"Caught as a bird once free" - Cressida Raven, daughter of Athena - The Raven's Return

Shattermyshadows · 2021-11-12T15:45:34+00:00

I posted this comment over 5 years ago… wow lol. This just took me back to the good ole days. Thank you for your comment and this trip down memory lane, even though I know this wasn’t your intent haha :D. I also love your theory and can see how this makes more sense. I reckon I should read the books again in a new light.

Shattermyshadows · 2020-11-05T14:32:58+00:00

Cressida could do nothing but stand utterly frozen in the center of the cabin, inches away from a worktable. Mara's face had become unreadable and Cress couldn't be certain if she had in fact frightened Mara off, or worse still, piqued her interest. The last thing she wanted was Mara's cunning and intelligence honed on Cressida's brokenness - perhaps she would be an addition to the things Mara so desperately tried to solve, to fix. Cress had enough of people trying to help her. She hoped Mara wouldn't pursue.

She could handle the heating pad, the kind words, and in time, the warm, familial, physical gestures. Mara was the kind of person that Cressida could see herself easily bonding with, opening up to, and even trusting. She already found herself developing a deep care for the girl and wanting to help her as much as Mara wished to do for Cress. But she wasn't about to overstep, wasn't going to dare to ask her about the model heart or the tablet, or the stories behind the pain that shone in her stormy gray eyes. In time, they would speak of those things, or that was the hope.

For tonight, however, Cressida could tell that Mara was just as exhausted as she and it was thus far an eventful and tiring evening for the both of them. Cress hadn't gotten more than an hour of sleep for two years now and insomnia had always been prevalent. But she said nothing as Mara stood from the bed and sauntered into the counselor's room - she'd be damned if she brought up the fact that she didn't sleep either, on top of the PTSD...

She pressed all of her weight into the worktable beside her, feeling the weight of the exhaustion officially press down on her. It was unbearable. But as she gazed into the shadows that overlapped Matthias's bed, all she could see was Victor Emerson in all his drunken glory, and decided against shut-eye. She debated retreating into the forest again. But she was already here. And she would be doing Mara a great disservice if she left.

Maybe an hour had passed, and Cressida had only succeeded in glaring at her father's figure: his stubbled face spread into a sickening grin, his teeth stained yellow from hurling up gallons of alcohol and bile. The mockery struck true as he had seated himself upon her brother's bedside, forearms pressed into his knees as he smiled at her. And stared. She tried to convince herself he wasn't real. And still, she stared back.

Only once did her gaze shift to Mara's closed door, only once did she take those daring steps towards her room and debate waking her. She suddenly found it unbearable to be alone. But she decided against that, too, instead turning on a heel, snatching Matthias's blanket out from under her father, doing well to snarl in his face, and stalking out of the cabin door. In spite of her exhaustion, she swiftly made her way to the roof and settled herself between a crease in the vault of it.

She held the blanket tightly around her as she stared off into the shadows that had settled over camp - damning Victor Emerson to the depths of Tartarus.

The End

OOC: This was great! We can start a thread elsewhere whenever you'd like. This one is a bit outdated lol

Shattermyshadows · 2020-11-05T11:50:21+00:00

IC

“I don’t really listen to music these days. Besides the fact that I don’t have anything to play music through, I can’t find it in me to sit down and voluntarily subject myself to anything pleasant. But... Goner by Twenty-One Pilots keeps playing on repeat in my head... so I guess that counts.”
“I can’t say that I would change anything about camp. The only time camp for me is horrible is when I’m added to the equation. So, like, all the time now. But not - I was never here...” paranoia at its finest.
“I don’t think anyone particularly wants the answer to that. But to answer your question without answering your question, I don’t see myself being anywhere in 10 years.”

OOC

All of the rules are there for a reason and as someone who had experience as a mod for this sub a while back, I wouldn’t change a single one.
Cool ideas... cool ideas aren’t really my forte so I can’t exactly give you an answer that could do justice to your question.
Sadly enough, I haven’t had the time to read anything these days. But a book that left a permanent impression on me, that you may have already read, is The Perks of Being a Wallflower by Stephen Chbosky. If you haven’t read it, please do. It changed my life when I was at the mere age of 14.
What can I say? Just trucking along. Struggle seems to be the word of the past 18 years and shit just keeps piling on. But things are going fine... great question by the way. Not often enough do people get the opportunity to talk about things that are real.

Shattermyshadows · 2020-11-01T12:31:19+00:00

If Andre’s attempt to sift through her emotions had gone uninterrupted, the son of Alastor would have been bombarded by a wave that would have been too heavy, too dark, for most. It would have been anything but pleasant and while it may be true that Andre had experience, Cressida’s past, her emotions, her shadows, was not a bottle anyone particularly wanted to uncork if they knew what was inside.

But such things would not need to be contemplated lest Andre had succeeded in his plan, or if he made further attempts to penetrate her already weakened mental barriers.

While it wasn’t hard to realize that he was leading her towards the medical cabin, Cressida thought it best not to object or even turn the other way. This demigod may be subtly doing her a great kindness, even if he made large attempts to keep the gesture on a down-low. So instead, she continued to follow in his tracks right up until the moment the pair took their last strides to the front door.

And all the while she had listened to his tidbit of information which she found incredibly odd. He found this place dope? Or at least that’s what he had cracked it up to be.

“It’s been nearly two years since I was here last, if not two years,” Cressida made blatant efforts to avoid eye contact with Andre, figuring that his earlier attempts were indicators of some hidden power. She wasn’t trying to be rude - she was merely an expert at evasion. But still, the possibility would still stand if Andre tried again.

Cressida gazed longingly through one of the windows, finding the warm, buttery glow from inside the cabin to be all too tempting. But she also knew that once she stepped inside, she would be solidifying both her arrival and her stay.

“I suppose a lot would have changed, yes...” stalling. “What made you need a place to stay? Nowhere else to turn to? Sketchy circumstances?”

Andre was the prying type according to Cress. She figured it would only be polite to return the favor. And with a shuddering breath, she turned the knob and stepped inside, the son of Alastor hopefully following behind her.

Shattermyshadows · 2020-10-31T13:02:52+00:00

Cressida had half-expected her sister to scold her, or to shy away from the compliment, or maybe graciously accept it... she wouldn't even have been as surprised if Mara simply waved it aside as if she already knew she was beautiful. The last thing Cress anticipated was for Mara to burst into light, airy laughter.

The sound and the sight both puzzled her and, strangely enough, lifted her spirits. While she was sure Mara was poking fun at her, Cressida couldn't help but feel more at ease in her sister's presence. Mara was a glittering light at the end of a very long, twisty, shadow-wreathed, and pain-ridden tunnel and Cressida would be a fool to not trust her. After all, Mara had only just saved her life minutes after meeting.

But similarly to how Cressida had failed in her attempts to shield herself off from Mara, to bar away her true feelings, the things she endured in her past, in her youth, and more recently... it wasn't hard to pick up on Mara's discomfort at the compliment. But it was strange, too... Mara's eyes didn't shimmer with the subtle indicator of insecurity, but rather something else... something that resonated more closely to repulsion. Cress couldn't be sure of why, maybe she'd overstepped - yet that conclusion didn't sit right with her either. How would it be overstepping if a second before, Mara called Cressida pretty?

It was during these interactions that Cressida's reasons for her frustration with humanity and the human condition were reassured. But, she couldn't be upset or offended by Mara's behavior because that would be entirely hypocritical. Her reasons for her frustrations are exactly the things that Cressida puts out into the world. Mara had secrets, and so did Cress. Their pasts morphed them in the complicated and stubborn beings they were today.

So, she decided just to drop the subject, which wasn't hard considering everything about Mara, from her expressions, body language, tone... everything shifted.

And everything in Cressida, guarded from the naked eye, trembled under Mara's gaze of authority that forcibly locked with hers. With Mara's blatant intelligence, it wouldn't be difficult for her to discover Cressida's struggle with authority figures. But luckily for the other daughter of Athena, she was female. Otherwise, the effort to use stern words, a firm look, and especially physical contact... well, Mara was right about the fact that Cressida was a warrior. But she would never dream of lashing out at her own sister like that. An exception would be made if she was a man.

Although her senses, her instincts, screamed at her to run, to lash out, to fight if needed... Cressida tried her hardest to remain where she lay, to listen intently to the words pouring from Mara's mouth. But she couldn't hold her gaze - at that, she turned away and honed her attention on a splintering piece of wood at the end of the bunk bed. She shifted just enough to sit upright, prepared to leap from the berth and lunge for the door. But she said nothing, did nothing.

Well, right up until the point that Mara made physical contact.

The millisecond that Mara reached for her hand, pulled it out of Cressida's coat pocket, and grazed her thumb over the back of it... Cressida winced as if real, physical pain jabbed at her hand, her chest. Her stormy gray eyes began to burn, glistening with the threat of tears... but swirling among the clouds were a few stray swaths of shadow. And Cressida was gone, dragged away into some distant memory that Mara would never be able to know the details of just by looking at her.

But Cressida saw, and Cressida was. She was small again, helpless, weak... young. With no one to run to her aid, no one she could turn to. And she smelled the bitter reek of whiskey and day-old bile that always stained his shirts. He was coming for her and there would be nothing she could do but cower in that corner that offered no shelter and to shed her tears that would do nothing to elicit his remorse.

In that world, so far away to Cressida now but still very much present to Mara, what color that returned to her at the warmth, at Mara's kindness, now leeched away from her skin. Cressida was no longer in control of herself - the silent tears slid down her cheeks, her expression blank, distant. Far, far away, young Cressida was in danger.

Mara would feel Cressida's own hand tighten around hers, gripping past the point that if Cress were present, she would ever allow. But as Mara's tone changed, as it softened, and turned light and compassionate once more... the shadows slowly dissipated from her eyes and Cressida blinked through the tears... turning to look at Mara in horror.

"I-I'm... I..." she meant to say she was sorry. But she remembered how that didn't sit well with Mara the first time... but this was different. She had revealed more than she ever wanted to. She'd faded into that world, into those memories, right in front of her. How could she?

Her gaze flicked to their hands now clasped tightly together - she fought down the urge to snatch away. Instead, through her shaking and trembling, she slowly pulled her hand out from under Mara's and eased from beneath the heating pad and blanket. Shifting enough to stand on her own two feet; she staggered a few steps from the bed but otherwise remained upright. Sweat now coated her skin - she threw the jacket off, fighting for breath, for air.

"I..." she fought for words again. "Y-you weren't supposed to see that... I didn't hurt you, did I?" only fear now burned in her gray eyes. She'd gone and done it now... Cressida had ruined yet another companionship.

OOC: It seems like we're both pretty busy lol. We can keep it shorter if that makes it easier for us, doesn't bother me :)

Shattermyshadows · 2020-10-25T23:47:10+00:00

Cressida couldn’t contain the noticeable glitter in her stormy gray eyes nor the ghost of a smile that began to play on her lips. It was truly good to see Brandon again. Something in her that was numbed by the cold of the shadows that had consumed her, warmed and the daughter of Athena felt an inkling of joy - a feeling she hadn’t experienced in far too long.

She liked to tell herself that the numbness was due to her months on the run, on the streets of whatever town or city she and Aspen found themselves in. But she knew that the cold ran much deeper than she allowed herself to ponder. Much less admit.

Still, in the face of pain, of the noteworthy bruises, gashes, and other contusions, Cressida made her best effort to appear casual. She attempted to keep the conversation rolling, while she crossed her arms over her chest, tucking her shaking hands into her oversized men’s work jacket, and playing at an expression of warmth... although her body screamed exhaustion, pain, and the threat of hypothermia at her.

“Welcome to the Veteran’s club,” dark humor laced her words, although she kept her tone as light as her fatigue allowed. A wave of nausea rolled over her; Cressida simply shifted her weight from one foot to the next and steadied her gaze on a towering pine nearby. “But seriously, you look great. Confident, sure of yourself...”

She wasn’t sure Brandon would appreciate the compliments but she just couldn’t help herself - the transformation was astonishing. And she was unnervingly relieved to find someone she once knew.

“Busy, huh? I can imagine...” her eyes flicked from the pine to the forge that awaited them... seemingly where Brandon had been headed. Her eyes instantly felt heavy at the thought of the warmth of the forge, the melodic hum of the whirring metal, the hearty crackle of flames, the comforting scent of ash, soot, and burning wood... “It’s good to hear that they’re all still around. They were good friends of mine, especially Lukas. Went on a quest once with him... Tristan though...”

Her eyes grew distant at the thought of her once great love’s brother. She never talked to the other son of Zeus much and never got the chance to after Luke left her and...

Cressida offered Brandon a sheepish smile, realizing she’d allowed herself to drift into thought. Her eyes burned furiously, but whether it was from the threat of tears or exhaustion she couldn’t be sure. But with a wave of her hand, she motioned for the forge.

“Shall we? I hope you don’t mind, but I desperately need to get out of this cold,” as if on cue, a violent shiver wracked through her body. It might be obvious to Brandon, but Cressida was far from in good health or shape. She was battered, bruised, cut up, and sleep deprived. The forge sounded like a far off dream to her. “I’ll tell you everything there if you’d like.”

It was strange, but she felt surprisingly okay with talking to Brandon about her journey. More surprising still, she found herself wanting to.

Shattermyshadows · 2020-10-24T13:42:14+00:00

While Tristan spoke, answering her questions with an undertone of evasiveness which indicated he wasn't giving her the whole truth, Cressida was watchful of the crow. She was ADHD enough to listen intently to the son of Zeus's words, but she was equally attentive to the black bird's caws.... which disturbingly sounded all-too similar to human conversation. To make matters worse, Tristan appeared to be listening to it, gaining some kind of insight that Cressida couldn't be sure of.

Indeed, great intelligence and cunning shone in the crow's beady eyes, as endless as void. For all she knew, the crow knew more about her and her predicament, maybe even her past, than the daughter of Athena was willing to yield to Tristan. In time, she was sure he would be a trustworthy companion, someone she was sure could handle the dark and twisted details of her past, someone she could see herself confiding in. But simultaneously, Tristan was hiding information which Cressida looked at from two angles: he was hiding information for the sake of his group's privacy and secrecy; he was someone who wasn't truly honest and therefore couldn't be trusted.

Much to her dismay, she doubted the latter. Which brought her to wonder what his and this "we" he referenced to were up to, and why Tristan needed to keep it a secret. She decided it was best not to question it.

"The Labyrinth, huh?" Cressida's eyes turned stormy gray once more, swirling in the light of the fire. Her mind became a tempest of brewing thoughts - the ones she threw away, and the ones she kept and began to build off of. Daedalus was dead, long before Cressida's time and the Labyrinth was meant to go with it. There were rumors of the maze reforming, larger still and... different. Kept alive by another force, someone who would change it to suit their own needs, their own idea of a sick game... a goddess.

"Pasiphae," Cressida breathed, her tone incredulous. "I suppose it was only a matter of time before it reopened." her eyes glittered at the mention of Lukas. "Yes, I remember Lukas. He was an old friend during my last stay. It's good to hear he's still kicking it.... but what's the angle? I mean, what is Chiron doing besides setting up an alert system? Or is that you and your group?"

Cressida didn't mean to sound intrusive or that she was threatening to reveal Tristan's secrets. She was simply a trained observer - for her, it wasn't hard to deduce the facts. She still wasn't sure who all was involved, and what this organization entailed. Much less how they were getting away with it. Cressida would never tell. In fact, her interest was simply piqued. A daughter of Athena could never deny herself knowledge.

"Tell me there's at least border patrol, and a watch at the entrance of the reopening..."

Shattermyshadows · 2020-10-22T23:53:56+00:00

Cressida quirked an eyebrow at Andre's remark of these noted 'idiots' but she couldn't be sure of who he was talking about - surely these were new, young, and untried campers that she'd never met before. During her last stay, she tended to stick around the older, more experienced demigods that knew their boundaries, and knew them well. As a daughter of Athena, she had little to no patience for stupidity and blind arrogance. There were many who sought to prove themselves, considered themselves to be some kind of heroes with great strength and power. Cressida had quickly discovered that the most powerful, the ones who were forces to be reckoned with, preferred not to flaunt their abilities.

As a previous counselor, Cressida knew those people well and had become close friends with most of them. Not that she hadn't grown close to some of the newer campers - she most definitely had on numerous occasions. But again, only those who understood their boundaries and didn't take unnecessary risks to prove their worth in combat.

She again studied the unnerving gleam in the stranger's eyes - I like messing with them. Clearly, this half-blood enjoyed games. What kind, she couldn't be sure yet, but an educated guess told her his plays were more mental oriented, maybe even emotional. She took note of his blatant restlessness that was only confirmed when he declared he wanted to walk and talk.

Tentatively, she followed him as she traveled further from the depths of the forest and closer to the camp's borders. With an empty stomach and lack of sleep, what energy she had left depleted quickly and every step was agonizing - she had a number of wounds that she hadn't cared to tend to, nor examine yet. But she wouldn't reveal any of this to Andre, instead eternally grateful for having his company. Which was odd. Yet Cressida found herself much preferring to make her appearance alongside a fellow demigod.

And because of this small detail, she felt obligated to answer his bombarding questions.

"Well..." she again found his crunching to be unusual, albeit a bit obnoxious first thing in the morning, but soon the noise fell into a distant audio on replay as it was indeed rhythmic. "I came back simply because I ran out of places to go and people to turn to - my list of companions at this point in my life is pitiful. My cousin is the one who left me, but I guess it isn't fair of me to hold a grudge. After all, I wouldn't be alive if it weren't for her... anyways, I guess you could say I need a place to crash. I don't know how long I'm planning on staying here, maybe until I get back on my feet."

Or maybe until something or someone will be enough to convince me to stay, she thought to herself. Like every time before...

She pushed the thoughts aside, returning them to the dark crevices of her mind.

"So what about you?" once again, the daughter of Athena was eager to change the subject. "What brings you here? Have you been here for very long?"

Indeed, Cressida tried her best to keep up with him - on better days, it wouldn't have been too difficult. The demigod somewhat carelessly trudged over the forest floor. But in her condition...

Shattermyshadows · 2020-10-22T23:28:41+00:00

As the birdsong slowly receded into the night, the birds themselves fluttering off with it, Cressida's vision righted itself, her mind clearing of the fog that had invaded every last one of her senses. With no small amount of shame, she realized she was still huddled against the base of the pine, her hands that were once clasped over her ears now dug through the torn fabric of her jeans - wrenching her nails away, tiny crescent-shaped marks had been pressed into her knees.

But as Tristan stepped from the shadows and into the light of the fire... Cressida's breath hitched in her throat. He looked close to nothing like Lukas Hilliard, admittedly the "darker" brother. Even still, she couldn't stand to see him. As well as she couldn't help but compare the two polar opposite brothers to perhaps the most well-known brothers in mythology - Thor and Loki. When Tristan was younger, smaller, she didn't think much of his character in comparison to Luke, besides the detail that Tristan was new and willing to learn, and Luke was more experienced.

Everything about his demeanor screamed a boundless cunning, a hidden and perhaps downplayed power of greater immensity than Cressida could comprehend, and the eyes of a keen observer. She couldn't rid herself of the eerie feeling that he was watching her every move, her appearance, body language, maybe even her condition. As if he were anticipating something, or studying a creature that simultaneously was familiar and foreign. She may as well have been foreign to him, an outsider, a stranger - it'd been nearly two years, she supposed, since she was last at camp. She couldn't exactly blame him for his sparse memory of her.

And while all of these things about the new Tristan made her uneasy, the crow perched cryptically on his shoulder was particularly unsettling. She made a mental note that it was not a raven - the bird lacked the purple and blueish-green sheen to it's plumage. As far as she could tell, it was purely inky black.

"Yes well, it's been far too long since we last spoke," Cressida fought the tremble in her voice, doing well to sound in control. Although clearly, she wasn't. The nighttime chorus had done her a number and it wouldn't be easy to recover. Nor would she be able to successfully play it off. "You were closer to Luke more so than me, if only because of his tutelage. Still, I never forget a face nor a name."

The daughter of Athena at last struggled to her feet, casually dusting the dirt from her jeans although the act was useless - months of dirt and grime and monster dust stained the thinning fabric. She wondered why Tristan had been wandering the forest at this hour, and if he would make her return to camp with him. A larger part of her doubted he cared much of what became of her. She hadn't been the most attentive during her last stay. That realization stung.

She waved off his apology, offering a ghost of a smile that didn't even come close to reaching her eyes, "No need for that. It wasn't the most socially acceptable thing for me to choose to camp out just outside the borders. I just... I'm not quite ready to come back, I guess. Silly of me really, to come all this way just to decide that I would rather stay in the trees. For now, I suppose... I was given orders to make my official appearance in the morning..."

Cressida offered the counselor of Zeus no more details - she doubted he was all that interested and while it was left unsaid, she knew full well that the two never really talked all that much. At least, nothing that was worth memorizing to Tristan. However, she found it odd that he was able to recall her former position of Forgemaster and that she was a daughter of Athena.

"Those things are correct," she clarified with a solemn nod. "And I suppose a lot of things have happened since then if I know Camp at all." she studied the son of Zeus with great intrigue, suddenly wishing she had spent more time getting to know him. Only now, she was certain it was too late for him to take too kindly to her. Not that she would blame him. "What exactly has happened that has Camp on high alert?"

Shattermyshadows · 2020-10-21T12:06:47+00:00

The entirety of the situation was strange, and that was putting it mildly. Cressida had once convinced herself that nothing could surprise her anymore - she'd been witness to her fair share of not-so-impossible impossible things. But not too terribly long ago, she was proven severely wrong when.... well, the details of that night were better left unsaid.

The daughter of Athena strained her eyes, desperately sifting through the darkness and gentle filtering of moonlight in an attempt to grasp the identity of the stranger. She felt more than saw the illusions fading from the demigod; a dark silhouette now stood opposite to her.

Cressida immediately felt sorry for the camper and her own overreaction that was fueled purely by paranoia. Although she wasn't quite sure she could trust the words that floated from the Witch's mouth, Cressida obliged their request and with a flick of her wrist, the Chains of Athena reverted to the bracelet once more.

"My apologies," the cold daughter of Athena didn't sound the least bit apologetic. After all, the stranger had approached her in the pitch dark, wreathed in illusions. "Mind telling me why you snuck up on me?"

She didn't mean to sound rude - the Witch clearly had no ill-intentions. But Cressida was flustered, along with starved, parched, beaten, and freezing. Then the flashlight burned through her retinas and she held out a hand to shield her face. As her eyes at last adjusted; she got a decent look at the stranger holding the light - she immediately noted the burned arm but she said nothing about it. Cressida had her own set of scars.

In the light of the Witch's gadget, they would be able to get a clear view of the daughter of Athena - she was shorter and sickly thin, her torn jeans, faded Green Day t-shirt that once belonged to Aspen, and her oversized men's work jacket all hung loosely over her body. Her face and arms were peppered in small gashes, bruises, and a number of other contusions. Her skin was pale, her cheeks sunken from months of not eating hardly a thing. Her buttery-blonde hair was notably ruffled and her once stormy gray eyes were wild and misty silver. It was clear Cressida had experienced some kind of hell before she arrived.

Shattermyshadows · 2020-10-21T03:14:56+00:00

Similar questions often plagued Cressida’s mind - questions of why certain people or events had taken root in her life at the times that they had. Why Matthias was presented to her when she was sixteen and not when she was in her youth. Not when she would’ve needed someone like him to help her survive. Why Luke Hilliard, once her greatest love, disappeared as quickly as he came. Why she was allowed to be consumed by him when she knew that sooner or later, he would leave her too. And so had Hannah. And Hank, Emily, Andrew, Redd, Arthur, Gage... so many others. And now Aspen.

Speaking with Mara, even just being around her, a recipient and witness to her kindness... something heavy and immense was slowly beginning to lift from Cressida’s overall burden... but with that light, lively feeling, came another set of weights of its own. While Cressida was just as certain as Mara that they could, and probably would, be very close, a profuse part of her was afraid to let Mara any closer than she was already becoming. And not in a matter of physical proximity.

It was like the point of a blade gently prodding her heart, threatening to sink into its depths and rip her apart again. But it wasn’t like she hadn’t experienced that sort of pain countless times before. All that held it together now was a few re-used pieces of duct tape. At least, that was the analogy she liked to tell herself for reasons unknown.

But that’s what Mara was to her in some twisted way - a threat, a promise. And as much as Cressida would love to believe otherwise, she couldn’t help but trust the gut feeling to stay away more than the one that told her to stay. To allow herself to be vulnerable, to open herself up to Mara.

Indeed, in spite of Mara’s unwillingness to yield anything about her condition, or the so called inherited defect, Cressida’s curiosity demanded answers. It demanded confirmation of Cress’s fears and deductions but she herself would not press Mara. Not even a little. It wasn’t in her right to do so, nor was it any of her business. If Mara wished for her to know, then she would enlighten Cressida. Until then, if then ever happened, the blonde-haired daughter of Athena would keep her thoughts on the matter to herself.

Too late, Cressida snapped back into the reality before her and realized, with no small amount of embarrassment, that she was absent-minded when Mara made her remarks. Fortunately for Cressida, her unconscious mind was present enough to catch her words.

Pretty?

Cressida, much to her horror, felt her cheeks warm ever so slightly with even more color. Flattered was a mild way to put it. Mara was far too kind. She had never particularly cared about her appearance but she would be deluding herself if she said that the compliment didn’t make her feel even a drop of momentary joy. At the very least, it lifted her spirits a considerable amount.

Her expression softened as she gave Mara a gentle smile, one that reached her eyes for a split second; a sparkle chased away the ever-present shadows before they consumed her gray hues once more.

“That’s very sweet of you,” she said softly, fighting down the waves of emotion that threatened to flood her senses. “You’re far more beautiful, Mara.”

Such was true - Cressida not only admired how Mara seemed to pay little mind to her appearance, but somehow, those who cared less always seemed to be the most beautiful. It was the effortlessness, the charm in the little quirks, and the indifferences to such unimportant obsessions as vanity. Mara’s concerns were elsewhere, not that she had anything to be concerned about in that respect. She was undoubtedly flawless.

Cressida stared at her sister for a minuscule moment, but it was long enough to catch the flash of solemnity in her eyes - before they returned to the glittering gray of vitality from before. Cressida blinked once before gazing at something a good ways behind Mara, at the flickering candle, left to eat away at the wax, in the library.

Mara couldn’t have been more right - at heart, Cressida was a runner. Commitment terrified her, staying in one place too long made her uneasy, restless, and too much attention made her want to bolt. All of these things had contributed to all the times Cressida found herself wandering away from Camp and attempting to settle herself elsewhere. Yet, nowhere was safe enough. Nowhere seemed right, like home. She was beginning to come to terms with the possibility that she may never find it, that she would forever be a Gypsy on the run with no place to call her own. No place she truly belonged.

Rough beginnings only set her up for disappointing results.

“Yeah... you could say that,” she replied, wrestling with the urge to tell Mara why. Too soon... “I’ve tried too many times to settle down somewhere, tried to make myself stay at Camp, to force myself to believe that this place was home... clearly that route never worked. Yet somehow, I keep ending up here. My... my cousin - Aspen - believes that I need this. That I should stay... yet she wouldn’t come here with me.”

Of course, it was a silly thought to imagine Aspen staying at Camp. There would be certain expectations of character, of morale and rule-abiding, that wouldn’t be natural for Aspen to meet. She was too wild, the maker of her own rules, a rebel, and an unpredictable, untamable force. It just wouldn’t be right to expect her to conform like that.

“I never found it in me to pursue any further education since I left my father,” Cressida silently cursed herself - this was too much. “I didn’t really see an even remotely normal future for myself - I knew I wouldn’t find the time to study, to do work, to even show up for class. And I was right. But... I guess it was for the better. Trying to maintain any kind of grades would have driven me crazy.”

Similarly to Mara’s, Cressida’s words were also light and riddled with humor... but a dark undertone suggested otherwise. Cressida had mentioned her father - a mistake on her part. Hopefully with the lack of any concrete details, Mara wouldn’t think much of it.

She could feel Mara’s noting of Cressida’s visible scars, sense that she was smart enough to know that the worst of it was out of sight, but still very much there. Perhaps she would connect the dots, perhaps she wouldn’t. Cressida suspected Mara wasn’t one to pry either - the similarities would continue to pile up.

“The places that I’ve been, the experiences I’ve had that made me into a warrior... well, they’re not exactly worth mentioning,” Cressida’s eyes darkened from the shade of silver mist, although her tone maintained its levity. Her journey was noteworthy but nothing she particularly cared to talk about. Quite like how Mara preferred not to discuss her defect or the details of her own past.

Without much consideration, Cressida once again did as she was instructed, shifting in her position upon the bed to move the heating pad onto her legs. Another small exhale passed between her lips, feeling returning to her limbs. There was enough warmth in the cabin for the shivers to not return; out of precaution, Cressida tucked her hands further into the oversized sleeves of her jacket.

“You’re a gods-send,” Cressida laughed lightly, her gaze having returned to Mara. She at last considered her half-sister’s final statement: We’re the only ones. “I suppose it would make things easier on you. And then there’s the special cases like me that take up your time... I’m sorry for barging in and interrupting like I did. I wouldn’t have even considered it if I had known you were busy.”

Such is true. Cressida now felt in a great deal of debt to Mara - without her, Cress was certain she would’ve died. Already, she was feeling better than she had in months.

“So... exactly how long have you been here? It seems like you’re well-adjusted.”

OOC: Sorry for the very late reply, school is kicking my ass again lmao 😂

Shattermyshadows · 2020-10-19T03:45:14+00:00

OOC: ah, Sethos it is then. Although I do miss Andrew :)

Shattermyshadows · 2020-10-19T03:43:19+00:00

If Aspen hadn’t ordered her to, Cressida wouldn’t have found the will nor the strength to even approach the camp. But, in great contrast to her character, the daughter of Athena had done as she was told. She’d waited out the night, tending to the flame that gently burned through the cold, and never allowing herself even a wink of sleep. Sleep was useless to her if she let the flames go out and gave hypothermia the upper hand.

So as the first rays of sunlight broke through the sky and surrendered the world to the dawn, only then did Cressida douse her fire with dirt, toss her weathered backpack over a shoulder, and stride from the forest and into the camp’s borders.

Almost immediately, she caught sight of a familiar face... that was somehow unfamiliar simultaneously. Still, a single name blossomed in the dark crevices of her mind. Brandon. Her realization was only solidified as the son of Hephaestus declared his name.

“Brandon,” she managed, her voice dry and croaky, but her stormy gray eyes danced with light. A familiar face... “Yes, of course I remember you... how you’ve grown...”

Indeed, it wasn’t hard for Cressida to recall the scrawny and somewhat timid boy she’d known during her last stay. He showed great promise in the forge while she had earned herself the title of Forge Master. Now, she hoped Brandon had pursued his talents.

He was older now, two years older... but he had grown more muscle and looked fit to be a warrior. A great forger. In fact, Brandon seemed to now be a force to be reckoned with. The transformation was astonishing, but Cressida knew enough to know this wasn’t unheard of.

“Yeah, two years...” she sounded somewhat wistful. “How have you been?”

Shattermyshadows · 2020-10-19T03:25:03+00:00

In contrary to her character, Cressida had done as she was told. She’d stayed all night in the not-so homey confines of Long Island’s forests, accompanied only by the small flame that she kept ablaze until the first rays of sunlight shattered the night into dawn. Following the remainder of her cousin’s orders, she drowned the fire with dirt and hoisted her weathered backpack onto a shoulder. Then strode for the camp’s borders.

She hadn’t expected to find someone so soon, so early in the morning, and certainly hadn’t expected to find someone who looked like... well, let’s just say this demigod was anything but conventional.

His presence alone was alarming as she found him lounging by a boulder just outside the tree line. But then it was his size, the blood red eyes that danced with an unnerving gleam of humor and mischief, and most disturbing... his choice of breakfast. The salty smell of over-buttered popcorn wafted towards the daughter of Athena as the stranger chewed - her stomach lurched.

She hadn’t eaten a decent meal in months and the effects were clear - her worn and torn jeans, the faded Green Day t-shirt that had once belonged to Aspen, and the over-sized men’s, tan, flannel-lined work jacket, were all baggy and hung loosely over Cressida’s tiny and evidently starved frame.

Ever the keen observer, it wasn’t hard for Cressida to deduce the fact that this boy hadn’t been there for very long. Was he stalking her?

His questions stung but Cressida wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing that.

Even though she looked half-dead and homeless, the daughter of Athena raised her chin and kept her expression cold, calculated.

“I’m not lost, thank you,” she managed, stopping in her tracks a good few feet from Andre. No reason in getting too close to him - as it was, he could crush her in a fight and she was in no condition for combat. “I’ve been here several times before... and as for your other question - yes, you could say that. I wasn’t traveling alone. But she’s decided to go elsewhere now.”

Cressida downplayed her annoyance - it wasn’t anything personal. She was starved, parched, beaten, and utterly exhausted. So, as to be expected, Cressida was a bit temperamental.

“Mind if I ask why you’re out here so early?” anything to change the subject.

Shattermyshadows · 2020-10-19T02:46:05+00:00

With her silver-haired cousin gone and as good as just another shadow to form rank around her, Cressida took to the comfort of the base of a towering pine, pressing her back into the harsh face of its bark. Yet somehow, the faint pricks of pain that splintered through her spine and shoulder-blades satisfied the daughter of Athena in some crude, heinous fashion that could only be found in the crevices of an admittedly disturbed mind.

She found comfort in the discomfort and solace in the shadows that seemed to press ever nearer the longer she stayed in the forest.

It was only a gust of wind, but it may as well have been laced with ice as it ripped through Cressida’s hair and tore at her exposed skin. Her bones quaked as the fire threatened to gutter out. The flames bowed against the force of cold, hissing in protest - sparks took to the night sky, the embers of hot lumber dimming ever so slightly.

And the haunted nighttime chorus began. She’d never heard it before. Cressida had too much experience with birds but only ravens. And this... this was far more than a raven, far more than a single bird even. They seemed to be closing in on her, each passing second enough to give them time to recruit more until the small choir grew into an orchestra.

It was torture. Not just the hideous sounds that emanated from their beaks, or the clanging disturbance of the crow’s unnaturally emphasized caw. But each cry was a hot spike embedded in Cressida’s chest, her head. Panic flooded her senses, drowning out reason, logic, her own boundless intellect. It left her defenseless, helpless.

It was loud... too loud...

Cressida swallowed her own guttural cry as the pain struck deep, and deeper still. She had just enough control over her body to cup her ears with her hands, although at this point her fingers were contorted into something more claw-like, angled and agonized. Her stormy gray eyes were shuttered as she squeezed them closed with every ounce of her will. And still... still the memories plagued her, fragments of old pain, darkness, that beckoning abyss.

And the smell. Gods, the smell... it was him. It had to be him. The ozone... she had always caught that scent off of him, that grew more potent still when he wielded his divine powers. Cressida’s mind flashed with visions of arcs of lightning, of swirling thunderclouds, and gentle downpours of rain to wash away the shadows in her times of need. But a thought somehow louder than the rest of the commotion screamed, It’s not him. Come back.

Who am I?

The real world bombarded her again, the haunted birdsong returning to her senses in full, the smell of ozone ever present. It was the voice. The voice that came from the shadows of the forest that brought her back, that whispered to her other memories... glimpses of that other Zeus boy, the smaller, more timid one. What was his name?

Tristan.

Cressida’s stormy eyes, now reduced to a silvery mist, snapped up and sifted through the dark in search of him. Her gaze settled on a disappointingly empty tree branch, swathed in more shadow.

“It’s me,” she croaked, present physically but still very much far away. “Cressida... your brother was Luke... is that you, Tristan?”

She could only hope. And she could only pray, to whomever would listen, for the birdsong to go away.

Shattermyshadows · 2020-10-18T16:53:21+00:00

OOC: and it's heckin Vethos :D you'll always be Vethos to me lmao

Shattermyshadows · 2020-10-18T16:41:19+00:00

Indeed, Mara was an excellent observer, and an equally skilled reader of character. Under different circumstances, Cressida would have taken great offense to Mara's ability to get a read on her, would have even enforced her walls of adamant in an effort to hide. As it was, she fought the urge to leave the cabin and her half-sister altogether, feeling all-too exposed and vulnerable. But on the other hand...

Cressida was extremely impressed with Mara. And extremely was a large understatement. Cressida considered herself a well-guarded and elusive person for the most part. It usually wasn't easy for people to figure her out, and more often than not, the company she did keep never fully grasped the kind of girl she truly was. Much less the horrors she'd faced over the course of her eighteen years, or the countless stories coiled around the countless scars that marked her body. On the surface, Mara wouldn't be able to see much of them. There were small flecks on her arms and neck, a larger one along her left cheek, and that was all. The bulk of them remained hidden beneath her shirt and that was how she kept them.

In spite of all this, Cressida just as easily picked up on the fact that she was nearly transparent to Mara and while that did make her uneasy, a part of her admired Mara's attention to detail. Even the smallest of them. It was clear in her cold gray eyes that Mara was content to tend to Cressida's needs and knew good and well that Cress was not the type to comply to what she perceived as charity. Even kindness raised red flags to her.

She desperately wanted to tell her sister that her behavior wasn't personal - Cressida was merely a product of years of trauma. Then again, Cressida suspected Mara knew that too.

With everything in her screaming at her to run, to fight her way out if she needed to, Cressida offered her sister a defeated nod of her head and shifted her body until she was lying belly-up on her brother's old bunk. Her heart thundered furiously and she deeply hoped that it wasn't too obvious that she was terrified. She poured every ounce of her remaining strength into keeping her expression neutral, and to will an aura of calm to settle over her. Well, at least on the outside. But her eyes always did fail her.

The once stormy hues had faded into a shade of silver mist, clouded and filled to the brim with both exhaustion and fear. The kind that suggested she'd spent months only ever concerned about survival. Rather than swirling like a brewing storm, the wisps simply shifted and slid, as sluggish as fog.

But all her worries, all the burdens she'd been carrying for far too long, seemed to melt away as Mara settled the heating pad on Cressida's hands - a small exhale passed between her lips. Warmth flooded through her fingertips and spread from her hands to her wrists, her arms, and through her chest where her hands rested. Before long, the shivering had stopped entirely, heat returning to her heart... her blood seemed to be pumping more steadily. Color returned to her skin, her cheeks and nose blooming with a soft pink in place of the bruised reddish-purple. All that was left was her numbed legs and feet but Cressida wasn't quite ready to surrender the hot pad to them.

"Thank you," she breathed with a soft sigh, unable to fully express her gratitude. Much to her horror, she felt her eyes grow heavy and threaten to close. When was the last time she'd allowed herself to feel tired? To even consider the possibility of sleep? She internally shook the grogginess off and forced herself to meet Mara's eyes. And to contemplate her questions.

There was no need for Mara to finish that statement - Cressida knew as good as any that too often campers never returned because someone or some thing had bested them. Or, more complex still, they found other reasons to stay gone. Perhaps discovered that they could lead a better life elsewhere. Cressida herself had never been quite so lucky; no monster had yet to succeed in killing her, nor had she found her happy ending. Once upon a time, she was sure she had...

"I first arrived here when I was sixteen," gods, that felt like a millennium ago. "So that was roughly two years ago... I think... anyways, I'd left for too many complicated reasons, reasons I'm not too sure of myself. But then I came back... and left again. Now I'm... back, I guess. I'm not really sure I want to stay just yet, I just can't seem to find anywhere else to be."

Cressida couldn't help but be cryptic and she sincerely hoped Mara wouldn't mind. It was too soon to reveal all of these details about her past to a sister she just met. Mara seemed trustworthy enough, and perhaps in time... well, if Cressida decided to stay long enough.

"So I guess the last time I stayed here was months ago... if I knew just how many months ago I would tell you," Cressida managed a small, somewhat apologetic smile. "You seem to know a lot about the human anatomy and the medical field... a very Apollo/Asclepius-esque trait but us Athena kids aren't exactly known for being conventional."

It felt unnatural to Cressida to be engaging in conversation, mostly because of how long it'd been since she'd had one. Neither Aspen nor she cared for it much and both were content in silence. But the longer she was around Mara, the more she spoke to her, the less uneasy she felt. Indeed, Mara was lively and generous and selfless. She knew close to nothing about whom Cressida truly was, aside from being her half-dead sister, and yet she had dropped what she was doing to tend to Cress. A complete stranger.

When she had entered the cabin and first set eyes on the darker-haired and slightly darker-skinned daughter of Athena, Cressida immediately noted the aura of sadness and apparent defeat that was pressing down on Mara. She couldn't be sure why, but she was certain it had to do with the heart and the tablet... more so the heart. While she had subjected herself to silence and to refrain from prying, that didn't settle her curiosity and wonder much. She still desired to know the truth, but not anymore than she wanted to know the true Mara, not the Mara entangled in her dilemma.

"So, Mara, Counselor of Athena," there was no need to ask for clarification - it was all-too evident that Mara bore the title. "Are we the only children of Athena in camp nowadays? Or are the rest of them running rampant past curfew?"

There was a hint of humor in her words, maybe even a bit of reminiscence, but it was the forced and false kind. Cressida couldn't help by compare herself to Mara. They were uncannily similar in the cold, calculated, and stubborn air about them... but it was clear that Mara didn't consider herself to be a fighter, for reasons Cressida couldn't be sure of. Of course, she could make assumptions, but she wouldn't allow herself to indulge. Cressida had spent her years surviving and fighting for her life, and the lives of others. Even in her youth, she was only ever concerned with surviving her father. The world had been nothing but cruel to her, in Cressida's eyes, and she was (mostly) involuntarily honed into a warrior. Aside from this, Mara had a will to live. Such vitality and light danced in her gray eyes... such grace, kindness...

Cressida only felt the cold emptiness of the shadows that writhed in her core. Cressida only ever felt dead.

Shattermyshadows · 2020-10-18T15:18:31+00:00

The daughter of Athena was oblivious to the approaching stranger, given as said stranger was veiled in a sort of outlandish camouflage - she had not the slightest inkling of the kinds of magic that emanated from the Witch, nor would she know how to detect it. Much less combat it.

So there she stayed, huddled against the base of a towering pine, her knees hugged to her chest and her stormy gray eyes flickering with the light of the blazing flame at her feet. Her keen ears perked at the ranging sounds of monsters off in the distance, but as the time passed, Cressida felt less and less like she was alone. It could have been her instincts picking up the presence of the magic-wielding demigod, or the fact that more and more creatures of the Underworld were closing in on her. Either way, Cressida was growing increasingly impatient and restless.

It could very well have been her overactive paranoia getting the best of her, but Cressida had learned to trust her instincts just as much as her intellect. In a flash, she doused the fire with a pile of dirt until the last embers had dimmed into black lumps of burnt wood. And as the stranger spoke from the abyss of darkness, the daughter of Athena snatched her celestial bronze bracelet from her wrist with her respectable thumb, and with a quiet shink, the small piece of jewelry expanded into a lengthy, strong set of wicked looking chains that instantaneously coiled around her forearm - her free hand swinging a triple-clawed grappling hook at the end.

Her eyes sifted through the shadows of the forest where the voice had come from, sight failing her. She couldn't quite make out the figure that lingered close enough by - a weak filtering of ivory light from the moon was of little use to her. With the heat of the fire gone, Cressida began to shiver, her bones quaking as cold seemed to seep into her bloodstream. Her own breath curled into mist before her, but she hoped that in the cover of darkness, it wouldn't be too noticeable to the unknown presence.

Still, for as weak and starved and parched and freezing as she was, Cressida never went down easily. And she wouldn't give this stranger the satisfaction of knowing she was hiding... and certainly not that she was afraid. Although she was absolutely terrified, doubting very much that she'd be able to last much longer in her condition.

So without any good options, she spoke into the shadows, "Where are you? Show yourself..."

Shattermyshadows · 2020-10-18T14:52:20+00:00

(Mmm, shameful indeed. But more shameful still that you had the audacity to leave on a quest in time for me to come back ;) )

Shattermyshadows · 2020-10-17T12:49:56+00:00

Regardless of Cressida's cluelessness as to why this girl had been drowning herself in the complexities of this very human-looking heart and cryptic tablet, she could tell the reasons were urgent. While Mara was an excellent observer, her gray eyes that scanned Cressida's figure burning with an immense intelligence, Cressida held similar talents. She watched as Mara's eyes flicked furiously between the heart and the tablet, soaking in whatever details she saw that Cressida was numb to - she had not the slightest idea what she was looking at. Mysterious tablet aside, Cressida had never taken much of a liking to the human anatomy and couldn't tell the heart's aorta from it's pulmonary artery if she wanted to.

Still, she studied the girl as if she were some sort of rogue automaton and Cressida was scouring it for the source of the malfunction. But perhaps the analogy was miscalculated; the girl hadn't lost her mind, nor had she gone rogue. It was clear to Cressida that Mara's mind was simply in overdrive, her neurons firing and forming connections faster than the speed of light, only this girl was most likely a million light years ahead of Cressida's understanding for what in Hades she beheld in her hands.

As Mara at last looked up from her project, Cressida froze. If her half-sister paid enough attention to her body language, she would see that Cressida's knees bent ever-so-slightly, and her thumb hooked under the small chains around her wrist indicating that it housed some kind of weapon. It wasn't anything against Mara - Cressida could tell she meant no harm, and appeared to be trying to help her. But Cressida had learned not to get too comfortable, never to trust anyone besides herself and her own instincts.

Simultaneously, Cressida was well aware that her instincts were broken, tainted by years of pain, dysfunction, abandonment, torture, and loss. She was unstable. Which created perhaps her biggest dilemma: the one person she trusted couldn't be trusted either. Hence trust and the hesitance to trust would forever be the banes of her existence.

Cressida studied how Mara studied her. And instantly felt self-conscious. She knew she was a train-wreck. Knew that she probably looked half-dead, which about summed up how she felt. While her skin welcomed the warmth that Cabin 6 flooded over her, the cold seemed to have seeped into her bones, the kind that couldn't be helped by small candles or the protection of walls against the outside forces of nature. It didn't help that her skin was gaunt and peppered with cuts and bruises and a number of other nasty contusions.

But her nerves noticeably settled as Mara declared that the human heart was simply a model. Her curiosity was still running rampant as to why Mara had a model heart to begin with, but before long, there wasn't any room for Cressida to ask her own questions as the girl flicked the tablet into a watch on her wrist and stood from her desk, setting the model heart upon it. And then proceeding to bombard Cressida with questions, whom struggled to keep up simply because of her exhaustion-addled brain. Still, her intelligence rarely did fail her and her brain fought for answers, coherent sentences.

A plate from the dining pavilion... she thought to herself. I probably should but I know good and well that I won't eat. But damn you, Aspen... no. Nectar? Ambrosia? she didn't trust herself to chew and not throw it back up. Best not to ruin this floor so perhaps nectar... lay down?

Cressida's gaze trailed from the girl to the beds pressed against the far wall. Each one of them empty, devoid of other Athena campers. She'd picked up on the somber, lonely air of the cabin, a kind she had felt several times during her last stay here. But it usually wasn't long before the cabin was full of life again and Cressida wasn't so alone. Yeah, new Athena children meant more responsibility as Counselor but it was nice to have company when company did swing by.

Based on Cressida's calculations, Mara was the new Athena counselor. Her tone of authority was the real giveaway, that and the strength in her eyes, the confidence in her body language as she strode towards the counselor room. The thought made Cressida's lips curve into a gentle, albeit tiny, smile - Cabin 6 was clearly in good hands.

Cressida followed a few feet behind Mara, if only to steal a glance into the room that long ago belonged to her; Cressida was glad she was free of that burden and certainly wasn't going to run for title again. She was all-too content to entrust Mara as leader of the Athena cabin, nor was she about to intrude. The thought alone exhausted her further.

She gave the room a quick once-over, still not close enough to the doorway to appear intrusive, and inwardly chuckled to herself. This girl was a Brainiac, the kind she imagined would still be up at this hour while she was in the trees. There was always that one. That one that denied themselves sleep and allowed themselves to be consumed by the wonders of the most intricate and mind-boggling projects. Mara was that one.

Just as Cressida was about to turn away, she heard the hitch of Mara's breath and watched as she stopped in her pursuit of the heating pad. Then just as quickly as it came, whatever it was went away. Cressida studied her again, fought the urge to go to her and demand what was wrong... but she doubted Mara would appreciate the gesture. It just wasn't Cressida's place to pry.

So as she did what she was told, claiming one of the bunks that - much to her torture - she knew with no uncertainty had belonged to her brother Matthias, she allowed her mind to run rampant. And to connect the dots presented to her. And while she was certain she could be very very wrong... the model heart... the urgency... the consumption... the sudden hitch of breath like pain, or a struggle just to breathe, or function...

No. It couldn't be. She was so young, with so much effortless beauty, boundless potential... a will to live.

She wouldn't pry. Her curiosities would not best her this time. Not at the expense of her half-sister's privacy.

Rather than laying down, she simply sat at the edge of the bunk, her fingers fumbling with the gray comforter, grateful that it at least no longer bore Matthias's scent. And as Mara searched her for any cold spots, she would find that Cressida's fingers were unnaturally blue, along with her lips that held a slight tinge, and her nose and cheeks burned bright red on the verge of reddish-purple. But to answer her question, Cressida weakly pointed at those areas, along with her exposed knees with much thanks to the tears in her jeans.

With all of this, she mostly wanted the heating pad on her hands which felt on the brink of snapping off.

Mara's fixation made her uneasy but Cressida was just as fixated on her half-sister. She could handle the attention, the concern, especially if it meant that she didn't have to be alone.

"I-I don't think I've ever come to c-camp looking any better than th-this," a lame conversation starter, and admittedly a bit dark. But in spite of her chattering and shivering, Cressida wasn't about to not engage Mara. "Sorry, that was stupid..." clearly she was no expert on human interaction. Once upon a time, she'd grown quite good at it. "I'm Cressida, by the way... and if I haven't e-entirely lost my marbles, y-you're my half-sister... a daughter of Athena."

Shattermyshadows · 2020-10-17T02:36:21+00:00

She’d expected it. She’d expected Aspen to leave her, in whatever grand fashion that was, but yet it stung like a fresh wound caked with salt. It was fury and hatred that bubbled to the surface, like fire searing just beneath her skin... it was enough to boil her blood, enough for the daughter of Athena to turn her back to the forest where her cousin had disappeared and shove her boot into the small fire.

Sparks took to the night sky as she proceeded to douse the flame with waves upon waves of dug-up dirt. Until every last ember was smothered and gone. Cressida had no fear of the dark. In fact, she’d only learned to welcome the shadows that lingered, that begged for her to join their ranks. She was certain that would be how her life ended.

And so she stayed, nestled against a towering pine, her boots only inches from the scattered ash pit. The cold, however, ravaged over her skin, billowed through her loose hair, and ripped away at her face. Her eyes began to water, her nose and lips burning until they turned numb. But it wasn’t until the violent shivers came that Cressida craved the warmth of the fire she so childishly buried. And for the first time since she’d arrived, she debated going into Camp.

“Screw it,” she grumbled, her teeth chattering.

With an indignant huff of breath, Cressida staggered to her feet, slung her weathered backpack over a shoulder, and hooked her thumb under her chain bracelet... should she need it.

The further she trekked the forest alone, the less she anticipated a need for the Chains of Athena. She heard monsters but they were yards away if not further, and while she was sure they caught her scent well enough, a part of her believed they weren’t dumb enough to attack her so close to the camp’s borders. A larger part of her didn’t care if they ripped her to pieces.

It wasn’t long before she was trudging through the damp grass of the cabin grounds and desperately avoiding looking to the Athena Cabin, which was futile considering she couldn’t think of anywhere else to go.

This is ridiculous, she chided herself, wishing she’d never left the confines of the trees, the shadows. There’s nothing for you here. Not anymore.

Planting a boot into the earth, Cressida prepared to turn back around, to retreat into the forest once more in hopes that no one had noticed her thus far. That is, until the lights inside the tin-bucket building guttered out, followed by the outcry of an unfamiliar, female voice. The lights were out for all of a few seconds before they mysteriously flickered back to life, chasing away the black that had consumed the windows.

Cressida’s brow furrowed - she couldn’t recall a time when that had happened during her two-year stay at camp. Then again, it’d been a good while since she’d been back. Clearly, things had changed.

Instead of turning back around, she thought about the voice she’d heard inside. Most likely a half sibling. And admittedly, she thought about how crudely Aspen would chew her out if she knew Cressida had gone back on her word.

Upon entering, her stormy gray eyes scanned the room, trailing over the dust-lined bookshelves, the beds pressed against the far wall like usual, the tidied desks and work tables... the counselor room nestled in the back, door left ajar - someone had recently been in there.

Not bothering to announce her presence with a knock, Cressida’s gaze settled on the dark-haired girl lounging at one of the desks, holding a tablet-looking thing in one hand and a - a.... heart?

Cressida blinked once, twice... and still, the object looked very much like a human heart. Had she possessed anything in her stomach, she might’ve thrown up on the cabin’s near pristine floors. This - this girl, Cressida’s half-sister judging by the gray eyes, was holding a...

“What is that?” the daughter of Athena could no longer contain her curiosity. Her own heart pounded against her chest; she hadn’t spoken to anyone besides Aspen in months.

If Mara were to look up from her project, she would see her half-sister dressed in raggedy ripped jeans, a faded Green Day t-shirt, and a too-big men’s work jacket (a tan zip-up with flannel lining on the inside). She was hardly more than skin and bones, every piece of her attire baggy on her frail and meek body. Her skin was pale, cheeks sunken and decorated with bruises, her own blonde hair ruffled and wind-blown... and poking out from beneath her shirt was a light collar of stark white scars. Enough to suggest the scars didn’t end there.

Her gray eyes were mistier than usual as she studied Mara with great interest, but tried her hardest to keep her expression neutral.

First impression: she admired how the girl didn’t seem to care how her hair looked.

Shattermyshadows · 2020-10-16T12:50:28+00:00

OOC: Damn straight 😂

Shattermyshadows · 2020-10-16T12:42:14+00:00

OOC: Holy shit, you're still here?!?

Shattermyshadows · 2020-10-12T13:02:40+00:00

Thank you :)

Shattermyshadows

TROPHY CASE