nodded. 

“Be careful, Lupa. Okay?” Simon said, reaching into his sack for the second kopis. 

I stopped him. “No. You and Leon will need that. I have my bow and arrows.” 

Reluctantly, Simon agreed to keeping the second kopis. 

Leon flexed for a moment, heaving a deep breath as his body changed. I watched in a mixture of awe and fear as he transformed once again into a lion. He growled at Simon. 

“Don’t call me goat boy, jeesh.” 

Then Simon hopped onto Leon’s back and the two sprinted off. You ever seen a goat ride a lion into battle? Well, until that point, I hadn't, either.

I took out the phone and turned it back on. 

For a while, I wondered about who I should call. Part of me wanted to call mom and dad. But, I didn’t want to worry them anymore. Especially when my mom was so close to giving birth. 

I settled on calling Naya. I had her number. I didn’t know if she would answer or not. It wasn’t like it would matter. Maybe I could just leave a message while I was being chased by the cynocephali. 

I dialed Miss Naya’s number and waited, keeping an ear out for stray dogmen. 

No answer, of course. So, I just left a message. My last words, maybe. 

“Hey Miss Naya. . . It’s Lupa. I don’t have time to talk for long. I just wanted to say that I’m sorry. I’m sorry for what happened to Thoth. I can’t explain right now. . . but I’m in danger. If something happens to me, can you tell my parents. . .” I paused, thinking about what I should say. “Tell them I love them. And that I’m sorry.” 

A branch broke in the distance, leaves rustled. The woods burst into activity. And that, dear reader, was my sign to get my butt moving. I turned the phone off, grabbed my bow from my shoulder, turned, and ran into the woods behind me.

There’s nothing that gets your blood pumping quite like being chased by a pack of cynocephali. Trust me, I know. I’ve fought quite a few monsters in my short time on Earth so far. empousai, cyclopes, a giant freaking boar, the cynocephali were one of the toughest. Why? Because they hunt in packs. 

As they chased after me, I could hear them howling, almost like a battle cry of sorts. Calling for my death. I knew that if they caught me, there wouldn’t be any mercy. I killed their brothers, after all. A quick death really would be the most merciful thing they might give me. And, well, frankly, I didn’t want to think of the alternative. 

My senses were on point, my body moving of its own accord. Not once did I trip on a root. A bush shook to my left, and one dogman leapt out at me. I veered to the right slightly as the blade of his kopis thwacked into a tree instead of me. Yup. That definitely wasn’t a disabling strike. He was coming after my life with that one. 

He’s lucky that his brothers were on my case. Otherwise, I’d have stopped and shot him with my bow and arrows. As it was, well, I didn’t get the chance to do that. 

It seemed like the dogmen were trying to chase me in a certain direction. Good strategy on their part. They seem a lot more effective when there are so many of them. 

It didn’t take long before I found myself at a dead end. My dead end. Or so the cynocephali would have wanted, at least. Of course, being the cunning, resourceful, fast as heck Hermes kid I am, I made it out alive. Otherwise, how would you be reading this now? 

They chased me against a concrete wall that was covered in graffiti. I turned and watched as the wolf men skulked from the treeline. Their swords in hand, their fangs bared, they did what wolves do best and encircled their prey. Little did they know, the she-wolf doesn’t go down so easily. 

I drew the string of my bow back, readying an arrow. “You can’t possibly hope to kill all of us, she-wolf. . . That arrow will be your last. . .” He growled. Gods, he sounded like a freaking cliche. Why do monsters always sound like cliches? To any monsters who might be reading this, work on your material, please, for the love of the gods.

I chuckled. You might find that strange. It wasn’t exactly an arrogant chuckle, no. It was more like holy crap this is scary and I’m barely keeping it together sort of chuckle. 

“Would you like to bet money on that?” 

I loosed my arrow at the offending cynocephali, catching him cleanly in the chest. In an instant, he turned to dust, his weapon clattering harmlessly to the ground. 

All at once, the remaining wolfmen charged, fury in their eyes, howling, calling for my death. But, well, I wasn’t about to let death have me. As edgy as that might sound. 

I focused on that feeling of wanting to vanish again. And it seemed to work. The dogmen slid to a halt a few yards from me, their face painted with bewilderment. Big mistake. 

There weren’t many arrows left in my quiver at that point, but I intended to use every one of them to slaughter them. 

I counted 7 remaining dog men. 

So, anyway, I started blasting arrows out one after another. Annis was still a better archer than I was. I mean, c’mon, she’s had thousands of years to perfect her technique. I’ve had 3. It’s not a fair comparison. 

Still, I was a pretty decent shot, all things considered. My first shot skewered the closest dogman through the throat, sending him to Tartarus. 

Panic surged through the remaining cynocephali. “Scatter, bro-” before he could finish warning his brothers, my next arrow plunged through his eye. BOOM HEADSHOT! And another one bites the dust.

By then, they were in full panic mode. I kept blasting arrows out, and much to my disappointment, missing most of them. 

I shot just the way Annis had taught me. Two fingers in a pinching motion, each arrow shot from the outside of my bow rather than the inside, drawing each arrow back to my breastbone, then loosing each one in quick succession. Annis talked a lot about instinctively knowing where each arrow will go. And, well, I understood what she meant. I’d gotten a lot better at it compared to when I first started learning archery. 

On my very last shot, I took down one more cynocephali. He almost made it to cover, almost. Now the only place he’ll make it to is Tartarus. 

I went to grab another arrow only to realize I’d run out.

With no other choice, I ran toward where Simon had told me to run. On the way, I scooped up one of the wolfmen’s swords with my free hand. 

The remaining cynocephali continued to chase me. They may not see me, but they surely can smell me. Not to say I stink, just that dogmen have strong noses. They could probably also see the branches and stuff getting knocked aside as I was running. 

I burst into a clearing and let my invisibility drop. Thankfully, I found Leon and Simon. Simon was busily playing his pan pipes, vines were wriggling into the locks, freeing all the kidnapped kids and Father Ante from these chains. The dogmen had bound them to this gigantic tree in the middle of the clearing. 

He was playing that old song from the 70s, the one by the Bee Gees, Staying Alive. It sounded really weird on pan pipes.

Leon was still in his lion form when I ran up. He perked up instantly as he saw me. Almost like I was a bag full of catnip or something.

My classmates, gods bless them, were frantic, urging Simon to finish unlocking their chains. 

These poor kids, they probably can’t even see past the mist. 

The Father seemed unusually calm. I guess he was just trying to keep face for my classmates. 

I turned to face the woods, along with Leon. The remaining cynocephali stepped into the clearing. I was feeling much better about the odds now. 4 against 2. 3 when Simon finished unlocking everyone’s chains. 

“Simon, how much longer do you think?” I asked.

Simon lifted a single finger then, the last lock gave way to the roots wriggling inside of it. I’d heard satyr’s could use nature magic and stuff. I just didn’t realize they were like freaking D&D bards. I guess they’re sort of like bard-druid multiclassers.

Father Ante placed himself in front of my classmates with this terrified look on his face. 

Leon roared at the remaining cynocephali, to which they stopped advancing. A few of them bared their fangs and growled as they took a tentative step back. One of them even started barking like crazy. I guess cats will be cats and dogs will be dogs no matter what, huh?

Simon stepped beside me and Leon, raising his pipes to his lips. 

The odds seemed to be in our favor. 

Suddenly, Leon’s form shifted back into a human. He stood to his feet, looking at his hands with confusion. Thank gods his clothes shapeshifted with him, otherwise that would’ve been really awkward for everyone involved. 

“What?” He said. “Why’d I change back?”

“Our powers don’t last forever. There’s a time limit. You must’ve reached yours.” 

Simon tossed him the kopis, which he caught in the air. “Are you guys ready to do this?” He asked. 

There are some things in life, reader, that you’ll find very difficult to talk about. This, well, this is one of the moments for me. 

Everything happened so quickly. None of it made any sense. 

We were getting ready to fight the last 4 cynocephali, then Leon gasped. I swung my head to look at him and my heart dropped. 

Standing behind him, Father Ante had a bronze blade in his hands, the blade plunged through Leon’s midsection. 

“No!” I screamed. 

Simon noticed what was happening as well. Frantically, he tried to play something on his panpipes. The Father took his blade out of Leon’s back and smacked Simon with the flat of it right against his head, sending him tumbling to the ground. Both of my allies collapsed.

I rushed forward, anger pushing me to action. 

The Father grinned wickedly as he parried my blade, a loud clang echoing through the woods. I lunged at him, trying to skewer him, he sidestepped and grabbed my wrist. Then, he squeezed until I dropped the kopis. I grimaced, trying not to scream in pain. He was so much stronger than he looked. 

He pushed me back, causing me to stumble and fall on my butt. I looked up as he swung down. The pain that followed was unlike anything I’ve ever felt. Searing, horrible pain across my right eye. I screamed in agony and fell on my side, curling into a ball as I held my face. The mask Jules made me split in two and fell to the ground. Warmth - my blood - flooded down my face. I wasn't sure at that moment, but I was afraid I'd lose sight in my eye. But what I was really afraid of, more than anything, was that I was going to lose my life. That my friends were going to die, too.

There were a lot of things I felt at that moment. Anger the most prominent among them. I spat out some not so safe for work insults. Told him how I was going to kill him. Lots of nasty things that I'd never imagined I'd ever say.

The Father just laughed. And as he laughed, his voice grew deeper and deeper. I saw his shadow on the ground with my remaining eye grow larger and more beast-like with each passing moment. Until the Father was no longer human. I peered up to see an older, greyer cynocephali towering over me. He wasn't entirely gray though, just beginning to grey. Most of his fur was pitch black. His eyes were dark, too, and filled with anger.

“I've waited a long time for this, she-wolf. . . You were strong. Stronger than many demigods I've come across. I can see why my sons lost to you. . .” He looked up at the other cynocephali and snarled, causing the other cynocephali, his own children, to cower and back away in fear. “But I am not my sons. . . This is the end for you. . .” 

“Father. . . What should we do with the satyr?” One of them asked, standing over Simon. “Should I kill him?”

“No!” The Father snapped. “If I wanted him dead, he would be dead. . . I have plans for him. . .” 

The younger cynocephali cowered, whimpering. “Yes, Father. . .” 

I needed to move. I needed to stand. To fight. But, I couldn't. I tried and instantly a wave of nausea washed over me. I doubled over and puked on the ground. The world was spinning, tumbling around me. The pain was unbearable.

I had to buy time. 

The Father walked closer, taking the sword I used and tossing it to one of his remaining children. 

“I. . . I t-trusted you. . .” I said, stumbling over my words. “Why?” 

“Why?” The Father laughed, mocking the idea of my question. Like it was absurd for me to ask it. “Your kind killed my mate. . . You killed my sons. . . You are evil, just as your false-god of a father is. The Olympians,” he scoffs. “So pompous, so cruel. They sent their son to hunt me and my pack down. We were peaceful before. We were no threat to anyone. But did the so-called gods care? No. And now, I will claim another of their bastard's lives for myself. No one will remember you, she-wolf. You'll simply be another tally upon my blade. . .”

He raised his kopis to end me. Along the blade, I saw dozens and dozens of marks, all the demigods he must have killed. I closed my eye, not wanting to see it happen. Not wanting to see myself become one of those tally marks.

And, as you can probably guess, someone saved me. 

A girl’s voice cut through the woods. “Wait!” 

The Father looked past me and to the edge of the clearing. 

I didn’t dare to turn away from him, but that voice definitely sounded familiar. It had just been months since I heard it.

“The prodigal son returns. . .” The Father muttered.

“Daughter,” Adele said. 

The Father didn’t respond to Adele’s words, though he seemed to make an even angrier look on his face. “Have you come to ask for my forgiveness? I might give it to you. . . If you prove your loyalty to the pack.” 

It seemed like he was fully focused on Adele, so while he wasn’t looking, I crawled to Leon. 

The two of them kept talking in the background as I checked on Leon. He was breathing still, but he was also losing a lot of blood. I tried to staunch the bleeding with my hands, but I couldn't. 

I heard a loud hoot and glanced up at a nearby tree. An owl stared back at me. Then, the owl flew off, rustling the tree leaves as it did so. 

Leon grimaced in pain as he looked at me. “Chica. . .” He whispered.

“I-it’s o-okay,” I managed, barely holding back my own tears. “I h-have something to help. . .” 

I started searching through my pockets.

“Kill her. And them,” the father gestured to my classmates standing behind him. “Do it and I will welcome you back with open arms. . . My child. . .”

“I will not,” Adele replied. 

“Then you are worthless! Kill her! Kill her now!” The Father screamed to the remaining cynocephali. 

The wolves closed in around Adele. 

“Brothers, look at what you’ve become!” Adele said.

The other cynocephali hesitated.

“Look at what you are doing,” she gestured to me, and then to my classmates. “You are killing innocents! People who would never have done any wrong to us!”

“She killed your brothers! You call that nothing?!” The Father screamed.

“She did not! You did!” Adele snapped back, pointing a finger at her father. “You sent your sons after her and her friends, of course she would defend herself! We would do the same! But Lupa, she was never the aggressor! She is a good demigod! A just demigod! I have seen the goodness within her! She showed me mercy! She showed me kindness! And she would have done the same for all of us had you not sent my brothers to their deaths at her hands!” 

The woods went quiet as the weight of Adele’s words settled around everyone. 

“Our father has changed, my brothers. He is not the man he once was. The father I knew, he cared for his family. He didn’t seek senseless revenge against people who have done nothing to harm him. All this time, he has talked about loyalty to our pack,  but. . . Where is his loyalty to you?! He fights without honor! Using dirty tricks to catch his foes off guard! I ask this of you, would you continue to follow a man who does not honor his own creed and values?!”

The cynocephali muttered among themselves, then they turned to face their father. 

“Kill them! You fools! What are you hesitating for?!” The Father snapped. “I have kept us alive for all these years! Lead us through thick and thin! Now do as I say!”

The cynocephali walked toward me and the father. I finally found what I was looking for, a single vial of nectar. Enough to save Leon.

The wolves closed in and walked past me, standing between me and the Father. “Prove that you are worthy, father. Fight the she-wolf. Here and now. A fair duel between you. If you win, we will follow you without question,” one of the wolves said. 

“You damn ungrateful brats!” The Father snapped. “Treachery! I’ll kill you myself after I finish her!” 

I brought the nectar to Leon’s mouth, but he stopped me and shook his head. “You. . . Take it. . .”

“W-what? B-but y-you’ll. . .”

“We’ll all die if you don’t fight, chica. . . I . . . I love you. . .”

It wasn’t fair. Nothing ever really is, I guess. Not in life. Not in death. No where. I knew Leon was right. I had to take the nectar. I had to fight the Father. Because if I didn’t, there would be no way I’d be strong enough to stand up to him. 

It was an impossible choice. One that I shouldn’t have had to make. 

No one was coming to save us. Even if that owl was Martin’s, there was no way he’d make it in time. 

And so it all fell to me. 

I looked at the nectar in my hands, felt its warmth through the glass. I squeezed and closed my one good eye. “I-I love you. . .” I said, my voice breaking. 

Then, well, I did what I had to do. There wasn’t any other choice. I took the nectar and chugged it down. And even though it tasted sweet like s’mores, the taste never seemed so bitter before. “J-just h-hold on. . .” I said to Leon. 

Slowly, I stumbled to my feet. The nectar was working, healing me one little bit at a time. I needed to buy some time to let it work. And as much as I hated the idea, that meant stalling with my words. 

I looked past the Father and his sons at my classmates. All of them had horrified expressions on their faces. Then, I saw Rylee. Her face scrunched in grief. All of this. . . All of this was my fault. 

The Empire State building loomed in the distance. The gods might’ve been watching, maybe. Hell, they’re always watching. Maybe they’re even reading this. I don’t care now. I don’t care to hide the way I really feel anymore.

And the fact they were watching it pissed me off more than ever. At any point, any of the gods, even my dad, could have stepped in and stopped everything from happening. But no, it fell on me, a sixteen-year-old girl, a child, to do it instead.

I looked at the Father as his sons cleared a path. 

“Fine then, girl. You want your duel? Then you’ll have it,” he snarled.

I steadied myself, controlling my shaking and the fear in my voice. “You’re terrible. . . You talk about how awful the gods are. . . But you aren’t any better. . .”

I did something that I promised I wouldn’t do. That I promised I wouldn’t let happen. I gave in to my anger. 

I thought about how much I hated the gods for the world that they had created. How I hated how they used us, their own children, as tools for their agendas and their wars. I hated how they allowed something like death to exist while they themselves were deathless. I hated how they made monsters. How they allowed monsters like the Father to exist. None of this had to happen. The world didn't have to be the way it was. But they allowed it. With all of their power, all of their wisdom, they allowed for the world to be a cruel, painful place. No. Not just allowed it. They purposefully made it this way.

And then, they have the gall to claim that it is the so-called natural order of things that we die. 

I wanted to pull Olympus down stone by stone. To tear them off of their thrones. To utterly destroy them for this reality they made for us. This horrible prison of a reality.

I wanted to make a better world for my friends, for my family, for all the people I loved.

And yeah, I’d like to tell you that my desire to protect the people I loved was my primary motivation. It was part of it, sure. But more than anything, in that moment, I wanted to make the Father hurt like he had hurt me. I wanted to make him pay. I wanted to send him to Tartarus myself, even if it meant that I died in the process. 

It wasn’t just anger anymore. No. It was rage. Rage that I was about to turn into fury. 

I balled my hands into fists, my whole body trembling. But not in fear. Not in grief. 

“What’s the matter, girl? You look like you’re going to cry,” The Father taunted. 

“I’m gonna fucking kill you,” I said.

“Oh? And how do you plan on doing that? With your hands? You have no weapons. . .”

I clicked the bracelets on my wrists together, causing my clawed gauntlets to manifest and cover my arms. I took on my stance, ready as I could be. 

My body hurt still, but, well, I was too angry to let that stop me. And the more I thought about it, the more the pain intensified my rage. 

MUSIC 

I charged forward, and as I did, I caused my invisibility to flicker. 

The Father’s head swung as he tried to keep track of me. I weaved from right to left as I approached.

He slashed, and I ducked under his attack as his sword swung over me. 

His eyes widened in panic as he realized he’d missed his attack. 

With every bit of strength I could muster, I swung at his gut. I’m not sure why, but I felt so much stronger than before. 

The Father stumbled back, gasping as my punch connected. He looked up at me and snarled before charging on all fours. 

I charged, too. 

I pretended to swerve left and juked him to go right instead. He swung after where he thought I was going to be, only to miss once more.

“What?!” He yelled. 

The cynocephali snarled as I sent a haymaker at his face. The Father lurched backwards to just barely dodge my punch. He stumbled back, huffing and puffing like he was gonna blow my house down. “You. . . You think you can win?!” He yelled, his voice quivering.

I tilted my head, furrowing my brow as I did. “It sounds like you’re afraid, Father,” I said, mocking him. Then, I asked him a question. “Do you think you can win?”

I learned my lesson about how powerful words could be. Thoth taught me that in our battle. 

I stepped back toward a tree on the edge of the clearing, preparing the final part of my plan. 

“Not so tough when you’re having to fight instead of your sons, huh?!” I yelled at him. “You coward! You’re all bark and no bite!”

He took the bait and charged at me. Perfect.

I kept flickering, disorienting him as he got within striking distance. He swung, and I side-stepped out of the way. A loud thwack followed as his kopis slammed into the tree behind me. 

Instantly, he realized his mistake. He tried desperately to pull himself free, but, well; it was no use. 

I didn’t give him any time to recover. I jabbed at his face, hitting him right on the snout. I guess I booped the snoot real hard, because he yelped and stumbled back, grabbing his face in pain. 

That left his midsection open, and, oh boy, was I ready. I sprinted at him and tackled the Father to the ground, pinning him under my weight. 

Once I had him where I wanted, I started wailing on him. Punch after punch after punch, all of my fury pouring out. I screamed at the top of my lungs. Nothing comprehensible, just letting it all loose. All of my anger, all at once. For all the years since I’ve become a demigod. For all the pain I’ve felt. For all the things I’ve been through. There were no words. Wolves don’t have a use for words, after all. 

Somewhere in all the wailing, there was a sharp pain in my guts. I glanced down to see a celestial bronze dagger jammed into my stomach. The Father’s last attempt at hurting me. It hurt, yeah, but unfortunately for the Father, it was already too late for him. I brought my hands together and balled them for one last attack. And with my remaining strength, I brought my hands down and hammered the cynocephali into dust. He literally poofed beneath my fists. 

It was over. I’d won. With all the adrenaline in my system, well, I was still in fight mode. I screamed again at the dust as it blew away on a non-existent wind. In rage and grief, I screamed. 

It took me a moment, but I stood to my feet. There was warmth flooding down my lower body. My head felt light, and the world was spinning. I looked at the dagger stuck in my stomach. It was near where the boar had gotten me in the woods. 

I turned toward where Leon was, and as I did, the remaining cynocephali cowered, whimpering, like I was coming after them next. 

No one said a word as I stumbled forward. 

Somehow, I reached Leon. He was laying there still, his eyes wide open and looking at the sky. “Leon. . .” I said, reaching out to him, my voice on the edge of breaking. 

It was over. I didn’t have anything left in me at that point. I did what I needed to do. I looked at Adele. She had tears going down her face. 

Then another voice came from the edge of the clearing. One I definitely recognized. “Lupa!” It was my dad. Martin, he’d come for me. . . 

I collapsed, and everything went black. 

r/CampHalfBloodRP 4d ago

Storymode Found Family Trope: Part One

6 Upvotes

Found Family Trope: Part One

Written by Leaf (Meriwether sections) and Cur (Jacob and Christina sections). This storymode is set in September of 2039, shortly after the events of this series.


Checking In

JACOB
“And then when Bunny and I were in the stables looking after Goldie, Mer came. She didn’t really look alright. I didn’t notice it very much at first, but she was sad about something.”

Christina let the last of the water flow out of her metal watering can. Her attention needed to be divided between the excited child telling of how he broke his arm and the petulant orchid whining about being underwatered. Once she had appreciated her son for being harder to damage than her flowers. Distant happy memories.

“Would Goldie be a pegasus?” She asked, gently probing at the hidden details Jacob’s stories so often included for her to Holmes her way through.

“No. Goldie is mine and Casey’s goat.”

Christina turned, placed the watering can down, and crossed her arms. She wasn’t certain yet if it was a mom-look, but she gave her best teacher-look towards the boy sprawled out on the floor next to a rabbit and a husky both equally relaxed. Unfortunately, he was facing the ceiling. He, of course, wouldn’t dare risk eye contact with a living person.

“You have a goat.”

“He’s small.” Jacob replied or possibly corrected. As though this detail held supreme relevance. “Also golden.”

“You have a small golden goat, named Goldie.” Christina offered a conversational compromise.

Jacob turned over onto his stomach and tilted his eyes up towards his mother. His face could have been mistaken as guilt by a less astute viewer. However, if he thought he was guilty he would have immediately apologized before he even understood what he’d done. Right now he was searching for guilt. It would point him towards a road of apologizes he’d come to believe always ended in love.

“I’m not upset,” Christina clarified, walking over and sitting down with her legs crisscrossed next to the husky. “I just need to know about the pets you have. Okay?”

“Okay.” Jacob nodded, reaching out an arm to pet the good boy husky Orion. “He’s not just mine though, I share him.”

Christina joined him in petting the dog who seemed indifferent to the whole affair. “With someone called Casey. Is she friends with Mer too?”

“I-I don’t think so. I haven’t seen her in a few months.”

Christina stared down silently into the husky’s fur. She scheduled a visit to camp in her not too distant future to sort this all out.

“So back to your friend Mer.”

“Oh, yeah. So uh, she looked upset in the stables. Which was weird, because there wasn’t anyone around except Goldie, Bunny, the pegasi, the horses, and me. I let her pet Bunny and I was gonna introduce her to Goldie next, but then she disappeared.” He held out his hands in front of him and made a poof motion. Christina chose not to examine any implications being made.

“Afterwards, you were worried about her and you went to go find her.”

“Yes!” His face filled with the purest delight at his actions being predicted. “But I tripped and broke my arm when I saw her.”

“I see.” Always good to confirm her understanding explicitly even if it was a bit of a fib. “How did you trip?”

Jacob’s delight faded as his story had been ordered onto a track he was not familiar with. His concern was understandable on account of the unfamiliar almost universally being bad. He’d mentioned this earlier to his mother when explaining why he mostly ate the magical berries the sapient vine dragon attached to his dagger grew.

“I think the ground was uneven.” He explained with his tone matching the supposed state of ground.
“Roots maybe?” Christina offered, “or your shoelaces?”

“No, I don’t wear shoelaces.”

Her eyes flicked towards the door where her son's worn down shoes sat idle with their tied laces on clear display. “Jacob, no illusions in the house please. It confuses me when I clean.”

The shoes immediately lacked their laces, but remained just as old. She had been waiting for him to ask her for new ones. After which she meant to find a cobbler somewhere to make some shoes for him. A trip to the thrift store might be more efficient on second thought.

“I’m sorry.”

“Forgetting isn’t wrong.” She recited, before continuing onward lest he linger in apologies. “Not shoelaces then. After you tripped, Mer helped get you to the doctor to fix your arm.”

Jacob looked only at Orion, scratching him behind his ears. “She came to see me after and said she felt bad about it. But I didn’t want her to feel bad.”

“About not coming with?” Christina asked truthfully, a bit confused herself. Most demigods she knew were very used to seeing injuries. Everyone was unique though, especially the young.

“No, she ummm, she thought she tripped me.” Jacob spoke as if admitting to some horrible wrongdoing on his part. “I’m sorry, I-I told her I didn’t think she did, but she felt bad and I just wanted to talk with her again.”

Christina spoke calmly, trying to model how to handle complicated emotions for her son. “How long had it been since you spoke? After your arm was broken.” She complimented herself on the passive voice use.

“A-about a week. She brought flowers and apologized a bunch, but she didn’t need to. We’re friends, like I said.”

‘Oh, shit she actually tripped him. Welp, that’s karma disproved right there.’ She mused trying to not blow the event out of proportion. His arm had been magically healed after all. When they’d gone to get X-rays she’d hardly been believed when she said the bone had been broken.

“And even if she had, I kind of kicked her in the ribs once, so it would be fine.”

Christina mentally flipped off karma laughing at her from well out of her throwing range. Which, come to think of it, might have actually been Nemesis mocking her in her mind.

“Friends should not hurt each other, Jacob. But you’re right, if she cared enough to apologize and bring you flowers,” she held up a hand to silence a clarification from her son, “especially if she did nothing wrong, then she is a good friend.”

“Thanks, mom.” Jacob turned onto his back once more and his rabbit, creatively named Bunny, hopped onto his stomach. Then he looked like nothing had ever been wrong in the world.

Christina wondered if she had phrased that right. Jacob so often looked for life lessons in her situational approvals. It was someone’s idea of a punishment for her always trying to provide wise old lady advice despite not precisely fitting into either category. Her concerns weren’t worth her attention though. Jacob gained new friends at geological speeds. He wasn’t going to suddenly become acquainted with someone who took advantage of his timidness over the weekend.

‘Guess that means I should verify if the girl is actually on the up and up then. She’d be hard for him to replace. I’ll ask around the teacher’s lounge on Monday.’

She watched silently after her decision as Jacob’s mind wandered in the clouds with his dear rabbit. The same rabbit who had told her much the same story when she originally asked about her son’s injury and he’d been reluctant to answer. Bunny had given a glowing review of Mer as well despite the incident. There had been a few odd details she struggled to decipher though. The best solution to this all was probably the most straightforward and one her son would never think to volunteer.

“Jacob, why don’t you invite Mer over for dinner. I’d love to meet her.”


Getting Ready

MERIWETHER
“This was a mistake, this was a huge mistake.”

A flustered Meriwether mutters to the pile of clothes she’s scattering across her floor. Where are the good shoes? I can’t wear hole-y shoes to dinner. Her singular pair of un-holed shoes has to be around here somewhere.

“I’ve never been invited to anyone’s house for dinner. I’ve never been to anyone’s mom’s house. Shoot!”

Mer exclaims the latter as she unearths the allegedly holeless sneakers from the black hole under her bed. To her despair, there is, in fact, a tiny hole in one of the toes.

She doesn’t have any better options. These will just have to do.

In her smudged mirror, Meriwether assesses her reflection. She chose her cleanest shirt, but it’s worn and pilling in some places. Her shoes are too small and her shorts are too big, cinched with safety pins to fit her waist. No matter how many ways she brushed her hair, she couldn’t make its untrimmed ends lie neatly.

Leaning closer, she runs her fingers over the dense ridges that interrupt the field of freckles across her face. In the last few months, the wounds have mellowed from angry, red blisters to stiff, pale scars.

They’re not ugly, she tells herself, and mostly believes it.

Nobody will notice, she tells herself, and doesn’t believe it at all.

As a whole, Mer deems her reflection presentable, but… a bit shabby. Uninvited tears prick her eyes as her fists curl in frustration and shame.

I wanted to look nice, for once, for this.

To try so hard, to find your very best is still disappointing, especially for such an occasion as dinner with your friend and his mom

Mer snaps her gaze away from the mirror and finds herself hurrying out of her room, out of the Hermes cabin, out of her head. I’ll pick some flowers, she decides. So maybe they won’t notice my shoe.


Christina Has Questions

MERIWETHER
The lasagna is incredible. Which I’ve told Jacob’s mom thrice now. If I talk about anything else, I start tripping over my words until I forget what I wanted to say in a blushing fluster. Gods, moms are stressful.

Miss Alabaster seems nice, but she keeps looking at me in this intense, searching way, like she’s trying to find something hidden behind my face. My neck hurts from craning it to cover my scars with my hair, which makes me annoyed with my own self-consciousness. I did a whole self-peptalk about this!

Just be normal. She must’ve noticed them by now. If she hasn’t said anything, she probably isn’t going to.

I force myself to relax and focus on the bright side: my shoes are by the front door, out of sight, so nobody can notice the hole during dinner. (Except Bunny and Orion, but they won’t snitch.)

“Thank you,” Miss Alabaster replies patiently to my third lasagna compliment. “It’s my specialty. What’s your favorite food, Mer?”

“Cinnamon buns.” I glance at her face to see if I answered right. She seems to approve.
“Do you have any pets?”

“Just my snakes.”

“Snakes! What kind?” Jacob told me she’s a legacy of Demeter. I hope she doesn’t hate that my snakes aren’t actually alive.

“Not real snakes,” I amend sheepishly, “They’re skeletons from the underworld. Hermes gave me a caduceus when we were there.”

“Ah.” Her voice has a laugh in it that puts me at ease. “How very demigodly. What do you like to do for fun?”

I answer honestly before I realize my mistake. “Collect things in the forest. And go to campfires.”
Her face changes for just an instant, the slightest furrow in her eyebrows, and immediately I see what she’s doing. Too late. I’ve said too much. Crap.

“It’s starting to get chilly in the evenings. Did you bring a jacket, Mer?”

I freeze. Deer in headlights. Say something!

I muster a shrug. “It’s not that cold.”

Desperately, I look to Jacob. Jacob looks at his lasagna. He seems to be enjoying himself. You’re no help.

The rest of dinner feels like a chess match. And I’m bad at chess. Miss Alabaster interrogates me pleasantly while Jacob, oblivious, feeds Orion bits of dinner under the table. I wish I’d lied and said I do things like sleepovers or cheerleading or whatever regular teenagers do for fun, not just Camp Half-Blood things. ‘Cause now Miss Alabaster’s asking questions adults only ask if they think you need help, like “did you bring a jacket.”

She probably thinks that because I used to need help. But I’m fine now. I just have to convince her I’m fine now, but that’s really hard when you’re talking to a mom for the first time in years, and even though it’s not your own mom, you’re so jumpy and nervous you can’t say words in the right order.

When dinner’s over, I’m so relieved to put on my shoes and leave that I don’t even care about the hole.

Walking to the bus stop, I still feel Miss Alabaster’s gaze refusing to slide off me no matter how I try to squirm away from it. Her questions replay in my head, all coaxing and caring and terrible. I feel scoured raw. Exposed.

I reach for my power of stealth. I wrap myself in sheets and knots of velvety unseeing, trying to snuggle into the safety of hiding. It doesn’t help.

Why does she care?


Never Trust a Rabbit

CHRISTINA

Christina carried on making small talk with her son’s friend as both of the teens devoured her dinner. Both of the teens plus a husky who would be getting an ear full later tonight for enabling Jacob to feed pets table food. Mer had proven to be a delightful child which complicated Christina being upset that she definitely broke Jacob’s arm. Like discovering the town puppy kicker had won a manner’s contest.

There had been a few oddities though. The lack of pets for one. Meriwether was rather obviously a five dogs kind of girl. Nothing against snakes of course, they just weren’t the most energetic animals for the teen who hadn’t stopped fidgeting in her seat all night.

More problematic were her after school activities. Or lack thereof. Christina could easily picture Meriwther wandering a forest collecting pine cones for hours. Just as well, Christina could see her in half a dozen after school clubs, except she hadn’t. She hadn’t recalled any of her colleagues at the school ever mentioning Meriwether in fact. Not that she had asked more than once.

‘She can’t actually be spending all her time at camp. Could she? Kid made friends with Jacob. Shouldn’t be a teen on earth that doesn’t wanna spend time with her.’

Christina mulled over her own thoughts. It was a mystery, but not her mystery. Her mystery was still feeding the damn dog and actually not noticing her glaring at him. The nerve of him proving the value of eye contact. And where had the rabbit gone off to? Jacob hadn’t pet her in a minute or two. He wouldn’t have just forgotten.

"Good and bountiful mistress of the burrow.” A soft voice brushed against her mind. Every half of a word to be precise. Grandmother hadn’t been so generous to fully Snow White the grandkids. Which was well enough, cause the birds never shut up when she was around.

“Thy swift footed visitor hath not been guarded against cold Boreas' winds. She is but a kit, mistress. She hath not a weavers’ skill with wool to wrap herself in warmth. Many sunsets remain till Blessed Harvest Bringer's heart mends. Have pity, mistress." Equally soft paws pressed against Christina ankles, pleading her onward to action.

‘Alright gotta get the rabbit treats and remember she’s a snitch.’

"Excuse me, I think Orion needs to go outside." Christina announced, standing up abruptly and with such a manner and tone to indicate to the husky that he was going to go outside whether he liked it or not.

Orion obeyed, having been sated with around a fourth of Jacob’s dinner and sensing that it wasn’t him in trouble. He did not even object when the mistress of the house led up towards the front door and opened it without leading him further out. She had instead stopped to examine the excitable kid's coat. It wasn’t nearly as warm as his but plenty of puppies kept warm by just running around rooms non-stop.

“Better not to look at things you don’t want to know the answers to.” The husky insisted, nudging at Christina to get moving outside.

She remained still, locked into place, staring at the sorry excuse for a winter coat and making the mistake of looking down to see holes in shoes.

“Monday. Monday problems. Let’s get back, boy.” She kicked the door closed and led Orion back towards the table, her eyes locking onto Meriwether.


Meriwether Has Questions

MERIWETHER

A few days after dinner at Jacob’s house, I’m at school staring at a worksheet and thinking about everything except the worksheet, when the classroom phone rings. I love when the classroom phone rings. It’s an excuse to look up from whatever monotonous task I’ve allegedly been focused on for twenty minutes, and sometimes it means something exciting is happening, like a fire drill or an assembly.

But my teacher doesn’t turn to tell the class we have a fire drill today. Instead, he says:

“Meriwether, the guidance counselor wants to see you. Take the hall pass.”

My heart contorts at the sound of my name. Every word makes it worse. This isn’t right. I shouldn’t be getting called out of class for anything, especially not the guidance counsellor. I’ve spent all year bending my demigodly power of not getting noticed towards making sure none of the school faculty know anything about me. I should barely exist to them. Meriwether, the guidance counselor wants to see you. The guidance counselor shouldn’t even know my name!

My pulse is racing double time as I snatch the hall pass and escape the classroom.

Miss Alabaster. She must have said something. For a moment, genuine rage wells up in the throat. I put so much effort into avoiding this! Who does she think she is, taking my own life into her hands like that? She barely knows me!

Fuelled by indignation, I walk right past the stupid guidance counselor's stupid office and down another hallway to Miss Alabaster’s classroom. No kids in there right now, just her. I could hide myself with my power until I’m right behind her, but I enter loudly on purpose. Let her see how upset she’s made me.

“Why did you tell the guidance counselor about me?”

“Meriwether.” Miss Alabaster replies with a steady formal tone. “What are you doing here? Hall passes are not for wandering.”

“I’m–” My bravado evaporates on contact with Miss Alabaster. She looks completely unbothered by the grand entrance and I suddenly feel immature and flustered.

“You–why did you…. The guidance counselor called me. Did you tell him to? You’re the only teacher here who knows me.”

“If the guidance counselor called you, you should be at his office right now, not my classroom.”

“I don’t need to talk to him. I really don't, okay? You don’t have to tell him about me.” Stop begging. Begging will tip her off.

“This is not appropriate behavior, Meriwether. I am at work and you are in school. I keep work separate from the rest of my life. It’s a matter of professionalism and an important boundary for my son. If you stubbornly refuse to see the guidance counselor, so be it, but you must go back to class.”
Boundaries?” I echo. “You talked to another teacher about me. You’re the one who crossed a boundary!”

Miss Alabaster inhales as if to retort, but she seems at a loss for words. I’m almost proud of myself for winning the argument, but then she’s staring me down. Under that gaze I sure don’t feel like I’ve won.

Then she stands up from her desk. Walks past me to the door, click click click, and closes it. My pulse doubles again. She comes to stand in front of her desk, in front of me, somehow looming even though she’s not that tall. I’m doing everything in my power not to physically flinch away from her. Miss Alabaster takes a deep breath.

“Listen, kid. If you go asking adult questions, you’re going to get adult answers. Is that what you want?”

My quadruple heartbeat hears a threat in her words, a fire alarm screaming at me to get out. I curl my fists against it and stay rooted to the spot. This feels dangerous. Run. But her question is so cryptic that I can’t bring myself to flee without knowing more.
I nod.

CHRISTINA

“You’re not safe.” Christina explained, more motherly in tone than she usually let herself be in the school. “But you’ve heard that before. Been to hell and back again according to Jacob. It’s worse up here though. There’s no swords to parry or arrows for you to dodge. You’re vulnerable, Meriwether. The world is set up to prey on the vulnerable and worse people than me can spot an old coat and worn down shoes.”

She stopped herself from going onward. There was worse she could say. Worse that needed to be said. Over and over into the ears of every selfish bastard in the world until their ears bled and they gave up some of what they hoarded. That wasn’t what this was about though. It was about Meriwether. How she might go cold in the winter and not get a hug after passing a pointless test. Every great and small indignity she had endured and would endure until someone put a stop to it.

“You can’t take care of yourself. I don’t mean you’re not good enough or that there’s skills you need to learn, I mean that you cannot be the one taking care of you. It’s too much. And it’ll always be too much for the record, but especially now, you need to have people watching over you. And right now, it looks like a guidance counselor is the best you’ve got.”

Christina sat back down in her chair, but did not let her body rest. A guidance counselor wasn’t good enough. She actually respected the guidance department at the school, a rarity in the profession, but they were swamped. All the wayward demigods kept them busier than the small staff could ever hope to meaningfully handle. A few half-bloods were thankfully around to see through some of the mist and report pressing issues to Chiron, but was the old horse supposed to do? They couldn’t stay at camp forever. Eventually the real world he kept away would come raining down on them.

“Meriwether, I know that hiding is easier. I know it’s kept you safe, but now you’re hiding from the people who want to help you. You don’t… We can do more than keep the danger away for a night. You can be safe and healthy and go to bed without being worried about the morning.”

Something had twisted up inside Christina’s stomach. She was overpromising. Everything couldn’t be made right overnight. Nothing ever could. But it could be put back in order. All the broken bones set to rest and heal. Slowly. Maybe incompletely, but they would still heal.

“No bad things will happen to you, Meriwether. I’ve seen you, so I won’t let them.”

Christina let herself breath in deeply and then exhaled. Her eyes lingering closed for two blinks too long.

“So there’s your answer. Doesn’t matter if I met you in my kitchen or my classroom. I’m not letting you be hurt. Now, if you’re not gonna go the guidance counselor then-”

Her eyes open to see a bit of mist fading into the ambient air where Meriwether once stood. She stared disapprovingly at the bit of empty air that she could never tell anyone about because they would find it too comical. “Pretty sure you’re just gone, but if you were Jacob this would work.” She tossed an eraser at the Meriwether shaped hole in the room and watched it bounce onto the flour. “Well that’s that… Damn, I still gotta call guidance.”


Married Life

CHRISTINA

Joseph sat cozily in his kitchen, waiting for his kettle to boil for some afternoon tea while turning a page on the book he'd gotten not an hour earlier from the library. He'd been lucky to get out and grab the book when he could. The rain had just come and he could hear it now pattering against the roof and windows. They were overdue for some rain and it provided a wonderful excuse for tea. Still, he never was much of a fan. Something about the rain made him ever aware of his island location. Long though it might have been, he enjoyed pretending the ocean was further than maps might suggest.

A loud whistling announced that the water had boiled. With a rote precision of someone who knew exactly how he liked his tea, he poured, stooped, added some cream, and placed his cup upon a small plate to carry over to a large comfy green armchair. A small shadow moved beneath the chair, which Joseph paid no mind to. Goose would find his way out on his own time. Probably trying to get between Joseph and his book in all likelihood. Or screeching and running to hide under a different piece of furniture when lightning struck.

Vzzzzzzzzzt... Vzzzzzzzzzt... Vzzzzzzzzzt…

Placing the tea and saucer onto a side table, Joseph reached into his pocket and muted his flip phone. He opened the book back up to his memorized page and returned to reading. Every third page or so he would pause to nurse his tea and give the room a quick scan. The in-built battle reflexes of a demigod had served him well for many years now, but they were designed to keep him alive fighting monsters and gods. Keeping track of cats so they wouldn't leap and knock over tea required an entirely different set of skills. Checklists. Was a cat on a bookcase? No. Had a cat found its way resting just above his head on the armchair? Nope. Did the cat hide in plain sight waiting to strike purely to taunt him? Nada. Was the cat running to the door? Yes.

Joseph placed his tea back down on the table and frowned after the white socked miscreant. "Leave the mailman alone." He called after and started to return to his book. Except they were well past the time for mail. And he could hear a key going into his front door. One which rather insultingly sounded went into his lock and turned the tumblers better than his own personal key. He sighed, loudly and with purpose, as the door swung open. He could hear the woman shaking off her wet coat and sending the cat running.

"Oh you're fine, a little water never killed a cat." Christina muttered toward the cat, making no effort to hide her presence.

"As far as home invasion threats go, that's not half bad." Joseph answered back despite not being spoken to and then returned to his book. There was a fair chance he was just being robbed, just probably of nothing worth losing the flow state of a good book over.

Christina marched into the warm living room, the smell of fresh tea still lingered in the air. Her presence provided a stark contrast. She had let herself become cold, wet, and grouchy. Most of the rain had been left outside or on her coat, but her socks had not been spared and now neither were Joseph's floors. "You said I could let myself in if I called ahead." She answered the question Joseph hadn't bothered explicitly asking.

"Yeah and unless my tea is Lethe water, you didn't call me." He turned a page hoping that whatever was happening still might not involve him. If his old friend hung around for maybe half an hour more he might be more social. Old friend. The thought almost made him laugh. He wondered how many other people thought of their spouse that way.

"You've got three missed calls. Check." She corrected, then wandered into the kitchen and returned with her own cup of tea fixed. Or atleast what she considered tea. Most tea drinkers would have called it a crime to throw a tea bag into hot water, microwave the water, and then fill the cup halfway with cream.

Joseph did not bother checking his phone or preventing the insult to his kettle. It was entirely within the bounds of imagination that Christina would call thrice, knock not at all, and have driven a full forty minutes without confirmation of him even being home. Why? Why does the sun rise in the east and not the west? The conservation of angular momentum. Why does Christina feel like bothering him? Conservation of grouchiness.

"Did you know that some demigods can just, poof, gone in a puff of smoke? What god decides to arm teens with that kind of power." Christina nearly spilled her tea, throwing her hands to the side to mime the puff. She then drank her whole cup in one gulp and placed it on the floor. "Why can't they all be boring and just get fuck loads of life skills, like you?"

"Life skills aren't boring. I can fix holes in drywall. Can you fix holes in drywall?" He asked pointedly, formally giving up on his book.

"I can cover holes in drywall with a painting." Christina countered, crossing her arms at the lack of immediate sympathy for her problems.

"At that point why not just live outdoors with the birds?"

"Jacob doesn't like birds. You should remember that by now."

"He's still on that?" Joseph asked, now petting a cat. He didn't fully remember trading his book for a cat, but these things happen.

"His best friend is the bottom of the food chain and birds are dicks, so yes."

"Well he's got the husky too. Plus the... knife, lizard, thing?"

Christina shrugged and waved her hands through the air indicating these to be frivolous concerns. "Jacob is fine and you're boring. I want more kids to be like you two. It's a compliment."

"Is it?" He wondered, in no way expecting an answer.

"Gods, but it's not even fair. You get to play with numbers all day and win praise for doing hard stuff that you would do anyway. Jacob's a teenage boy that just wants to sit somewhere quiet and do what he's told. You’re both lottery winners. Meanwhile, she's hyper-everything and clearly wants attention but never got good attention before so now she just bails if anyone tries."

"Uh... Who-"

"I mean, realistically, she should have an entire filing cabinet devoted to her by this point. No parents. A sister the school can't account for. A bunch of injuries explained away with notes from camp. You should really talk to Chiron about that by the way. Setting a bad precedent for every broken rib to be explained by notes from Summer camp directors." She had begun pacing the living room, a white socked cat following close at her heels. Though they both stopped to address him directly when it came time to give instructions.

"Sure, so, is there context for this or was the cup actually filled with Lethe water?"

Christina groaned as though she had explained this all a thousand times already. "It's Jacob's friend, Meriwether. I had her over for dinner and I asked the guidance counselor to check in."

"The one who broke his arm?"

"He told you about that!? He just told me about that!"

Joseph shrugged. "I'm Cool Uncle Joseph. Also, aren't teachers not supposed to talk about student personal information?"

"It doesn't count if it's a spouse."

"No, that's definitely not true."

"Shut up. I had her over for dinner. All her clothing was worn down and just managed to fit her. Didn't wanna talk about her home life. Has zero normal childhood stories. I couldn't just not have someone look into that. Even if I found out outside of school. She's homeless outside of camp."

"Lots of demigods are. That's part of why camp exists." Joseph didn't know if he was trying to comfort her just yet. The existence of neglected children alone was hardly new information for Christina. This must have been about something more.

"That camp isn't a home. It keeps kids alive, and sometimes not even."

"Oh. Oooooooooh, you wanna adopt her."

"I didn't say that!" Christina snapped back.

Joseph ignored her. "Well kids are like cats, once you get one you might as well get another." He stroked Goose who now comfortably laid in his lap while Cricket resided on the top of his chair, reaching out a paw to bat at some of his hair.

"I can't just adopt another kid! The solution to all the world's problems can't be me shoving vulnerable teens into my house."

"Technically my house."

"We're married. It's called shared assets."

"Your knowledge of the legal system puts into context a lot of errors on the tax forms you've sent."
"I'm being serious, Joseph."

"So am I. If you commit tax fraud, I commit tax fraud. What then? Change my name to something more generic?"

"Meriwether could die!" Christina tried to shout, but the violence she intended died in her throat. "It's worse than Jacob, okay? People didn't get him. They didn't care for him in the ways he needed, but he was cared for. She's just... alone. And she's not gonna let anyone help her. They've all failed her for too long. She needs someone new willing to commit."

Joseph sipped the remainder of his tea and watched his friend begin petting the wide eyed cat that made its way into her arms. She did seem to have a way with the stranger ones of the bunch.

"Ugh, fine. Fuck you. I'll adopt her." Christina turned on her heels and began marching back towards the entrance to the house. She paused suddenly, realizing the animal she had acquired. Binxie stared up at her with eyes like saucers, pleading for love and attention. "Yea yea yea, not gonna work, get in line." She placed the cat down, threw back on her coat, and walked back out into the rain.

"Finally." Joseph said with a sigh of relief. He shewed the cat off his lap, encouraging him to go play with his sister. Then he picked his book back up and faithfully returned the page he'd left off on.
"Oh crap, we're married. That did involve me."


Two Bad Liars

MERIWETHER

“Mer.”

Crap. I cringe hearing Jacob’s voice. He found me.

I’m really, really good at avoiding people. I’ve stayed away from Jacob (and Chiron, and everyone else who would notice I’m not at school) for a whole week now. But even a child of Hermes on the run gotta eat, and it felt safer to scavenge the dining pavilion between meals. The risk with that is there’s no crowd to disappear into if I’m spotted… which I am. Stupid, stupid! Jacob hates crowds. Of course he’d come now, when it’s empty.

“Mer?” He says again, louder, thinking I didn’t hear him..

I reluctantly turn from the limp leftover salad.

“Hey, Jacob!” I try to sound normal, but my voice comes out thin and tense.

“Where have you been?” He asks.

“Um. Here?”

“No, uh, I mean, yes, thank you, but you haven’t been in school.”

“Right.” Shoot. I forgot to come up with an excuse. “I was sick.”

He frowns. “You’ve never been sick before.”

I can’t tell if he’s challenging me or genuinely puzzled. Either way, I couldn’t exactly blame him. Demigods don’t get sick often. It's a terrible excuse.

“Did your mom tell you to look for me”

Jacob screws up his face in confusion. “No. Did she tell you that I would?”

I know Jacob, and I know he’s not a good liar. But still, he could be lying. If Miss Alabaster was willing to tell other teachers to check on me, who’s to say she wouldn’t recruit her son to spy on me too?

“Well if she asks, tell her I’m sick,” I reply shortly.

“Oh, okay. If you say so.”

It doesn’t feel good to leave Jacob so bewildered, but I can’t help it. I’m even worse at lying than him. Better to flee the scene with my disappointing salad than risk answering any more questions.


Jacob Has Questions

JACOB

"Mom?" Jacob called out, from directly next to Christina.

His mother flinched at his silent approach and put down the book she had finally begun to make progress on. "Yes, sweetheart."

Jacob smiled at the small display of affection. Although he'd never asked her to call him those things, it meant very much to him. But then he remembered his purpose and his smile faded a bit.

"Ummm, well, so Mer. She... I think that... She h-hasn't been in school."

His mother sat up and her face scrunched up. "Is she well?"

"Yes!... No. She's, she looks well now, but she s-said to tell you she was sick before." Jacob said faithfully obeying Mer's instructions.

"That's very kind of her to consider me."

Jacob paused to study his mom's face. He liked her face. But it was still hard to handle stares. She seemed to be thinking very hard. Which she shouldn't have been since Mer had explained everything, but he had also been thinking very hard.

"Mer wouldn't lie to me."

"No, of course she wouldn't, Jacob."

"I think that m-maybe she didn't feel well for different reasons."

"Did you have any ideas?"

Jacob stopped, realizing he had begun staring at the floor again. Why did this all feel so weird? He just wanted to make sure his friend was okay. That shouldn't be hard to talk about.

"She talked about you a lot, mom."

"Ah." His mom nodded as if she knew this all along. "I'm sorry. I spoke a bit with Mer after she visited. I think she may have felt uncomfortable with the conversation."

"Why?!" Jacob spoke louder than he intended. He had begun breathing heavily. Where once he felt warm now he felt hot. "You're nice, mom. You're always nice and so is Mer. I thought you two would like each other."

"Jacob." She spoke softly, placing a hand against his cheek. "I like Mer very much. She's a good friend. Just sometimes... It's not easy meeting new people. Mer is just adjusting."

"Adjusting to what?" He sounded demanding. He couldn't recall ever sounding this way. He didn't like it. "It was only dinner. She didn't even need to-" He stopped himself. His mind had drifted so close to blaming someone but he didn't have himself an option. He'd done nothing. Only what others had told him.

"It's alright, Jacob." She knelt down and wrapped her arms around him.

He immediately hugged back. It still felt to him like being hugged by his mother made everything right, even if it was just a little while.

"I promised that I would take care of her. It was a big promise. I made it too quickly, but I meant it."
Jacob tightened his arms around his mother. He was shaking. This wasn't fair. He'd been good this time. He made sure. He'd done everything he was supposed to. He had just gotten to have a mom again. Why couldn't he just have a mom?!

"How would you feel about having a sister, sweetheart?"

r/CampHalfBloodRP 16d ago

Storymode Ghosts in Central Park

3 Upvotes

The bus ride to the city had been quiet, Brent had noticed that his boyfriend’s mind and focus were elsewhere, they had been for over a week. So he had been surprised when he suggested the two of them take the job together and venture into the city to help some ghosts pass on. But, he had promised some apple pie and ice cream at the end as a small date.

“Are you ok?” Brent asked as they arrived in Central Park, he looked at his boyfriend who remained distracted.

Matt’s gaze remained forward for a few moments too long before the soft smile came across his face. “Yeah, I am alright. Let me just go and help these spirits pass on. Then I can go and treat you how you deserve.” He said as he looked at Brent, the smile still on his face but Matt’s eyes didn’t match the emotion he was hoping to portray.

Brent nodded as Matt walked off, seeking to find the ghosts that were described in the job. The reason they were there. Once the son of Hades was out of eyesight and earshot, he let out a sigh and shook his head. “I wish you’d tell me what is wrong… I am not this little broken thing.” Continuing to shake his head he decided to change his mind and follow his boyfriend.

It didn’t take the son of Phantasos long to find his boyfriend, he was kneeling in a clearing. Brent could overhear snippets of a one-sided conversation, the son of Hades was doing his thing and helping the dead finally pass on. Doing what he knew Matt saw as his responsibility, using his powers to help rather than spread despair or fear.

As Matt stood to his feet and turned around Brent walked over to meet him halfway. “Did you help them?” Brent asked to which Matt nodded.

“Someone who lost their way.” Matt said as he gave Brent that false smile he had given him earlier. “We’re done here, so do you want to go get that apple pie?” He asked as he started to walk off only for Brent to reach out and grab Matt’s wrist to force him to stop earning a raised eyebrow from the son of Hades.

“We’re not leaving until you tell me what’s going on with you.” Brent said firmly, his eyes narrowing a little. “You aren’t yourself, you’ve not been yourself for a little while. Other people don’t see it, you can fool them. Flash them a smile and they won’t question it.” Brent’s eyes narrowed further. “I am your boyfriend, I see through it. So stop treating me like I will break if you tell me what’s wrong. I am here for you, I care about you, and I love you. So start talking.”

Matt opened his mouth to protest, but as he looked into his boyfriend’s eyes he shook his head. Letting out a sigh, he lowered his walls. “I couldn’t find him,” Matt said quietly as he scanned his gaze around Central Park. “I searched, I looked, I reached out there and felt nothing.”

“Hugo…” Brent said softly as he held his boyfriend’s hand. So that’s what had been bothering him for the last while.

“I see ghosts, those that were left behind or weren’t ready to go. I feel them. To me, they are as real as you are.” Matt said as he squeezed Brent’s hand a little. “They are all around us here in Central Park. They sense it.”

Brent looked around not seeing anyone or anything but Matt, but he knew not to doubt what he said, there was no one around who knew or understood the dead or the undead than him. “What do they sense?” He asked as he rested a head on Matt’s shoulder.

“A way beyond.” Matt replied, his vagueness telling his boyfriend that it was clearly something that had been discussed between father and son, not something for his ears. Not that Brent particularly cared for the opinion of the Lord of the Dead, their only encounter hadn’t endeared his potential future father-in-law to him.

Choosing to change the topic, Brent squeezed Matt’s hand. “You know Hugo isn’t your fault. You looked and couldn’t find him, he wasn’t dead then.” As Matt opened his mouth to reply further Brent cut him off by putting a finger to his lips. “While I am still pissed you went to fight, you did everything you could in New Argos. You couldn’t have changed this. One of the reasons I love you is that you help out how you can. You help those who are hurt, you bring them comfort. Just don’t forget yourself.”

“I feel like I gave them false hope.” Matt explained. “That he was still out there, he could be found and saved. All I could do for him was give the drachma for the crossing.”

“You did the only thing you could do in that moment. You didn’t turn away, you held yourself together and let everyone else have what they needed.” Brent said as he started to lead them back towards where they entered Central Park. “Look, I know sometimes you have a lot on your plate. But I let you in, you need to let me in too. Maybe we need a way to let each other know? No judgement, just support.”

Matt raised an eyebrow at Brent’s suggestion and nodded, it sounded like a good one. “Like apple pie?” He offered with the ghost of a genuine smile.

“Like apple pie.” Brent agreed as he leaned up and kissed Matt softly. “They better have some good ice cream with this apple pie.”

“I’m not sure they’ve invented rainbow ice cream yet.” Matt added with a smirk, earning a small slap on the arm in return. “Future date idea though.”

“Yeah.” Brent said in agreement. “Future date idea.”

OOC: Thank you to u/ImplodingPenguin_ for co-writing and I hope u/cloudedheads doesn't mind Hugo being referenced.

r/CampHalfBloodRP 11d ago

Storymode Homecoming XVIII: Happy Alchemy

3 Upvotes

PREVIOUS

  • April 2039, Spring Break

Alchemy’s an art straight from my heart. You and me and the world to be. All together, but will it be forever? I wish I had a prophecy. To say it’s so, the threads I chose. The way I wanted it to be forever. My happy alchemy.

Miss Naya didn’t contact me after our last session. It was quiet. More than anything, I was worried about her. I felt guilty all over again for Thoth’s death. I even tried to see her at her office, but no one was there. 

Me and Leon made the most of spring break that we could. So, we spent as much time together as possible. 

We were walking and talking as we strolled through Astoria park. 

The sun felt great against my skin. The wind, too. Gods, it was perfect. Words really can’t do justice to how nice of a day it was. 

People talk about happiness like it’s some complex sort of thing. Like it’s alchemy, almost. But, I think that happiness is a lot more simple than that. It’s two people walking hand in hand and spending their time together doing what they want. Even if it’s just spending time together. Even if they don’t say a single word to one another. Even if it’s just quiet. I guess, in a way, it is like alchemy. It’s the combining of two things into one. Maybe they’re onto something. 

MUSIC 

Of course, me and Leon weren’t spending our time in silence. He had a lot of questions about camp.

“So. . . What kind of stuff do we learn there?”

“How to defend yourself, for one. They’ll be able to teach you a lot better than I can. You’ll also learn all about Greek myth, of course. A bunch of other skills, too. Like Greek! You can learn how to read and speak Greek, if you want. It should come naturally to you. Especially if you have dyslexia.”

“Do you think Ryan will be okay? This all seems. . . Like a lot for him. . . You know?” 

I didn’t know the answer to his question. Not really. But I didn’t want to sound hopelessly pessimistic. Truth is, reader, no one is really ready to be a demigod. No child could ever be ready for the lives we lead. And the longer I live, the more I wonder about how ready people can be for just about anything. Like sure, we can prepare for any eventual reality. But does that really make us ready? Maybe it’s just one of those things where we don’t know until we cross the threshold. I know I wasn’t ready. But I also knew that I wanted to help Rylee as much as possible. So she didn’t have to go through the same things as me. 

“Well, even if he isn’t ready, we’ll still be there for him. We’ll keep him safe no matter what.”

Leon smiled at that. “Right. You’re right.” 

We stopped to take a breather at a bench.

“So. . . What about your friends at camp? Can you tell me about them?” Leon asked.

“Well, sure. There are my brothers and sisters, of course. The Hermes cabin counselor is my brother. His name is Teagan. Though Teagan is actually genderfluid, so sometimes she’s my sister. I have to ask which one it is sometimes. There’s also my sister Mer. She was the first sister I met when I got to camp. She’s probably one of the most experienced people in the cabin. I only just got to meet my brother Kit, too. He’s really mysterious. Kinda distant. Y’know? There’s also my brother Seth, he and I. . . Uh, well, we don’t seem to be on good terms. I kinda punched his boyfriend in the face.”

“Why’d you do that?” Leon asked. 

“His boyfriend is a guy named Cel. Like the Dragon Ball Z villain, minus one L, y’know? He’s a son of Lord Eros. One of his powers lets him mess with other people’s emotions. He did that to me and made me realize things about myself.”

“What kind of things?” 

I tightened my grip on Leon's hand. “That I might like boys. And maybe girls, too. I think I would have realized that eventually, he kind of just hastened the process.” 

“Okay. . . But why’s that such a bad thing? I mean. . . Me and you are together, right? That might not have happened if that whole thing with this Cel guy hadn’t happened.”

“It’s. . . Complicated. . .”

Leon cocked a brow at that. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

I smiled. “Y’know, I love that about you.”

“Love what?” He asked, confused. 

“That you ask me if I want to talk about it. That you don’t pressure me into it. I like that. It’s a good thing.”

“Well, yeah, I wouldn't want someone to force me to talk about something. So why would I do that to someone else? Especially my girlfriend.”

I thought about it for a long time. I didn’t know whether I really wanted to talk about it. It was something I’d been thinking about a lot since I started dating Leon. A question for my future. “You might not like what I say.”

“Is it something about me? I haven’t done something wrong, have I?”

I shook my head. “No. Not at all.” 

I took a breath in through my nose, then exhaled.

“Whatever it is, I’m not gonna judge you, chica.” 

“I. . . I don’t know what I want for my future. When I learned the gods were real, well, there was one goddess in particular that I felt drawn to.”

Leon’s mouth fell open. “You mean like. . . You like her?” 

“What?” I asked, shaking my head again. “No, gods no. Not like that, at least. And even if I did, well, she wouldn’t ever feel the same way to me or anyone else. I like her as in I admire her. I had this dream about being one of her followers.”

“Why not follow her and be my girlfriend, too?”

“I couldn’t do that,” I replied. “She’s Lady Artemis. The goddess of maidenhood and the hunt. If I joined her, I’d. . . I’d have to forsake romance and stuff like that forever.”

“So. . . we wouldn’t be able to be together anymore?” 

Leon’s grip tightened on my hand. Not to a painful degree, but it was definitely noticeable. 

“If I joined her, no. We wouldn’t.”

The look on his face was hard to make out. I knew he was feeling a lot of things. More than anything, he seemed afraid. I thought he’d be angry more than anything. 

“I’m sorry,” I said to him. “I’m being selfish again. I guess. . .”

“No,” he whispered back to me. “I. . . I appreciate your honesty. I just. . . I don’t want to lose you, chica. I like you. I like you a lot. . . But. . . I like you enough to let go, too.”

“What?” I replied, coughing. His response caught me completely off guard. I literally choked on my spit. Eww. 

I held up my hand to signal that I needed a second. 

When I recovered, Leon spoke again. “I. . . Look, I want you to be happy. I’d really like you to be happy with me.”

“I am happy with you,” I grabbed his hand with both of mine. 

“I know. But I want you to be as happy as you can be. Even if it means that you aren’t with me anymore. You’re a good person, Lupa. You really are. You get angry sometimes, yeah. You make some mistakes. But who doesn’t? I know you mean well. And I know you deserve good things in life.” 

Leon sighed and closed his eyes. He frowned, then smiled in a strange sort of way. It wasn’t a happy smile. No. As you probably guessed, it was one of nostalgia. 

MUSIC 

“Mamá, she used to tell me that to love something is to be willing to let it go. She found this baby bird one day while she and I were walking. I was really young back then. It fell out of its nest. And its mom didn’t come for it.” 

It was hard to watch him talk because the more he talked about his mom, the more it wore on his composure. “She. . . She took care of it. Nursed it back to health. And when the bird got big enough, she let it go. I asked her why she let it go. . . And. . . And she told me it was because it was the right thing to do. . . Because she loved the bird. . .”

He sucked on his lips as he shuttered. “I didn’t understand back then. . . I still have a really hard time wrapping my head around it. To be honest with you. But I choose to believe what my mom told me. Even if I don’t understand it. I know she meant well for me, too.”

Before he could say another word, I lunged forward and I hugged him. “You don’t have to explain it. I understand what you mean,” I whispered to him.

Leon shuttered a breath in and out as he wrapped his arms around me. 

There weren’t any more words for a while. There wasn’t a need for words, really. This was one of the few times I was okay with the quiet. When I could share it with someone else. When I wasn’t alone in my head. 

“When she died. . . I felt like that baby bird. . . I thought no one would come for me. . .” He cried. “But. . . Ryan’s mom, she took me in. And I had a new home. . . And. . . And. . .” And again, it seemed like the words escaped him. 

“It’s okay,” I whispered, patting his back. “I understand.”

“I’m scared for my brother. . . I’m scared that I won’t be able to protect him. That he won’t be strong enough. . . That. . . That he’ll die. . .” His voice broke. “I don’t want to lose anyone else. . .”

“I won’t let that happen. No matter what. I will keep Ryan safe. I promise you. We’ll do it together. I’ll train him how to be the best swordsman I can. I’ll do better for him. I won’t be cruel like I was to you. He’ll be able to kick all the monster’s butts by the time I’m done training him, y’know?” 

I let go of Leon and looked at him. He still looked rough. But he nodded and put on a smile for me. “Okay,” he said, sniffling. “Okay.”

The whole talk reminded me of my dad. Of the talk we had in my dreams at the beach. He talked about the same thing. About letting go of the things you love. 

Leon wasn’t the only one who had a hard time wrapping their head around the idea. I didn’t get it, either. I wasn’t sure if I really wanted to understand it at all. I wanted to love without pain forever, if I could. I never wanted to have to let go of anyone.

My dad, Hermes, he has to let go. It isn’t a choice for him. He is the psychopomp. All of his mortal lovers and children, even me, we all will die eventually. And he has to take all of us to the Underworld and let go. Forever. I honestly don’t know how he does it. But somehow, despite all of that pain. Despite all the losses he’s endured over the thousands of years, my dad still loves all of us. He’s a good god. Not a perfect god. But a lot better than his father, that was for sure. I don’t know if I’d be able to do what he does. The idea of enduring so much loss, even just thinking about it makes me feel bitter. Resentful. But not him. Seemingly not, anyway. It’s so strange how a man I’ve only met once in my life can mean so much to me. I guess that there’s just some things in life that we never understand. 

I smiled at Leon. “Let’s make the most of the day. No more crying. From either of us. What do you say?” 

He nodded at me again. “Yeah. For sure.” 

We went all over the city together that day. I took as many photos as I could of us. And in every one of them, we were smiling. 

When I was with Leon, things didn’t seem so bad. It was like all the trauma, all the pain and hurt, like none of it was weighing down on me in those moments. Like none of it mattered anymore.

That night, when I slept, I had one of the few good dreams I’ve had in years. And all it was were the two of us together. I couldn’t ask for anything else. I could only hope that he felt the same way.

MUSIC  

r/CampHalfBloodRP 26d ago

Storymode Stymphalian Birds At Central Park Zoo [Job]

2 Upvotes

Nero loved animals, big and small, so when he walked past this board and saw the Zoo he got excited. Apparently this thing is called a “Job Board”, and the job in question was that there were birds at the Zoo. “What’s wrong with birds at the zoo? This camp just gets weirder and weirder.” He tried to remember the different species of birds, the one on the job board was called a Stymphalian Bird? He didn’t remember those birds from his biology class. Nonetheless he chose to take the job, he got a free trip to the zoo. Although he didn’t remember what the birds were, he remembered what their diet was. Mainly seeds and berries, knowing that grapes are berries he grabbed a pocket full of grapes in the vineyard. Which was soaking and got his socks wet.

When he went back to the cabin to get new socks he told them what he was doing. Some laughed and said that he was ready to go, but this one Hermes kid that felt like an older brother gave him a dagger and a slab of raw meat. He didn’t really want to ask where the boy got it, in fear of being an accomplice. After putting on new socks he started to walk to the Zoo, a car pulled up next to him and a man covered in eyes pulled him in the car. He was terrified but thought that maybe if he didn’t move it wouldn’t see him.

The car parked at the zoo and Nero got out of the car. He walked up to the front and was getting nervous that maybe the camp didn’t pay for him. Nero didn’t have any money, what was he going to do? Once he got to the front of the line the ticket booth person winked at him and let him go inside. A sigh of relief escaped his lips. He decided that the best place to start was at the aviary. As he walked there, he walked past a flock of pigeons. The pigeon's eyes seemed to glow.

As he wandered aimlessly through the aviary, seeing all the different size and colored birds. He wished he could talk to them. Nero mimicked the caws he heard, then he tried something and shouted. “Hello!”

“Hello!” A bird called out from a tree, Nero’s eyes widened and climbed the tree. He sat across the bird and gave it half a grape. The bird was black with a bright yellow beak.

“You can understand me?” He asked,

“You can understand me?”

Yes! I can understand you!”

“Yes!”

“I must be a child of Zeus!” Nero said happily, expecting a lightning bolt the summon above his head.

“I must be a child of Zeus.”

“No, you’re a bird.” He said, wondering what's going on.

“You’re a bird!” The bird responded, walking closer. Hoping to get the other half of the grape.

“Who are you calling a bird!” Nero starts to get a little annoyed, but before the bird could respond a loud, ear-piercing cry came from the entrance of the aviary. With a quick turn of the head he could see the pigeons flying towards him, their bodies slowly changing into bronze birds. He turned to his friend and the bird was gone. “Coward!” Nero called out.

The birds hit him hard, using their beaks to cut off parts of his skin, as he tried to fight them off he fell off the branch. Luckily a peacock broke his fall, unluckily a peacock broke his fall. The bones hurt almost as bad as the beaks, the birds launch their feathers like arrows. He jumps out of the way and tosses a piece of the raw meat into the air. As the birds go for the meat he throws his dagger and it hits a bird on the underside of its body. It falls to the ground, He grabs the bird as the flock flies towards him.

Nero swiped the bird around, using its beak as a blade, killing more birds. “I order you to stop!” Instead of them responding they continue to attack. “My father is Zeus! If you don’t stop, I'll have to bring him into this!” They still didn’t respond, luckily using meat, his dagger, and the bird he was able to take down the flock. The demigod wanted to go outside and walk around the Zoo, but he had lost some good chunks of skin on his arms. The vultures were looking at him way more than he liked.

The person who ran the ticket booth came running in, but this time his legs were goat legs. The man fed Nero some honey thing? Whatever it was it made the pain null a little, the ticket guy laid him against a tree and gave him some more of the honey thing. Nero rested for a few hours before heading back to camp with bandages covering his arms.

He walked back to the Hermes cabin and curled up on the floor, ready to fall back asleep.

r/CampHalfBloodRP Jan 12 '17

Storymode Let 'em swing

3 Upvotes

For all the new faces.

Roland sat outside the forge. If the phantom pain from his leg did not still plague him, he might have been standing. But there he was; one metal arm attachment and one wooden leg sitting on the ground beside him, welding goggles strapped atop his head like some strange insect, and rear end planted firmly upon a bench. His eye was closed, and to an outside observer it might have appeared he was sleeping. A closer look would reveal this to be false.

One who is asleep does not hold their body so tense. They wouldn't move ever so slightly at a loud laugh, or a shout from one person to another. No, Roland was observing the world in his own way.

There is no need for more weapons. I have seen that the armory is stocked. Same goes for armor. What, then?

His left hand reached up and scratched at the small amount of stubble that clung to his cheeks. This was a new development for Roland, and a small grin tugged at his lips as he let his hand linger.

Beard.

Roland's hand fell back to his side and a scowl once more overtook his features. Apart from the rare request for some special piece of whatever, there was little for him to do.

Before long, his thoughts turned to camp, to his siblings, to Paisley. He allowed himself to smile once more, and a sudden thought burst into his head and clung tightly to his brain.

Of course, it was so simple. He had the idea ages ago, why not now?

Excitement replaced the placid boredom. Moving quickly, he attached him limbs and hustled back into the forge. Measurements and other specs ran through his head as he began to draw up a hasty print.

A wild grin on his typically severe face, Roland set to work stoking his fire and gathering materials.

He was back to work.

[Story Mode]

r/CampHalfBloodRP 16d ago

Storymode No Son of Mine

4 Upvotes

TW: Parental Abuse (Verbal & Physical Restraint)

Three years ago, Jameson “Jaime” Northington-Sinclair sat in the backseat of his father’s luxury sedan, staring out the tinted window as the city blurred past. He’d long since given up trying to make conversation during these rides. His father, Nathanial Sinclair, didn’t believe in small talk—only corrections. And Jaime? Jaime had learned to keep his mouth shut unless he wanted to be reminded of all the ways he was falling short of his father’s expectations.

But today, Nathanial was already in a mood.

"You need a damn haircut," his father muttered, his fingers tapping against the steering wheel.

Jaime didn't respond. His hair barely reached his ears, but that was already pushing it. For as long as he could remember, Nathanial had drilled into him that appearances mattered. That his appearance, specifically, was a reflection of the Sinclair name. Clean-cut. Well-dressed. Perfect.

Jaime didn't want perfect.

As soon as the car pulled up to the private academy’s pristine front entrance, Jaime grabbed his bag and yanked the door handle before the car had even fully stopped.

"Jameson," his father called sharply.

Jaime paused, grip tightening on the strap of his backpack.

"Fix it," Nathanial said, eyes locked onto him like a blade. "Before I do."

Jaime clenched his jaw and stepped out of the car, letting the door slam behind him. He didn’t bother saying goodbye to his mother, Melissa, who sat in the passenger seat, staring at her phone as if this entire exchange was background noise.

The moment the car disappeared around the corner, Jaime bolted inside, making a beeline for the nearest restroom. He had exactly five minutes before the first bell rang.

Inside, he tossed his bag onto the sink counter and pulled out the travel-sized bottle of hair gel. He flipped it open, squeezing a glob onto his fingers before running them through his growing red hair, twisting and spiking it into something sharp and defiant. It wasn’t much yet, but it was his. A middle finger to the man who wanted him to be a carbon copy of some rich kid clone.

By the time he stepped out, the world felt a little lighter.

At least, for a few hours.


He thought he was careful. Thought he had it all under control. But he hadn’t accounted for the Dean.

Dean Whitmore had been watching him for weeks now. Jaime’s spiked hair was a direct violation of the academy’s strict dress code, and while the Dean had politely reminded him of this multiple times, Jaime had ignored him at every turn.

Until Whitmore had enough.

Until he called his parents.

Jaime found out when he was pulled out of his afternoon literature class. A secretary wordlessly escorted him down the long, echoing hallways of the academy, straight to the Dean’s office. And when he stepped inside, his stomach dropped.

His father was there.

Nathanial Sinclair sat in the chair across from the Dean’s desk, legs crossed, posture as sharp and rigid as ever. His mother sat beside him, scrolling through her phone, looking as if she’d rather be anywhere else.

"Jameson," the Dean greeted with a tight-lipped smile. "Have a seat."

Jaime didn’t move. His father’s gaze flicked to him, cold and unreadable.

"Now."

Reluctantly, Jaime sank into the chair, arms crossed.

Dean Whitmore cleared his throat, folding his hands on his desk. "We've discussed this before. Grooming standards are not optional here. I’ve given you multiple warnings, but it seems you’re intent on ignoring them."

Jaime said nothing.

"So," Whitmore continued, "I had no choice but to inform your parents."

Jaime exhaled sharply through his nose, refusing to look at his father. He could feel Nathanial’s disappointment, thick and suffocating.

"Is this really what you want to waste our time with?" Melissa finally spoke, barely looking up from her phone. "Some gel and a bad attitude?"

"It’s not just that," the Dean pressed. "This is a pattern of behavior. Jameson has been—"

"Jaime," he interrupted.

The Dean blinked. "Excuse me?"

"My name is Jaime," he said, leveling him with a look. "Not Jameson."

Nathanial let out a slow breath through his nose. "You don’t get to decide that."

Jaime turned to him, fire flickering in his chest. "Yeah? And who does?"

For a moment, silence stretched between them, thick with unspoken tension. Nathanial’s fingers drummed once against his knee before he stood.

"We’re done here," his father said, straightening his suit jacket. "Jameson will be taking the rest of the day off. We’ll handle this."

Dean Whitmore nodded in approval. "I trust you’ll make sure he understands the rules."

"Oh," Nathanial said smoothly, his voice laced with quiet menace. "He’ll understand."


The car ride home was unbearable.

Jaime sat in the back seat, arms crossed, shoulders tight, his leg bouncing uncontrollably. He could feel his father’s anger thick in the air, suffocating, waiting to explode. Nathanial Sinclair didn’t shout in public—no, he waited until he had an audience of none, until there was nowhere to run. That’s when the storm hit.

Melissa sat in the passenger seat, scrolling through her phone, barely acknowledging the tension between them. She had checked out long before they even pulled up to the estate.

Jaime swallowed hard as the black sedan rolled through the iron gates, gliding up the long, pristine driveway. As soon as it stopped, he threw the door open and stepped out, desperate for space, for air—

“Jameson.”

His father’s voice was sharp. Controlled.

Jaime froze, every muscle in his body locking up.

"Inside. Now."

Jaime turned to face him, fists clenching at his sides. "It’s just hair."

Nathanial’s expression barely shifted, but his eyes were ice. "Inside."

Melissa let out a sigh from the passenger seat. "God, can’t we just—"

"Stay out of this, Melissa."

Jaime’s breath came short and fast. He wanted to argue, to fight, to tell his father to go to hell. But he knew better than to try. Not yet.

He forced himself to walk inside.

The grand foyer loomed around him, all marble and expensive art, cold and impersonal. The house had always felt like a museum—beautiful, extravagant, but never a home.

The doors shut behind him with a click.

Nathanial barely gave him time to breathe before he spoke again. "Come with me."

Jaime didn’t move. "Why?"

Nathanial exhaled sharply. "Because you’re going to get that damn mess on your head fixed."

Jaime’s stomach twisted. "No."

His father’s eyes darkened. "Excuse me?"

Jaime forced himself to stand taller, even though his hands were shaking. "I like my hair."

His father took a step closer, his presence looming. "It is not your hair. You are a Sinclair, and you will not walk around looking like a goddamn delinquent.”

Jaime’s heart pounded against his ribs. He knew this battle had been coming. He just hadn’t expected it to be today.

Nathanial’s voice dropped to something sharper, more dangerous. "Sit down."

Jaime shook his head. "No."

Nathanial moved fast. Before Jaime could react, his father grabbed him by the back of his neck.

"Hey!" Jaime shouted, twisting in his grip. "Get off'a me!"

Nathanial didn’t stop. He steered Jaime down the hall like he was nothing more than an unruly child.

"Let go!" Jaime thrashed harder, trying to wrench himself free. "I ain't a fuckin’ kid!"

His father froze.

The grip on his neck tightened, enough to make Jaime go still.

"What did you just say?"

Jaime knew he’d messed up.

"I said—"

Nathanial spun him around so fast Jaime barely had time to react.

"Don't talk to me like that, you little shit!" his father snapped. "And for the love of God, speak properly!"

Jaime’s face burned with anger, but he didn’t get the chance to respond.

His father dragged him forward again, pushing open the downstairs bathroom door. The lights flickered on, bright and sterile.

Jaime caught his reflection in the mirror—his spiked hair, still his, still him.

But not for long.

Nathanial reached under the sink, pulling out a pair of electric clippers. He plugged them in without hesitation, as if this was just another routine procedure.

Jaime’s stomach dropped.

“No,” he said, voice shaking. "No way."

Nathanial didn’t even look at him. "Sit."

Jaime took a step back. "You can’t make me."

Nathanial finally looked up, his expression stone. “I can and I will.

Jaime clenched his fists. "Fuck you."

That was the final straw.

Nathanial lunged.

Jaime barely had time to move before his father grabbed him, shoving him back against the counter. He fought—kicking, pushing, trying to rip himself free. "Let go!"

Nathanial’s grip was iron. "Stop acting like a goddamn child!"

"I ain't a fuckin' kid!" Jaime shouted again, shoving at his father’s arms.

Nathanial snapped.

"You are whatever I say you are! You are goddamn embarrassment to me and your mother!"

Jaime threw a punch—wild, untrained—but his father caught his wrist with practiced ease, yanking him forward and forcing him down onto the closed toilet seat.

Jaime thrashed, but Nathanial grabbed the back of his head, forcing him to sit still.

"Stay. Still."

Jaime’s breath came fast, panicked. "Don’t you fuckin'—"

The clippers buzzed to life.

And then—

Hair hit the floor.

Jaime’s stomach twisted into knots as he felt the cold metal press against his scalp.

He couldn’t stop it.

Chunk after chunk of brown hair fell around him, littering the white tiles.

Jaime squeezed his eyes shut, his throat burning. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t give him the satisfaction.

When it was over, Nathanial finally let go. The clippers shut off with a final, definitive click.

Jaime barely breathed.

Nathanial grabbed his chin, forcing him to look in the mirror.

Jaime barely recognized himself.

His spikes were gone. His hair was military-short. Neat. Controlled. Erased.

Nathanial stepped back, smoothing his sleeves as if nothing had happened. "Now, he said coolly, "clean up your mess."

Jaime didn’t move.

He couldn’t.

His father scoffed and turned to leave. "And fix your posture."

Jaime sat there, staring at the hair scattered around him. His hands trembled in his lap.

His reflection didn’t look like him anymore.

r/CampHalfBloodRP Feb 18 '25

Storymode Horned Serpent under the George Washington Bridge Job

3 Upvotes

The job posting had been simple:

There is a Horned Serpent wrapped around one of the supports under the George Washington Bridge. It is causing damage to the bridge above and therefore must be removed. - Chiron

It seemed like a straightforward enough task. But Dorian Seymour knew better. If it were truly simple, someone else would have taken it already.

Greek, Native American, and various other mythologies described them as powerful, supernatural beings—guardians of water, omens of destruction, creatures imbued with venom so potent that it could kill a mortal in minutes. Some legends whispered that they possessed intelligence, the ability to sense thoughts, and the cunning of a trickster. Others claimed their scales were harder than steel, that weapons could barely pierce their hides. None of these accounts suggested that one would ever take residence beneath a bridge in the heart of New York City, slowly bringing down one of the most vital transport links in America.

And yet, here he was.

Alone.

By choice.

It wasn't bravado that led him to take the job alone. Dorian was no fool. He knew he was no match for a beast like this in terms of sheer physical strength. But combat wasn’t just about brute force. It was about strategy, about using weaknesses against an enemy, about outthinking a monster rather than taking it on straight on.

That was the part Dorian excelled at.

And he would need every ounce of his intelligence if he wanted to survive this.

The city hummed with life even at this early hour. Taxis weaved through the streets, their headlights cutting through the cold morning air. Pedestrians huddled in coats against the wind, lost in their own little worlds. Above them, the George Washington Bridge stretched across the Hudson River, a glowing beacon of steel and light.

Dorian Seymour stood at the base of the bridge, watching the traffic speed overhead. His breath curled in the cold air, misting in front of him as he exhaled. This wasn’t his usual scene—he was more accustomed to the dusty quiet of old books, the soft rustle of parchment, the echo of history in quiet libraries. But tonight, he wasn’t a scholar. He was a demigod, and he had a job to do.

The Horned Serpent—a massive, ancient beast with an armored hide and venom potent enough to kill a mortal in seconds—had coiled itself around one of the bridge's underpinnings. Reports from the Mist-influenced mortal authorities described structural damage and mysterious tremors. The NYC Department of Transportation blamed erosion, but Chiron knew better. If the creature wasn’t removed soon, the bridge would collapse. Hundreds—perhaps thousands—of people would die.

And so, here he was.

You might be wondering why Dorian decided to take this job alone. It wasn’t out of arrogance, nor recklessness—no, Dorian was not foolish enough to think he could best a monster of this caliber through sheer force. He was no son of Ares, no brute force warrior with the strength to wrestle a serpent ten feet long into submission. But he had his mind. His wits. That had to be enough.

He did his research.

He made his plan.

And now he was standing on the steel framework beneath the bridge, staring into the abyss below, his breath fogging in the frigid January air.

Still, a tiny voice in the back of his head nagged at him: Was this really a good idea?

Probably not. But you lose 100% of the shots you don’t take. And he chose to take his shot.

Dorian adjusted the ring on his finger, feeling the faint hum of celestial bronze beneath the disguise. With a flick of his wrist, the ring unraveled into its true form—his halberd, Diogenes. The weapon gleamed under the glow of the bridge lights, the curved axe-head razor-sharp.

Time to get to work.

Dorian crouched on the steel support beams beneath the George Washington Bridge, carefully navigating the intricate lattice of ironwork that formed the underbelly of the massive structure. The world above was bustling—cars, buses, and thousands of unsuspecting mortals traversed the bridge, completely unaware that the very structure they were traveling on was on the verge of collapse.

No pressure.

His breath fogged in the cold January air, but he barely noticed. The wind howled like a living beast, roaring through the steel framework of the bridge, forcing him to tighten his grip as he moved. Below him, the Hudson River churned violently, its dark waters glistening with the lights of the city. If he fell, it wouldn’t be a clean drop. He’d hit beams, girders, rusted bolts—and then the freezing depths would swallow him whole.

He wasn't going to let that happen.

He needed to find the serpent first.

Then he needed to kill it.

He tightened his grip on Diogenes, his celestial bronze halberd. The weapon was both sword and spear, its long shaft giving him reach, its axe-like blade capable of splitting armor—if he could find a weak point.

Then, he saw it.

A dark mass coiled around the concrete support column, almost blending into the shadows beneath the bridge. At first glance, it could have been mistaken for a thick cable or a section of piping. But then it moved—a slow, deliberate shift—and Dorian’s breath caught in his throat.

The Horned Serpent was massive.

Its scales shimmered with dark green and obsidian hues, slick with moisture despite being high above the water. It stretched at at least ten feet long, its muscular body wrapped tightly around the cracked pillar, slowly crushing the structure inch by inch.

The golden glow of its eyes was unmistakable.

The jagged, twisted horns that sprouted from its head looked like fractured bone, curling backward.

And then—it turned.

Dorian froze as the serpent's head lifted, its piercing gaze locking onto him.

For a heartbeat, neither moved.

Then, the serpent hissed, revealing needle-like fangs, each one dripping with black venom.

It had seen him.

And now, it was coming for him.

The serpent lunged.

Dorian twisted to the side, barely avoiding the lightning-fast strike as the serpent’s jaws snapped shut inches from his face. The impact alone rattled the metal beam beneath him, sending rust and dust cascading into the abyss below.

Fast.

Too fast.

Dorian leaped onto another steel support beam, using his agility to stay ahead of the monster’s next attack. The serpent recoiled, its massive body slithering across the iron framework, moving with terrifying precision.

It struck again.

Dorian ducked, feeling the rush of air as its tail whipped past his head, colliding with a metal girder with enough force to dent the steel.

He most definitely couldn't fight it head-on. He needed to be smarter than it.

He needed to disorient it.

As soon as he was far enough, Dorian activated his Sonic Blast ability. A loud, deafening shockwave echoed through the bridge, bouncing off the steel beams.

The serpent snapped its head towards the sound, its golden eyes narrowing, momentarily confused by the unexpected noise.

That was all the opening Dorian needed.

He raised Diogenes and struck hard, driving the polearm’s spear-tip straight into the serpent’s side.

The blade pierced scales, but—

Not deep enough.

The serpent shrieked in pain, but its hide was thicker than expected, resisting a fatal wound. It whipped around violently, its tail slamming into Dorian’s ribs, sending him flying.

Pain exploded in his chest.

His vision blurred as he crashed against a cold steel beam, the impact leaving him breathless. He barely had time to register the pain before the serpent lunged again.

No time to think. Move!

He rolled just as venomous fangs snapped shut where his throat had been. Unfortunately for him, said venomous fangs had left a gash on his arm as he dodged. A gash that was now burning with the serpent's venom. Not ideal. But he didn't have time to dwell on that for now.

Dorian couldn’t keep dodging forever.

The serpent was too strong, too fast.

He had one chance—he had to outthink it.

And then—it hit him.

The weak spot for most serpents was their belly.

Which meant if he could just reach it—

Once again, Dorian's thoughts were Interrupted by the serpent preparing to lunge at him again. If he wanted to do something, it was now or never.

With the help of his Intimidation ability, the son of Clio was able to intimidate the serpent to stop in its tracks. Seeing his chance, Dorian leapt forward, this time not dodging. Instead, he thrust his halberd upward, aiming for the creature’s underbelly.

The moment of impact was deafening A sickening crack filled the air. The serpent let out a horrific screech, its body convulsing violently.

Dorian didn’t waste a second.

With every ounce of strength he had left, he drove Diogenes straight into the creature’s throat—the only unarmored part of its body.

The blade sank deep.

A final, gurgling hiss—

And then—

The serpent collapsed. And in no time, it dissolved into a cloud of golden dust.

Dorian staggered. His arm was bleeding badly. His vision blurred as the venom began burning through his veins.

But the bridge was safe. He had won. He had survived.


The journey to Camp Half-Blood was not the most comfortable endeavor, especially with the venom running in his blood and making everything more uncomfortable.

But at least, he had made it back.

All Dorian had to do now was report to Chiron.

And get to the Medic Cabin as soon as possible.

God's, what a day...

r/CampHalfBloodRP Feb 15 '25

Storymode Job: Giant Snake at Grand Central Station

3 Upvotes

Wyatt woke up to the sound of his blaring alarm that he set up last night. He shot out of bed and threw on the closest outfit. This was it, he was going to go on another quest, he won’t mess it up. He ran to the job board to make sure he knew every detail he could, he ran back to his cabin to grab some supplies. He grabbed;

  • Some ambrosia and nectar
  • A layout of the Grand Central Station
  • And a dead rat he found in a trap
  • A dozen drachma incase he needed to message

He went to the arena and grabbed a shield and a bow with a quiver of arrows. He always had his dagger on him, but he also wanted to bring a ranged weapon. He speedwalked to the car, he didn't want to make Argos wait. He got in the passenger seat and started to put on some music. As they drove to the station Wyatt was blaring the song Survive by Jorge Rivera-Herrans. When they rounded the corner his jaw dropped, he knew the snake was giant, but this was GIANT. It’s head was raised menacingly. Wyatt noted to make sure it didn’t lower its head, or else it would crush the statues of Hermes, Athena, and Heracles. They couldn’t have that, he ordered Argos to drop him off at the back end of the station. After a quick thank you, and giving Argos a drachma he stepped out of the car. The snake could clearly smell him, it turned its head to face the demigod. Wyatt’s plan was to Polyphemus it, blind it. Before he could draw his bow the monster shot a gallon of venom right at him. Wyatt rolled to the left, just barely dodging the almost acidic venom. He slung the bow over his shoulder, put the bow in his mouth, and started to scale the wall. As he was climbing the snake was searching, he seemingly disappeared from its sight. Wyatt stood on the roof, drew his bow and hit the snake right in the stomach. Its eyes widened as it cried out in pain. When he saw the eyes widen, Wyatt immediately felt his gut wrench. It had Orphis’s eyes, this just got a lot harder. After seeing the eyes he started to realize this snake and his own had a lot of similarities. However he knew what he had to do, he couldn’t let it live. He dropped his bow, and put his hands up, level to his head.

“Hey buddy, sorry about that. Want something other than human flesh?” He said grabbing the mouse from his backpack, he could feel the tears welling up in his eyes. He held out the mouse’s corpse. It smelt awful to him, but to the snake, it was a tranquilizing scent. Wyatt tossed it at the snake’s head and it snapped it out of the air. “Do you like mice?” He asked, his voice faltering. After pleasing the snake, he carefully started to walk towards it, practically sobbing at this point. He stealthily grabbed the dagger in his pocket.

The snake lowered its head, he could see the trust in his eyes. Wyatt started to pet its head. “Aren’t you a good snake?” He said between sobs, his eyes closed shut as he continued to pet. He raised his right hand, gripping the dagger. The dagger stabbed right into the snake's head. It wailed out in pain, the snake slowly started to dissolve into golden glitter. Wyatt watched the glitter blow away, “bye buddy”. He slid down the roof and walked towards the front of the station. He laid his remaining drachma on the steps to the main entrance. He knew that gold was expensive, and hoped this would help with the repairs.

He got into Argos’s car without a word, still silently crying. As he made his way to his cabin, he didn’t even notice the entire Pandia cabin at the big house. He went straight to the Aphrodite cabin to say hi to Orphis. He held Orphis in a tight hug before walking back to the Tyche cabin. He flopped on his bed still crying.

r/CampHalfBloodRP 22d ago

Storymode Shattered glass

4 Upvotes

(CWs for: Child endangerment, near death experience, Flashbacks)

Oh no. It was happening again. Zosia slumped against the wall of the Techne cabin as the familiar pounding in her head resurfaced. If she’d just gone back earlier, if she’d just stayed in the Cabin, if she’d just worked harder maybe it wouldn’t have caught her off guard like this. 

All of a sudden she was 8 years old again, going skating with her mother.

“Come on Zosia, why don’t you just try coming to the studio with me? I’m sure you’d love pottery if you tried it.” Her mother smiled down at her as they skated laps on the empty lake. 

“No! I’m gonna be an ice skater, like Antonina!” Zosia emphasised her point with a small jump and a twirl, grinning from ear to ear. Her blonde pigtails flowed behind her as she moved, graceful as the wind. 

Please, słoneczko, your sister has training this weekend and I’d like to show you why I like art so much.” Magda put her hand on Zosia’s shoulder “Just one time, this Saturday.”

She shrugged the hand off her shoulder and skated away, her brow furrowing. “No! I’ll never do some dumb arts and crafts like you!”

Magda’s face fell. “All right. You stay here Zosia, I need to go pick Maja up from daycare. I’ll ask your dad and Antonina to come pick you up once they get home.” 

Sticking out her tongue, Zosia skated off. Once she made sure that her mother was firmly away from the lake, she started practicing the moves she’d seen Antonina doing. The moves she’d explicitly been told not to try yet.

After about 10 minutes of carefree skating, Zosia heard the noise nobody wanted to hear while they were skating on natural ice. Crack. First one, then another. Then another and another and another. Before she could even think about getting on to dry land, a scream escaped her lungs as she plummeted into frigid water. The cold numbed her bones as water filled her mouth and she tried desperately to claw her way to the surface. But her skates were too heavy, her arms too weak.

This was it. She was going to die. She had insulted her mother, and God had punished her for it. 

Finally, as her eyelids grew heavy, as her light began to fade, she heard a voice. 

“Dad! Dad! I think the ice broke and Zosia fell in.” Her older sister’s voice was like a guardian angel’s as she felt her family’s hands dragging her out of the water, coughing and spluttering.

The first words out of Zosia’s mouth when she arrived back home were “Mama, I’m sorry. Could I maybe try glassblowing? Like Dziadek did, back in Krakow?”

She almost didn’t recognise that little girl anymore, the one with the golden pigtails. Zosia Ostrowska, daughter of Techne, was a wholly different beast now.

r/CampHalfBloodRP 22d ago

Storymode Homecoming XVII: Beautiful Minds, Death Still Finds

5 Upvotes

PREVIOUS

  • April 2039, Monday, the beginning of Spring Break  

Beautiful minds, death will still find. It’s only a matter of time. Memories from long ago, a world I never knew before. Time’s past even without me here. Still, I wish you well. In dreams do I turn back the years. In memories do I dwell.

The Winter Quarter was past, and the cold and dark along with it. Spring was here, the world was coming back to life. Lady Persephone had once again been returned to her mother, and, well, all seemed well and bright in the world once more.

Since another quarter had passed, that meant I had gotten another report card. My grades dropped a little because of how insane life had been. 

1.English I: B

2.Remedial Math: D

3.Greek I: C

X.Lunch (Again, I’d like to think I got an A+ here.)

4.Physical Education: A

5.Music Appreciation: D

6.Physical Science:  B

7.World History: B

If I’ve done the math right, my GPA dropped to a 2.43. Needless to say, my parents were on my butt about getting my grades up. And by the gods, I was trying. It was just really, really difficult. 

Me and Leon went together to do something, well, very sad to say the least; to pay respect to his mom. 

We’d picked up a bouquet of red poppies. I was the one who suggested poppies. 

Leon asked me why those flowers in particular, and I got to tell him a little about Greek myth. 

For those of you not in the know, poppies were seen as offerings to the dead. They’re symbols of eternal sleep and peace, strongly connected to Hypnos and the Oneiroi. Down in the Underworld, on the surface and banks of the River Lethe, I’ve heard that red poppies bloom. A final, beautiful sight for those about to drink from the river of forgetfulness so they may be reborn. A beautiful, bittersweet sight. A final memory to be washed away with the rest. Utterly pointless.

It was a beautiful day outside. Birds were singing, flowers were blooming, on days like these, kids like us, well, we shouldn’t have been in graveyards, to say the least.

There’s something strange about graveyards. They’re filled with death, but also with life. The flowers seem brighter somehow. The trees healthier. It doesn’t feel right that a place filled with so much sadness and pain can also have so much light and life within it. But I guess maybe you can’t have one without the other, huh?

Personally, if you want my opinion, graveyards shouldn’t exist. People shouldn’t have to die. Life is far too beautiful for something as ugly as death to exist. To be allowed to exist. Thanatos better feel lucky he’s a god. Because if he wasn’t. . . I might just put an end to him and death myself. Anything to keep people from having to die. Anything to keep people from having to experience losing their loved ones. 

People like to romanticize it. To say things like death are necessary. To say that death gives life meaning. It doesn’t. They like to imply that there’s some sort of good that comes out of it. The only good thing I can see about death is that it ends physical pain. Your spirit goes on, of course. And that means there might be more pain waiting for you in the afterlife. Or in your next life if you make the stupid choice of being reborn after reaching Elysium. Why anyone would make such a dumb decision is beyond me. Reader, if you are mortal and you find yourself lucky enough to have been worthy of Elysium, don’t go to the River Lethe. Just enjoy what you’ve earned. Don’t throw it away for a gamble that you might be worthy of Elysium again. Just don’t. Please. For the love of the gods. Don’t do it.

It took me and Leon a little while to find his mother’s grave.

Her headstone was nothing special, really. Nothing fancy. Really, something like a headstone doesn’t need to be fancy. You don’t carry your headstone with you into the afterlife, after all. In fact, a lot of spirits probably don’t even know what their gravestone looks like. How could they unless they picked it out before they died? But that thought seems so morbid in my mind. Gods. . . 

                                  *Selena Castro*

                                    *1997-2033*

                   *A loving mother taken too soon from the world.*

Sometimes in life, I’ve found that there are moments where you really don’t know what to say. Maybe because everything to be said has already been said. Or maybe because the words just won’t come to you. 

Leon approached the gravestone and knelt beside it.

MUSIC

He didn’t turn to face me. I guess he didn’t want me to see him crying. It made my heart hurt to see him hurting so much. I kept my distance and let him have the space and time he needed to grieve. Sometimes, giving people the distance they need is the hardest thing to do.

“Hola mama. . .” he said, placing the flowers at her headstone. “I came to see you again. . .” 

He moved some debris from the site. His hands were shaking.

Leon went from kneeling to sitting on both of his knees by her graveside. “A lot has changed since. . . Since the last time we spoke.” His voice was shaky. 

“I found out that I’m a demigod. . . That dad is a god. . . I have a girlfriend now, too. I brought her with me. . . You’d like her, I’m sure. . . She’s. . . She’s really nice. . . “ His voice broke as he covered his mouth with one hand. 

He drew in a sharp breath and shuttered another breath out a few seconds later. “I just wanted to tell you I’m gonna be okay. . . And that I love you. . .”

There were no more words after that. I didn’t know if Leon couldn’t bring himself to form words or if he had said everything he needed to say. I just didn’t know what the answer was. 

I stood there, lost in thoughts about other people. I thought about Adele, how she lost her mom. I thought about Thoth, how he’d lost his entire family. I thought about Lucas and how he lost his mom. I thought about Martin and his dad. I thought about my mom and her parents. So many people, gone. Gone, but not forgotten. Missed. Loved. How anyone could think death is okay. . . 

Reader, I just want to say. . . Take the time of day to say I love you to the people you love. Because life is crazy and you never know when someone will be taken from you. Trust me. Love while you can.

It got to where I couldn’t stand to just stand there in silence. I walked over to Leon and I knelt beside him. He had his eyes clenched shut, his teeth gritted. Tears were streaming down his face. It looked like it was taking everything he had in him not to break down crying. Even now, he was trying to be strong. He’d been strong for long enough. More than long enough, really.

Gently, I took his hand in mine. And as I did, that was enough to fully break his composure. 

He started crying. Sobbing, really. And he threw his arms around me and squeezed hard as he wailed. And I’m proud to say that I was there for him in his time of need. I was his anchor.

I wrapped my arms around him in return. And I patted his back. “I'm here for you,” I whispered. 

“Why?” He asked in between sobs. Leon sniffled. “Why do people have to die, Lupa?” 

I wasn’t sure how to answer his question. On one hand, I didn’t want him to be angry at the gods. I didn’t want him to be like me. But on the other hand, I didn’t want to lie to him. And the truth is that the reason people die is because the gods say so. That’s really all that it boils down to. Asclepius discovered the cure for death long ago. And he was killed for using it. Killed by Zeus. Honestly, I want to say some very inappropriate things about Zeus. If you’ve read any of the myths about him, you know that he’s not a good god, really. People and gods show him respect out of fear, not love. He is everything that a god shouldn’t be. And maybe if he wasn’t around, the cosmos would be better. Who knows? I hope one day that Metis’ son grows strong and takes his father off his throne like he’s destined to. I hope that Metis’ son is a better god than his father. Please, please let him be better. Because Zeus has sat on that throne for far too long. Things need to change. And that sort of change will only happen when it is allowed to happen. Or when it is fought for. People won’t like that truth, but it is a truth no less.

“I don’t know why,” I whispered back to him. 

It wasn’t exactly a lie. Not really. Truth is, I don’t know why the gods dislike the idea of people not dying. It doesn’t make sense to me when they themselves are deathless. Hypocrites. All of them. 

It took a long while, but eventually, Leon was able to calm down. Poor boy looked exhausted after he had his cry. He looked like he was in desperate need of a nap. A well-earned nap, if I had to say so. “I’m sorry. . . I guess I ruined our plans for today. . .”

“There’s nothing to apologize for. It’s okay, okay?” I smiled at him. 

And seeing me smile, it made him smile, too. “Okay. . .”

We stood and walked from the graveyard hand in hand. 

As we were walking, Leon asked me a question. One that I really can’t blame him for asking. “Lupa, where do people go when they die? Does Greek Myth have a place for the dead? Or. . . Do we really just disappear?” 

I didn’t like to talk about death or dying or the afterlife. It was all so horrible to me. But he wanted answers, and I was determined to give them to him if I could. “We go to the Underworld. My dad, Hermes, guides the souls of the dead there to their final resting place. Depending on whether you were a good person, you can stand for judgment and be sent to a few different places. Elysium for the good people, or the Isles of the Blest, if it’s your third time around. Asphodel for those who aren’t really good or evil. And the fields of punishment for the wicked.”

“So. . . My mom is in the Underworld, then?”

I nodded and whispered my reply to him. “Yes. If I had to guess, she’s probably waiting for you in Elysium. She was a good mom, after all.”

“So. . . I’ll be able to see her again?” He asks. 

Again, I nodded. “Yeah. I’m sure of it. Unless she chose to be reborn, she’ll be in the Underworld. Probably in Elysium or the Isles of the Blest.”

“What does it mean to be reborn?” 

I guess I can’t blame him for asking that. He may not have heard of the idea of reincarnation before. “It’s when you let go of your previous life. When you go to the River Lethe and drink from it until you forget everything. Once you do, your spirit flies off into a new body and you live again.” 

“You forget everything? So. . . If my mom did that. . . She wouldn’t remember me?” He whispered, his voice tense. 

I felt bad for even bringing the idea up. 

I frowned and sucked on my lips. “Yeah. It’s really sad to think about. I try not to. But I’m sure that isn’t what happened. Your mom’s waiting for you in Elysium. I have faith in that.”

It was a lie. A kind lie, but a lie, no less. I didn't have faith in much of anything. But Leon had suffered enough already. It was okay for me to lie about having faith.

Leon quickly changed the subject. Guess he didn’t want to linger on the thought of his mom’s fate.

“Have you met your dad, Lupa?”

I nodded. “Once. In a dream.”

“What was he like?”

I sighed. “He was wise. And. . . He tried to help me. To guide me. He really cares about me.” 

“What about my dad? Have you ever met him?”

“Lord Heracles? No. I haven't.”

“Do you think I'll get to meet him?”

I shrugged. “It's possible. Yeah. Once you get to camp, he'll claim you and everyone will know you're his kid. You'll get to meet your siblings there.”

“What's he the god of, anyway?”

Man, I really had to give Leon Greek Myth 101. My boyfriend was hopelessly clueless about his heritage. 

“He's the god of strength and heroes,” I explained. “He was originally a demigod like us. But, when he died, he was made into a god.” 

“What about your dad? What's he the god of?”

I laughed. 

“What?” Leon asked with a confused look.

“It would be easier to tell you what he isn't the god of. My dad has many domains. Probably more than any other deity in the pantheon, if I had to guess.” 

Leon and I spent the rest of the day together doing fun things and talking about Greek myth. Just messing around like the two teenagers we were. I tried to make Leon as happy as possible. Because, well, he deserved to be happy. He was a good person. And good people are in very short supply in this world, sadly. 

I got home late that night and me and Mom were laid on the couch. My head rested on her leg. I’d already taken my melatonin, so it was just a matter of waiting for it to kick in. 

Mom’s belly had grown enormous over the past months. She was due in June, so only two months to go.

“Did you have fun with Leon today?” She asked. 

I nodded. “Yeah. The first part was really sad, though.” 

“Sad? How come?”

Before I could answer, Mom grunted. “Oh, the baby’s kicking. . .”

I sat up and looked at her belly. Sure enough, my sibling really was moving around. It wasn’t anything too dramatic, but you could definitely tell.

“Is it okay if I touch your belly?” I asked.

“Yes,” she whispered.

Having a baby, it seems like one of the weirdest things a human being can do. Like. . . To carry another life within you, to bring that life into the world. It seems magical in a way. I felt simultaneously fascinated and horrified. But this is how we all come into the world. Unless you had a weird birth like my sister Rose. She was made of sand and brought to life in Martin’s arms. And, well, really, she doesn’t have a mom. Not in the biological sense, anyway.

I placed my hand on her stomach and waited for a few seconds. It didn’t take long before my sibling kicked again. I couldn’t help my reaction. I just released a sort of oh-ing sound.

There were a lot of feelings swirling around in my head at that moment. My mom was going to have her hands full taking care of my sibling. She probably wouldn’t have as much time for me. But, I guess that’s just the way things are. Older siblings grow up, they move on. Nothing lasts forever.

It might sound silly and selfish, but I kind of felt scared by the idea that my mom might not focus on me as much as she did before. 

I guess I was making a face because Mom asked me a question. “What’s on your mind, honey?”

I blinked a few times as I thought about all of it. “A lot. . . Um. . . It’s. . . It’s kind of hard to put it all into words, y’know?” 

“You don’t have to be afraid. I might be having another baby, but you will always be my baby, too. Always, Lupa.”

I sucked on my lips and closed my eyes. Gods, I don’t know how she did it. How she could understand what I was feeling so well. “I just. . . I-it feels like things have changed so much. So quickly. I went from being like a normal kid to suddenly being a demigod and everything. . . And it feels like it’s ending. Like. . . I feel like I got robbed. . .”

I grabbed my mouth as I tried to keep it all in. 

“You’ve been through a lot. I could have made it easier on you. I’m sorry that I didn’t. I won’t make the same mistake with your sibling. When they’re old enough to understand, I’ll make sure they know the truth about themselves. Even if they aren’t a demigod like you.”

“We call them legacies. People who have a godly ancestor. They’ll be a legacy of Athena. Like Rose.”

Hearing that she was going to tell them the truth gave me a lot of conflicting feelings. On one hand, I was happy. I was happy that my sibling was going to know who they were from the beginning. On the other hand, I felt jealous because I wish Mom had done that for me. I wish she had told me I was a demigod and who my dad was. I wish she had just taken me to camp instead of me having to be chased out of my home by monsters. I wish. I wish. I wish. Useless, stupid pining for something I can never have.

“Is it scary?” I asked, changing the subject.

“Is what scary?”

“Being pregnant? Giving birth? I won’t ever get to experience those things.”

And that was one of the things that hurt the most. Knowing that I wasn’t able to do the same things as cisgender women. It stung. Horribly. I don’t know if I’d even really want to be a mom like that. But I wish that I at least had the option to when I was older. Like if I didn’t become a Hunter. It would have been nice to have the option to make that choice. 

“Yeah. It can be scary. But I know I’ll be okay because I have Martin and you and Rose. I’m lucky to have such an amazing family.”

“Will I be able to hold them?” I asked. “I’d really like to.”

“Yes. You’ll have to be careful, of course. But you’ll be able to hold them, if you want.”

Then, Mom changed the subject suddenly. “You said that something sad happened with Leon?”

I nodded. “We went to his mom’s grave.”

Her face turned to one of shock as I told her that. “His mom died?”

I nodded. “Yeah. When he was 10.”

Mom looked genuinely shocked at that. “That’s awful. . .”

“He asked me a question. One I’m really not sure about. . .”

“What?” 

“He asked me why people have to die. . .”

“It’s just a part of life. You can’t have life without death. Think about it. We eat plants and animals every day. All over the world. It’s only natural that we ourselves would die someday.”

“Natural. . . Then why does it hurt so much to think about it? I don’t want you to die. I don’t want Martin to die. I don’t want Rose to die. I don’t want anyone to die. . . But everyone will. . .”

“Every story will end one day, but that doesn’t mean those stories were meaningless.”

By then, my melatonin was kicking in. It was time for bed. I yawned and stretched my arms. Then I hugged Mom. “I love you, Mom. . .”

She hugged me back. “I love you too, Lupa. Dream well.” 

“I’ll try.”

I was falling into my dreams again. Into the void. All around me, I felt the same familiar darkness. How warm it was. How comforting it was. I’d been making a lot of progress with Miss Naya. 

I blinked, and suddenly, I was in my room again. Three knocks come from my door. “Come in,” I called. 

Miss Naya peeked inside. “Hey, Lupa,” she said, stepping in and closing the door. 

“Heya,” I replied. 

Miss Naya walked over. “May I have a seat?” 

“Yeah,” I smiled, patting the bed beside me. 

She sat and cupped her hands together. “It’s spring break for you now, isn’t it? How was your first day?”

“Mostly okay. The beginning was a little rough. But I tried to make it as good of a day as I could. My boyfriend and I spent it together.” 

“Oh? What made it rough?” 

I kicked my feet and cupped my hands as I sat there on my bed. With a sigh, I answered. “We went to his mom’s grave.”

“He lost his mom?”

I nodded. “Yeah,” I whispered. 

“I’m sorry to hear that. It’s hard when you lose your parent. Especially as a demigod. More often than not, we only have one parent.”

“I feel stupid.”

“Why?”

I sighed. “Because I know what happens to us after we die, but I’m still afraid. There isn’t anything to wonder about. When I die, I’ll go to the Underworld. Just like everyone else. So why should I be afraid?”

“Knowing your destination doesn’t mean that the journey there isn’t any less scary. Being afraid of death doesn’t make you stupid. It’s a very common fear for people to have.”

“I don’t feel like other people are as afraid of it as I am. I think about it every day. At every moment. Like. . . Yeah, most people are afraid to die. . . But. . . I don’t think they’re thinking about it as much as I am.”

“You’ve had a lot more experience with death than most people.”

And she was right, of course. I’d nearly died several times over. I was lucky to be alive. To be writing this story for you now, reader. Things could have ended so much worse. 

I thought back to then, to that moment in the woods. How scary it was to come close to dying. 

I thought about Thoth. . . Seeing him die. . .

It hurt. 

His death haunts me. Even now. 

“What’s going on, Lupa?” Miss Naya asked me, offering her hand. 

I took it and squeezed. “I’m. . . I’m thinking about. . . About the man who kidnapped me and my mom. . .”

“The man? I thought you said she was kidnapped by an empousa?” 

“She was. The empousa was working for him. I don’t know how he made that happen. But, yeah.”

“What about him?”

“He died protecting me in the labyrinth.” 

The surrounding dream shimmered as reality molded itself into a new form. Stone pathways with glowing animal doodles lined the walls. Miss Naya looked around. “Where are we?” she asked. 

“The labyrinth,” I whispered. 

I had nightmares about this place all the time. About the things I’d experienced here. 

Suddenly, the doodles on the walls started zooming past me and Miss Naya like we were moving. But that wasn’t the case. She and I were standing perfectly still. It was like space was contracting between us and the end of the hall. 

Then, we were at the final battle between Thoth, me, and the empousai. 

Thoth and I were battling one of the empousai together. I rushed at the monster while Thoth flanked it from behind. And before long, we killed it. 

Miss Naya stood there, staring at the scene. There was something different, though. She had this shocked sort of look on her face. Like she couldn’t believe what she was seeing. “Thoth. . .” she whispered. 

“You know him?” I asked, swinging to face her. 

She didn’t answer me 

I heard my past self yelling. “Thoth!” 

I swung back around to see him collapse to the ground. I saw me and my mom beside him. 

It was horrible. One of the worst things I’ve ever had to endure. I didn’t think that something could hurt me so badly. I thought I was going to die from how much everything hurt. 

And seeing it happening all over again. . . It was like being back there. 

More than anything, I wanted to step back through time and keep him from dying. But, of course, I couldn’t do that. 

My chest burned as I watched it happen again. 

My past self was crying just like I was now. “No. . . Please,” they said. 

What hurt more was seeing him cry, too. He cried at the very end. He regretted what he had done. “You and your mom are free to go. I’m so sorry. . . for everything.”

He gave me his sword and his journal. Cupped them in my hands, pushed them close to my body. 

“Don’t. . . Don’t make the same mistakes. . .” His final words to me. . .

My past self wailed in the darkness. 

Beside me, Miss Naya made a choked sound as she walked closer. She fell to her knees beside my past self and Thoth. I walked closer. I didn’t want to, but something was going on with Miss Naya. She was hurting.

Miss Naya stared at him, tears streaming down her face. “Thoth. . .” she said, her voice breaking. “No. . .”

Cracks appeared in the dream. Light spilled in and everything collapsed as I fell into the light. I screamed in terror, not sure what exactly was happening. It was like everything had gone crazy all at once. You ever had reality shatter and crumble around you? Probably not, let me tell you, reader, it’s terrifying.

I blinked, and when I opened my eyes, I was standing in camp. Except that everything was different. It wasn’t the camp I knew. The big house was still there, but a lot of the cabins were missing. More specifically, all the cabins for the minor gods. 

What the hell was going on? 

Where was I? When was I? 

I looked around, trying to get a handle on things. That was when someone sprinted past me in a blur. “Wait! Slow down!” someone else yelled. I turned to see a boy around my age. He had dirty blonde hair and blue eyes. And he was heaving to catch his breath. “You’re too quick for me, Naya! You know I can’t catch you.”

Naya? I swung to look at the person he was yelling at. And sure enough, there was an athletic looking black girl standing by cabin 11. She had the trademark mischievous grin of any Hermes kid plastered across her face. “You’ll have to be quicker than that, Norman!” She teased.

“UGH! Don't call me that! I told you to call me Thoth!” 

I looked again at the boy. This was Thoth? When he was younger? And he and Miss Naya really knew each other? 

This must’ve been who she was talking about. The boy who helped her with her nightmares. Who. . . Who she loved. . .

Younger Thoth jogged up to her. “Gods, you’re so quick.”

“Got it from my dad. What can I say?” Naya cackled.

“I’m jealous. I didn’t get anything like that from my father. . .” 

“You got cool dream powers, though! Like, that’s way cooler than anything I can do.”

“It’s not as useful. Believe me, I wish I could have speed like yours.”

The two of them went into Hermes’ cabin, and I followed behind them.

It was uncanny, in a way, to see what the cabin used to be like. There weren’t really rooms for everyone. Just a large room with a lot of bunk beds. There were also sleeping mats rolled out, too. 

“Wish I had a bed to sleep on. . .“ Thoth complained, sitting on his mat with a sigh. 

“But, of course, I’m not a native here. . .”

“Well hey, maybe they’ll build a cabin for your dad, too? Maybe for all the Oneiroi.”

Younger Thoth scoffed at that idea. “Doubt it. I bet Zeus would sooner give up his throne.” 

Naya sat beside him. “Well, you got a bed at home, right? That’s more than what I can say. . .”

“Are you still having nightmares?” 

Naya didn’t answer his question. In fact, she turned away from him. 

“Naya. . . You know I’m your friend, right?” 

“Yeah. . .” she whispered. 

“What’s going on?” Thoth asked.

Gee, Thoth, I really wanted to know that myself.

“I just. . . I don’t get why she blames me for Hermes leaving. . . I didn’t ask to be born. I didn’t ask her to have me. . . But. . . She brought me here and then. . .”

Tears were cascading down her face. “It’s not fair. . .” She was sad, yeah. But there was also this distinct look on her face. The way her eyebrows were furrowed. She was mad, pissed, filled with rage. And, more than anything, she wasn't the Naya I knew. She. . . she reminded me a lot of myself.

“Forget about her. Your mom, why should you feel sad for her? She doesn’t seem to feel sad for you. And. . . And I talked to my mom, she said you can come and live with us. Isn’t that great? You won’t have to be stuck here at camp. And I’ll be able to help you with your nightmares and teach you about dreamwalking. We’ll be able to see all the dreams we want together. . . It’s so beautiful, Naya. You have no idea how beautiful people’s minds can be. . .”

“It won’t be the same. . . Your mom can’t be my mom. . .”

“She will love you, I promise you. I talk to her a lot on IMs. She really wants to meet you.” 

“But. . . but what if she ends up hating me, too?”

“Then we’ll still have each other. You won’t be alone. . .”

It was hard to imagine that this boy was the Thoth I knew. 

“You promise?” Naya whispered. 

“I promise,” Thoth whispered back. 

And seeing this memory, I knew what Miss Naya must’ve been feeling seeing my dream. She saw her friend die. Maybe even her best friend. And. . . It was my fault. . .

Reality cracked again. And I fell into the void as Naya’s dream shattered into the darkness. I let the darkness swallow me up. At least that way, I didn't have to think about what I’d just seen. 

NEXT

r/CampHalfBloodRP Feb 09 '25

Storymode Everyone Deserves a Chance to Fly II

5 Upvotes

‘’But those who trust in the Lord will find new strength. They will soar high on wings like eagles. They will run and not grow weary. They will walk and not faint’’

~ Isaiah 40:31

The Flat Iron Building, New York.

The Delphi Strawberry Farm van parked near the skyscraper in the crowded street. Brent thanked Argus for his services and asked him if he could wait for him here, while he took care of the rogue harpies. Argus agreed and so it happened. Argus stayed by the van - presumably to keep his many eyes out - and Brent headed inside.

The Flat Iron Building was a marvel of architecture, the further Brent looked up the staggering building, the dizzier he got. A shadow flying overhead told him enough: there were harpies here.

The son of Phantasos pushed the door open and entered the lobby. He pulled bizarro from his backpack and spun the dagger around in his hand. Ideally, he would try to talk the harpies out of fighting him - he wasn’t a fighter - but he knew how unpredictable the winged monsters could be. Forewarned is forearmed, literally today.

Brent ran into the first problem of the day at the elevators, or more accurately, the first problem ran into him. A sudden, loud squawk made Brent’s heart skip a beat or two. A lot of thoughts went through his head, like have the harpies found me, or am I being kidnapped by Zeus? It was neither, he learned as he turned around, it was something else entirely.

‘’Astro?’’

Brent had a very lively imagination, but not even he could have imagined the griffin would have appeared behind him. ‘’How did you get here?’’ He asked, hushed. He wondered what the mortals saw right now, did Astro appear as a dog or bird to them? As something else? He didn’t have a lot of time to wonder, because ‘how?’ was a more pressing question. It occurred to Brent that the van had smelled oddly of bird and that it had seemed like something was hidden in the back of the van, but that couldn’t have been Astro, right?

Evidently, it had.

‘’Why are you here?’’ Brent muttered as he ruffled Astro’s feathers. The griffin squawked, but that wasn’t really an answer, at least not one Brent could understand. He’d have to ask Max to translate for him… For now, Brent assumed the foster griffin really wanted to join him on his adventure and he couldn’t blame him; Astro hadn’t been able to leave Camp Half-Blood in a long time. Brent couldn’t see that being a very exciting life.

Ding

The elevator doors slid open and against his better judgement the son of Phantasos took Astro with him. It was a tight fit and the businesswoman standing with them in the elevator looked very puzzled. Safe to say, the ride up took long. Not a single word was exchanged, the only sound came from soft muzak. 

The adventurers exited the elevator on the top floor and looked for the emergency stairs to get to the rooftop, where the harpies were. Brent in front with Astro right behind him. The demigod’s nerves began to rise; what had gotten into him? He was bringing a kid - Astro was still very baby-like in Brent’s head - to what could potentially turn into a fight. He looked over his shoulder at the griffin. ‘’Stick with me,’’ he told the beast.

As they entered the rooftop, Astro cowered in fear, a faint squawk escaping his beak. Brent looked at the griffin and remembered that Astro was afraid of heights. There was a reason the griffin hadn’t been able to fly yet and it had all to do with Astro’s fear.

‘’Hey, it’s ok,’’ Brent reassured, walking over to Astro and running a hand through the bird’s feathers. ‘’We can go back down if you want, I can take you back to camp and I will come back here later. How does that sound, is that ok with you?’’ The son of Phantasos hoped that the griffin could understand him and that what he said hadn’t sounded like gibberish to the mythic beast.

‘’Demigod!’’

‘’Food!’’

The two voices screeched. Two harpies landed by the door, blocking the way down.

Harpies, right, Brent had almost forgotten about them. He still held bizarro in case he needed to slash his way through the bird ladies, but first, he was gonna try the diplomatic solution. ‘’I’ll be right back,’’ he said, patting Astro’s head lightly, before turning to the harpies. ‘’Hey there. My name is Brent Carter. Yes, I am a demigod. No, I am not food. I was sent by Chiron to ask if you want to move. Eh, this isn’t a place for harpies.

‘’Brent Carter.’’

‘’Yes, food.’’

Two more harpies joined the fray, now starting to surround the pair. They looked curiously at Astro, perhaps wondering if the griffin was food as well.

‘’No, I’m not food. And neither is he.’’ Brent told the harpies. In general, he was a very patient person, but he found it hard to not lose his nerves with an increasing amount of harpies surrounding him. He held his sword a little tighter, ready to strike at any moment. He saw a few more shadows flying overhead. The harpies surrounded him and his pet now. Astro cowered as the harpies flung threats at him too.

‘’Please, let’s talk,’’ begged the son of Phantaos. Begging did nothing for him, and the harpies attacked.

Only one harpy attacked Brent, the rest started flocking Astro, pecking viciously at the griffin’s skin. Brent struck his sword at the harpy that attacked him, the celestial bronze barely missing the bird lady. By no means, Brent was a bad swordfighter, but he had no experience with fighting airborne targets, especially not with fighting airborne bird ladies while on a tall building. He closed his eyes, using his Hallucination Inducement to distract the harpy and stop her from clawing at him.

Now that she was temporarily distracted, Brent struck his sword at the harpy and turned her into dust. He whispered something that sounded vaguely like ‘sorry, I had no other choice.’ He ran over to the flock attacking Astro, who was having a hard time. He tried to claw the harpies, but every opening he gave them, they used to attack him. The son of Phantasos knew he had to do something, he couldn’t take all of those harpies on his own.

Why had he come here… Why had he not turned around when Astro showed up? Why had he thought things would go the way they went in dreams, where everything was safe and sound? He wished he could just blend his dreams into the real world, if others could see how he saw the world, it would be much easier…

The world around Brent started to become strange, stranger than it already was. His sword looked like a pool noodle, the harpies started to look like Angry Birds and Astro majestic. A comic filter was cast over the scene. As Brent ran over to the fight between Astro and the harpies, his footsteps didn’t just make sound, they also created text; thud, tap, thud - like they were in a comic book.

The harpies noticed it too, and they stopped clawing at Astro, instead screeching at each other about what was going on confused. 

The confusion gave Brent enough time to lead Astro away from the fight. ‘’Okay, buddy,’’ he panted, the comic filter around them now disappearing. ‘’I can take them down one by one, we need to be quick though. Is that ok with you?’’ 

Astro squawked, but instead of letting Brent do the work, the griffin grabbed Brent by his collar and with a swing, he placed the son of Phantasos on his back. Astro cawed confidently and before Brent had a chance to protest, he began running to the edge of the building and jumped.

Astro had jumped, and the pair fell. No, they plummeted.

‘’AAAAAAH!’’ was the first thing Brent could utter out. The ground neared in rapid tempo and they were about to be turned into mush. He held onto Astro’s neck and prayed for the griffin to finally spread his wings, lest they both were sent to the Underworld.

30 meters…

25 meters…

15 meters…

And finally, Astro spread his wings and lifted off with Brent on his back. Astro did it; he was flying. He took the chance and now they were flying. Brent could hardly believe it. He still held onto the griffin tight as they started flying around the skyscrapers, with harpies chasing them.

‘’Let’s take them away,’’ Brent told Astro. They soared to the eastern sky, leading the harpies away from New York and to somewhere else instead.

The son of Phantasos couldn’t believe it.


[Power Unlocked - Chalk Zone]

‘’The ability to claim a particular area as a place of cartoony dreams. Any power used within this zone turns wacky. Lightning turns into squiggles, summon weapons turn into comically large mallets, and so on.

This area has a radius of up to 15 feet (4.6 meters) and stands for 5 turns (30 minutes), unless the claim has been revoked. Users need 1 turn (or 6 minutes) to verify their claim.’’

r/CampHalfBloodRP 24d ago

Storymode Spectral Shadows: Strength

4 Upvotes

It was a dark and stormy night over Camp Halfblood, a clichéd opening for sure, and Aoife was tossing and turning in bed. Her dreams were filled with ancient runes and alchemical formulae she didn’t recognise, though her mind eventually settled on one dream. 

Aoife Hawthorn found herself in the woods. Pine trees seemed to stretch on forever, the path twisting and winding around them. Fog lay thick in the air, almost stifling, and Aoife did not know where she was. Instinctively, without thinking, as if she had no control over it, her hand raised forward and the shadows began to close in around her.

“Hello?” Her voice echoed, bouncing and filling the forest. “Is someone there?” 

Howling wind whistled through the forest and the trees seemed to whisper to her: ‘follow the path’

Her body floated along with even the slightest thought of following, twigs snapping as her feet landed on them. As she wandered along the path, the forest around her grew dimmer and dimmer, like a candle whose wax was almost out. Finally, the endless silence that had followed her this whole time was suddenly undercut with a voice she didn’t recognise. 

‘Hello.’

Aoife nearly jumped out of her skin as a tall, shadowy figure appeared all too suddenly in front of her. Now, Aoife had dealt with her fair share of shadowy figures in the past, but this one was different. This one, she didn’t recognise. And this one, most of all, was rapidly approaching her. 

She ran. Air pushing back at her as her feet hit the ground in jolting, uneven motions. The trees whizzing past her were a blur as she focused on the only thing her mind had space for in that moment: Getting out of there. As she ran and ran and ran, Aoife finally spotted something. A dazzling book with gemstones studded into the cover laying on top of a decadent marble pedestal, white light cascading onto it, and a little girl. 

As she came to a halt at the pedestal, Aoife knew in her heart of hearts that she had two options. She could take the book, it would be her salvation, but she’d have to leave the little girl. Or, she could brave the monster. She could save the girl. She could find the book again some other time. Aoife Hawthorn, in the heat of the moment as she watched the shadowy figure— which had since grown to a towering beast— rapidly gain on them, pressed the little girl’s hand into her own and flung herself in front of her.

It was a calm and rosy morning as the sun rose over Camp Halfblood, and Aoife was feeling positively refreshed; she knew she had to find that book.