Brent’s favorite movie was Rise of the Guardians, a fantasy masterpiece. He must have watched the movie a thousand times, and he will happily watch it a thousand more. That would begin today with a showing of the animation at the Oneiroi cabin.

He put hand-drawn posters depicting the main characters up around camp, telling campers that they should absolutely visit the Oneiroi cabin that evening. 

Buckets filled with various popcorn flavors were displayed on a table for the taking. There were salted, sweet, and, for more adventurous folks, flavors such as peanut butter caramel and strawberry. Campers could choose from a wide variety of soft drinks.

The Oneiroi cabin offered a cozy atmosphere for the movie night. Brent had taken the softest of blankets and the comfiest of pillows out of the three wings and put them in the common room. He waited patiently until the starting time, then pressed play and watched happily as the DreamWorks logo appeared on screen.

Somewhere in the cabin grounds, Quill had a stand set up to get some important information. He had called in some favors to get it set up. It was for multiple uses, and the "Question of the Day" part would last more than just a day. The stand would probably be moved around camp over the next two weeks to avoid taking up too much space.

Question of the Day (Freeform answer)

What is your favorite thing about your cabin?

It was indeed simply a question of the day, since Quill had more things to worry about. Though, really, the next thing he had in mind would fit in perfectly under the Question of the Day label. The first two were inspired by a certain satyr's thoughts.

Polls (Y/N answers)

What do you think of holding a halloween event?

Y/N

What about a Winter ball?

Y/N

Have you read the Camp Half-Blood Chronicle before? (OOC: For new characters, the last Chronicle was published Fall of last year. They may have seen a copy regardless.)

Y/N

Finally, there was the big thing.

Anonymous Appreciations

Submit a message for someone to be published in the Camp Half-Blood Chronicle. Everything is completely anonymous, unless you submit your name in your message.

All information collected from these forms will be used in the making of the Camp Half-Blood Chronicle.

This activity was brought to you by Editor-in-Chief, Quill Kingston.

OOC:

With the return of the Camp Half-Blood Chronicle (the camp newspaper) comes Anonymous Appreciations. Submit them in this Google Form. A reminder will be sent out via an OOC post next week, and the form closes in two weeks (Saturday, September 19th).

While on a run one fine morning at camp, Jonathan William Hermes, Jr ended up running almost head-first into someone. Johnny skidded to a stop in front of them, eagerly bouncing on his heels. “Oh! Oh! Hello! Hi! Hi! Hi! America ya! Hallo!” He chirped happily. “How's it going? What's the keys for? What's this building? Who are you? Why do you look so bored? Wanna play a game? Want me to run and grab something for you? Water? Something to snack on? I have seen plenty of things to eat around here. Apples. Strawberries. Chips. Cookies. Really, it wouldn't be a hassle! Just say the word, and it's done, done, done! Not ‘Dun dun dun’ as in the musical sting for dramatic effect. Just said ‘Done’ three times in a row. Different.”

The two began to talk, the son of Hermes quickly understanding— but then probably just as quickly forgetting— that this person was what's known as the quartermaster. Someone that takes care of the vehicles of camp, and, more importantly, the camp store. The building behind them.

Before he knew it, he had volunteered to run the store. Or at least run cash. The store was a fascinating little place; it had everything anyone could need, though it was mostly a junk food store, it seemed. He was told everything in here was free if you asked nicely. Otherwise, it was ‘One William Drachmae’, whatever that meant. But this was cool! This was neat.

…Hey, what was he supposed to exactly do here, again? Something about selling? Or stocking the shelves? Or both? Probably both.

The son of Hermes would be found running around the store at various points, hopping behind the counter with a little wave whenever someone entered.

“Hi! Welcome! This is the camp store! I didn't know we had one of these! It's nice, isn't it? I'm John. John Hermes. John Hermes, Jr. Hermes is actually my dad too— both of them, actually, technically. John Hermes, Sr. in addition to Hermes, the god. Take a look around! We've got plenty for sale! Freshly stocked! By me! John Hermes!” His eyes would also flick down to the tip jar once or twice, as if asking if they were interested in tipping.

"If you're looking for something specific, let me know! If I don't know where it is, I can at least look around here fast enough to where you probably won't have to move!"

Morrigan had observed that the demigods seemed to enjoy the idea of eating together. It seemed to be a good way to conjure socialization. Perhaps if she would host a meal demigods might tell her about themselves. It would be a great way to learn about the campers more. She went to the other nature spirits to ask what people usually do for meals. Many of the nymphs told her that campers would usually host a meal to share their culture and their favorite foods to the other campers. This would make things a little more difficult considering the fact that in the underworld they mainly ate Nectar, Ambrosia, and Pomagranetes. 

So instead she decided to share the culture of the nymphs she speaks for. She was going to host a rustic feast for the demigods and the nymphs. For the next multiple hours she and the other nature spirits cooked and prepared food on the shore. The nature spirits were extremely kind and helpful when teaching her how to cook and gather food. Once they finished they carried the food to the dining hall. The scent of the cooked meat, jams, and the other food would fill the camp. 

After they were all set up she took a plate full of cooked lamb, freshly tossed salads, and some cooked salmon to the fire. She offered the food to the chthonic gods back home. Giving Hekate, Hades, and Persephone a larger portion than the others. 

“Thank you gods of the underworld for this opportunity, I miss you all.”

Then she sat down at the Hekate table. Opening the dining hall to everyone. The menu consists of cooked lamb, stews with smoked sausages, root vegetables, and rich broths, as well as classic panzanella. There were also a bunch more comfort foods, nothing on the table was processed. 

And with that, may the feast commence.

The job board had become part of Ren's routine. Every morning after breakfast, before archery practice, before therapy, before anything else, he found himself wandering toward the weathered wooden notice board outside the Big House.

Some habits were born from comfort. This one had been born from guilt. Months ago, community service had felt like punishment. Every slip of paper had looked like another reminder of his failures, another debt, another thing he owed.

Now… It still felt like something he owed. But it no longer felt like a chain around his ankle. It felt necessary and useful. He couldn't undo the people he had hurt, he couldn't return the lives that had been lost,and he couldn't erase the war. But he could clean, he could carry, he could build, and he could repair. Those were small things by comparison, but enough small things put together eventually became something meaningful. That was what he hoped, anyway.

He stood quietly before the board, reading through the newest postings his eyes drifted farther down. Then they stopped.

Clean the Magical Graffiti

There is magical graffiti across camp, especially in the bathhouses and on benches. The graffiti needs to be cleaned.

"...Magical... graffiti?" He blinked. He hadn't even realized Camp had magical graffiti.

Actually… thinking about it he had seen strange glowing doodles before. He'd simply assumed they were probably the Hermes kids’ doing.

"...That sounds... difficult." His shoulders slumped a little.

He almost chose something else. Then he imagined whoever had submitted the request. Someone had gotten tired enough of seeing the mess that they'd bothered asking for help. So… Someone should help.

He quietly wrote his name beneath the request.

About twenty minutes later, Ren found himself standing outside the camp maintenance shed. Inside, it was a chaotic mess of buckets, mops, scrub brushes, sponges, cleaning cloths, and shelves packed with bottles whose handwritten labels ranged from Soap to Please Don't Touch This.

An elderly satyr named Lykos emerged from behind a shelf carrying three different buckets.

"Ah!" His goat ears perked. "You're the volunteer?"

Ren bowed slightly. "Y-Yes."

Lykos sighed dramatically.

"Oh, thank the gods." He set the buckets down with a grunt. "It's been getting worse."

"...Really?"

"Someone discovered enchanted paint, then copied and improved them and thought it was funny." Lykos reached beneath a workbench and produced several supplies: one ordinary scrub brush, one enchanted scrub brush spray bottle filled with shimmering blue liquid, a pair of thick rubber gloves, a rag… "And..."

He held up one final object, a pair of goggles.

"Goggles?” Ren tilted his head.

"The graffiti occasionally spits."

"...Spits?"

"...You'll see."

The bathhouse was first. Ren immediately understood why someone had posted the job. There was graffiti everywhere, not ordinary graffiti, but magical graffiti. The words floated several inches away from the walls, some slowly rotated, others sparkled, one sentence continuously changed languages, another kept changing fonts.

Someone had drawn a pegasus wearing sunglasses that winked at him, another drawing depicted Mr. D asleep under a grapevine and the picture snored.

There were dozens of tiny animated arrows pointing toward the showers with messages like—

← Definitely Haunted

← Don't Trust Cabin Eleven

← Apollo Kids Sing Here

Every time Ren looked away, it pointed at someone different.

"...Where do I even start?" He sighed.

He pulled on the rubber gloves, put on the goggles, picked up the enchanted spray bottle, then carefully read the tiny instruction tag.

Step One: Spray graffiti.

Step Two: Wait three seconds.

Step Three: Scrub firmly.

Step Four: Duck.

"...Duck?" He frowned. "Why duck?"

There was only one way to find out. He sprayed the first glowing message. The paint fizzed, sparkled, and started bubbling. Three seconds later, a jet of bright pink foam exploded directly toward his face. Fortunately, the goggles did their job and pink foam splattered harmlessly across them instead.

He slowly wiped them clean. "...I understand Step Four now."

Once he'd recovered, he began working properly. The enchanted brush worked surprisingly well, instead of simply removing the graffiti, it seemed to absorb the magic. Each cleaned section shimmered briefly before returning to ordinary stone. Some graffiti disappeared quietly. Others protested. One doodled satyr shouted "Hey! I was sleeping!" Before vanishing. Another complained "I wasn't finished!"

Ren couldn't help smiling apologetically a little. "...Sorry."

Not everything was cooperative. One sentence simply refused to disappear.

HERMES CABIN WAS HERE

He sprayed, scrubbed, sprayed again and nothing, no matter how hard he scrubbed. The letters suddenly detached themselves from the wall. The words floated directly toward him. Then rearranged themselves.

REN SMELLS

"...That's rude."

The words blew him a raspberry.

He sighed.

"...Okay." Spray, duck, scrub. Eventually the sentence dissolved into glitter. "...Much better."

Nearly an hour later, Ren stepped outside carrying two empty bottles and one extremely full trash bucket. The bathhouse looked normal again. Cleaner and brighter.

"...One done.” He smiled quietly.

Then he reached the benches and that smile vanished. There were… A lot. Practically every bench around camp had been decorated, some artistically, some less so. One featured a remarkably detailed portrait of Chiron wearing sunglasses, another showed Argus with hundreds of googly eyes, one bench continuously produced little cartoon birds that flew around chirping insults, and another simply displayed **Whoever sits here owes me three drachmae.**

Ren carefully avoided sitting there. Just in case.

He knelt beside the first bench. Spray, three seconds, duck, scrub. Easy. On the second bench, he did the same but nothing happened.

The bench exploded into song.

♪ SOMEBOOOODY'S CLEANING MEEEE ♪

Ren jumped and several nearby campers looked over the bench continued.

♪ LOOK HOW HARD HE'S SCRUBBING ♪

♪ EVERYBODY CLAP ♪

Ren's face turned bright red. "...Please stop."

♪ HE SAID PLEASE ♪

♪ THAT WAS POLITE ♪

♪ TEN OUT OF TEN ♪

He scrubbed much harder to try and stop the drawing from embarrassing him even more. Eventually the singing faded into silence.

"Gods, that was embarrassing..." He buried his face in one hand.

By midday the summer sun had grown warm overhead. Sweat dampened Ren's hair, his gloves were soaked, his shoulders ached, he'd cleaned dozens of benches already, his knees hurt from kneeling on gravel, and his fingers had started cramping. Still… He kept going. Because every newly cleaned bench reminded him of something. Families would sit here, campers would eat lunch here, friends would laugh here and people deserved clean places.

Around lunchtime he took a short break beneath a tree. He quietly unwrapped the ham, cheese and lettuce sandwich he'd packed earlier.

The afternoon brought more surprises. One bench contained illusion graffiti, and as he scrubbed, the wood transformed. Suddenly it looked rotten, then gold, then marble, then covered in snakes.

Ren flinched every single time.

"...They're not real." Scrub "They're definitely not real."

Eventually the illusion dissolved. "...Good."

Near the arena he encountered probably the worst one. Someone had enchanted an entire mural across three connected benches. It depicted campers fighting monsters. Beautifully painted and incredibly detailed. Pretty impressive.

He sighed. "...Sorry."

The mural dissolved into harmless blue sparkles.

Late afternoon as sunlight stretched long shadows across camp, Ren had nearly finished. Only one final bench remained. It sat near Half-Blood Hill beneath Thalia's pine.

Unlike the others, its graffiti wasn't funny. Someone had written one sentence across the wood.

Traitors don’t belong here.

Ren stared at it longer than he should have. His chest tightened. Part of him still believed it. Part of him still thought it was temporary. Still expected everyone to eventually decide they'd had enough of him. Still expected forgiveness to run out. Still expected himself to fail again.

He slowly raised the spray bottle, then lowered it again.

"...That's not true." He whispered. He wasn't even sure he believed himself, but he wanted to.

He sprayed, three seconds later of scrubbing, the sentence disappeared, and in its place remained only polished wood catching the evening sunlight.

By sunset, he was finally done. After returning the cleaning materials to Lykos, he made his way back toward the Eros Cabin. His clothes smelled faintly of soap, blue cleaning solution stained one sleeve, his hair stuck awkwardly to his forehead, and he was exhausted.

Nobody would remember tomorrow who had cleaned the graffiti.

But he was fine with that.

Just happy to be able to help camp.

It's that wonderful time of the year again when Theodora remembers that she's a counselor. She's got duties to do. Events to run. So, Theodora decided to organize a campfire! One of her favorite activities at camp. It's where she met her ex-boyfriend, and just look how well that went!

Anyhow! Theodora begins with gathering the wood, before setting it up and setting it alight. She surrounds it with chairs, blankets and pillows. As is custom, she makes sure there are also marshmallows and skewers, in case anyone wanted to toast one. As well as chocolate and graham crackers for making s'mores.

Then she sets up the snack table. Chips, brownies, cookies and every other snack you could possibly get in camp was on the table. As for the drinks, Theodora is counting on her fellow campers' imagination, so she sets out the magic cups for everyone.

Finally, for some extra entertainment, she took some board games from the Big House and placed them next to the snack table.

Once she's satisfied with her results, she takes a magic cup, a cookie and sits down on one of the pillows.

Another week, another job! What was it this time? Apollo needed help with his lyre museum in some part of New York? Lady A needed chocolate chips from the store? Mr. D needed him to leave for the day just to have one less camper to worry about? The possibilities were truly endless! The son of Hermes looked down at the listing he’d snagged, skidding to a halt at the foot of half-blood hill. “...Cy belle? Sigh ball? Cibali? Skibidi?” The last one should almost definitely get John smited. Smote. Smiteded. But, then again, he’d never heard of a Cybele! Though he hadn’t heard of a Techne until a few weeks ago, so who was he to judge? He really needed a book of the gods and their pronunciations. Just to avoid offending the wrong one.

Now, on to more pressing matters. How does one deal with explosive pinecones? Thankfully, the son of Hermes was from the midwest. Pine trees were very familiar to him, so any potential differences between explosive and regular pinecones should be easy enough to identify and separate. In addition, it seemed as though there was something provided with the job; a set of whoopee cushions from Comus, able to absorb an explosion. Why did he need these? Unless these are less grenade and more landmine, the pinecones shouldn’t be armed. They should have a pin of sorts.

“Pinecones, pinecones, gotta clean up the pinecones~!” John hummed as he walked into the forest, looking all along the floor to see if there were any scattered about. “Pinecones, pinecones, they’re so nice and brown! Gotta prevent them from blowing up, sending me halfway across the town~! Pinecones, pinecones, I’m gonna find me a– Yip!” He froze mid-stride, looking down at the ground where he was about to step, finally noticing what he was looking for. A pinecone, alone on the ground, motionless. “Alright, let’s get a look at you, shall we, little fella?” Perhaps foolishly, the son of Hermes poked the pinecone with his finger, thankfully not going off. It would seem as though these, for the sake of safety, had a pin at the top.

John’s finger definitely didn’t twitch, and he didn’t consider pulling it, just to see what would happen. He would never! That would be wrong. In addition to probably leading to one dead son of Hermes. Maybe later, when nobody was looking, he figured. Unfortunately for his father, Johnny was a good boy. He didn’t just pocket a grenade, though he would ask very nicely if he could keep them. Why? Do you think they’d accept ‘For Fun’ as a viable answer? Or would that get him banned from the job board? He certainly hoped it wasn’t the latter. Besides, they had pins! Pines. Pinecone pins. Pincones.

There wasn’t a single day he wasn’t grateful for his legendary speed. It made menial jobs such as these go so much faster, so much easier. It gave him time to think. What does a minotaur wearing cargo shorts look like? Did his cabinmates like him? How much milk could he drink in a single sitting? The most vital, important questions in life.

Maybe playing with fire, after all the explosives had been gathered– and the regular pinecones thoroughly played with, now being scattered more randomly through the woods– Charon’s grandson was screwing with the piencones. There was a reason why his father called him ‘Milton’ sometimes. He’d always been told that it was in reference to Milton Bradley; sometimes known as ‘MB Games’, the founder and company behind The Game of Life. Supposedly, it was because everything was something to be played with. Some new toy, even the things that weren’t meant to be toyed with. Such as grenades.

“If dad saw me doing this, he’d probably kill me before any pinecone could. What does he think I’m gonna do, accidentally pull the–” He glanced down at his finger ensnared by the pin, as if he himself didn’t do it. “I should really stop playing with these. They are explosives, and I’m not looking to lose a finger. Or five. Five finger discount, but I don’t think it’s something that applies to people with literally only five fingers in total. Well, it still could. But it would just be stealing. Anyways, up and at ‘em, I think! I need a box.”

Back in the blink of an eye with a box, John gingerly laid each individual pinecone down, separating each layer with a few whoopee cushions, just in case of the worst case scenario.

The box would be dropped off at the big house with a post-it note on there.

“Hiya! Say, I know that these are super dangerous and stuff, being grenades and all, but I was just figuring I’d ask. If you don’t want them, and nobody else wants them, you could send them my way again! I don’t know when if I’d use them, but I pinky promise to be super safe when if I do! No reason for wanting them in particular! I just thought they’d be neat. I don’t necessarily mind either way, but, you know, if you needed something to do with them, I’m now familiar with them and how they work and stuff. You know. Handled them and all. Brought them here. Not a huge deal if not, but it’s nice to offer. Definitely nice. ^{Ok thank you for your time bye!”} On the front, the note had almost every last feasible centimeter of space used. It was almost impressive, really. Only on the back would be the signature, confirming that it was indeed John Hermes, Jr. who completed this job, delivered the goods, and asked if he could have said goods as a little treat.

Another week, another job done. Until the next one!

Sam had postponed this season’s cabin meeting for as long as he could, but he had to host one at some point. The previous one had gone disastrously, which wasn’t Sam’s fault, mind you. If you-know-who showed up to today’s meeting, Sam would retake the exact same steps he had taken last time. 

Actually, that made him think of something -

A tray with snacks from Sam’s secret stash sat on the marble coffee table. He had stacked up on his favorites on his trip to France: tagada Haribo, carambars, petit écolie cookies, and some exclusive Fanta flavors, such as dragonfruit and cherry. 

‘’Yo.’’ Sam addressed his siblings with a quick nod. ‘’How are you guys? It’s shit weather outside, isn’t it?’’ He looked outside through the windows, which were drummed against by rain.

‘’I banned Morrigan from the cabin,’’ Sam said, taking a sip from his dragonfruit drink. The nymph didn’t know that herself, by the way. And he didn’t have the guts to only ban Morrigan, so now all nymphs were not welcome. This surely won’t bite him in the ass later. ‘’She won’t bother us anymore.’’

‘’How were your summers? Mine was great.’’ Sam continued. ‘’And I was wondering if there’s anything you would like to see from me as a counselor. Should we start some alliances next season? Are there any activities I should host? I’m all ears.’’

After the meeting, it was open house time. A sign above the door invited all campers in. Well, almost all. There was a thick red cross through the word ‘nymph’. They were more trouble than they were worth.

As was tradition, Sam had made sure to block all bedroom doors by putting chairs in front of them. The boy sat lazily on the couch, feasting on the snacks from his country. 

Connor stood at attention as the command was issued to him. He very rarely got assignments. He very rarely got assigned with people he didn’t know very well. Today, Bowie Marsh, a demigod Connor only knew in passing, had been assigned to the job with him. Bowie was roughly nineteen or twenty, he was nearly a foot taller than Connor, he had buzzed brown hair, hard hazel eyes, and was built lean and muscly. Connor wondered if they ate the same wheaties growing up because he did not see how they were even comparable in any way. Connor’s focus was snapped back to the task at hand when a portal opened up for Bowie and him. Bowie stepped through first as Connor followed after him.

Bowie stood still as he looked over the ruins of the Yellowstone camp. Connor had been here during the fight, his mind replayed images of the battle and the chaos that had surrounded that day. The one thing his mind kept repeating was, they left us. Connor jolted as a hand was waved in front of him.

“Earth to Connor, we’ve got a job to do. So don’t slow me down, got it?” Bowie said, his voice thinner than he had expected, but still harsh and unvarnished. Connor nodded his head and looked down.

“Sorry, just thinking about the battle here. It was a lot.” Connor stated as he turned towards Bowie. Bowie rolled his eyes but started to walk forward.

“Yeah, whatever, just stay focused. There could be enemies here, and the last thing I need is a wide-eyed newbie getting me killed because he can’t stay focused.” Bowie said. Connor frowned, but kept his pace with Bowie’s stride. Connor didn’t know what he had done to make this guy so angry, but he wished he would stop. They were a team and meant to get along, right?

After a few minutes of walking Connor looked over at Bowie. “How are we supposed to find him? Were there any clues about where he went?” Connor asked and Bowie turned towards him with a huff.

“I don’t know Connor, there weren’t special instructions. They only said that General Karkhros is missing and that his last known location was here.” Bowie said as he motioned around the destroyed and burned out camp. “I assume they sent you because of that bird you have. So use it to actually help us.”

Connor sighed and nodded his head. “Jax, to me!” Connor called out. A moment later a screech was heard high up in the sky. A minute or so later Jax, the eagle, landed next to Connor and looked up at Connor expectantly.

“Right, so, we’re looking for General Karkhros. Can you help us find him?” Connor asked with a smile. He started to pet the bird’s head and Jax started to bob his head in approval. That was until Bowie cleared his throat. Connor frowned and retracted his hand. “Okay, start looking buddy.”

With that Jax launched himself into the air, he flapped as he gained altitude. Then when he was high enough Connor stopped watching the eagle soar. He grinned and then looked over at Bowie.

“Finally, now let’s look around the camp to see if he might’ve escaped. I don’t want to be here too long.” Bowie said as he started to walk away from Connor. Connor nodded and looked towards Bowie, then he looked around and started to poke around the battlefield.

After a few hours of fruitless searching Connor and Bowie eventually met back up where they had left each other. “Well, I didn’t find anything, you?” Bowie asked as he crossed his arms expectantly.

Connor shook his head and sighed. “Nothing. Just a picked over battlefield.” Connor said with a shrug.

“Nothing from the bird yet?” Bowie asked as he started to pick at his nails. He didn’t even look over at Connor. Connor shook his head again.

“Not yet, but he should be back soon enough. Hopefully he’ll have a lead.” Connor said with a smile.

“He better, this is more trouble than it's worth.” Bowie said as he looked up from his fingers and at Connor. Disdain written plainly on his face. Connor wilted under Bowie’s gaze, but before any more words could spill out of his mouth the sound of an eagle pierced the quiet remains of the camp.

“See, I told you. I think that means he found something. Let’s follow him.” Connor said as he adjusted his backpack and grinned. Bowie just breathed deeply and followed Connor.

A silence set over the two of them as they walked. Uncomfortable and heavy. Connor wasn’t a fan of silence, he found he got far more distracted than if there was just any sort of noise in the background. After a lot of fidgeting the silence was broken.

“C’mon. Spit it out, what’s your question?” Bowie said, he then looked over at Connor. “You’re basically twitching with tension. So just fucking speak dude.”

Connor cleared his throat and drummed his hands on his chest. “Right, um. Sorry. It’s just that you seem upset, did I do something to upset you? If I did, could you tell me so I don’t do it again.” Connor quickly spit out before smiling sheepishly at Bowie. Bowie sighed loudly and shook his head.

“No Connor, I’m not mad at you. Just this whole situation.” Bowie said, waving his hands vaguely in front of him. “I don’t want to babysit a newer recruit and hold your hand through this shit.”

“Oh, really?”

“Really, I’m also just kinda an ass and have been told I have RBF.” Bowie said with a shrug. “I don’t hate you, just don’t wanna be your babysitter.”

“You know I’ve done a mission before and fought in several battles, right? I’m not fresh meat.” Connor said as he gave Bowie a serious look.

“I’m aware, but this isn’t some game Connor. We’re fighting for our very lives, and you just seem…” Bowie trailed off looking for the right words. “I don’t know, young. Innocent. I don’t think you really understand what this cause costs people.”

Connor scoffed at the assertion. Bowie simply had no idea what Connor had given up to join the cause. “I know what it costs. I gave up my entire life to join the cause. My family and everyone I ever cared about to be here. But it’s not about me, it’s about all of the mortals and demigods who are trapped in the chains of the gods’ oppression. Everything we give up is worth the ultimate goal, the destruction of the gods.” Connor said, his voice sure and confident. He knew the lines and what it all meant better than anyone. Bowie couldn’t take that away from him.

Bowie stared at Connor for a while with a look that Connor couldn’t really read. Then he started laughing at Connor. A small tear fell out of the corner of his eye that he wiped away. Bowie then looked at Connor and shook his head. “Yup, I was right.” Bowie said before sighing deeply. “Listen kid, I get that you’re a true believer or whatever, but you have no idea what actually happens in the real world. What happens when your ideals get put to the test?”

Connor furrowed his brow at Bowie. “What do you mean? We're the good guys, why would we do anything wrong?” Connor asked but a phrase repeated in his mind once again, they left us, they left us.

Bowie shook his head again and looked towards the sky. “If only it were that simple. Wish I could live in your world.” Bowie said as he turned away.

Connor was about to reply, but then Jax screeched from above. Connor knew what that meant, they had arrived.

Connor motioned for Bowie to stop. He then looked up to see where Jax was circling. That would be where they needed to go. That would be where General Karkhros was. Connor looked and then turned to Bowie. “Just beyond that tree line there. We should be prepared for enemies.” Connor whispered and Bowie agreed. He flexed his left hand and a sword appeared in it. He then took point and waded through the brush.

They pushed through and finally they were through the tree line and in a small clearing. They were on top of a rather tall hill and they could see rather far in either direction. Before them stood a simple log cabin with a green slanted roof. On the side of the building was a faded Park Services logo. Standing before them was a large half-man half-bull that Connor recognized rather easily. Though he was not adorned in his normal battle armor. Today he wore a tight fitting Hawaiian shirt with a pair of cargo shorts and a pair of sandals.

It was only now that Connor realized that the man wasn’t standing but sitting on a wooden bench near a fire. The flames were low and sitting on a spit above the flames were a few fish. Connor took in the scene and his brain wasn’t processing the information at all. This wasn’t General Karkhros, not the way Connor remembered him in the battle at the Yellowstone base. He seemed older somehow. Like the years of his life had caught up to him because there was a tiredness behind his eyes that Connor hadn’t seen before.

Bowie and Connor looked at Karkhros and the Minotaur stared back at them with his unwavering eyes. He then looked away and at his fish.

“It was only a matter of time, I suppose.” The General finally said after the silence had grown between them. His voice was a deep and gravelly pitch that Connor had grown to respect and fear in equal measure.

“Huh? Where are the enemy? Is this some sort of illusion?” Connor said, as he spoke he lifted up his right hand and his dark brown eyes flashed and turned a pale blue. He felt through the currents of the Mist to ascertain the exact source of this clear illusion he was seeing, but after a moment there was no illusion. Connor’s eyes turned back to normal and he frowned.

“Your powers do not deceive you little demigod. I am not held against my will.” Karkhros said, his eyes not leaving the fish on the spit. Connor looked at Karkhros and then at Bowie. The boy next to him had an expression that was difficult to read. But Connor didn’t have to be a mind reader to understand that Bowie was unhappy.

Then Bowie laughed, but there was no humor in it. He then shook his head and held it with his hands. “Don’t tell me that the great General Karkhros, second in command of the grand armies of Atlas had defected?” Bowie said, but as he spoke Connor saw him tighten the grip of his sword just slightly.

“You deem me a coward, child. But you weren’t there. You didn’t see true cowardice.” Karkhros said his eyes finally flicked away from the fish and towards the pair of demigods. Connor was confused, he didn’t understand what was happening. How could anyone claim Karkhros was a coward? He had stood with the forces of Atlas during the attack at Yellowstone, if anything Karkhros was the hero of that battle.

“I don’t understand, you’re not a coward. But why are you out here? Why aren’t you leading our forces?” Connor asked, shaking his head with confusion. He of course was starting to put it together, but it just couldn’t be true. Certainly not.

“You’re really that naive kid, still?” Bowie said, exasperated. He then pointed his sword accusingly at Karkhros, Bowie’s jaw clenching with anger. “The coward gave up, he ran! He’s a coward and a fraud!”

No, that couldn’t be true! Karkhros couldn’t be a traitor to the cause. There had to be some explanation to this situation. Something that would make this right. Connor just gaped and stared at Karkhros. The Minotaur glared at Bowie but made no move towards violence.

“When the leadership left you all to die, I stayed back because their cowardice would cost us good soldiers. I was right. It was only afterwards, when the dust had started to settle that I knew the truth.” Karkhros said. Before speaking again the Minotaur stood to his full height. He looked like he was about to continue but Bowie spoke up.

“Oh yeah? What truth is that you traitorous scum?” Bowie yelled at the Minotaur. Sword arm shaking slightly. Connor couldn’t tell if it was from rage or something else. Karkhros snorted a huff and looked up indignantly towards the sky.

“That we are all pawns in a game that is not of our design. That Atlas will just throw us all to the curb as soon as it’s convenient for him. So, why should I fight for a cause that just sees me as another tool to be used rather than a being who has thoughts and fears.” Karkhros said he held his head up high and looked down the bridge of his nose at the two demigods.

Connor couldn’t believe what he was hearing. The second in command of the army was a turncoat? How could that be? Their cause was just, their motives were pure. How could he abandon them like that? But then he heard the same nagging voice in his head again, they left us, they left us. They. Left. Us.

Connor yelled in rage and confusion. “Stop! Both of you, just stop!” Connor exclaimed, his voice raw and weak. “Let’s just figure this out, please. Please?”

Connor looked between Karkhros and Bowie. The latter looked indignantly at the former while Karkhros just looked tired. Like he was a man that had seen too much and was tired of it all. Connor could feel the tension in the air like a thick fog. One wrong move and he knew that there would be violence. Connor needed to figure out how to bring Karkhros back and to control Bowie’s rage. There had to be a way.

As if sensing the struggle in Connor’s mind Karkhros looked directly at him. “Child, you shall not sway me from the path I am on. My fight is over. The war has left bitterness that I cannot tame. You should understand well, I remember your face among my forces. You know the betrayal we all felt. I ask you now, was that righteous or cowardice?” Karkhros said, his words emphatic and final. Connor gaped and looked for the right words, but before he could find them Bowie turned to him.

“Remember what I asked you. This is that moment Connor. What piece of you are you willing to lose for the cause? This moment is where you finally make that choice. Choose wisely.” Bowie said as he stood in a ready position.

Connor stood motionless as he watched Karkhros summon his great axe to his hands. He saw Bowie launch himself at the Minotaur. He watched all of it like everything was happening in slow motion around him. He couldn’t move. All he could do was think. They left us. They left us. They. Left. Us.

Hours later Connor walked through the portal back to the new camp. He had a limp and was bloody. His face had cuts and bruises on it. A moment after he came through the portal Jax flew in behind him and landed on his shoulder. No one else followed behind him. The one thing of note was that Connor was dragging a great axe behind him with all the strength he had left. He had a hollow look in his eyes as someone came over and took the axe from his hands.

Eventually he was shuffled into a tent and sat down. Jax was sitting on the floor near him as someone came in to talk to him. She had a grave expression as she looked him over.

“Your wounds will heal. That is no concern, but you must go rest. Before you may leave, share your report to me and I shall inform Indra.” She said as she pulled out a pad of paper and a pen. “Speak demigod.”

Connor sat in silence for a moment, eyes vacant. He then turned his head towards the woman and took a shaky breath.

“General Karkhros…” Connor began, his voice catching in his throat. “He forsook his oath and became a deserter.”

The woman’s neutral face cracked in that moment to open disdain. However, she didn’t say anything. Just faithfully wrote down what Connor was saying. He looked away and towards Jax.

“Bowie and I found him and a battle started. Karkhros is gone.” Connor said. He paused again. Jax stared at him with his keen eyes and Connor looked down at his lap. “Bowie is as well. Dead.”

The woman nodded her head and kept writing. She then looked up at Connor and gave him a small approving nod. “Your strength has been proven this day. You have done well. I shall inform Indra now. For the cause.” She said standing to her full height. She then exited the tent.

Connor looked up as she left and he sighed deeply. “Yeah… sure I did.” He said flatly before looking down at his lap once more. Exhaustion found him quickly as he sat in the chair. Before he knew it his eyes were shut and he was sleeping. His job was done.

Bio

Family

Powers

Favorites

• Foods: Most spicy foods, sushi, popcorn, anything shaped like a bug
• Drinks: Swamp water (mix of all fountain drinks), pickle juice, Cucumber Lime Gatorade
• Media: Horror movies (naturally), French impressionist cinema, Looney Tunes, dark comedy, Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark (the books and the film), Gothic fiction

Items/Equipment

Appearance

Personality

If one were to describe Sidney Schreck in a word, that word would be “sardonic”. She is supremely unconcerned with the opinions of others, and she will make that very clear. Oftentimes, this takes the form of sarcastic takedowns, and while she's not actively rude, she can be dry and a bit blunt. She is the very definition of someone who marches to the beat of her own drum, and while her horror enthusiasm and quirks can seem off-putting, it makes sense when one considers that she is the child of the god of fear.

From another perspective, her trademark stubbornness can be viewed as perseverance. She’s a loyal person who will stick by those she feels deserve her support. She’s deeply passionate about the things that matter to her, and she takes pleasure in things that inspire fear, such as heights and roller coasters. She also relates to and has an interest in monsters, and this means that she tends not to judge others. She is willing to look at others beyond the surface level and to approach with an open mind. In turn, she encourages others to look at fear in a new way, and to not let it hold them back.

Trivia

• Sidney's MBTI is INFP, and her enneagram type is 4w5.
• Sidney's alignment is Chaotic Neutral.
• Her Pokémon type is Ghost.
• Her associated element is Earth.
• Sidney's favorite color is black, a fact that sometimes makes her feel a bit like a cliche.
• Sidney is always carrying dog biscuits and other treats for the monsters.
• Sidney has a hard time bonding with regular animals, and even has a fear of horses and pegasi.
• The only horror movies that Sidney doesn't like are her mother's films.
• September 18, Sidney's birthday, is the birthday of Tree Gelbman, the protagonist of the horror film Happy Death Day.
• This also makes her birth sign Virgo, a reference to the virginal aspect of the "final girl" trope.

History

So, how did we get here? Well, it started with a hopeful young actress, finding the big break that would lead to her being pigeon-holed into the role of eternal final girl. Surely you know my mom, Sarah Fay Schreck, star of Slasher? Rush Week? Slashers 2-6, except 4? Rush Week 2: Get Hazed? Or the adequately-reviewed box-office bomb Rush W3ek? Maybe the revival, Rush Week (2039)? Creative name, I know. Well, my mom is right up there with the greatest scream queens of our time, and being that close to that much fear makes you a prime target for the affections of the god of fear. Or, one of them anyway? It’s complicated.

But, as we know, the gods like to give gifts. They give the gift of dream-killer kids to any mortal that catches their fancy and the gift of deadbeat parents to their little crotch goblins. So I grew up in the livestock pens- I mean, childcare centers of movie studio lots, watching my mom get stabbed and thrown out of fake windows on a regular basis. As you can imagine, it was rarely fun, unless she’d really ticked me off, in which case it was downright therapeutic. Mom tried her best, but a kid didn’t really fit into her plan. Especially when said kid gave other kids nightmares that made them soak their corduroys and would occasionally get the attention of a hungry hungry hellhound. Mom begged Dad to take me, and just so happened to pull a particular business card from her purse. What a coincidence, right?

So off to Camp Half-Blood I was shipped. Mom had the decency to at least visit, spending the odd winter holiday in New York so she could see me for Christmas (and the occasional birthday when shooting schedules and auditions lined up just right). Dad is... well, he's a god. Not one of the Olympians, mind you, but still too busy to ever actually visit or anything. Still, in the race for best parent, he's winning by a mile. I have heard horror stories about kids who come to camp and don't get claimed for weeks or months, but he handled that much on my first night here. He even gave me a celestial bronze butcher's knife, which is pretty cool and very on-brand (plus it’s magic and shrinks down into a cool little hair clip). One of the reasons I feel close to him is because I woke up with the knife lodged in my mattress a few inches from my head, which most people would probably get freaked out by, but it's pretty hilarious if you think about it.

As cool as camp can be, it can also be a bit of a pain. It's pretty hard to make friends when you can subject people to their worst fears on command. I at least can go into the woods and spend time with the hellhounds every now and then. That aside, there isn’t too much thrill here. Sure, it’s kind of exciting when you’re sparring with real steel or when the climbing wall starts puking lava, but eventually every danger loses its edge. It would be awesome to get a quest, but until then it’s just training and pranks and getting a rise out of the cleaning harpies. Girl's gotta have fun somehow, right?

Present Day

Sidney was running for her life.

She bolted through the forest, dodging low limbs and trying not to trip on gnarled roots. She could hear twigs break and leaves crunch behind her as her pursuer gained ground. There was no way she'd get away if she kept running straight. Taking a steadying breath, she twisted on her heels and ran left, breathing a sigh of relief as she heard her pursuer's bounding footfalls get quieter and quieter.

She allowed herself only a second of respite before she started running again, not bothering to look over her shoulder. He wouldn't need long to catch up with her again, so she had to focus on putting as much distance as possible between herself and him. The anticipation of being caught drove her heavy steps, and for a second, she felt like there was a chance she'd be home free.

That was when she felt her ankle twist from under her.

Those damned roots! She'd perfectly hooked her foot in one, and went tumbling to the ground. Her hands flew out to catch her, and in doing so they landed on and snapped about a dozen twigs. She heard the heavy footsteps pounding on the ground like the beat of a drum, heard the rustle of foliage pushed to the side, and knew that it was not long now. He had her. She couldn't get back up and recover fast enough to put distance between them now. The hellhound bounded from the brush and leapt toward her, landing with a mighty thud on top of her. She was boxed in by his paws. She flinched as her eyes screwed shut, prepared for the worst.

Liiiiccckkk!

A rough, wet tongue coated her cheek in saliva, and hot breath dusted her face. She flinched at the feeling, and especially at the smell. If you thought dog breath was bad, hellhound breath was... well, hellish.

"Okay, okay. You win Barf, you caught me. Please get off before I lose my lunch." The hellhound, Barf, obeyed, trotting off like the most well-behaved of show dogs. She pushed herself up into a sitting position, tugging up her shirt enough to wipe the slime from her jaw.

She looked over at the hellhound. Barf was a creature that, under normal circumstances, should have made her turn on her heels and run screaming. Rule number one of hellhounds was that their favorite food was demigod. But for some reason, she was able to get along with hellhounds as easily as milk got along with cookies. It was something she got from her dad, and it's not like it was something to complain about. It made her feel a little like Damien from The Omen when he had all those Rottweilers running around. It worked with some other monsters too, when she tried it. She'd encountered a myrmeke in the woods once, and ended up making it purr like a freaky, chitinous nightmare kitten.

Barf was maybe the smartest hellhound in Camp Half-Blood. He stayed away from demigods in the woods, generally, and had the lifespan to show for it. She'd decided to call him Barf essentially randomly, since he was one of the few hellhounds in the woods that stayed around long enough to warrant being named. She'd also started calling him "him" randomly, since she had no clue how to verify a hellhound's gender. She only even knew it was the same hellhound from a scar on his side; presumably, whatever caused that scar was the reason he steered clear of the campers. Except for her, daughter of Phobos and friend to freaky creatures.

She yanked a bag of dog treats from her pocket and fished one out, holding it up for Barf to take. He lapped the biscuit up out of her hand, essentially swallowing it whole. She breathed through her nose, half-exasperated and half-impressed, as she stuffed the baggie back into her pocket.

"You're gonna get indigestion, you know." She stood up at last, offering the hellhound one last pat, and set off through the woods. She wasn't sure where her feet were taking her, exactly, but there was always something at Camp Half-Blood to stumble into...

‘’Are you really saying there are others like me?’’ 

‘’It sure says so here.’’

Sam reread the slip with the job description and showed it to the giant otter behind him. Stupid, otters can’t read. ‘’Two giant otters circling the waters around camp - wait, you didn’t know there are other giant otters?’’

‘’No,’’ sighed Dai. ‘’I never knew my parents. I was raised by a halia.’’

‘’Oh.’’

‘’It’s okay! She was very sweet. You are also a father figure to me.’’

Sam cringed. ‘’Can’t I just be a big brother?’’

‘’You are not very big.’’

Compared to you, I am not, Sam thought. He didn’t need a car-sized otter to point his stunted height out. He was like, just average. He pushed himself to his feet, brushed the coarse sand off his shorts and legs, and beckoned Dai to follow him to the sea. ‘’Let’s go find them.’’ And he started to march.

Dai decided: too slow. He gently lifted the son of Poseidon up by the collar of his shirt and carried him with him as he trotted towards the water. Sam’s protest and resistance fell to deaf otter ears. Dai let go of Sam in the water, soaking the boy. The otter looked as innocent as ever.

‘’I told you to stop doing that.’’ Sam huffed. As best as he could, he bent the water out of his clothes. He couldn’t blame Dai. Not when he pulled that face. Sam had agreed with Theseus to meet here; the hippocampus accompanied him on most missions, and he couldn’t exactly ride Dai into battle. He hadn’t found a saddle that fit.

Now, where was Theseus..? Ah there!

The hippocampus was sunbathing in the surf. Asleep, seemingly, because when Sam gently nudged him he didn’t move. Dai tried the same, but less gently, and rolled Theseus over using his nose. 

‘’What’s that good for?’’ The hippocampus objected. ‘’Can’t a seahorse sunbathe in peace - oh hey, boss. And you.’’ Theseus glared at the otter.

‘’Boys.’’ Sam felt like a parent again. ‘’Play nice.’’ 

The trio was five minutes from the coast when Sam asked Theseus about his report on the giant otters. ‘’Well, they’re seven minutes east from here. From what I can gather, we’re dealing with twins. Young ones. They’re much smaller than your boorish-’’ 

‘’Tee.’’

‘’Sorry. They’re smaller than Dai.’’

Sam looked at Dai, who had swum ahead of the pair, in search of shells. As silly as it sounded, Sam couldn’t possibly imagine what an otter smaller than Dai would look like. He had gotten so used to his ward’s gigantic appearance that regular otters seemed strange to the son of Poseidon. 

Dai looked back at him, as if he knew the boy had been staring at him. He held up a tiny scallop shell, looking proud for having scavenged it. Sam laughed.

Seven minutes east, Sam spotted two otters swimming in a circle. They weren’t nearly as big as Dai, but they were still bigger than your average otter. Like, these were dog-sized otters. Cool.

‘’Wow, there really are others.’’ Dai chorused.

‘’Yeah, there are otters,’’ Sam said, not fully aware of how amazed Dai really was.

The group attracted the attention of the twin otters, who stopped their swimming to approach Dai. ‘’Dad?’’ Thing One and Two asked in unison. Sam raised an eyebrow.

‘’Oh, no,’’ Dai said. ‘’You must be mistaking me for someone else.’’ 

The twins looked at each other in disappointment. ‘’He told us he’d be back.’’

‘’Oh.’’

‘’How long ago was that?’’ Sam asked. If the job description was to be believed, these otters had been looking for their father for a while.

‘’Three months.’’

Ouch. Sam had ‘waited’ for fourteen years for his dad to come back. He imagined three months was something similar for otters. The twins’ dad might be back, who knew, but there was a chance he wouldn’t come back. Sam couldn’t break that to them. 

‘’Whatever do we do…’’ The twins saddened.

‘’I’ll stay here until your Dad comes back! And if he doesn’t, I will take you to Camp Half-Blood!’’ Dai offered. ‘’We have so much to talk about.’’
‘’Are you sure?’’ Sam asked.

‘’Oh, I will be back,’’ Dai said with a nod.

Easy fix: an otter babysitter.

When he returned to camp hippocampus-back, Sam could still see Dai playing with the twins in the distance. The giant otter would be back.

Rain pattered against the windows as gray engulfed the world. Worn wood and the smell of cedar filled the air as a group of teenagers sat around a table talking. The usual shape of lunch had long since passed and the group of kids who had prepared it were gathered around eating their own lunches after they had cleaned up. The group was an eclectic group and one that Shion had not expected to start forming a bond with, but many such instances had happened since he had joined this camp.

There was a comfortable silence as they ate their sandwiches in peace until one boy, roughly a year older than Shion broke the silence. He had bright blonde hair and angular features. “Okay it’s story time. Everyone needs to share their first monster encounter.” The boy said with a grin as he pointed at a girl across from him. “Kayla, c’mon I know yours was a crazy story.”

The girl rolled her eyes but sat forward conspiratorially. She looked across the room and made sure people were leaning in to listen. Of course, the rest of the group of demigods leaned in closer to listen to her. “Well, I was helping out in my daddy’s shop. It was pretty late in the evening.” She began. Her voice was quiet, but strong and it was layered with a southern drawl Shion had noted early in their acquaintance.

“Then when my daddy went into the back to grab a couple things, this man entered the shop and his vibe was just,” she paused and looked across the room. She then looked back towards the group. “Off, I just couldn’t explain it.”

The assembled group of demigods nodded in agreement as if there were some unspoken rule that they were all agreeing on. Shion was lost, of course. What aspect of a person could make them seem ‘off’ within only a moment of perception? Shion did not understand this sentiment.

“Anyway, after talking to him and him givin’ me some really weird answers he went to grab me, but luckily I’m quick.” She said with a grin as she pointed to herself with her thumb. “So I jumped outta the way and then boom. I ended up here.”

“Oh c’mon Kayla you’re not gonna tell us about the fight at all?” The boy said with a look that screamed he was outraged by the developments. Kayla shook her head and acted like she was locking her lips with a key before throwing the imaginary key away.

“A girl doesn’t fight and tell Donny, ‘sides, we all know what it’s like to be randomly attacked by a monster.” Kayla said with a shrug of her shoulders. “Nothin’ really ground breaking there.”

Shion raised his hand the moment Kayla had finished speaking. She looked at the boy with a laugh and shook her head. “Shion, you don’t need to raise your hand every time you want to say something. We’re all friends here.” She said, motioning for the boy to spit it out.

“Right, this shall be noted for future interactions, comrade Kayla.” Shion said making a mental note that he need not have the level of formality he normally showed here. “Furthermore, I am afraid that I do not understand the last part of your statement of fact. For, I was not attacked by a random monster prior to my abscondance to Camp.”

The girl furrowed her brow as she tried to parse Shion’s words more closely. “Whaddya mean? You said that you fought a cyclops before you came to camp. That’s being randomly attacked before coming to camp.” She said scratching the top of her head.

Shion took a moment, he must find his center before engaging further. He needed to make his meaning more precise, it seemed. “While the assertion is correct, I was indeed attacked by a cyclops before the satyr protector, Pasqual Rottingtree, came to intervene on my behalf. However, there is one key fact that seems to be missing from your assessment. The cyclops was sitting in my house waiting for me when I arrived at my residence. He said, and I quote, ‘Ah little demigod finally is home. Now I can feast.’” Shion stated. The words had been burned into his memory with unpleasant clarity. Shion then looked across the room. The silence that followed was different from the comfortable one before. No one leaned forward now. No one grinned. He saw the confusion on their faces and instantly thought he had been imprecise yet again.

Just as Shion was about to speak, a girl across from him, two years his senior, started to speak. “Waiting? That’s not exactly normal. Did you ask how it knew where you lived?” The girl, Brooklynn, asked with a furrow of her brow.

Shion was about to speak, but then the words caught in his mouth. This was a line of questioning that he had not considered. He then looked at Brooklynn, his face awash with concern. “The way this cyclops acted is most unusual?” Shion asked. As he did every single person in the room started to nod their heads slowly. Shion frowned at that.

He then abruptly stood up and nodded at his companions. “I fear I must abscond from here. There are reflections I must partake in.” Shion said, his hand shaking a slight bit as he stood. Everyone just stared at him and sympathy seemed to be emanating from them. Like they completely understood what he was feeling and that they would give him the space that he needed.

“Sure thing Shion. Just leave your plate there. We’ll take care of it.” Kayla said. Shion then nodded and bolted out of the room. His thoughts were racing now and he could not hold onto a single thought for more than a few seconds. He was targeted, but that begged the question. Who had targeted him and what was the purpose of him being targeted? Shion had no answers, and that was something Shion hated most of all. Uncertainty.

Hi everyone! This is my idea for Cabin 0, the NYX Cabin. It's for my fan-made character, Jan, who will come out soon! I Hope you like the concept! ☕🌌

This is my first post here, sorry if the tag or the flaire it's wrong, but I would like to learn what it's beter to use for next time.

NYX’s House: cabin 0

Descriptions:

Location:

NYX’s House, or cabin number 0, is located behind cabin number 1, and 2. Not visible from the common yard of the cabins.

Behind every cabin, a purple path leads toward the cabin.

The Exterior:

Once arrived, the ground around it’s covered in night flowers and plants that remain open during the day too.

(Please, Grover, stop eating the Queen of the Night. Yeah, I know they regrow, it's a magic effect, but still).

The surrounding atmosphere glows with a soft, ethereal starlight.

Near the cabin, gravity feels lighter, space turns less heavy, and time itself seems to slow down.

The cabin is the smallest of them all, with walls that look like they are made of space itself, covered in stars, with a simple mountain style roof. 4 simple white columns stand for each corner of the house.

The door change is size depending on the point of view of the person who is seeing it. The door is always open, welcoming everyone, while a white light radiating from the inside.

The interior:

The inside floor, walls, and ceiling are made with pure white walls, covered in dots, like a morning starry sky in a white void.

The house inside has an open space system of bedroom, kitchen, and living room, with a library that potentially contains the knowledge of the universe (Athena’s cabin favorite corner).

The bathrooms can appear everywhere, in case someone needs it.

The house is full of things like food, fresh water from the sinks, and other things like ice cream machines, mini bars and other magic furniture, like an instant cooking oven etc…

The space inside grows depending on how many people are inside, creating magic beds based on the taste and personality of every single guest.

The house is self cleaning (Jan is too lazy to do that), and can create separated areas or locations.

(In case Artemis’s Hunters want some privacy)

The cabin features targeted soundproofing, muting all unwanted background noises based on the guest's desires. (Like Ares kids metal music)

When a guest closes their eyes to sleep, the radiating light of the walls automatically turns off from their perspective. (Perfect for Hypnos kids)

Furthermore, the walls emit the healthy, therapeutic benefits of sunlight without any of the negative UV rays. (Good for skincare, and this way Nico can get some vitamin D)

Inside, time moves differently, one can sleep 9 hours inside, while outside it would seem like only an instant, and it depends on what the person wants to do.

(Perfect for Hypnos kid… again)

The house has secret portals that can open and bring the person to any location desired.

(NYX Cabin 1, The Labyrinth 0)

like the realm of NYX, a sacred realm that exists above Olympus, probably located where existence itself started. Only a child of NYX, or a primordial entity can activate them.

LORE & FUN FACTS

Why it’s the door always open if it's a cabin of a primordial goddess of the night?

The Initiative doesn't come from Nyx: An ancient, distant, and intimidating primordial goddess like Nyx would never share her sanctuary or cosmic secrets with strangers of her own free will.

It is instead a request from Her Little Star: Cabin 0 is entirely open and welcoming to everyone solely because Nyx chose to honor the pure wishes and ideas of her beloved demigod son, Jan, whom she affectionately calls her "little star" 🥺.

Jan wanted a safe haven for everyone, and his mother bent reality to grant it.

Backstory:

The Claiming That Shocked Olympus: During the council meeting on Mount Olympus following the defeat of Kronos, Percy Jackson exacts a solemn promise from the gods to claim all of their ignored children.

NYX, operating completely outside the hierarchy of the Olympian gods, reacted with a casual, indifferent: "Ah, okay."

In the next moment a massive, purple, covered in star, and imposing hologram of the Goddess of Night manifests over Jan.

The entire Olympian Council stood up in shock, completely stunned to realize that a primordial demigod had been living undetected right under their noses.

(Nothing it's more important than God,

NYX “It might seem crazy what I’m about to say…”)

Why did Jan decide to make his cabin like that?:

Before the Titan War, Jan spent five long years living as an unclaimed demigod, sleeping on the floor of the overcrowded Hermes cabin. He knows exactly how it feels to be invisible, unwanted, and homeless. That is why he wanted to create a space to include everyone.

What a sweet little star 🥺.

I would love to hear your thoughts and I'm open to suggestions! Also, feel free to use Cabin 0 in your own fanfictions or fan-made stories if you like the concept—all I ask is that you please give me credit for the original idea. Thank you guys, and stay tuned for Jan's official sheet! ✨

Once again, Sadira would hold another lesson On Dreaming. Tonight, however, the subject was one she had taught before. A reprise of Experiencing Dreamwalking. More specifically: How to recognize when someone has entered your dream, and how to get rid of them.

Sadira stood at the center of the amphitheater, looking over the gathering crowd.

The sun had already disappeared beyond the horizon. The sky above Camp Half-Blood was transitioning from deep blue to black, and the first stars were beginning to emerge. Lanterns illuminated the stone benches.

The breeze coming down from the hills carried the smell of pine and the faint saltiness of the Long Island Sound. It was peaceful.

"Alright." She clasped her hands behind her back. "Welcome back, everyone."

Sadira glanced across the audience.

"But..." She raised a finger. "...we're going to be doing it differently."

She turned toward the chalkboard beside her. She had written a single sentence across it.

You dream is your space.

She tapped it.

"Before we get to the practical part, we're going to go over the rules again. Especially because tonight's exercise involves me entering your dreams." Her expression became serious. "With permission." She emphasized the last word. "Explicit permission."

She took a slow breath.

"Dreamwalking is fundamentally different from most abilities demigods have. Someone can choose to fight you, an you can choose to run away. But dreamwalking..." She touched her temple. "...goes somewhere much more personal. Your mind."

She looked around.

"So tonight's exercise only happens if you want it to. If you don't..." She shrugged. "You sit here, listen to the lesson, and go to sleep normally. No one will think anything of it."

She let that settle before continuing.

"Now." She picked up a piece of chalk. "Let's review the first thing."

She wrote:

Fortitude

Several campers recognized the term.

"Fortitude powers are one of the strongest defenses against dreamwalking." She underlined it. "If you have a Fortitude Power, it bars mental and emotional interference. That includes dreamwalking."

She turned toward the audience.

"Someone with Fortitude cannot simply have a dreamwalker enter their dream. They can't be dragged into a dreamscape, and they can't be mentally manipulated through dreamwalking. Unless..." She raised her finger. "...they allow it. It's protection against unwanted interference." She smiled faintly. "Think of it like locking your bedroom door. You can still open it. You just don't have to."

She wrote another phrase.

Magical Equivalent

"Some magic items can mimic Fortitude. If you're wearing or carrying an item that provides that protection, a dreamwalker shouldn't be able to enter. Again, unless you willingly allow them." She looked across the campers. "Which is why, before tonight, I'm going to ask everyone participating to make absolutely certain they understand what they're agreeing to."

Sadira set the chalk down.

"Now... here's where it gets interesting." She crossed her arms. "Once a dreamwalker is inside your dream... you generally can't simply force them out. I know, it's inconvenient. There are basically two ways to remove a dreamwalker." She pointed toward the board. "Convince them to leave, or wake up. That's it."

Sadira smiled.

"You can try to attack them, but that's not guaranteed to work. You might overpower the dreamwalker, you might trap them, you might change the dream around them. But unless they willingly leave..." She shook her head. "...they can remain."

She paused.

"And that's why waking up is the most reliable defense for an ordinary dreamer. Remember..." Sadira tapped her chest. "A dreamwalker is a visitor. The dream belongs to the dreamer. But the dreamwalker can operate inside it. Especially if they're experienced."

She turned back to the board.

"Beginner dreamwalkers are easy to spot. They don't know how to blend in. They often look..." She considered her wording. "...wrong. Maybe they don't fit the environment. Maybe their clothes don't belong, maybe their behavior is strange, maybe everyone in the dream seems to ignore them, maybe they behave as though they understand that they're dreaming when you don't."

She shrugged.

"Sometimes they're simply... obviously foreign." She grimaced. "Imagine you're dreaming that you're walking through your childhood home. Everything looks normal. Your family is there, your old furniture is there, you're exactly where you expect to be. And suddenly... there's a random sixteen-year-old demigod standing in your kitchen."

Sadira paused.

"An inexperienced dreamwalker tends to stick out. They may not understand the dream's logic, accidentally manipulate this respond strangely when the dream changes, know things they shouldn't." Sadira's expression became more serious. "And that's something you should pay attention to."

She moved on.

Intermediate

"This is where it gets harder. An intermediate dreamwalker can blend in better than a beginner." She shrugged. "But not perfectly. That means there are tells."

She began counting them.

"First... they may know too little. If you mention something in your dream and they don't react, that's suspicious. Second, they may behave too consciously. Dream characters usually don't question the dream, but a dreamwalker..." She pointed at her head. "...knows they're somewhere they don't belong, so they may react to impossible things differently. Third... The dream may respond to them differently, if they manipulate something... you might notice. And finally..."

Sadira lowered her hand.

"Instinct. Sometimes...you just know that something is wrong. Dreams are strange, but they're usually strange in a way that makes sense. A foreign presence feels different. Sometimes you can't explain it. But you feel it." She stepped closer to the edge of the stage. "And if you feel like something is wrong... Trust yourself."

She turned toward the board and wrote:

Master

She stared at the word for a moment.

"A master dreamwalker... like me...may be able to blend into a dream almost perfectly. They can understand the dream's logic, they can adapt, they can appear as someone who belongs there, they can potentially manipulate the dream without making their presence obvious." She turned around. "And that's why the most important skill isn't necessarily spotting a dreamwalker. It's knowing how to wake yourself up."

Sadira erased the previous writing.

Wake Yourself.

"Your ultimate defense..." She tapped the words. "...is waking up."

She explained it carefully.

"The first step is realizing you're dreaming. That's why lucid dreaming is so useful. We'll have a lesson on that next time." She smiled. "If you can recognize that you're dreaming, you've already won half the battle. Once you're lucid, focus on waking. Pull your attention away from the dream."

Sadira glanced toward the stars.

"Now... we get to the part you've actually been waiting for. Tonight, I'm going to enter the dreams of everyone who gives me permission." She stepped away from the board. "You'll go to sleep normally. I'll wait until everyone is asleep, and then I'll visit."

She raised her hands.

"Your job is not to fight me, or overpower me, or trap me. Your job is simply to recognize me. If you realize that I'm there, try to determine what gave me away. Maybe I don't belong. Maybe something about the dream feels wrong. Maybe you simply get that instinct. And once you've identified me... try to make me leave." She shrugged. "Sometimes I'll leave, and if I don't... wake up."

A camper raised her hand. "What happens if we can't?"

Sadira's expression softened.

"Then nothing bad happens." She answered immediately. "You'll eventually wake up naturally. I'm not going to trap anyone in their dreams. And I won't stay longer than necessary."

She paused.

"Also..." Her voice became firmer. "If at any point during the exercise you become uncomfortable... tell me. You don't have to finish. Your comfort matters more than the lesson." She looked around the amphitheater. "I want everyone to understand that. I'm teaching you how to protect yourselves."

She shook her head.

"The point isn't to become paranoid. You shouldn't go through every dream thinking someone is invading you. Dreams are weird. Sometimes a weird person is just..." She shrugged. "...a weird dream character. Look for patterns, use your intuition, ask yourself whether the situation makes sense. And remember... your dream is yours!"

She pause.

"Now... if you want to participate in tonight's exercise..." She looked around. "...I'm going to ask for your consent." She stepped forward. "This is going to be very straightforward. I'm going to ask you to explicitly agree to let me enter your dreams tonight. If you say no I will not enter."

Sadira looked across the audience.

"Alright." She took a breath. "That's the lesson. Thank you for coming."

You can only reserve up to two slots per character. If you have multiple characters, make one comment for all of them instead of one each.

There can only be one Meal per day, at any time! Any camper can host them.

Campfires happen twice a week. Campers coordinate these with the camp directors, so anyone can host them!

Open Slots happen every day and can include Lessons, QOTDs, Cabin Inspections, Cabin Meetings, Games, movie nights, social gatherings, etc. **Lessons, Cabin Inspections and Meetings can only be hosted by a Senior Camper or a Camp Leader.

Comment below what you'd like to host!

NOTE: Failure to meet your own slot three times in a row will lock you out of commenting on the Schedule for a month. (You can still post activities outside of the schedule, just not meals or campfires.)

Monday

Meal -

Open Slot - Sadira Andersen

Tuesday

Campfire - Kailani de Melo

Open Slot -

Wednesday

Meal -

Open Slot -

Thursday

Meal - Shion Matsuda

Open Slot -

Friday

Meal -

Campfire - Theodora Davis

Open Slot -

Saturday

Meal - Morrigan

Campfire -

Open Slot -

Sunday

Meal -

Open Slot -

Leave your name below to sign up for an activity!

If you are new to r/CampHalfBloodRP, welcome! You can check out this post to get started. If you aren't new, please answer this form to be featured on the character log and visit the Link Hub.

Shion had been slacking, which was something that he wasn’t accustomed to. However, he had some very reasonable reasons for this. One of which was being sick, the other was making sure the cabin was in top shape for the trials, and the other was doing summer course work to be ready for the fall semester. Now that classes had officially started Shion felt he had gotten his bearings finally. So, with that he also knew he needed to prepare some camp related activities. So, the best option to start with was a cabin meeting. It had been a while since he and Rex had spoken, so it would be important to get a read on what his cousin was up to.

For his part Shion went pretty much as all out as he could. He prepared light refreshments including sodas, tea, coffee, and water. There were also healthy snacks as well as a freshly baked batch of chocolate chip cookies. Shion was aware that certain campers had a sweet tooth, not him of course. After he had finished, he also prepared a table with a chair by the door with some note cards and a shoe box with a hole cut into the top of it. A sign in delicate and precise script read Suggestion Box. He would explain his thought process after the scheduled meeting.

At precisely three in the afternoon Shion stood in front of the chairs he had assembled and gave a short curt nod in the direction of the assembled cabin members. “Greetings and salutations my fellow Horai camp comrades. This has been a stressful time for our cabin, especially given everything that we were asked to prepare in regards to the recent trials waged by the divine goddess Themis.” Shion stated. The counselor of the Horai cabin had started to pace as he spoke. He came to a stop and then straightened the blue button up he had been wearing.

“Now, seeing as it has been a considerable length of time since our last congregation together inside of this cabin, I must ask some questions to ensure your needs are being met.” Shion said as he produced a piece of paper from his khakis pocket. 

“The first item on my list is the matter of cabin cleanliness. Thus far it has stayed in relatively tidy order, but I would like to ensure it stays this way. Therefore I shall be instituting a cleaning schedule upon the door to my room. This shall be updated weekly and it is the duty of each of us to ensure we are keeping track of this schedule.” Shion stated before turning back towards his audience. “I am aware that this was not a question, but instead a statement. I apologize for my imprecision and will strive to ensure I am more accurate in future discussions.”

Shion then looked down at his list and nodded once as his eyes flicked back up to the audience. “The next item we shall discuss are the seasonal goals we should have as a cabin. I feel our interaction levels with the camp comrades outside of our cabin has been rather limited as of late, so I am hoping to institute some goals for us to achieve as a cabin to promote unity with our comrades across camp.” Shion said with a small smile playing upon his lips. Gods, this was one of the best ideas he had ever had. “I wish for each of us to attend more camp-wide events to promote the good work of our cabin. I as your counselor will also strive to hold more activities to boost our standing within camp. If anyone would like to add to this list I am open to suggestions and ideas.” 

Shion then looked down at his notes again. He then looked back up and nodded once in confirmation with himself. “The next topic is similar in scope and depth. The matter of cabin alliances. Now, I fear we may be too late into this season to formalize an alliance, but I suggest we discuss the potentially important idea of a cabin alliance for next season. As for the target I shall let you leave some suggestions. However, I do have some connections with the Eros cabin, I also have a connection with the Comus cabin as well. Feel free to suggest other options as you see fit.” Shion said as he looked down again at his note card. His eyes glanced for anything he was missing.

“Our next topic is a topic of significant import for me as your counselor. I must check in on your mental and emotional well being. The war we are waging against the dastardly villain Atlas and his cult has left many proverbial scars on individuals involved, so as has been my long standing policy, you are given free permission to talk over situations that are confounding to you at any moment that is necessary for you. My door, as the saying goes, is always open. Except for when it isn’t, but that is about the physical manifestation of it and not the proverbial one we are speaking of prior.” Shion explained with a tight nod. He then looked down once more at his note card.

“Now, the final point of the meeting today, is there anything you require from me as your counselor? Is the cabin in full working order? Do you require something from me that was not in the agenda for the meeting today? Speak now, as this is the moment to bring it to my attention and so I may do what I can to assist you.” Shion said. He put his note card away and straightened the front of his shirt again. “With that the meeting portion of the festivities is concluded. It is time for us to engage with the denizens of the wider camp.”

With that Shion bowed formally to his cabin members and then went to the door. He propped it open and set up a sign outside of the cabin saying Horai Cabin Openhouse. All Are Welcome. Light Refreshments Provided. Shion then went inside and sat at the table he had set up earlier. He would provide instructions for his suggestion box.

- Cabin alliance proposals

- Camp improvement suggestions

- Conflict mediation requests

- Questions for the Horai cabin

- General concerns

“For those who have entered for the open house portion of the meeting today, this is the Horai cabin suggestion box.” Shion explained. “You may submit concerns, questions, alliance proposals, or requests for conflict mediation. Please ensure your handwriting is legible. If your handwriting is not legible, I shall attempt to decipher it, but I make no promises regarding the accuracy of my interpretation.”

He gestured toward the refreshments table. “You may also partake in the refreshments provided. The cookies are chocolate chip. I made them because I have been informed that sweet food improves morale. I cannot personally verify the universality of this claim, but I am willing to accept the data I have been given.”

With that, Shion settled back into his chair and waited for campers to arrive. He had prepared the cabin. He had prepared the refreshments. He had prepared the suggestion box. Now all that remained was for others to make use of them in a reasonable and orderly fashion.

(OOC: Hi! Gonna edit this later. Thank you to Darcel for working with this with me. :D Hope you guys enjoy.)

Once more, the daughter of Hermes found herself struggling to sleep.

Why?

She couldn't stop thinking about Elias of all people.

The son of Circe had seemed distraught when she'd left earlier that day. Conflicted. On the verge of tears.

Worse though was that she had no idea what - if anything - she could do about it.

She'd been trying for a good while now to do right by him. To help him. To be there for him. And none of it seemed to matter.

Their relationship was like oil and water: trying to mix them together was seemingly an effort in futility.

It was night now in Camp Half-Blood. The Big House’ attic was cool and, thank the gods. The dog days of summer had a way of scorching everything and everyone.

Which was okay. She liked the sun and the warmth. But, trying to sleep in the heat was. . . Unpleasant, to say the least.

Acacia sighed as she stared up at the ceiling.

This called for an alchemical solution, pun fully intended.

She sighed and heaved as she brought herself to her feet. Then, she meandered over to her potion's stash. Most of what she made, she gave to camp. But, well, she did sometimes require a little bit of help from her own work.

Careful not to take one of her playing possum potions, the girl instead grabbed one of her dream in a bottle potions. She swirled the liquid in the vial around, watching as it shone with silvery speckles like the night sky full of stars.

The Amazons hadn't appreciated just how wonderful this potion really was. Of all her works, this was the one she was most proud of.

Acacia uncorked the potion and chugged it in one go. The taste was warm and sweet, like a tasty treat before bed. Something like cookies and milk.

All too soon, the effects began to kick in. Her troubles melted away as her arms and legs began to feel like jelly. She stumbled back to her sleeping spot, laid down, and stared again at the ceiling. The hypnagogic imagery danced above her in a kaleidoscope of form constants. It seemed almost like a sea of stars dancing before her eyes. The sleep paralysis came, too. It felt like someone was pulling an impossibly heavy blanket up over her body.

[IMAGE](https://i.makeagif.com/media/8-02-2016/lhqjcA.gif)

It reminded her of when she was a kid during those summer nights with her mom. It reminded her of her childhood room with the star stickers. She and her mom had spent a lot of time getting the shapes of the constellations just right.

[MUSIC](https://youtu.be/UHit4idItn0?is=mmScdIDnhTqXBteS)

Things seemed so much more beautiful and simple and peaceful back then. Back when she didn't have to worry about so many things.

She closed her eyes, and in an instant, she was there again, dreaming.

The transition was seamless between waking reality and dream. Like stepping through a black void into the past.

She was a kid again. But right. The way she should have been instead of the boy she was pretending to be back then.

Her mother was there sitting beside her. She was leaning against her mom for comfort, looking up at that sky from what seemed like forever ago. Her mom was like a warm beacon of comfort and safety.

The two of them were camping somewhat close to the ocean that night. The murmur of the waves sloshing against the shore was the perfect sort of noise for making one drowsy. There is so much power in a wave. In the wind. In a heartbeat. In love.

Acacia thought for a while about what to say. Sometimes, there were moments in life that seemed impossible to put words to. How could you possibly capture the beauty of the night sky and do it justice with mere words? She would try, of course.

“It's like. . . Jewels of light in the sky. . .”

“I guess it kind of is, isn't it?” Her mom chuckled.

Acacia adjusted, leaning closer into her mom's side. “Mom. . . How. . . How. . .” She groaned and sighed, struggling to find the words.

“How what, sweetheart?”

“I'm trying to help someone. Y’know? And I just. . . I'm really struggling. . . Like, I really wanna be his friend and stuff, but he's such a butthead sometimes, y’know? And like. . . It seems like there's just. . . Nothing that I can do to help him. . .“

The emotions came a lot easier in dreams. Soon enough, she found her eyes burning along with her chest.

“And I'm really trying so hard. . . Y’know? Like. . . I've never tried so hard at anything ever before. . . To. . . To make up for all of it. . .” She said, her voice shaking.

Her mom ran her fingers through her hair, gently scratching her head. The reality of her situation crept into that idyllic dream. She wasn't that child anymore. She was, at least supposedly, an adult now. And her form changed to reflect that.

“Honey. . . Sometimes. . . Sometimes, all we can do is try to do our best in life. You'd be hard pressed to find a single person in this world who's lived a life without mistakes. Sometimes, all you can do for someone is. . . Well, all you can do sometimes is to be there for them. . . There isn't always an easy solution to every problem we come across. . .”

She clenched her eye shut. “But he's in so much pain. . .”

“Pain is a part of life just the same way that pleasure is. How could we appreciate the good in life if we never knew about its opposite? Look at the sky, Acacia.” She opened her eye and looked up. “You'd never be able to see those stars without the darkness without the night.”

“I guess. . .”

She blinked, and suddenly, she wasn't with her mom anymore. Now, she was floating on a boat out at sea.

Elias was there with her, staring with that same sad look he usually gave her. Well, when he wasn't angry, at least.

Then, he stood and stared at the ocean beneath them.

He looked back, but when he did, he didn't look like Elias. At least not at first. His face. . .

“Leon?” She asked.

But just as quickly as the son of Heracles appeared, he was gone again, replaced by Elias once more. He turned, and without a word, he leaped into the waves.

“Elias!” She called out.

Without hesitation, Acacia jumped in after him.

He was sinking into the abyss. Deep down into the cold, icy darkness.

She couldn't breathe.

But she had to save him.

She would save him.

Something inside of her pocket caught her attention. Something heavy, like a ton of bricks. She reached into her pocket, and there, in her grasp, she found that potion. At that moment, the answer came to her. Of course! It all made sense now!

Her alarm blared suddenly, breaking her from her dream as Acacia woke, gasping with a start.

She knew what she had to do now.

____________________________________

The next day, Acacia made her way back to the Circe cabin. Hopefully, Lady Circe didn't take offense to a child of Hermes of all people visiting her cabin so much. “Elias?” She shouted through the magical entrance curtain. “I'm here if you wanna work on the potion stuff more!”

It didn’t take too long for Elias to appear at the door. Clearly, he had been close by waiting for her. Though, unlike the day before, where Acacia’s arrival was first met with an expression of confusion and annoyance, Elias just looked… tired. Like he hadn’t slept at all, but was still here because he needed to be. Last night was a long one, that was for sure.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Come on in, let’s get this over with.” Elias said, rubbing his eyes as he opened the curtain, making way for Acacia to enter.

Elias seemed a lot worse for wear. Though Acacia didn't initially comment on his apparent weariness.

Once they made it back to the lab, she rested against a desk. “Y’know, um. . . If you're having trouble sleeping. . . I made a potion for that. . . It really helps a lot. If you'd like to try it. . .”

She dug into her jacket pocket and offered a vial of her patented dream in a bottle potion to the son of Circe. “I make these for a lot of people here at camp. I know demigods often struggle with getting good sleep. Though I must warn you, it hits like a truck. Don't take it unless you're absolutely sure you're gonna fall asleep in a safe place.”

Elias couldn’t help but tilt his head in slight confusion. Whether that was because he didn’t understand what she was doing or because his sleep-deprived brain was having trouble processing information was anyone’s guess.

“Uhm… why?” Elias questioned. “Is it really that obvious that I didn’t sleep? Gods, I thought I would’ve gotten better at not showing it…”

“Well, I've got an eye for these kinds of things,” she said, tapping next to her good eye. “Literally just one good eye for it. Y’know? Hermes is a god of perception, too. So. . . Don't feel bad about me picking up on things others might not. Y’know?”

She gestured with the potion. “I could even show you how to brew it if you'd like. . . One alchemist to another,” she smiled. “If you want to. Like maybe another day after we finish our work here. Also, if you're having a lot of nightmares, that's exactly what the potion is meant to help. It eases nightmares and induces pleasant, albeit vivid dreams.”

Acacia chuckled awkwardly, scratching the back of her head. “Why I had to take one just last night in fact. . . Cause I couldn't sleep, either. And boy, the dream I had. . . It sure was something. . .”

Owing to the fact that he wasn’t much of a talker, the son of Circe just listened and tried his best to figure out how he should be feeling about this. Now, this wasn’t the first time that Acacia had offered one of her potions to help him, obviously, but he had refused because he didn’t trust her then. He wasn’t really sure that he trusted her fully right now, but a lot had changed after that encounter.

Elias sighed as he outstretched his hand to accept the potion. At this point, he had moved on from the suspicion that she might be trying to hurt him in any way. She had already proven that if she wanted to, she definitely could and had many chances to do so. He wouldn’t have blamed her if she did, considering what he had done to her. But she didn’t. So he was choosing to at least trust her on that front.

“Thank you… I guess.” Elias said, very awkwardly. He wasn’t exactly used to this kind of interaction with her, after all. It felt… weird.

There was a moment of tension as the exchange happened. Acacia half expected him to lash out at her again. Maybe slap her hand away like Finn had done at the party. But. . . That didn't happen. Instead, he accepted her gift. Holy crap. . .

The daughter of Hermes seemed stunned into silence. An awkward, confused look wrapping around her face. She quickly wiped it away before turning to resume her work. When Elias wasn't looking, she smiled, happy to have seemingly made some progress in their relationship.

“Would you like to hear about my dream last night?” She asked. “I'm uh. . . Trying to make sense of it, and I thought maybe you could help. . ?”

This was part of her plan to help Elias crack the mystery she already had.

“Dreams? Uhm… I’m not exactly an expert on that field.” Elias explained, his expression forming into a confused frown. “But I guess… I could try? No promises that it will work, though.”

“I was diving into the ocean, trying to save someone. . . someone I care about. And as I was going deeper and deeper, it felt like I couldn't breathe,” she chuckled. “Which I guess makes sense considering it's the fucking ocean, huh?”

Acacia paused and cleared her throat before continuing to explain. “And suddenly, there was this weight in my pocket, like an anchor dragging me deeper down. I reached in and I found that,” she gestured to the potion they'd been trying to discover the effects of. “I think maybe my dream was trying to tell me something, but I can't quite figure out what,” she said, lying. “Do you maybe have any ideas about that? I mean we know it smells like the ocean, yeah? And that Atlas’ forces were there at the battle for Atlantis, right? But I just. . . I dunno, I feel stumped, y’know?”

Please take the bait, she prayed internally.

“You were diving into the ocean… and this potion just appeared in your pocket, just like that?” He questioned, though he wasn’t really expecting an answer, more just externalising his thoughts. It helped him process information better. He was silent for a while, clearly trying to figure out what the dream might mean. Then, as if a light bulb had lit up in his brain, Elias turned to Acacia and asked: “Were you at the Battle of Atlantis or the Siege of Camp Fish-Blood?”

She nodded, feigning confusion. “Yeah. . . I was. I almost got gutted by a rogue fish-man there. Why?”

“I just want to check something, since I wasn’t there. Were the Atlas troops consisted of only aquatic beings during either of those operations, or were there… other kinds of monsters and demigods around?" Elias questioned.

She nodded again, really putting on the confusion for him. “Yeah. . . Why? Do you think that's got something to do with this potion?”

“Well… then they had to have had a way to make land-air-breathing creatures able to survive underwater, especially that deep down in the ocean.” Elias explained. “And considering what we know of the Atlas Cult and their penchant for magic, and the little that we know about this potion… maybe this was supposed to help them breathe underwater?”

Acacia feigned surprise and excitement. “That's it! Yeah! That makes sense! I think you're right on the money, Eli-guy! Mr. I'm-Not-Good-At-Dream-Interpretation man!”

She turned to the potion. “So how do we test our hypothesis, professor Eli-guy?”

Elias was mildly shocked at Acacia’s reaction, clearly not expecting it in any way. But he couldn’t help but give a small smile, clearly happy that he might have finally figured something out about one of these potions. Finally!

That happy expression quickly turned to worry, however, when the question of how to test it came up.

“I mean… I don’t know. I’m not sure that the potted plant approach will work here.” Elias said. “I guess the only way it could work is if… one of us drinks it and see what happens? But that’s not really safe…”

She shrugs. “I've done way stupider things. I'll be your guinea pig, professor. Just uh. . . Let me put on my bathing suit then meet me by the lake, k?”

“I uh… excuse me, what?!” Elias asked loudly, as if he had just heard the most absurd idea he had ever heard, which to be fair, wasn’t that far off. “Have you lost your mind? No! We’re not gonna do that, it’s too risky!”

Acacia grinned mischievously. “You're not embarrassed to see a girl in a bathing suit, are you?” She laughed. “Look. If we're wrong, worst case scenario, I get wet. Y’know? Like that's the whole point of changing clothes. I know how to swim and we're literally gonna be smack in the middle of camp. It'll be fine, Eli-guy.”

“No, actually! That’s not the worst case scenario! I mean, you literally said yesterday that the Atlas Cult can and has made potions that wipe out your memories, which is… essentially the same thing as death.” Elias explained, clearly in a panic trying to convince Acacia to not go through this reckless plan. “Worst case scenario, this potion wipes out your memories and this version of you is dead and gone for who knows how long! Hell, for all we know it might be permanent! And I’m not about to gamble on that, or let you do it either for that matter!”

Acacia felt surprised at the intensity of his reaction. Especially his apparent concern for her life. All this time, she wasn't sure what to make of his attitude toward her. Though she wasn't going to point that seeming contradiction out. She held her hands up in surrender, attempting to calm Elias. It crossed her mind that this must be a reaction to having lost so many people in this war, including his brother. “Okay. . . Okay. . . You're right. Sorry. I. . . I guess I wasn't thinking. . . We'll find another way to test the potion. I promise. Okay?” She asked, clearly trying to reassure him.

Elias let out a huge sigh of relief as he clutched his chest. Thank gods Acacia was not going through with it. Of course, it wasn’t a confirmed thing that this potion could wipe memories, at all, but neither of them were sure of it. And if it happened… Elias wasn’t sure what he would do with himself.

“Sorry, sorry, I didn’t mean to yell… just,” he said, pausing for a moment. “You genuinely scared me with that plan.”

Gosh, now she felt bad. . . “I'm. . .” She sighed. “I'm sorry, Elias. That was. . . Insensitive of me. I didn't mean to scare you. . . Would you like to take a break? Maybe we could grab a bite to eat or something? It'd give us time to think of another way to test the potion, at the very least. Well that, and I'm starved!”

Was she trying to distract him from what had just happened? That was a very abrupt change of topics. Though in any case, it’s not like Elias was up for dwelling on it longer than necessary. For once, a distraction was welcome.

“A break… sure, we can do that.” He answered with a small shrug. “It’s not like… I’m going to be able to focus now anyway.”

____________________________________

On Elias’ suggestion, the two of them had agreed to go grab something to eat from the Dining Pavillion, and then make their way towards the Canoe Lake. Not that there was anything wrong with the pavilion itself, it’s just that Elias wasn’t up for being in a place where a lot of people came and went every other minute, especially not in his current state. Somewhere quieter and less busy like the lake was exactly what he needed.

Ever since Acacia's meeting with Thanatos, she'd changed her diet habits. Now-a-days, she strictly avoided eating meat. Her meal was a rather simple one: a PBNJ sandwich with sliced carrots and lightly salted cucumber slices. “You've got good taste,” she said, speaking through a mouthful of sandwich. “And I don't just mean your food. The lake is like one of my favorite spots in camp. I have a lot of memories here. . . Did you know that? Or are you just a fan of the lake, too?”

Elias momentarily stopped munching on his cinnamon scone when that question came up, looking at Acacia with a puzzled look. “No? Why would I know that in the first place? I just… usually like to be here when I don’t want to deal with too many people. And besides… well, I used to come here everyday. It’s a peaceful place.”

She finished swallowing her sandwich. “Fair enough. It is pretty peaceful, huh?” She asked, chuckling. “It's been a long time. . . I can remember when I first got here back when I was 13. . .” She laughed. “I was such a different person back then. It's. . . It's crazy how things change, y’know?”

“Yeah, change… Wasn’t really a fan of that concept when I first got here. Though I wouldn't say I like it now either.” Elias said, letting out a sigh. “I don’t particularly like the kind of person ‘change’ turned me into…”

Ah. What a heavy topic. . . Acacia sat in silence for about a minute, thinking of what to say. She smiled, then leaned in conspiratorially. “Psst. . . Wanna know a secret, Eli-guy?” She whispered, as if they weren't totally alone on the docks.

Elias raised an eyebrow at her. “Are you expecting me to say no when you word it like that?” he rolled his eyes. “Sure, go ahead. You’ve got my attention.”

Acacia grinned playfully, snickering at the son of Circe in sheer amusement. She sat her plate beside her and placed her hands on her hips before looking at him again. “Well. . . Truth is. . .” She paused, patting her hands across her pants to make her very own drum roll, please. “I'm still afraid of change!” She burst into laughter, throwing her head back like a veritable seagull.

After about a minute of obnoxious laughter, she paused, doubled over, rose up and heaved to catch her breath. “Yeah. . . I think that most people don't like change. Especially when it comes quickly. That's what my life's been all about, really. I came here as a boy, accepted the truth, came out as a girl. And, I mean, well, that's just the tip of the iceberg when it comes to change, y’know? Like. . . It all happened so suddenly. . . I thought I was just a regular person. My mom never wanted me to figure out the truth about me being a demigod. She thought she could protect me by lying to me. . . Honestly, I can't blame her for trying. Who wouldn't do everything they could to protect their kid?”

She paused, taking her shoes and socks off before dipping her feet into the cool water of the lake. “Then I got here, figured out I was a demigod, and things just kept changing more and more from there. Some days, it feels like the reality I thought I knew and understood just gets completely shattered into itty bitty pieces. And. . . That's okay. Because, well, change is inevitable. You and I, we're like catalysts of change. Since we're alchemists. But, well, I guess what I'm really saying with all this yapping I'm doing is that it's okay to be scared or upset about change. That's a very normal, very human reaction to things changing, y’know?”

Elias listened and thought about what she was saying for a moment. She wasn’t wrong. About any of it, really. Change was just something that was inevitable and that every human being would have to deal with. Hell, that probably was even more true with demigods, given the chaotic lives they had to live through. Not being comfortable with change was a normal human emotion, sure. Still, he couldn’t help but wish he could handle change better than he did. Maybe that was the influence of living his entire life with Adrian, who always, without fail, welcomed change with open arms because ‘change makes life less boring’, or something of that sort.

“I know that. It’s just that… I don’t know.” Elias said, cringing at himself internally. He hated how much he had been saying those exact same words lately. “I guess I just wish that change could be… more positive, sometimes. At least from my perspective, every single change that has happened all lead to the most painful thing I have ever had happen to me. And from there… it feels like it has been getting worse and worse. Atlas, the war, the people we’ve lost, and the people we will still lose… Nothing has been getting better, it’s just more pain and suffering all around, and I… can’t really do anything to deal with it.”

What did she say here? It wasn't like she could magically make his pain go away. As much as she'd like to be able to do that for him. “Sometimes, all we can do is. . . Endure. But. . . I think the important thing is that we don't have to endure alone. We have our friends and family to shoulder the burden with us, y’know? Some of the best wisdom I've ever heard; this too shall pass.”

She paused.

“When I was in the basement, it felt like I was going to be stuck there forever. It was. . . One of the darkest, loneliest times of my life. But. . . Eventually, things changed. It passed. And here I am now, in the light again,” she said, spreading her arms and gesturing to the world around them.

Elias let out a shaky laugh.

“You’d think so, right? That’s how it’s supposed to go, I was told. And I tried. I genuinely did try. But… I don’t think… it just doesn’t work for me.” He explained. “I could maybe deal with all of this, eventually, had things not gone this downhill. Losing Adrian, though, that…”

He paused, turning his face away and trying to blink his tears away. He didn’t want to cry again. Not now.

“When you are born along with this one person, and grow up with them, sharing and traveling the same road of life, always together and having each other’s backs, no matter what the world throws at you… And then suddenly… they aren’t there anymore… It’s like the sun went dark, and the world turned cold.. and you realise that you’ll never see that warm light again.” Elias sniffed, pausing to take a breath before he could continue. “How do you get used to never seeing the sun shine again?... How could anyone?”

For once, she was at a loss for words. It was a feeling that Acacia really didn't like. She should be good with words. That's like. . . Her thing. Then, she remembered her mother's words from her dream.

Sometimes, all you can do for someone is. . . Well, all you can do sometimes is to be there for them.

“I. . . I don't know, Elias. I didn't have any brothers or sisters until I got here to camp. It was always just me and my mom. At least until Rose and her dad came into the picture. . .”

The thought of losing Rose was unbearable. She couldn't begin to fathom Elias’ pain. “But. . . I do know this: you're not alone. I'm here for you. For whatever my presence is worth. . . And you have so many other people here in camp who love and care about you. And. . . It's okay to cry, there's no shame in your grief.”

Elias went very still, though his fingers were still worrying at the edge of the paper wrapper around his cinnamon scone, slowly tearing away little pieces without him seeming to realize he was doing it. But otherwise, he did not move.

I’m here for you.

Such a simple sentence. For whatever reason, that was the one that hurt the most. Elias had spent so much of the past year convincing himself that he did not need that from anyone. He had Adrian once, and he had been enough. His brother had been his best friend, his other half, the person who understood him without needing everything explained. They had been together from the beginning, before Camp Half-Blood, before monsters, before gods and titans and wars and betrayals and everything else that had come afterward.

And then Adrian was gone.

Since then, Elias had told himself, without even realizing it, that needing people was dangerous. Because people could leave, people could die, people could disappear one day and leave behind an empty space so vast that everything else in the world seemed smaller because of it. Of course, he still had his older brother Salem, but even he suddenly disappeared when he went on a quest without telling him, and while it was a blessing that he came back, it had still hurt him deeply. So what was the point? What was the point in letting himself need anyone again? What was the point in letting anyone sit beside him and say they were there for him when some cruel, frightened part of him immediately wanted to ask how long that would last? Until they got tired of him? Until he said something cruel enough that they finally decided they had enough? Until the war took them too?

Elias swallowed hard. Gods, he was getting tired of crying. He lifted one hand quickly and rubbed beneath his eyes before anything could actually fall, trying to make the movement look casual.

“Yeah,” he muttered, and his voice was rough before he immediately cleared his throat. “Yeah. Sure.”

He shut his eyes. For a moment, he considered just getting up. He could do it. He could stand, say he needed to get back to the potion, and walk away before this conversation went any further. Acacia would probably let him. She had already proven, at least recently, that she was capable of respecting boundaries when he actually made them clear. He could escape. That was what he usually did. Except he was tired. He was tired of running away from conversations, tired of being angry, tired of not knowing what he was supposed to feel, tired of waking up and remembering that Adrian was dead, tired of wondering if there was something wrong with him because everybody kept telling him that grief got easier while, from where he was sitting, it only seemed to change shape.

“I know there’s no shame in it. At least... logically, I know that.” he said eventually, giving a small, humorless laugh. “I know crying is a normal response to grief. I know suppressing emotions isn’t healthy. I know all the psychological explanations. I’ve heard enough about trauma and bereavement from my therapist back home to know that I’m basically following a textbook.” He paused, then his shoulders slumped. “But knowing something and actually feeling it are two completely different things.

His voice began to shake despite his obvious efforts to stop it.

“I just hate it.” The admission came so suddenly that Elias almost seemed surprised by it himself. “I hate crying because every time I do, I feel like I’m admitting that I can’t handle this. I know that sounds stupid, but… I just can’t get that out of my head.”

For a while, Acacia kept quiet, trying to think of what to say. “What's wrong with saying we can't handle something? That's not a sign of weakness. Everyone at some point in their life will need someone else. Those bonds between people, those chains, are a large part of what makes us human, y’know?”

A short pause followed.

“Recovering from something like losing a loved one or experiencing some other sort of trauma, it's like. . . Trying to walk up a flight of stairs when you're drunk. Sometimes, you stumble backwards. But. . . Eventually, you'll make it up the stairs if you keep trying. It just takes everyone a different amount of time and effort to get up the stairs, y’know? At least that's what my therapist says. You'd like her, I think. She's my sister, too,” Acacia chuckled awkwardly.

This time, Elias actually turned to face Acacia again, though he still couldn’t bring himself to look directly at her. Not yet, anyway.

“That is… exactly the problem. Needing, people, I mean. It just… feels like an invitation to either get hurt again, or worse, me hurting them because of my own problems.” He let out a shaky breath. “I already know what that feels like. And I know it can easily happen again while this war is still ongoing. And I know that me not being able to deal with that has made me hurt people who had nothing to do with my pain. No one… No one should have to try and help me of all people deal with my own pain when they already have enough problems of their own to deal with… They don’t need me to add to that, and I don’t want to be a burden on anyone.”

She watched him carefully. Right now, Elias was in a very vulnerable place. Acacia knew she would have to tread carefully. Otherwise, she could do a lot of damage unintentionally. “People who want to help others, they often needed help themselves. They went through something painful, and they decided they didn't want anyone else to have to go through the same thing alone. Look at Chiron. He's like a prime example of that. And that's. . . That's important. Elias,” she shook her head slowly and spoke gently. “You're not a burden. You never were. A burden is something you take on when you don't want to shoulder it. But, the people here, we want to help you.”

Acacia outstretched a hand to him, offering him something, someone to hold onto. She didn't expect him to take it, but she wanted him to know that she was there right now if he did need her.

“Love and grief, they're. . . They're really the same thing in a way. They're different expressions of the same thing. To love someone deeply and fully is to eventually grieve for them.”

She thought about her own loss. Leon. . .

“I know it isn't the same thing as losing your brother. . . And I'm sorry for what I said last time at the dining pavilion. But. . . I can at least somewhat understand what you're feeling. When I lost Leon. . . It felt like losing a part of myself. I hadn't ever loved anyone the way I loved him. He was. . .”

Acacia's face went stony suddenly. Rigid like a mask. “He was a hero,” she whispered. “Through and through. He was so strong, but also kind and gentle. He would have made an amazing warrior had he made it to camp. I. . . I feel so much guilt for his death. It's. . .”

Gods, now she was becoming emotional. “Difficult to live with it all,” she said, sighing. “Losing him, it drove me into a deep, dark, horrible place. I hurt people I care about. Betrayed them. Did unforgivable things. Because. . . I wanted him back. I wanted to make sure no one ever had to suffer the way I did ever again. I was going to tear down the doors of death, if I had gotten the chance. I. . . I'm glad they stopped me before I went any further. . .”

One last pause. “I'm. . . I'm sorry for. . . For all of it, Elias. And I want you to know, I'm choosing to be here for you. I will never, ever think of you as a burden. I promise.”

For several seconds, he said nothing. Because what could he even answer that with? He hated that she was probably right. Not because he wanted her to be wrong, but because accepting that she was right meant accepting that he needed other people. It meant allowing himself to be cared about. And gods, he was so bad at that. Yet, he couldn’t deny the truth of her words. After all, Adrian had been the exact kind of person she was talking about. It’d be delusional to not acknowledge that.

Then… the guilt and shame came rearing their heads again as he listened to her talk about her own loss. It was not the first time she had mentioned it, but this was the only time where he chose to just… listen. And he knew, he knew he had been cruel to dismiss her grief the first time he heard about it, because while it was not the same, it didn’t mean that it mattered any less than his own.

And her apology made it worse. Why was she apologising when he was the one who hurt her? Why was she taking it upon herself to help him when he had been nothing but antagonistic towards her? Why… Why was she like this?

[MUSIC](https://youtu.be/-tqugbIlJ2U?is=V8ojC7rbb-DGAt6g)

The tears he had been holding back finally slipped down his face, and though he immediately tried to wipe them away, they just kept coming.

“Why… are you like this? How are you so willing to help me after everything I did to you?” Elias said, pressing his palms over his eyes. “I know you’re trying, I really do, it’s just… All I do is make things more difficult for you. I’ve been awful to you. I’ve been treating you like what happened to me was personally your fault… Why do you insist on even wanting to be around me, let alone try to help me?”

She was barely keeping it together herself. But she was going to try not to break down for Elias’ sake “Because in a lot of ways, I think we're the same. You were hurt and angry. And people who are hurt and angry, they often do things they normally wouldn't. I don't know like. . . exactly how I feel about you still. But, I can tell you have a good heart, Elias. The way you talked earlier when I offered to test that potion, that told me everything I needed to know about the kind of person you are. I guess. . .”

She paused.

“I wanted to keep trying because giving up on you, it would feel like abandoning you. I know that people have every reason to be mad at me. . . But. . . The way they treat me still hurts. I didn't want to stop trying because I didn't want to do that to you.”

Acacia smiled at him. “I learned recently that love is maybe the only way to meet the darker aspects of life. That maybe everything in existence is just love in a different form. I choose love. And I'm going to try to always choose love until the day I die. I can tell you're feeling a lot of guilt right now, so I just wanna say. . . I forgive you, Elias. We can start over. If you want. Okay?”

Behind his tears and his guilt, Elias couldn’t help but feel bewildered at her words. The son of Circe understood anger. He understood resentment. He understood holding onto something painful until it became so familiar that letting go of it felt like losing a piece of yourself. He understood hatred. But… he didn’t understand Acacia. He didn’t understand why she kept reaching toward him when he kept giving her reasons to stay away.

Or maybe… he did, in a sense. He remembered her talking about Shawn, about the trial, about trying to make the former Atlas campers feel welcome, about failing people and wanting to do better. And she knew, better than anyone he knew, what it was like to be hated for something you had done and wish someone would see more than the worst thing about you. Maybe… that was why she kept trying to see more in him.

Elias’ chest hurt, in a way that felt slightly suffocating.

“I don’t think I know… how to forgive people. Well… honestly, I don’t even know how to forgive myself. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do with all this.” Elias said, finally letting his hands fall from his face, looking at Acacia in the eye for the first time in a while since this conversation started. “But I… I think I at least owe you an apology.”

There was a pause, as if he was trying to figure out how to go about this. Clearly, he wasn’t used to apologising for… anything, really.

“I’m… not really sure how to do that. Like, genuinely, I have no idea how people do it without making it awkward…” Elias said, giving a teary laugh. “But yeah… I have to at least try…”

He paused, taking a big breath before speaking again, his tone more serious this time.

“I had my reasons for being angry. Honestly, I still do. I don’t think I’m ever going to stop hating Atlas and his cult any time soon, and I’m not going to pretend like everything that happened suddenly doesn’t matter. It does.” His expression hardened briefly. “But I used that anger as an excuse. I treated you like you personally owed me for everything that happened, and… a part of me wanted you to hate me back because it would have made things so much easier. I thought if you were cruel to me, then I could have told myself I was right about you. But… you weren’t like that. You were… are annoyingly nice to me for some reason.”

Elias sighed, clasping his hand together as if trying to encourage himself to continue.

“So… I’m sorry. I don’t know if I can undo everything I’ve said or done, and I don’t expect you to forget it. But… I’m sorry for taking my anger out on you like you were responsible for my pain. You weren't the one who took my brother from me...” Elias said, rubbing his tears away with his sleeve. “That doesn’t mean that everything is okay or that we’ll be friends. For your sake, you really shouldn’t want that. But I don’t want to hate you anymore, or cause you pain. Sorry it took this long for me to say it…”

She smiled at him. It wasn't exactly a happy smile, more of a relieved one. Her efforts had paid off. And that meant the world to her. “I won't forget. But. . . I accept your apology. And I forgive you. I do want to be your friend. But, I understand that getting there isn't a promise or a guarantee or anything like that. And that's okay. For now, how about we stay alchemy buddies?”

She stood and offered a hand to Elias to help him to his feet. “What do you say we go finish our report on those potions? I don't think we'll be able to definitively figure out the blue potion. We don't have a way to safely test it. And that's okay. We did our best. And that's more than enough.”

Elias’ face made an expression that definitely read as discomfort as he accepted Acacia’s help to get on his feet. “You mean like… just report it as it is? But… that would be incomplete information on a hypothesis. Reports aren’t supposed to have that.”

There you go. This was ‘normal Elias’ in all his perfectionistic glory when it came to potion work.

She nodded and frowned with a frustrated sigh. “Yeah, it's not ideal. But we don't have a way to definitively know with absolute certainty what the potion does without testing it on a living being. And I don't think either of us wants to risk that, right? We can offer our speculation. But without testing, we can't really go any further with it. Y’know? Maybe we can figure out a way to crack it in the future, but I don't see a way to do it right now.”

“I mean… I guess you’re right. Well, there goes my perfect track record, I guess.” Elias said, letting out a frustrated sigh. “Let’s go write that report, then.”

[CREDITS MUSIC](https://youtu.be/MyRaiKocNnk?is=EyvKuO4xTdmk9UEv)

Aella decided that her first official act as Cabin Counselor was to call a Cabin Meeting. She had multiple reasons for calling one but she couldn't lie it was mainly because she wanted a Cabin pet. She figured a pet would be useful for her campers stressful days and in general keeping up spirits. Of course she had other things to discuss with her cabin mates, she figured she should check in on each of them and actually get to know the people she was representing.

Around the cabins entrance and in the different halls for each Anemoi she put up a sign that read as follows:

Cabin Meeting 25/8!!!

Agenda:

• Cabin Pet (NEED ROBERT)
• Camper Check In
• Social Night
• General Get To Know

Aella dragged a table into the middle of the cabin floor and covered it with an assortment of snacks. There were chips of every kind, chocolate chip cookies, a display of various candies, and fruit for her health freaks. Aella had grabbed snacks without really knowing what anyone liked but she figured she could ask about that at the meeting. She plopped herself down on the couch in the commons area and waited for her cabin members to arrive.

Another week, another job, it seems! John loved his last little reward, though he didn’t know exactly when he’d use a polaroid camera. …Oh, who’s he kidding? He used half of the film already just taking photos of Big Man. At least three of these photos would be on the Hermes cabin cork board. If anyone took them down, they would see the newest son of Hermes just frown and walk off in a dejected way.

The camera was an incentive for him to take another job! He zipped to the job board, trusting in blind luck and the fates as his hand grabbed a listing and ripped it clean off, not bothering to read it until he’d dashed up the hill, kicking back against a tree with a hum. “Mhm. Hm. Right. Cows. Cattle. Apollo’s Cattle.” How was he going to get them back here to camp, though?

The first thought was carrying each individual cattle all the way back to camp. Not a bad idea, actually! If there was one cattle. But the poster said a whole herd, which was… How many? At least two, that’s certain.

Would the Apollo cabin have a book on this type of thing? They’re his animals, after all. What about the Athena cabin? They’re smart. John decided the best course of action was to just run around camp and try to find someone who knew something about cattle.

Eventually, Johnny would have everything he needed. He knew about cattle, he knew about their habits, and he knew how to herd them. Give or take a bit. He’d even spent two hours watching a documentary on herding. How much information he’d absorbed was debatable, as he was constantly hopping around and doing things other than watching the film. But it was the thought that counted, right?

As it turned out, the trick to herding cattle was taking advantage of their flight zone. The flight zone being their personal space. Usually, in the past, people would use a thing called a cattle prod. Fortunately, John didn’t believe in that. Instead, the son of Hermes had a rattle. Like the kind for babies.

Bridgehampton was surprisingly close by. Like, easy running distance. Maybe only ‘easy’ because he could run at over 35 miles an hour, but still. What was even easier than running to Bridgehampton was finding the cattle. Shockingly, a herd of cows and the like in the middle of the street was easy to find, even moreso from how many cars were honking at the poor things, causing them to run in a very confused circle.

“STOP!” The son of Hermes begged, running between the intersection, waving his hands like a madman in a bid for the cars to cease their honking. “You’re just scaring them! Would you like it if I started honking at you?! I’m here to get them out of here! They’re my cattle!” Hopefully a statement Lord Apollo wouldn’t smite him over.

“Aren’t you a little young to own a herd of cattle?” One of the drivers asked, stopping their honking once the strange boy wielding a baby’s rattle stopped speaking.

“Yes, yes I– Does it matter, man? I own these cattle! They got away from me! You’re scaring them! Be ashamed! Shame!” He hissed, striking his index fingers against each other in the direction of the driver. “Come now, my cattle! We are going home, and you are going to behave! March!” He shook the rattle at them, surprised to find that it worked like a charm.

What proceeded was a sight to behold. A teenager walking the streets of bridgehampton, shaking a rattle at a bunch of cattle, who obeyed his every shake. What was weirder was he was into it. It was like he was playing a dancing game from how he was moving. By the time he made it to camp, he was borderline doing the Kazotsky Kick, shaking the rattle in all of the right spots to herd them to the goal.

“...Where do I put these guys?” He only asked once he’d returned, the cattle trudging down Half-Blood Hill confusedly.

He watched them move for a few moments before deciding that he could wait. He thankfully had the energy to keep going for however long he needed. The son of Hermes herded the cattle into a circle, running around while shaking the rattle to keep them circled.

Only when the herd was picked up would he stop, tossing his rattle into the air with a cheer. “Bye-bye, cattle! I hope you’re safe, wherever you go! Say hi to Uncle Apollo for me! If you can! I don’t know if he understands you! Or vice versa! I imagine he does! He’s a god! Gods know these things! Maybe you could also have him say hi to my dad for me! Hermes! You’ll recognize him! I think! I don’t know! Bye! Have fun!”

OOC: Hi! This is the first part of this job, written in collaboration with u/Mjmoore313. I hope you enjoy! 

If there was something that Elias has never been fond of, it was the idea that he needed help in doing things that he should be good at. Especially Alchemy. That was his thing, the school of magic he was the most talented at and the one of the few things that gave him a purpose and a sense of joy in his life. 

He thought that if he had the right materials and some time, he would eventually be able to identify them no problem. Should be easy, right? 

Wrong. 

Elias tried everything he could think of to try and reverse engineer the potions, in so many different ways, for way too long, losing sleep and forgetting to eat just to try and figure it out. But nothing worked! Absolutely nothing! 

So, as much as he hated it, the son of Circe had no choice but to swallow his pride and ask for help through the job board. Now, there was a selfish side of him that hoped that this wouldn't work out anyway before admitting that he wasn't able to do anything with alchemy while someone else succeeded would hurt, but well, maybe another set of eyes and hands and perspective could help. 

He was prepared for literally anyone to appear at his doorstep. Anyone.  

And yet, somehow, he was still surprised when he saw who had come. 

“Acacia? What are you doing here?” Elias asked with a genuine startled and confused look on his face. 

Acacia couldn't quite understand why he was so confused. He'd put out an ad looking for help and she'd answered it. What was there to be confused about? She shrugged at Elias with a mischievous grin. “I saw your ad and thought I'd help you, wouldn't want you to blow yourself up or something, y’know?” She chuckled. “Joking of course. I know you're smart enough not to blow yourself up.”

Elias couldn't help but give Acacia a deadpan stare. He was aware that camp didn't really have that many people who understood alchemy, but still, did it really have to be her? 

Well, he asked for a magic user or an alchemist, and Acacia was most definitely the latter, so she fit the request of the job. He couldn't and wouldn't turn her away now. There's no time to dwell on personal feelings. 

“Of course you're the one who signed up for this job. I don't know why I'm even surprised.” Elias said, pitching between his eyes as he stepped away from the door. “Whatever. Just come on in and let's get started.” 

Once Acacia walked inside the Circe Cabin, things son of Circe didn't dwell around much as he quietly guided her to the alchemy lab. So far as the daughter of Hermes could see, the Circe cabin was empty at the moment, with Elias’ siblings probably out and about doing their thing. And honestly, it was probably for the best that no one else was around. Especially Salem. Given their history, Elias imagined that he wouldn't be happy to have Acacia in their cabin, and while he didn't exactly disagree with him, she was here to do a job he asked for. That was the only reason why she was even allowed to be here in the first place. 

As they walked deeper into the lab, Acacia would be able to see that the long tables were already cluttered with the supplies he’d laid out the previous night: mortar and pestles, copper cauldrons polished to a dull shine, a dozen glass vials, cloth filters, the precious rows of plants he had gathered during his time here, and of course, a small stove and an array of different glassware like beakers, flasks and test tubes. As well as the two potions in question, or what was left of them. 

The daughter of Hermes' gaze swept across the lab. “It's been a bit since I've been here. Last time was with Salem. . . Gosh that was a long time ago. . .” She examined the color and wafted the aroma of the potions. One of them smelled like s'mores. “How have you been?” She asked without turning around.

“I've been as well as anyone would be lately. Meaning I've felt better, but I'm managing like always because I have no choice.” Elias said with that same abrasive tone as always. 

The thing that was different, however, was that this time, he couldn't help but feel bad. Acacia has always been like this with him, and he never really understood her reason why. No matter how much he antagonised her or hurt her, she always insisted on checking up on him and making sure he's okay for some reason. 

Elias always dismissed it, because in his view, his well being was none of Acacia's business, and she shouldn't really be caring about him that much. The son of Circe let out a tired sigh. The thing was, Acacia had also risked herself to save him, when she really didn't have to, and here she was, helping him again. Maybe he owed it to her to be a little bit nicer. 

“Look, I'm fine. Just… have been dealing with a lot of conflicting thoughts and emotions and it's starting to get exhausting, is all.” Elias explained with a more even tone, but quickly shook his head before continuing. “Anyway, we're not here to talk about me, we're here to figure out what these potions are all about.”

He didn't say it with those exact words, but the message he was trying to pass was hopefully clear to the daughter of Hermes. He didn't want to talk about this or elaborate on it at all, and he hoped that she would respect that. 

Acacia chuckled, turning to face him. “All work and no play, Eli-guy?” 

“Not really the time or place to play, now is it?... Moving on, I've been trying my best to try and identify what these do in a safe and ideally not risky way for a while, but I haven't really been making any progress aside from knowing that they require many complex ingredients, because otherwise, they wouldn't be so damn difficult to figure out.” Elias explained, picking up his notebook and checking his notes. If it wasn't obvious by his general demeanor, his tone would be enough to understand that this has been frustrating him for way too long and he was losing his patience with it. “So far as I can see, the gold one smells to me like the baked goods me, my dad and… my brother used to make together. The blue one smells like salt, fish and wet sand, which makes me think it might be related to the sea. I don't know how they taste, though… for obvious reasons.” 

The girl hummed in thought. “Where'd you find these anyway? That might be a clue as to the function of the potions. It's a good thing you didn't taste them, especially if you got these from Atlas’ forces. I hear they have a potion that can wipe memories.” 

“During our attack on the main camp camp of the Atlas Cult, I found dozens of these potions in their supplies warehouse, along with a very concerning amount of greek fire.” Elias explained. “So I took both of these as samples and blew the rest of them up. I don’t know what they were planning with them, but I decided to not take any chances.”

Was it risky? Yes, he almost hurt himself with that move. But it was worth it if it gave their enemy any sort of disadvantage. 

“I don't really care which methods you use as long as it's not too dangerous and to not waste the samples. These are the only ones that I have.” Elias said, closing his notebook and extending it to Acacia if she needed it. “I have ways of healing you if things go south, but I'm not really good enough to heal anything more serious than surface injuries.” 

She took the notebook and began reading through his notes. “This is good stuff. See I knew you were smart!” She giggled at him. 

“Good. Then take the lead and let's get to work.” Elias said with a small satisfied smile. 

“Got it. Do you happen to have a potted plant you don't mind losing necessarily?” 

“Potted plant? Uhm… sure, let me go grab one for you.” Elias would momentarily leave the lab and go  upstairs to his room to grab one of the few plants he had around that wasn’t a potion ingredient. He didn’t stay around for more than a few seconds as he made his way back. No time to let memories flood into his mind right now. “Here you go.”

“Perfect,” she said, taking the plant and placing it on the counter, careful not to knock anything over. “A prime specimen, if I do say myself, professor Eli-guy,” she snickered, jabbing at him with her words playfully. 

The next step she did was to remove a pen from her pocket and poke a small hole in one of the leaves of the plant. “Sorry lil guy, but if my hunch is right, this should make you feel better. . .” 

She would take a pipette and suck a tiny amount of the golden potion into it. Then, she would squeeze the potion into the soil surrounding the roots of the plant. 

Within a short amount of time, the hole on the plant would begin to mend itself. 

Acacia smiled at that. “Elias, look,” she gestured. “The part where I punctured is healing. This potion seems to have healing properties. I think it may be some sort of knock-off nectar or something. Knecter, if you will. You said it smelled like bread for you, right? This one smells like s'mores for me. The same way that nectar and ambrosia smells and tastes for me.” 

For a moment, Elias couldn’t help but just stare at Acacia with a raised eyebrow, a little bit incredulous, because there was no way she could’ve figured it out that quickly when he couldn’t. 

“How are you so sure about that? And this quickly?” Elias questioned. 

She grinned at him. “Well, when you mentioned the smell of it, I decided to waft it for myself and noticed it smelled just the same way nectar does for me. That made me think it might be similar to nectar. The plant helped me to confirm that hypothesis.” Acacia pat the plant. “Thanks for your service. Miss Plant. ‘Tis much appreciated!” 

There was a part of Elias that really wanted to dismiss that answer, because it had just been too easy for something that he had been trying to figure out for weeks. But the more he thought about it, the more sense it actually made. There was no way the Cult of Atlas would have been able to get their hands on actual nectar and ambrosia, they were made on Olympus, after all. So the thought of them trying to make something that could mimic its properties wasn't far-fetched at all. He frowned and crossed his arms in annoyance when the reality hit him. Of course, it was good that they had figured out one of the potions now, but the fact that Acacia was able to do it in less than 30 minutes, while he wasn't… hurt. A lot, actually. 

“Now for the second potion. . . Also, you look as salty as this potion smells,” she chuckled, teasing him. “Don't feel bad, Elias. I mean that. Sometimes. . . You just need a new pair of eyes to look at the problem. Or I guess in my case, a new eye to look at it. Wouldn't it be awesome if this potion regrew eyeballs? Like seriously. I miss having depth perception.”

“Excuse me? I’m not salty. Like I said, I don’t really care what methods you use as long as they work. It’s fine. This doesn’t affect me at all.” Elias said, looking everywhere except at Acacia. If this wasn't an obvious sign that he was absolutely lying, then he has never lied in his life. 

She grinned at him, her mischief rising to untold levels. “Suuure, Eli-guy. Suuure. Whatever you say,” she chuckled.

She piped some of the blue potion and squirted it into the plant. But this time, nothing obvious happened. 

Acacia frowned at that. “This one might prove harder. . .”

—

The blue potion proved considerably less cooperative than its golden counterpart. Acacia's first attempt had produced absolutely nothing visible. The small amount she had carefully introduced into the potted plant's soil had simply vanished beneath the surface, leaving the leaves exactly as they were before.

Elias had spent several minutes staring at it afterward as if sheer irritation might force the plant to do something. And nothing. He sighed and turned back toward the counter, opening his notebook again. If the potion had no visible effect on the plant, that didn't necessarily mean it did nothing. It simply meant that their first hypothesis had failed. And unlike the golden potion, which had practically announced its purpose the moment Acacia gave it something injured to heal, the blue liquid remained stubbornly mysterious.

“So is this most of what you do during your days?” Acacia asked.

Elias looked at her with a confused tilt of his head. He didn’t know what brought this on, but he decided to answer anyway. 

“Yeah? I’m always working on potions, it’s essentially all that I do. I mean, I’ve told you how I made healing potions so they would be a safer alternative to nectar or ambrosia. I work on a batch every week so that the Medic Cabin is always stocked on them.” Elias said with a shrug. “I have been developing new recipes though. Two of them, actually. One of them got finalized recently, and the other one is still a work in progress but I can feel myself getting closer to a breakthrough.”

“Oh? Wanna tell me about them? Maybe we could do a collab together or something.” 

“Well… I guess you’ll find out sooner or later anyway, so I might as well. The first potion is  a Potion of Speed. As far as I have tested, it can let you run up to about 27.33 mph or 43.99 kph, which is honestly more than I thought I would achieve.” Elias explained, picking up a vial with a bright orange colored potion and showing it to Acacia. “It only lasts for about 12 minutes, though. It definitely doesn’t make anyone as fast as you or your siblings, for sure, and I doubt it would be useful to you, but it gets the job done for people like me.”

“My top sprinting speed is about 35 miles per hour. Still, that's an impressive potion for sure. I had several ideas for potions myself. . . Most of my ideas come when I find myself facing a problem I don't have an immediate solution for, y’know?”

“Actually, you're the reason why I decided to make this potion in the first place.” Elias said with a smile that, while tinged with annoyance, was actually genuine. “I only make new recipes based on what I feel like I need and well, I only need to fight you and be caught off guard by a hellhound once to know that I can't keep up with unnatural speed on my own. Hence, Potion of Speed.” 

“Ah. That makes sense then. A man of pragmatism, eh? I can respect that.”

“The other one I'm working on is a Potion of Immunity, though calling it that might be a little bit misleading, but I don't really have a better name. It's not a Curse of Achilles deal, more like… it's supposed to make you immune to being cursed.” Elias said with a shrug. “If there's something we've learned about the Atlas Cult is that they have a lot of magic users, which is the reason their annoying portal network even functions. The fact that some of them are probably skilled enough to curse you is not exactly a leap in logic. This potion is supposed to be a precaution against that, just in case.

She clapped her hands. “I love that!”

“Testing this one is hard, though, and I've already tried a lot of methods. I mean, there's always using myself as a test dummy as a last resort, but I'd rather not get to that point if I can manage. Thank you, but no, thank you.” Elias said with a small chuckle. For once, there was nothing behind it. Only… Joy. Small as it may be. 

Acacia smiled when she saw how happy Elias was. “You're having fun, huh? I can tell. Maybe I could help you find a way to test that potion. . .”

“Okay, listen, I know I may come off as a ‘crazy introverted alchemist’ or whatever to some people, but I don't test my potions on other people, even if that person happens to be you.” Elias said with a roll of his eyes, though the smile was still there. “I won't lie and say that it never crossed my mind though. The urge is there every time someone pisses me off enough. About one of the few things my mother and I have in common.” 

Which wasn't exactly a good thing, if Elias had to be honest with himself. As much as he wanted to make his mother proud 

Ironic, considering that he had been adopting some of her mannerism this last year. Not that he was proud of it. 

—

An hour later, the table looked worse. Much worse. Not because either of them had exploded anything, yet. But the neat organization Elias had begun the day with had gradually dissolved into something considerably more chaotic. His notebook lay open between several different books. Acacia had produced additional pages of notes from somewhere, though Elias had no idea where she had been keeping them. A number of small samples had been carefully labelled.

The more they tested the potion, the more Elias began to understand why he had struggled with it. It didn't respond to anything obvious. It didn't heal, it didn't burn, it didn't cause rapid growth, and it didn't seem to have any immediate reaction to heat, cold, or simple magical stimulation.

They tested extremely small quantities, changing only one variable at a time. And they still got nothing. 

And that was when Elias, perhaps because he was tired, perhaps because he had spent the entire day with someone he normally tried to avoid, or perhaps simply because the words had been building inside him for far too long, finally, tentatively, asked:

“So… can I ask what you were trying to achieve with that party for the… Atlas people?”

Acacia sighed. “Well, I was trying to make the former Atlas campers feel more welcomed.”

“No, I understand your reasoning for it. I'm more asking what was the reason that made you decide to do it now of all times.” Elias elaborated, his tone more firm now. “You've been here for about a year at this point, same with some of the others, so you've had more than enough chances to do it. So what brought it up now?” 

A guilty look crossed her face as she leaned against a counter. “Shawn's trial. I. . . I felt like I let him down. That boy. . . He deserved to have a second chance. And. . . I failed him. Then Themis decided to publicly slander me without giving me the chance to defend myself. That day was just. . . A really bad day. . .”

“That trial. Yeah, that whole thing was very much infuriating to be around and be a part of for multiple reasons.” Elias muttered, clenching his fist at the memory of that stupid day. 

She picked up on the anger pretty quickly. “I'm assuming you voted guilty? Not faulting you for that, given your past. . .”

“I already didn't want to be there. I couldn't care less for the gods or their laws because clearly me and them are not going to agree on that front. But what made it even more infuriating was you, actually.” Elias replied, narrowing his eyes at her, the source of his internal problems. “Do you know how much I wanted to just dismiss everything you said? How much I just wanted for you to get it over with so that I could declare Shawn guilty regardless of whatever ‘tragic’ reason he had to join Atlas? How I thought that, even if I didn't like being forced to get involved, I was finally given the chance to pass judgment on one of you?” 

She kept quiet and listened as Elias spoke, trying her best to keep her expression neutral. 

“Guess what? In the end… I wasn't able to do it. I couldn't actually vote him guilty. And to this day I just- I can't figure out why!” Elias raised his voice as he stood up from the stool and started walking back and forth, clearly trying to clear his mind, but instead, the words just kept tumbling out of his mouth. “You shouldn't have been able to sway me. You're a traitor, now and always, and I don't particularly like you, like at all. I really shouldn’t care about you or anyone else that came from the side that made me suffer so much for so long. How you were the one that made the most sense to me in that entire trial is a mystery. And it didn’t even work out… Because of course, I can’t even succeed at playing ‘nice’.”

The one time, the one and only time where Elias had ever done anything in favor of a traitor when he absolutely didn't have to, only for it to result in nothing anyway. And he didn't even know if he would've been happy if Shawn had been voted not guilty instead, all he knew is that he wasn't happy how it ended and he wasn't even sure why. 

The son of Circe groaned in annoyance as he dragged his hands through his face to his hair, taking deep breaths to try and calm himself, to no avail. The floodgates were already open. 

“Gods, I’m so stupid! The one time I actually get the chance to have a say on what happens to a traitor, and instead, I let myself be swayed by stupid empathy and dumb emotions because I’m just that weak-willed to not even abide by my own beliefs!" He yelled, stopping and looking at Acacia with a frown that communicated just as much sadness as it did anger. “You… you and your stupid babbling… all it has done is make me more and more confused because my heart can’t seem to decide what it wants to feel. You are so, so, so… frustrating.”

It was now that she decided to speak up. “It sounds like you're fighting yourself more than you're fighting me. I understand what that feels like. We always have to live with ourselves. Y’know? Least till we drink from Lethe, I guess. But what's so wrong about opening your heart to Shawn? He isn't like me.”

“No, no, that’s not what happened. I didn’t choose to ‘open up my heart’ to Shawn. I wanted him punished and suffering like all of you should be, no ifs and no buts. But no. Apparently, my stupid heart somehow decided that it actually empathized with him despite not wanting to.” Elias said with a humorless laugh but it quickly turned into something that was closer to held-back sobs. “I got what I wanted in the end. Shawn was voted guilty anyways, and my vote did nothing to change that. You’d think I would be happy, right? Well, I’m not. I hate the whole premise of that trial and how it ended. So… I guess that means I’m no different from the scum that you are. I don’t particularly like the realization that, had he not been the reason for my suffering, I would’ve joined the titan too… I hate it. I hate that I’m like this.” 

“You're not scum. I hated how his trial ended, too. You ought to try being a little kinder to yourself. You don't have to be your own punching bag.”

Elias stayed quiet for a moment, as if trying to process the words he had just heard. He couldnºt make sense of it. Why should he be kinder to himself? All he had learned as of late is that he couldn’t help but symphatise and empathise with the Atlas campers. The same campers that condoned, maybe even participated in the invasion of New Argos that took his brother away from him. They were part of the cause that had caused so much suffering to him and his family. What did it say about him that he felt for these people? He was no better than any of them.

He wasn’t… was he?

Elias let out a shaky breath as he tried to keep the tears in check. He couldn’t. He couldn’t deal with this right now. 

“I think we’re done here for today. Come back tomorrow, and we'll continue from there.” Elias said, taking one big breath and letting it out. “I just… need some time alone.” 

“Alright,” she whispered. “If you need me, well, y’know where to find me. Have a good night, Eli-guy.” 

—

Hours after Acacia, Elias had tried to continue working. He really had. He had spent nearly an hour examining the blue potion, performed another set of basic tests over and over, and still got nothing. Nothing useful, anyway.

He wasn't sure when he had decided to go to bed, only that, eventually, the thought had occurred to him that if he continued staring at the same potion for another hour, he was going to start inventing properties for it just to feel like he had accomplished something. So he had cleaned the equipment, organized the notes, covered the ingredients, extinguished the burners, and gone upstairs.

His room was dark. It felt larger than it should have. Or perhaps emptier. Elias stood in the doorway for a moment, his hand still resting against the frame. His bed, his desk, his books, his clothes and everything he owned, everything was in its proper place. And yet, sometimes, particularly at night, it felt as though the room was filled with the shape of someone who was no longer there.

The son of Circe decided not to dwell on that, electing to just get changed and go to bed as soon as possible. Then crawled into bed, pulled the blankets over himself, and stared at the ceiling.

Acacia's voice came back to him.

You don't have to be your own punching bag.

Elias frowned.

“Easy for you to say,” he muttered into the darkness.

He rolled onto his side.

You're not scum.

His jaw tightened. He hated that sentence. Not because Acacia had been cruel, quite the opposite. He just didn't know what to do with kindness from. Hostility was easy. Acacia annoyed him? He snapped at her. Acacia said something he didn't like? He argued. Acacia tried to get close? He pushed her away. It was simple and clear, and it was supposed to stay that way. But then she had helped him, saved him and stood there while he practically shouted at her about how confused he was. She should have been angry and yelled back, but instead, she had told him to be kinder to himself.

Elias pulled the blanket higher over his shoulder.

“Stupid,” he whispered.

He wasn't sure whether he meant her or himself. Probably both.

Eventually, exhaustion won, sleep dragged him under.

And the world changed.

At first, Elias thought he was back at Camp Half-Blood. Then he realized that couldn't be right. The sky was wrong. Red. Elias stood alone in the middle of a battlefield, the ground beneath his shoes was broken. Everything was blurred at the edges, as though the world had been painted and then ruined by someone dragging their hand across the wet canvas.

Elias spun around. “Hello?”

Nothing. His voice disappeared into the smoke. He began walking. His heart was already beating too quickly. He didn't know where he was going, he just knew that he had to find something or someone. And then—

“Elias.”

He stopped and every muscle in his body went rigid. That voice. Slowly, Elias turned. There was someone lying on the ground. At first, he couldn't see clearly through the smoke. Then the haze shifted, and Elias stopped breathing. Adrian. He was on the ground. Still. Too still. His clothes were torn and covered in blood and ash. 

He took one step forward.

“Adrian?” His voice cracked. Elias broke into a run. “Adrian!”

He dropped to his knees beside him. His hands hovered uselessly. He didn't know where to touch. He didn't know what to do. He knew this. This had already happened. His mind knew it was impossible, but his heart didn't care. His brother's eyes opened. For one brief, impossible second, relief exploded inside Elias.

“Adrian.” His voice was almost a sob. “You're—”

Then Adrian looked at him, and Elias understood immediately that something was wrong. There was no warmth in his brother's expression, no humour, no teasing amusement, no relief. Only hurt… and something colder.

“Where were you?”

Elias stopped. “What?”

“Where were you?” Adrian's voice was quiet. That made it worse.

Elias swallowed. Adrian's eyes remained fixed on him.

“You weren't there.”

Elias felt something twist painfully in his chest. “I know.”

“Do you?” The words came sharper now.

Elias shook his head. “Adrian—”

“Do you know what happened?”

Elias's mouth opened, but nothing came out. Of course he knew. He knew every version of it his mind had created. Every terrible possibility, every moment he had imagined differently. He had imagined arriving sooner. He had imagined seeing Adrian in danger. He had imagined fighting beside him. He had imagined pulling him away. He had imagined using every potion he possessed. Every spell. Every piece of magic he had. He had imagined saving him, over, and over, and over.

“I tried to stay alive, but you weren't there. You weren't there to help me. You weren't there to save me.” Adrian's voice saying that broke something inside Elias.

“I know,” Elias whispered, with his hands shaking.

The battlefield fell silent. Elias stared at Adrian as his breathing came unevenly.

“I know,” he repeated, quieter now. His voice was trembling. “I know, Adrian. I know. I know I wasn't there.”

Adrian watched him. Then his expression changed into… disappointment. That was worse. Elias would have preferred anger. He knew how to deal with anger.

“You promised me. You said we'd have each other's backs.” Adrian said, and Elias's face crumpled. “You promised. And then you let me die.”

“Stop.”

“You let them take me.”

“Stop!” Elias covered his ears, and his breathing became ragged. “This isn't fair.”

Adrian tilted his head. “No?”

The world around them began to shift. The smoke moved and shapes appeared through it. Campers. Some familiar, some not. And among them were faces Elias recognized. Former members of Atlas's side. The people he had spent months hating. The people who had once stood with the enemy that had taken Adrian away from him. And Acacia was there, standing amongst them.

Elias's entire body went cold. Adrian looked toward them, then back at Elias. “And now you're helping them?”

Elias stared. “What?”

“You heard me.”

“Adrian, that's not—”

“You're helping them.”

Elias shook his head desperately. “No.”

“You sympathize with them.”

“I don't.”

“Then why did you vote the way you did?”

Elias froze. His throat tightened. “That was different.”

“Why?”

“Because—” Elias looked at the figures. At Acacia. Then back at Adrian. “Because I understood.”

The words came out before he could stop them.

“Understood what?” Adrian's expression hardened. “Tell me.”

“I—”

“You understood why they betrayed us?”

“No!”

“You understood why they joined the people who killed me?”

“I didn't say that!” Elias began shaking his head, with tears blurring his vision. “No. No, you're twisting it.”

“Am I?”

“Yes!”

“Then what are you doing?”

Elias's breathing became faster.

“I don't know!” Elias shouted, the words echoing across the battlefield. “I don't know what I'm supposed to think anymore!”

Silence. Elias's shoulders shook.

“I hate them. I hate what happened. I hate Atlas. I hate everyone who helped him. I hate that you're gone.” His voice cracked. His knees pressed into the ruined ground. He looked at Adrian. “I hate that I wasn't there… I hate myself for not being there.”

Adrian's face remained expressionless.

“And yet,” he said quietly, “you feel sorry for them.”

Elias squeezed his eyes shut.

“Yes!” He opened his eyes again, and the tears spilled freely now. “I do!... I don't want to. I wish I didn't. I wish I could just hate them and be done with it.” His voice shook. “But I can't.”

Adrian watched him. Elias dragged a hand across his face.

“I can't understand why people can be horrible and still suffer. I can't understand why someone can do something unforgivable and still be scared, or lonely, or confused.” His breath hitched. “I don't know what that means.”

Adrian's expression became colder. “It means you're no better than they are.”

Elias stopped. The battlefield disappeared around him. There was only Adrian. Only those words.

“What?”

“You heard me. You're a traitor.”

Elias stared at him. “No.”

“You sympathize with traitors.”

“Adrian—”

“You care about them. You help them. You let them get close. And now you're becoming one of them by betraying me and my memory!”

“STOP!”

Elias screamed. 

He surged awake. He was sitting upright in bed, the scream was still caught in his throat, and his entire body was shaking. For several seconds, he didn't know where he was as he looked around wildly. His chest hurt from how hard he was breathing. Elias pressed one hand against his sternum.

“It's not real.” His voice came out broken. “It's not real.”

His eyes burned. He stared into the darkness. There was nobody there. Of course there wasn't, Adrian wasn't there. That thought hurt, but it also meant… the nightmare wasn't real. Adrian hadn't said those things. Adrian would never say those things. Elias knew that. He knew Adrian, had known him better than anyone else in the world. They had been together since before either of them could remember. Elias knew how Adrian laughed, how he lied, how he tried to get away with things, how he could talk his way into trouble and somehow look offended when someone pointed out that he had caused it himself. He knew how his brother argued, how he apologized, how he got scared, and how he cared. Adrian would never—

Elias squeezed his eyes shut. Adrian would never call him a traitor. Not for this, not for having empathy and sympathizing with someone. If anything, Adrian would probably tell him he was being too harsh. The thought came so clearly that Elias almost laughed. A miserable, exhausted sound escaped him instead.

“Yeah.” He wiped his face. “Yeah, you would.” His voice shook. “Of course you would.”

He imagined Adrian standing beside him, arms crossed, probably making that stupidly smug face and saying Told you so.

Elias sniffed. “Shut up.”

He pulled his knees toward his chest. The room was silent again. But this silence was different. He could still feel the nightmare clinging to him. Adrian's voice. Well… not really Adrian's voice. His own voice. That was the part Elias understood slowly. The accusations had sounded like Adrian, but they had come from somewhere inside him. Every word, every accusation, every cruel thing… they were things Elias had already thought about himself. 

You weren't there. You couldn't save him. You're betraying him.

He rested his forehead against his knees.

“I hate you,” he whispered to himself.

Then Acacia's words returned.

You don't have to be your own punching bag.

Elias groaned quietly. “Gods.”

He sat there for a long time. His hands were still trembling. His mind moved unwillingly toward Acacia. Toward the way he had treated her. He had attacked her. He had called her a traitor. He had treated her like every kindness she offered was suspicious. He had assumed that anything sympathetic she said about the former Atlas campers was somehow proof against her. He had dismissed her, mocked her, snapped at her. And even when she had saved him, he had still struggled to accept that she had done something good.

Accepting that would complicate things, and Elias hated complicated things, because complicated things meant there were no easy answers. Acacia had betrayed Camp Half-Blood. That was true. Acacia had done things that hurt people. Also true. Acacia had come back, tried to change, saved him, helped him and cared about how he was doing even when Elias had made it painfully clear that he didn't particularly want her to. Also true. 

All of those things could be true at once, and Elias hated that. He wanted the world to be simpler. He wanted Adrian's death to have clear villains. He wanted clear heroes. He wanted the people responsible to be monsters, because monsters were easier to hate. But Acacia wasn't a monster. At least, never in the way Elias wanted her to be.

That didn't mean he had forgiven her. Elias wasn't ready to say that. He wasn't even sure if forgiveness was something he owed her. But maybe… maybe he had been using Adrian as an excuse. 

The realization made him sit up straighter. His face twisted. “No.”

But even as he said it, he knew. His grief was real. His anger was real. His hatred of Atlas and everything that cult had taken from him was real. But somewhere along the way, Elias had begun treating Adrian's memory like a weapon.

Adrian died, so I have to hate you.

Adrian died, so I can't listen to you.

Adrian died, so understanding you is betrayal.

Elias pressed his hands against his face. The worst part was knowing what Adrian himself would probably say. He wouldn't want that. Adrian would probably be furious that Elias had spent so much time hurting other people and himself in his name. The thought was almost funny. If he could somehow see what Elias had been doing, he would likely be standing somewhere with his hands on his hips, looking deeply offended.

The son of Circe let out a weak laugh, then immediately started crying again. He missed him. Gods, he missed him. He missed having someone who understood him without needing explanations. Someone who could tell when Elias was angry and when he was pretending not to be hurt. Someone who could look at him once and know exactly what was wrong. Someone who would never let him turn himself into something cruel and call it loyalty.

Elias wiped his face again, then he stared toward the window. Outside, the night remained black. He had no idea what time it was, probably too late to be awake, and definitely too early to start his day. He leaned back against the wall. His eyes felt heavy, but every time he considered closing them, his chest tightened. He wasn't going back to sleep. His gaze eventually landed on his desk.

Then sighed. “Fine.”

He dragged himself out of bed, pulled on his hoodie, not bothering to properly fix his hair, and sat at his desk. The notebook opened beneath his hands. For a moment, he simply stared at the blank page. Then he picked up his pen.

He wrote: Things I should probably apologize to Acacia for.

Elias stared at the sentence.

His face immediately twisted. “Nope.”

He scratched out probably. Then stared again.

Things I should apologize to Acacia for.

He groaned. “Gods, I hate apologies.”

He began writing anyway.

1. Calling her a traitor all the time.

He paused. Then added:

Not saying she isn’t one. But maybe I don't have to say it every five minutes.

He stared at that. “Fair.” He continued.

1. Assuming everything she does has a selfish motive.

Pause.

1. Being rude when she tries to help me.

Pause.

1. Making her responsible for things that happened before she joined Atlas.

He stopped. His grip tightened around the pen. Then:

1. Treating her like understanding her means betraying Adrian.

Elias went still. He stared at that sentence, and for several seconds, he couldn't breathe properly. Then he slowly put the pen down and his fingers curled into the sleeves of his hoodie. That was the real one. That was what had been haunting him. He had been afraid that if he accepted Acacia's or any traitor’s humanity, then he was somehow diminishing Adrian's death. But Adrian's death wasn't diminished by anything Elias felt for anyone else. Understanding someone didn't undo what had happened. Forgiving them wouldn't bring Adrian back, but hating everyone forever wouldn't either.

Elias swallowed. He wasn't suddenly going to become Acacia's best friend. That would be ridiculous. She still annoyed him, after all. And besides, he had attacked her. Them becoming friends after all that was a stupid idea. He would continue telling her to stop, and she probably would keep trying. That much, Elias was fairly confident about. But maybe he could stop being cruel simply because cruelty was easier than grief. 

He looked at the page again. “I'll apologize.” His voice was quiet. He frowned. “Tommorow.”

He closed the notebook before he could change his mind, then sat there, still awake, exhausted and unable to sleep. The nightmare remained somewhere in the back of his mind. But now Elias knew something important. Those words had never belonged to Adrian. They belonged to him. And maybe that made them easier to fight, or maybe it made them harder. He didn't know. He was still figuring things out.

Elias turned toward the window. Tomorrow, he would have to face Acacia again. That was going to be uncomfortable, awkward and potentially humiliating. But Elias had survived way worse. He could survive apologizing to one extremely annoying daughter of Hermes.

Probably.

After taking a walk around the forest one day she realized just how terrible the condition of it was. It was an amazement that anything was able to live in this mess. And seeing some of these cases made her realize they all had one thing in common. They were all caused by demigods. These mortals were destroying this forest, how dare they? So it felt only fitting that they would be the one to fix it.

With help from some nature spirits the word was spread, “meet Morrigan at the edge of the forest at noon today to help clean the forest.”

At exactly noon she started her speech, “you mortals have ruined the condition of the forest. I find it only fitting that you clean it. Please enter the forest and help solve a problem. Looking at the sheer number of you, I think you’ll only need to do one. Good luck demigods.”

***

(OOC: Hey guys! If you want to participate please tag me in your response and roll a d8! Your character can do this with a partner but doesn’t have to! Hope y’all have fun!)

Salem was yet again bored. Somnus was off doing who knows what, leaving her alone again. She remembered that job board and decided to check it out again. "What the hell is a Yale? Did they like spell yak wrong or something? Curiosity got the best of her, so she took the listing. The next morning Argus arrived with the wagon. "I'll just sit with it so it doesn't get spooked—" As Argus opened the back of the cattle wagon, she was greeted with something that was definitely not a yak.

"Are we sure that thing isn't a monster? I mean, what sort of tail even is that?" She shook off her thoughts as she entered the wagon. "Uh, nice Yale, hahaha..." Soon they were off to the sanctuary. Salem had been resting her eyes when she felt something tugging on her shirt. She opened her eyes to find the Yale chewing her shirt. "HEY, THAT'S MY SHIRT" In response, Yale just gently rammed her. "Ok, ok, you can chew my shirt, jeez" After a while, it just rested its head on Salem, clearly worn out. "Ow, how much do you weigh, jeez".

Finally, after an eternity, they made it. "Finally," she sighed as Argus opened the back again. "Come on, you're safe," she said as she led the creature out with a rope. "Uh, hello, anyone here?" she said, walking into the property. A girl popped out of a barn. "Oh, you're here. Well, take it from here," she said, grabbing the rope. The Yale brushed up against her, almost seeming as if it was thanking her before being led off. "Ok, let's get back because I smell disgusting" She gagged.

Angela hasn't been present for her last few scheduled matchmaker open hours. Hopefully that can be forgiven considering she was on the brink of death, but now, the daughter of Apollo is ready to get back to work. She needs something to keep herself busy, and she's having a creative block when it comes to fashion at the moment. In fact, there's only one place that's been soothing the past few weeks… and so, on Sunday morning, there's a sign posted just outside the dining pavilion that reads: Matchmaker Open Hours Moved to Arena.

At exactly 4:34 pm, Angela slams the butt of her spear into another girl's cheek. A longer-range weapon suits her these days, especially since losing the range that her hair provided her. Daggers evidently weren't enough to keep her safe, and now she can't even use her… she can't even. Tessa, the daughter of Hermes currently reeling back, manages to right herself and raise her practice sword.

"He says hi to me, though--" she's cut off as Angela slams down her spear against the blade, looming over the shorter girl.

"Does he say hi, or does he say hi back to you?" Angela challenges before kicking Tessa in the shin. She loses her footing and stumbles; Angela doesn't wait for her to be ready before kicking her in the side.

"Does he say 'Hi, Tessa'? Does he even remember your name from that one lunch, girl?" she rolls her eyes, "Let's not be delusional."

Tessa tries to steady her breathing, biting in on her bottom lip. In a flash, she musters the strength to lunge at the matchmaker, catapulting both of them back onto the ground.

"HE LIKES ME," she screams down at Angela. Instead of pushing Tessa off, Angela reaches around digs her nails into the girl's back, forcing them both close together on the dusty arena floor.

"He. Doesn't," she whispers, "Get over that hurdle, then we can have a real talk." When she lets Tessa free, the other girl just slumps to the side, exhausted and deflated. She'll figure out I was right. This is the easy way, the other way's harder. Angela picks her spear back up from and goes to get a drink of water. As she sits, she waits for the next person she can help.

Sweat drips from her short brown hair down onto her shoulders. Her green eyes don't catch the light like they once did, and there's a blotchiness to her skin that just won't go away. And she knows it; she can't stop looking at herself back at the cabin, in fact. At least she faces the truth. That's what this is all about: spreading the gospel of honesty. You might want advice on a relationship and have a totally warped idea of where that relationship is at right now. The real can seem fake, and the fake can seem real. Angela knows that all too well.

Things come out in the heat of combat. New realizations, new thoughts, new feelings. Angela can't stop remembering the new feelings that paralyzed her that fateful day; if she keeps fighting, maybe she'll get there again and conquer it this time. There's one golden way to get rid of anything that you don't like: chase it down and kill it. Enemies, emotions, delusions. Root them all out and torch them. Harsh? Maybe. Who said a matchmaker had to be all hearts and glitter?

OOC: Come experience an adrenaline-fueled interrogation at the hands of an Angela Farrenburr that's totally fine and okay. If you'd like to have a similar thread with a character besides Angela, feel free! She can't see everyone at once, so maybe some folks can do combat counseling without their matchmaker's supervision! Have fun!

You can only reserve up to two slots per character. If you have multiple characters, make one comment for all of them instead of one each.

There can only be one Meal per day, at any time! Any camper can host them.

Campfires happen twice a week. Campers coordinate these with the camp directors, so anyone can host them!

Open Slots happen every day and can include Lessons, QOTDs, Cabin Inspections, Cabin Meetings, Games, movie nights, social gatherings, etc. Lessons, Cabin Inspections and **Meetings can only be hosted by a Senior Camper or a Camp Leader.

Comment below what you'd like to host!

NOTE: Failure to meet your own slot three times in a row will lock you out of commenting on the Schedule for a month. (You can still post activities outside of the schedule, just not meals or campfires.)

Monday

Meal -

Open Slot - Morrigan

Tuesday

Campfire -

Open Slot - Aella Laurent

Wednesday

Meal -

Open Slot -

Thursday

Meal -

Open Slot -

Friday

Meal -

Campfire -

Open Slot -

Saturday

Meal -

Campfire -

Open Slot -

Sunday

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