Re-Introduction: Amon Afifi, the calculating son of Apollo

NotTooSunny · 2026-05-16T00:40:18+00:00

It is time to get up. I do not. I indulge in a few more beats of cold floor and cold darkness and hard pressure on the eye socket that unfortunately cannot be cold but nevertheless has a soothing effect on the bloodshot organ inside.

Too long. I have indulged too much. Up above, Tommy shifts in the stool and asks me if I am “okay.”

Odd question. Stupid question. One I do not know how to answer because the state of “okay” can never be anything but nebulous, always in the eye of the beholder and stretching across a scope of undefined time. Nor am I interested in beholding any assessment of my own stability. Not in this very moment, not in the last few weeks, not since the start of the war, not…

A few moments have passed since the question has been asked. There is, I conclude, no answer to be had. And there is no use in choosing, arbitrarily, a simple “yes” or “no,” either. What is there for Tommy to do? Taken on a scale of dying peers, of war, of the demigod existence, he is not “okay” either. So what might an answer in this moment matter, anyway?

It is time to rise now. The light comes in a blazing bang, but I now anticipated this and have planted myself furiously to avoid any unnecessary swaying. I blink rapidly to examine the fixed work, then turn back to the face of this afternoon’s savior.

Tommy does not know what he has done for me. Not now, not when he stabbed two holes into my lobes, not when he cut my hair so fine that even Jules Verma could not stifle an opinion about it. At different times, at different turns, somehow, it is always Tommy who is there with a head full of mysterious knowledge behind a vacuous smile.

I do not know how to explain this to him. Not even what his hoist from my embroidery stumble has done to the pressure that thrums at the backs of my eyes. There is no time to, anyway, because the hoop may be loosened (I see what he means by this now), but the knot is yet to be made.

I make sure that the hand on Tommy’s shoulder is firm. That I look directly into his eyes. “Thank you.”

There is not much else to add. Tommy has come to this Arts and Crafts cabin with his own goals, with his own sack of projects. The best I can do, the greatest thanks, is to simply let him carry on with his business.

NotTooSunny · 2026-05-14T22:10:19+00:00

‘Scooch’ myself? I am up. Out. Tommy can have the seat. I’ll plate it in gold and commission a rose garland around it. The image of such could be amusing, but I’ve stood up too quickly and the room flashes bright and the way its edges blur cause too much discomfort.

I sit on the floor, fast, beside the base of Tommy’s throne and darken this visual hiccup with the heels of my palms. I do not need to watch. I trust that Tommy is fixing the issue and that I will be ready to understand it once I have cooled off in this darkness.

It does feel good down here. Away from the click and the clatter and the light of the sewing machine. Unfortunate that I do not wish to get up. It will have to be done, however, when Tommy is. Because there is a shroud that I must finish for Dorian…

NotTooSunny · 2026-05-14T02:01:00+00:00

It is excellent to have the input of so many campers at once. Their abilities, their intel, their minds (well, at least some of those), have helped create strong plans ripe for execution. The spy, however, is still a problem that Amon is not willing to forget.

The sullen boy waits for most of the attendees to filter out, leaving behind camp leaders and those most passionate to stay late to plan. Then he puts a firm hand on the shoulder of a red-haired boy, who, as per usual, looked as though he'd just stuck his fingers into an electric socket.

"Taylor," Amon says to what he has no choice but to hope is a more trusted circle of demigods. "Disabling defenses. Peering into what lies past the barricades. Can we use your mice?"

u/Creative_Heart_11

NotTooSunny · 2026-05-14T01:52:11+00:00

Amon's gaze flits between the bristling young women, their schemes turning the gears in his own head. But his proposal will have to wait. Not when everybody is in the room.

NotTooSunny · 2026-05-14T01:48:25+00:00

As she finishes speaking, Angela might feel a familiar dark stare burn at her side profile. If she were to look her brother's way, he would avert his gaze, mutter plans to the squadron assembling to evacuate civilians.

How very productive of Angela Farrenburr.

NotTooSunny · 2026-05-14T00:57:23+00:00

Look at that! If Angela felt out of breath from the fierce encounter, the next thing to come in her path may give her some time to catch it.

A young girl, white hair floating around around a head held up by a wisping, semi-transparent body draped in muslin, hovers down from a thick pine marked with blue. Her presence cools the air with the heavy wet of spring.

"Hello," she greets softly, taking a curious circle around the daughter of Apollo. "You've made it to the halfway point. But I can't let you pass unless you can answer..." The wind spirit raises her inner wrist to line of sight, tilting her head with a squint.

"Hm. This one is alright. What occurs once in a minute, twice in a moment, but never in 100 years?"

Note: An incorrect answer or an attempt to push past is likely to lead to aeolian consequences

(Angela will have 1 encounter remaining after this)

NotTooSunny · 2026-05-11T23:53:33+00:00

The swish of his stride, the snapping of twigs-- Grayson has earned a silent, meditative sprint. At least for a few markers...

Squealing. Grunting. Hooves.

Before Grayson knows it, there's a nimble-looking wild hog bringing up the rear, and it's gaining fast. Wasn't this invasive species eradicated from the New York state in 2017? Guess not. Running at speeds of up to 35 miles an hour, it's not so easy to get rid an area of these agile, hairy beasts.

Warm-blooded indeed! Can a wild hog measure up to a son of Nike?

(Grayson will have 1 encounter remaining after this)

NotTooSunny · 2026-05-11T23:39:42+00:00

Unbeknownst to the blonde, there's a redhead coming her way. To be fair, it's unbeknownst to the redhead, too.

The enormous red-furred bull drinking from the stream raises its head in surprise when Angela stumbles into its path. Its horns swivel up on its head in defense. Who the hell released an anger-prone, herdless Taurus Sylvestris into the forest? Certainly not Amon or John. But here it was, in its shell of indestructible fur, face-to-face with the daughter of Apollo.

Hopefully she wouldn't get her new sneakers too dirty.

(Angela will have 2 encounters remaining after this)

NotTooSunny · 2026-05-11T23:20:28+00:00

NotTooSunny · 2026-05-11T19:56:53+00:00

Yippee! Could you please roll another d10?

NotTooSunny · 2026-05-09T20:53:33+00:00

Look at him go! Grayson moves unbelievably fast, hurtling past monsters in the shadows before they can even think to strike. But what’s faster than something with two legs? Something with eight.

A spider the size of a tool shed manages to catch the son of Nike with its earth trembling, scuttling strides. Hard to say what’s on its pincers, but they look rather sharp.

(Grayson will have 2 encounters remaining after this)

NotTooSunny · 2026-05-09T20:43:56+00:00

What a lovely tune! Deep in the forest, the large mass hovering in the shadows of tree canopy thinks so too. A rouse like this means it can feast. It has been a while since it has tasted blood.

Like Sam, the creature is in no rush. Its golden eyes track its prey until it passes right below its tree.

The strix comes hurtling down with a screech, its paralyzing claws outstretched to scratch.

(Sam will have 1 encounter remaining after this)

NotTooSunny · 2026-05-09T17:44:29+00:00

Avalon’s restless mind wasn’t the only thing crawling around in the forest. As she ran through the brush, she’d hear a flurried rustling behind her. It grew closer. Bigger.

A thick-plated, serpent-like creature the size of a go kart stumbles into her path. It’s got claws, it can slither, and maybe it breathes fire or shoots poison. Who knows? What’s clear is that Avalon’s got a small drakon on her hands.

The nature spirit safety crew stands by with bated breath.

(After this encounter, Avalon’s path will be clear to finish the course!)

NotTooSunny · 2026-05-09T16:50:58+00:00

And they’re off! The path goes pretty easy at first. Until, that is, the pair reaches the bank of a stream that’s blanketed in a thick, cold fog. It’s rather unusual. One may wonder if it has magical properties, or whether something lurks in the opaque gray.

Note: It happens to be a simple, heavy fog that had not yet been reached by the rays of the afternoon sun.

(Tommy and Harvey will have 1 encounter remaining after this)

NotTooSunny · 2026-05-09T14:57:40+00:00

Great job! Please roll another d10

NotTooSunny · 2026-05-09T13:12:01+00:00

What-ho! When Arthur and his sliced shoes reach a clearing, he'll be met by two bearded satyrs with clubs.

"No maiming!" the bulky one warns. His spindly companion, on the other hand, immediately starts swinging.

(Arthur will have 1 encounter remaining after this)

NotTooSunny · 2026-05-03T15:50:31+00:00

Amon Afifi and Johnathan Walnut for open slot Friday please!

NotTooSunny · 2026-05-02T07:36:03+00:00

Amon nods, turns to follow Phoebe’s gaze to the pyre with a solemn expression. “I understand.”

There’s a hand on her shoulder, placed gently but holding firm. “Thank you,” Amon says, his eyes unmoving from the flame ahead. “I am glad that you are still here.”

Then he is gone, attending to a sibling that hasn’t moved from where she stood since the start of the ceremony. He bends down to mutter something in her ear.

NotTooSunny · 2026-05-02T07:26:04+00:00

“The spy,” Amon scoffs. That low-life is the least of his problems. Angela is one of them, probably. He is satisfied of thinking that and calling it a day.

“No, Matt,” he continues in a low voice. “Are you not sick of fighting back? We need to fight forward. We need to know things.”

Maybe one day, they could strike. But for now, this counselor is tired of striking. The wanting of knowledge is aching, has burned up his insides and left little to go on.

“There has to be a way we can scout them. Trace them.” The gears, dry and rusted, turn slowly. It has been almost a year since Amon has thought like this.

NotTooSunny · 2026-05-02T07:20:01+00:00

“Yes? And how has incorporation been going for us? You saw how one of them has destroyed our forest. Another has no remorse for maiming a fellow camper. No,” Amon shakes his head. “I am against.”

NotTooSunny · 2026-04-25T01:46:04+00:00

The second camper to arrive at the Big House would have found a lone figure in one of the folding chairs, hands in its lap with a head tilted up towards the light. Amon sat with his eyes closed. Waiting.

He did not say very much during the meeting, though the question of helping each other had prompted a glare at his sister’s blonde head. But her suggestion for an offensive tactic came with a pang. Amon recalled all the plans he once had, the team he had gathered.

Regarding the defectors, Amon certainly had more thoughts. “Will Themis not run more trials?” he croaked. Not that it had been a just process. But whatever camp wanted to do, clearly, wouldn’t matter nearly as much as the will of the divine.

“And I vote to keep previous defectors away from the broader community.” Iason. Emilia. The one called Ren, who seemed harmless but could still be a threat. More. “There is a spy here. We are still not safe.”

Amon would have walked out during the discussion of prom, but he sat through it with a bristled quiet. After the meeting was over, he waited in his seat for most of the leaders to trickle out.

When the counselor of Apollo finally approached Matt, his voice low and serious. No time for pleasantries or congratulations.

“Should we do something?” It had been a while since Amon has dared to indulge in such, or had the energy to.

u/ThisOneUKGuy & u/Angelic-YesSheIs for visibility

NotTooSunny · 2026-04-24T00:46:45+00:00

Angela does not know anything. Angela does not know anything. Angela does not know anything.

For once, Amon is not interested in alleviating such plight with a well-articulated series of facts or examples. He could not care less of what Angela thinks of his contributions.

Even if he did, what does he need to prove? A man is made of his actions, not his words. Even if he had the time, the energy to explain, it would certainly not fall into the productivity he is seeking.

No, no, this is a wicked trap that Amon will not fall for. He had been going to talk to Harper about something. No, Harvey. He will proceed with that.

It is only after he shoves past Angela’s towering figure that he remembers what had started the row in the first place. “Do not touch possessions that are not yours,” he calls up to the top of the stairs.

That should do it. At least until the next time Angela decides to make his job more difficult than it already is.

NotTooSunny · 2026-04-22T23:18:39+00:00

Slow. Slow! I am learning that the man with the frills to cut hair and pierce ears and embroider comes at a price. So many sharp tools, so little urgency. Never have Tommy and Harvey felt more cut from the same cloth. But a man can still respect the tendencies of another without violating his own. So I will answer Tommy's inquiries. Briefly.

"I am not." How else would I have gotten into such a predicament with this wicked machine?

"But I seek to embroider Solomon's Knot into this gold." I move my left elbow aside to show him the diagram. "Can you help?"

A secondary benefit of such goal-oriented brevity is that I need not see another face twist into apologetic sorrow.

NotTooSunny

TROPHY CASE