Fandom hunt for a halfblood

[junegloom]

boom

back at it again

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Camp Half-Blood was the same as it always has been. Summer had just begun and lunch was just wrapping up, so campers were milling about the dining pavilion before heading to whatever activity they were next expected at. Of course, the weather was perfectly pleasant as it always was (unless, for some reason, Mr. D directs otherwise). After the last camper had left the pavilion, the three cleaning Harpies came by to collect the dishes left behind.

Three days ago, a notification was sent via Iris message to select half-bloods who have survived into adulthood and who are capable of embarking on one of the most important quests of their generation. They were informed about the dire situation that Cam Half-Blood has found themselves in and were asked to help. Those who were not already at Camp were requested to arrive today, to get the full story and to learn what will be expected of them. The group gathered in the Rec Room of the Big House with Chiron and Mr. D.

Chiron moved forward to address the group.

"Now, as you all now know, it has been over a year since any newly discovered demigod has arrived safely at Camp Half-Blood. We have identified several, however we have been too late. Some identifications came after they were killed and there have been some who were killed shortly after one of our satyrs made contact. This has caused great concern. Something or someone out there is targeting young demigods, which is why we are entrusting this quest to you all. Of course, finding the forces behind this is of the utmost importance. However, we have located a young demigod— who is alive and well, who must be safely escorted to Camp Half-Blood first. Bree Walsh is a nine-year-old girl who has just been identified by the satyr that is stationed in her school. Normally, we'd entrust her to the satyr, but as you know these are extraordinary circumstances. Fortunately, she isn't far. She lives in Manhattan and I've got both her address and her school's address. Once she is here,

Mr. D, who was lounging in one of the chairs as Chiron explained the situation finally spoke up. Despite his relaxed slouch, and usually lassiez-faire attitude, he sounded quite serious. Far more serious than most campers have ever known him to be.

"You will all leave early tomorrow morning. Use the rest of the day to gather what you need and make any preparations you need."

And with that, the former campers were dismissed.

The night passed without incident and the sun shone brightly over Camp Half-Blood the next morning. Chiron gathered the group for any final questions and to had off the information they would need. With weapons and supplies in hand, the group was sent off on their journey to find little Bree Walsh.

♡coded by uxie♡

 

[junegloom]

Maia had not been at Camp Half-Blood when the notifications had been sent to the adult demigods. Summer was part of the time of year that Persephone was not in the Underworld, so she had been at her father's palace. Of course, she did not stay there full-time in those six months. She would drift between camp and the Underworld. She had been tossing a ball with Cerberus when the Iris message came for her.

Having spent so much of her time at Camp Half-Blood, Maia was well aware of the threat towards the unknown demigods of the world. So, when Chiron told her they had found one alive, she knew she had to leave immediately. Maia was at camp later that same day.

Normally, she would have been excited to see friends, both those she still keeps in contact with and those she hasn't seen in ages, but the pressure of retrieving this child and bringing her back to camp alive hung over her head. However, she noted Clovis' absence with frustration. If this wasn't enough to bring him back, she doubted she would see him again. She pushed that thought away, as it was no help for the matter at hand.

She, surprisingly, slept well the night before the group was set to leave. There was no waking up in the middle of the night, no nightmares that were common for demigods. Just pure sleep. A rarity. She dressed herself in casual clothes, which would make her blend into a crowd, but still allowed her to move freely. Her hair was secured in a single braid, which rested over her shoulder, so that her hair stayed out of her face. Her Stygian Iron sword rested against her left hip, while her dagger was sheathed on her right.

Slinging her well-worn backpack over her shoulder and arrived early in the Rec Room, where everyone met last night and will be meeting this morning. She greeted Chrion and Mr. D with a nod before leaning against the wall, waiting for the others to arrive.

child of hades

maia.

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♡coded by uxie♡

 

[AI10100]

malcolm.

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Malcolm had only thought of Camp Half-Blood passingly for the past year— finding himself extremely busy due to a higher volume of commissions once he had gotten his name out there while also doing a side hustle as a jewelry smith which greatly helped his ability to keep his head above water finance-wise. He had only given Deacon the items the camp needed instead of visiting himself. So it was to his surprise when he received an Iris message relaying crucial information regarding the current state of the camp and to ask for his help. For a moment, Malcolm had thought that he was only being requested to create a new batch of gadgets that could help those undertaking the quest— but it seemed that it was more than that as he was requested to make an appearance to get the full details.

Cautiously, he had texted Cameron about it. Some part of him wanted for her to also be contacted; if anything, to make sure that he knew someone in the group. But a bigger part of him silently wished she wasn't, so that she could keep herself safe. Alas, she had also been recalled to Camp Half-Blood and he told her that he'd see her soon. It looked like their regular meet-ups would have to be pushed to an earlier date.

So, he packed his bags, stuffed them to high heavens with materials and some extra gadgetry he didn't think would be found in Cabin Nine, and headed back to Camp Half-Blood. Thankfully, with his older age and the fact that he was traveling solo, it had been a peaceful ride.

He had arrived on the day that they were asked to come. Malcolm stored his car in a nearby garage that allowed him to park forever if need be and then proceeded to head forward on foot. Once he had arrived, he was almost immediately whisked away to put his things down at his old cabin, awkwardly greeting the young campers there, and then taken to the Big House.

There, they had been debriefed on what had been going on. It was a lot worse than Malcolm thought it was; but still, the others who had gathered for the quest seemed more than capable of undertaking it themselves. But he kept his mouth shut. At least the mission was only to escort a kid back to Camp Half-Blood and maybe that was the end of that. Still, he was a bit apprehensive of this. There were a lot of them— such a large concentration of demigods would surely attract the attention of monsters, no? He remembered how many times they had ingrained the Rule of Three into their heads when they were still attending camp. Maybe it was because they were in such a dire situation that it was best to just group up and fight rather than try to stay under the radar.

But, well, they'll figure it out.

The night passed by without incident and he was thankful for that. It seemed like they would need as much rest as possible. Once morning had come, Malcolm quickly dressed himself in his usual casual clothing and retracted his shield and spear into their passive states— wearing the former as a bracelet and his spear as a ring on his index finger. Once he was sure that he had gotten everything he needed for the trip, he quickly made his way to the meeting place.

"Mornin'."

He greeted with a small wave of his hand upon entering and noticing that other people had already been there.

Before you go

lewis capaldi

♡coded by uxie♡

 

[cherry lips]

Elandra Quinn

Deep blue water pressed against the hull of the great ship, the fabrics of the sails whipped in the wind, and the ropes creaked slightly against the knots they were tied in. Thick dark curls whipped across skin warmed by the sun, dark eyes flecked in bronze and gold as she looked in the distance at the small sliver of land. She took the same path to the camp every summer, her ship coursing through the water with the purpose of entertaining and exciting those she would be mentoring over the sunny months. But this time, she was not there to help train young demigods and fill their heads with stories and songs. She was there to help save one who had not yet been killed by whatever monster was hunting them down.

The Iris message had arrived shortly after Elandra’s departure from Atlantis, the home of her father. It had been a slightly unexpected one but she was pleased nonetheless. She was desperate to find out what had been killing the halfbloods as they made their way to camp, so she didn’t hesitate to head back to camp. Her ship, officially named Jewel of Atlantis, was her home for most of the year as she traveled the world on quests, visiting family, and going to camp. It was a welcomed guest at Camp Halfbloods, a large number of demigods rushing to the shore to welcome her whenever she arrived.

Loud songs often would leave her as she stood at the end of the bowsprit, her voice carrying across the sea’s surface as she wowed the young demigods with her dramatic abilities and performance. But this time she arrived without the exciting songs and music, but a rather composed and serious expression painted on her gentle features. She docked her ship before she gathered her things and made the trek to the Big House, greeting those she saw along the way. She had been quiet when she was debriefed by Chiron of the situation, the gravity of it seeming to dawn on some of the demigods who had gathered.

The quest seemed easy enough, but the fact that nobody knew what or who was killing the demigods made Elandra’s stomach twist softly as she excused herself to settle in her cabin. It was just as she had left it, empty but welcoming. The woman made herself comfortable and allowed herself to rest, knowing that she had to prepare for what she would be encountering the following day.

Dawn came without hesitation and Elandra slept with minimal issues, something she had worked hard to achieve as she aged. She got ready for the day, managing to scarf down some fruit as she secured the blue baseball cap on her head and slung her blue backpack over her shoulder, ready to go on the quest. “Just like the good ol’ days.” Mumbling to herself, the daughter of Poseidon walked across camp to the Rec Room, grinning in greeting as she saw some other demigods gathering.

A friendly greeting was extended to Mr. D and Chiron before she settled next to the quiet blonde. “Hey Maia, you sleep okay?” Her gaze shifted to the other demigods who she greeted with a small wave, not trying to spark up too many conversations at once.

tags: maia junegloom | outfit: 01

coded by cherry !!

 

[cherry lips]

Melanthe Damon

The darkness that surrounded the mansion was all-consuming and almost horrifying to those who dared to enter it or be imprisoned within it. The smell of fear and terror seemed to hang thickly in the air as all one’s senses were affected by the very existence of Tartarus. And yet, there she was, deep within the walls of the Mansion of Night, three Hellhounds at her heels, following her around the building. The sounds of insects crawling about could barely be heard as Melanthe walked, a book held securely by long fingers. She had once again decided to spend the day in the mansion alongside her mother and venture out at night to simply explore and exist. Everyone took a break from Tartarus and Melanthe was no different.

She had received an Iris message the previous day, much to the announce of Nyx who quickly told her child to ignore it, that no good would come of it. The giant goddess had complicated feelings towards Camp Halfblood and had little patience for those who ran it and the audacity that they had to ask her child for a favor. Something that would put her demigod in danger was not a thing that Nyx appreciated. So Melanthe ignored the message and continued on with life, her routine moving without a hitch.

But she quickly received another message as she traversed the halls of her home, this time it detailed the fact that her closest friend was to be going on the quest and Melanthe’s absence would be greatly missed. It was frustrating in part due to the fact that Chiron knew exactly how to get what he wanted, but also because Melanthe knew that she would be seeing demigods she had little to no interest in interacting with. But still, she closed her book and began to walk in the direction of her mother, following the woman’s voice as she looked over some things, mumbling about things that needed fixing.

Her great wings rested against her back, her dark dress glittering with galaxies, eyes bright against the smokey appearance of her skin. “Mother, I received another message. I was told that Maia was requesting me as this quest is one of great importance.” A small snort left the Primordial Goddess as she flipped a page of the book she was looking at.

“Please my daughter, do not make me laugh. We already discussed this, you will not be going back to that camp.”

“I know but this is something that I would like to do now. It seems that they are incapable of figuring out the nuisance that is targeting demigods, and I may be of some use. I am sure it will not take long and I will be back soon.”

Turning around, Nyx crossed her arms, the staggering height difference between the two was quite apparent. Her wings moved in annoyance, a small plume of pure darkness rolling across the floor. “Do not trust those demigods so easily. I am no stranger to the darkness and death that has been finding root in that place so watch your back. I want you back promptly after you finish this little project.”

A small, somewhat unnerving grin formed on Melanthe’s face as she dipped her head in a small nod and quickly departed the room to gather her things. It did not take her long to arrive at Camp Halfblood due to the use of shadow traveling, although it did leave her a bit fatigued, especially as the bright summer sun beat down on her body. As she walked through the camp, the young demigods that saw her seemed to shrink back in fear and discomfort, most likely due to the deep and dark aura that seemed to surround the woman. Living in Tartarus and the Mansion of Night was no easy feat and would change any creature that resided there. Nyx herself was a terrifying woman to behold and could scare anyone into silence just by looking at her. Melanthe seemed to hold a similar effect on those who laid eyes upon her.

When she entered the Rec Room for the first debrief, she naturally found herself glued to Maia’s side, her arms crossed, her expression unmoving and calm. She was unnaturally composed and collected as she conversed with those she knew and departed to the bedroom she had once called home for the summers spent at camp. Unlike most of the demigods and campers, Melanthe took only a couple hours during the afternoon to sleep before she was up for the majority of the night, spending most of the time outside under the moon, various creatures of the night finding her and keeping her company.

By the time the sun had climbed into the sky, she had put pure black sunglasses on, blocking the bright rays of light as she waited for the rest of the quest-goers to get up and head to the Rec Room. While she dressed like any other mortal, she still seemed to be unnerving to those who passed her, the hidden gaze of Melanthe burning into anyone who walked by. Some of her braids were pulled back and pinned up by what appeared to be her dagger, though it had taken its less sharp form so she could use it to style her hair.

Her other primary weapon was hidden on her neck in the form of a necklace with two charms on it, a bow and an arrow. Long painted fingernails tapped against the fabric of her backpack as she sat in a chair up against the wall, long legs crossed, her body relaxed as she waited for everyone to gather. Her eyebrows raised and a small smile graced her face as she saw Maia and Elandra, quietly greeting them with a pleased tone. She saw Maia whenever the woman would be in the Underworld, often visiting her due to the fact that nobody really dared to enter Tartarus, so she had to make the effort to see them herself. But that didn’t matter as this served as a reunion that could last her a lifetime.

tags: maia junegloom | outfit: 01

coded by cherry !!

 

[ForgetTomorroow]

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Protector

Alastor.

mood

Pensive

outfit

outfit

location

location here

interactions

interactions here

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tags here

"Here we go again."

The same bitter feeling from his childhood resurfaced within Alastor as he bounded through the gates, curdling and sloshing in his stomach, trailing up to his throat as acidic rope. It tightened his grimace, pulling his teeth forward and pursed the expression together with the usual resentment. Refusal was not an option when faced with the multitude of his personal feelings and the plethora of possibilities to douse his anger. Yet the old timely obligation and legacy deterred Alastor from making a fool of himself (he wanted to) and his precarious position further prevented any such notions from rising to his knuckles. Fortunately, his belongings were minimal and basic, which made it much easier for him to transition back to camp.

Given that the more important items were stored elsewhere, he had to rely on his memory and mentally map out old routes to retrieve what he needed. His anger couldn't be solely attributed to unfiltered bitterness; a profound sense of guilt also fueled that Alastor didn’t do his job properly (someone said internalising shit made him selfish), and he could see himself internalising another bout concerning his strength. It should have scabbed over, but instead, it lingered in the recesses of his veins, where he continued to compare himself to the rest of the demigods. It persisted in new ways, knocking around in his too-large skull and a voice that wasn’t his own, telling more shit he didn’t need to know, but there was a droplet of truth.

The lack of new younger demigods weighed heavily on everyone's minds and was a constant source of worry for more than just himself. Who could have been behind it? Alastor didn’t know where to start in the grand ocean of mythology, who was pulling for power or what was pulling for more influence. Stemming from his not-too-obvious realization, another troubling thought arose: it could have been anyone. He could theorize about all the possibilities and potential. Yet his dreams couldn’t answer him on that quandary, or the fateful morning to come.

—
The morning commenced with the customary routine; cleansing the darkness into soft trails of pink and purple. The remnants of forgotten promises and regrets chased itself into the fading horizon and Alastor was once more awake. Tugging on the well-worn jeans, Alastor felt the familiar roughness of the fabric against her skin and slipping on the ratty was another routine in itself. One arm and then two — assembling the scraps of wardrobe he hadn’t updated in a while. He could readily confess that he wouldn't be the most visually attractive or remarkable in terms of status at the meeting. It should have bothered him a lot more that morning, but the weight hanging over from yesterday settled him. And his tongue for good measure. No witty quips this time.

Among all the items in his collection, the bag of herbs held the utmost importance in his scheming and plotting for the quest. It accounted for more than what he could do with his abilities. Small and inconspicuous is how he liked his items. His weapon of preference didn’t match in theme, clipped on his belt in its collapsed form and provided a solid presence against his hip. As he approached the room he had visited the day before, he found solace in the act of swinging the bag above his head and squinting upon entering. Some faces he intimately knew from childhood spats and others he formed an amenable relationship with his tempering calmness. A friendly rapport wasn’t unheard for him and his wonderful personality (his mother would roll her eyes), but at least there were some faces he could act civil towards. It steadied him in his stride, leaning himself against the wall and plopping the bag next to his legs.

“I guess hello,” He murmured eloquently, deflating on the word ‘hello’ and thinning his voice out in seriousness. The lines of worry on his countenance twisted and contorted with his response, already expecting the day ahead. Alastor could paint himself as stone, mimic iron and resemble the wood he was standing over. His serious expression and introspective gaze were the only clues to his inner thoughts. The only hints he would reveal in this room.

♡coded by uxie♡

 

[junegloom]

Like every summer since he first arrived, Tristan was at Camp Half-Blood. Once he started as a counselor, he really began to enjoy watching the young demigods grow into their powers and find a place of belonging like he did all those years ago. He had a nice life in the mortal world, he did fairly well for a theatre actor, but he knew he'd never fully fit into the mortal world. Camp always felt comfortable for him, which is likely why he never let it go.

Sure, his father was there too. But, that was a complicated relationship.

With Dionysus being the camp director, he saw him more regularly than the other campers would see their godly parent. Hell, some of them never even met their parent. Tristan did consider himself lucky in that sense, but it was hard when his father never treated him like a son but as another camper. There were moments where he acknowledged the relationship, though they were few and far between. To a degree, Tristan understood. He couldn't play favorites and it wouldn't be fair to the other campers, but he was his son. He deserved to be treated like that as well.

Once he was an adult who worked for the camp, the relationship became slightly more father-son oriented. This gave him more of a window into Dionysus' mind, allowing Tristan to see just how worried his father was about the growing number of demigod deaths. He hid his concern to the campers and other counselors behind feigned indifference and sarcastic quips. Chiron was likely the only other person to know how Dionysus felt.

And the fact that he was worried was what worried Tristan. Earthly situations that concerned the gods were usually not easily fixed.

Despite the gravity of the situation (and how heavily it weighed on his shoulders), Tristan decided to walk into the Rec Room with his head held high and a warm smile on his face. He let out a quiet exhale to release the tension in his shoulders. He nodded in greeting as he passed by old friends and former campers.

"Hey guys. Been a while since I've seen some of you," he greeted with a tone that sounded as if no time has passed. As if they were just gathering for the usual summer of fun.

He stopped next to Elandra.

"Missed your usual songs, Cap."

son of dionysus

tristan.

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♡coded by uxie♡

 

[Digit]

DEACON G.

on a business trip.
do not disturb.

mood: unpaid & unamused

location: camp half-blood

outfit: inconspicuous

tags: ForgetTomorroow , AI10100

This could've easily been an email.​

Or were they still not supposed to touch that? The dos and don'ts of demigodhood were a lot more ambiguous these days, with there being no camp counselors hovering behind one’s every move. Deacon understood the principle of not drawing unwanted attention in the mortal realm, but that was an awfully wasteful way to live life. Surely they didn’t spend years in Camp Half-Blood honing their abilities simply to abandon them and pose as regular people sans access to electronics? By now, he’d half wondered if it was merely a tale spun up by the camp to pry unruly teens off their phones for the summer. After all, Deacon’s recent years of shameless attention-drawing amounted to only a handful of creatures that hardly warranted any mention, and were far less of an inconvenience than trying to survive without a computer to your name.

Nevertheless, he let the contents of the Iris message simmer before acting, waiting to hear back from Hermes about the situation. The logistics and feasibility of taking a break from work was somewhat unclear, and he had a sneaking suspicion that PTO wasn’t an enforced policy among the Olympians. Even after his father got in touch, the biggest takeaway of their meeting was how fortuitous of a marketing opportunity the trip could be. There was a point to be made there, for he came to realize just how many of his former peers did seem woefully ignorant or forgetful of Hermes's convenient and affordable family-owned business.

”But do ensure that our clientele can make it home in one piece.”

With the foreboding message taken to heart, Deacon shifted gears and made for Camp Half-Blood, just as he had done so many times before. The only difference being how much longer and wearisome this particular drive felt, knowing that there wasn’t a hefty sum of change waiting for him at the other end. Even the thrill and excitement of passing through New York City had lost its luster - one could only accumulate so much paraphernalia of Lady Liberty before it started feeling tacky.

And as fond of questing as Deacon was back in the day, the subject matter of the message itself also lacked sufficient shock value. He’d been loosely in touch with the national satyr network for a few months now and well aware of the situation, but there was never the opportunity for him to get his own hands dirty. Yet given how the situation was unfolding, he certainly wasn’t keen or intending on getting them stained with the blood of innocent demigod children. Not quite the best look for the brand.

────⊱⁜⊰────​

Deacon opted to spend the night in the cozy confines of his trusted campervan, not once entertaining the idea of lodging in the cabin he once called home. Though it lacked the safeguards and the protections offered by the campgrounds itself, he’d much rather take his chances with an overnight trespasser than attempt to sleep within reach of his voracious half-siblings. He had nearly woken up on the right side of bed too, but ultimately succumbed to a nagging voice in his head, as was the norm. The reality of traveling with a sizable crowd of people had begun to set in, and he fervently prayed to the gods that some other means of transportation was to be provided. With the poisoned thought unable to escape his head for the duration of the morning, he took extra care to tidy his accommodations, refresh his enchantments, and stash away the stray valuables he had lying around.

He strolled into the Rec Room with one of his knives in hand, if only to have something to fidget with lest his fingers wander too far from his own person. A few others had arrived prior to him, but as he’d already exhausted most of his social battery yesterday on sales pitches, he found himself less inclined to engage with those he already deemed lost causes. It was nothing personal, but conducting any sort of business in the Underworld (or any mythological realm, for that matter) seemed just a tad above his pay grade.

En route to securing a seat, Deacon caught a glimpse of a face he knew all too well - that of Alastor's, who was stiffly standing vigil over the room. It was only fitting that the overbearing guide volunteered his protection for the mission, as unnecessary and unwanted his company often was. But as eye-rolling and headache-inducing each encounter was, Hermes’s reprimands echoed in Deacon’s head, reminding him that there was no such thing as a bridge worth burning. Especially not a bridge that paid upfront in full.

Deacon paused his advance in front of Alastor, his eyes scanning the other’s uncomfortably tense posture. “Weird-looking statue we've got here,” he dryly remarked.

He had no sooner spoken the words than he made his escape, trying to postpone the confrontation that would inevitably be in store. He skipped over some steps to grab a chair, but not before momentarily dropping by his actual favorite customer: the good and reliable Malcolm.

Or so he had thought.

It was rather a startling surprise to discover that the supposedly overworked and overscheduled man was in fact, quite capable of driving himself over to camp without a hitch. Though it wasn’t Code Red just yet, it became Deacon’s self-appointed mission to quickly nip any funny ideas in the bud. He greeted Malcolm with a pat on the back, letting his sunglasses slide down an inch to reveal a mostly amicable, yet subtly pointed gaze.

“Geez Mal, you’re looking a little worse for wear there, buddy. Must’ve had a rough trip over, I'm guessing?” Deacon’s brow raised at the question as he played with his knife much like how one would spin a pen in boredom. The weapon ultimately came to a rest and settled comfortably between his fingers, its pointed blade waving at Malcolm as if he was attempting to chastise a misbehaving student. “And you know how dangerous it is being on the road without proper rest - are you getting nearly enough sleep these days?”

code by valen t.

 

[reverice]

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daughter of demeter

amie

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Alastor

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ForgetTomorroow

Amaryllis' hair is in a proper ponytail this time, with an actual scrunchie, gifted by one of the younger campers. One of the last ones to arrive at camp, before they all stopped coming altogether. She hadn't noticed this problem at first, but once she did, it hasn't left her mind since. Of course, she immediately discussed her worry of the dwindling number of newcomers to Chiron. She was given reassurance, but that didn't sate her worry nearly enough, and she kept bringing it up to both him and Dionysus until they agreed to make sure she stays on the loop for this matter. Once the mere thought of a quest to retrieve and guard a young demigoddess to the safety at camp was put out, she immediately volunteered to go. Not that she needed to, as she was going to be asked anyway, having fulfilled the little criteria of the personnel to be assigned this very important quest. Her third ever quest. Though the girl was not so delighted thinking of who some of her quest-mates will be, she understood how grave of a matter this was and pushed her personal pettiness aside. Surely now that they're all adults, mere childish quips would be long forgotten. Oh, but who exactly was she trying to fool? Of course it's going to be tense, or awkward, at the very least.

She's been even more of a nutjob than usual with keeping busy the last three days from this mount of sudden stress. If she's strung any higher, she might just snap in two.

Earlier, not unlike the others during debrief, Amie was mostly quiet, watching the weight of the situation dawned on some others, the way it did her months ago. If anything were to unify the lot of them, half-bloods lucky enough to reach adulthood, who were spread throughout the mortal and divine realms, it truly would take a matter this dire. That afternoon, when she was barely keeping it together, she turned to gardening to ground herself, only stopping shy of overworking her muscles. She was so zoned in she missed dinner and its preparation too, though luckily one of the dryads noticed her unusual absence and kept a plate aside for her.

She was thankful the night passed without any incident. Though not for her in particular, for she was one of the unfortunate half-bloods still laden with nightmares, which caused her to wake up far before dawn. Unable to go back to sleep, she decided to chase her nightmares away with a quick gardening session, which was not the smartest thing to do in the dark of the early early morning, moreover considering the day ahead of her. But she had to keep her hands busy; "dirtying" her hands were the best distraction there is, as time seems to fly by, just her, nature, and the symphony of chirps and birdsong to keep her company.
After a brief cold shower, she got dressed up, packed her questing essentials: a couple breakfast burritos, in case she or anyone else got hungry with no time to grab a quick bite (she has had some herself, of course), a change of clothes, and her weapons. The latter items were fashioned as a pair of charms hung on her bag, rather than stored inside, for easier access; a lesson she'd learned the hard way a few years past.

⸙ ⸙ ⸙​

Her ponytail swished side-to-side throughout her walk to the Rec Room, forcing her to acknowledge it might not have been the smartest decision to put her hair up that way today. Perhaps it was her wishful thinking that there would not be fighting immediately during the first few hours of the mission. Though she just let it be now, let it swish away, too preoccupied by her perturbations to fix it as she neared the Big House.
She was not surprised she was late in comparison to a bunch of her peers, who were already spread throughout the Rec Room. She entered, sending polite smiles their ways, some only half-heartedly. She gave Chiron a nod and a brief,

"Good morning,"

before approaching Alastor, the only other person still standing in solitary.

"Been up to any trouble lately?"

she joked.

 

[opaline]

cameron lindström

daughter of aphrodite

To say Cameron was reluctant was possibly the world's greatest understatement. Like, genuinely.

She'd concede perhaps that was a touch dramatic, but it certainly felt that way. The light glinted off the misty water, creating an eye-catching prismatic reflection — and it was gorgeous, the little rainbow would be the sort of supernatural sign a mortal would take as a lucky day. But Cameron knew better than a subpar public bubbler on her morning run randomly spraying in such a way, and as though on queue the message came through Iris.

The actual contents of the message, however, caught her unaware.

Demigods not arriving to camp was the natural outcome of a bad hand (that is, the reality of their birth), though satyrs being incapable of even finding any? Was there a chance the gods had miraculously decided to stop having kids? No. Monsters more violent? Maybe. Most of her own encounters were of the short conversation variety, her charmspeak laced into the honeyed words. Suddenly, her fleeting ties with demigod life left her wanting and she felt her hands twitch in request to curl around the hilt of a dagger.

And then came the text from Mal. Thank the gods. Her heartstrings had already been pulled, but knowing he was also invited to this uniquely curious quest meant it wouldn't be entirely horrible. And so, Cameron Lindström shuffled a few things (meaning she left a brief 'I'm out of town' note, which she knew wouldn't be entirely unexpected by her clients), and found herself paying for a plane ticket about an hour later. Cam was always ready to leave in a moment's notice, it almost felt like she was prepared.

Naturally, Cam had ensured she was in a window seat, her mind wandering as the terrain rolled past thousands of feet below. It'd been years since she'd been to Camp. And she had never even been on a quest which, admittedly, was a deliberate choice. She'd declined requests to go on quests countless times, but demigods always kept asking. But they were years out of Camp and her lack of expertise on top of lack of involvement with Camp or demigod life generally in her adulthood made the request puzzling. Also dreadfully inconvenient — gods, how long would the quest last? Staring absent-mindedly to the horizon gave no definitive answer, nor did biting the inside of her lip, but at least the view of New York City itself offered a hint of value.

I should visit more, she thought.

━ ♡ ━​

Camp hadn't changed. The strawberry fields brightly coloured thanks largely to Demeter's kids, and the clustered cabins stood proud, but Cam's path that morning was directly to the Rec Room, where they'd agreed to gather.

Cam strolled in and flopped into an armchair that sunk a little more than expected. "This is truly the most unexpected demi-god reunion," she announced to no one in particular. Though a quick scan revealed some of the strongest demigods of their generation were gathered in the room, and also the most experienced in questing or helping the gods in adulthood. She knew Deacon was a glorified delivery boy for Hermes, and that Maia diligently worked for her father, too, and the rest of them seemed to all have various ongoing Camp Half-Blood obligations she'd learned about mostly through Mal. The gnawing sensation knitting itself deep in her gut had her fingers twisting the golden ring around.

Alastor leant on the wall, and Cam couldn't help her eyes being drawn to his clothing, noting a detour to a thrift store would be ideal if they could squeeze it in amongst the probably more important obligations. He stood next to Amie - whose style was not to Cam's own taste, but she would always appreciate an aesthetic.

"I'd love to know what's happening with everyone but somehow I feel like we'll have plenty of time to catch up on the road." Her last few words dragged a bit, but otherwise her sentiment was genuine. Cam wanted to at least try focus on the task at hand, throwing a knowing glance Mal's direction. "So, is there an actual plan?"

mood: Reluctant? Eager? Somewhere in the middle.
outfit: Tried to be quest-appropriate
location: Rec Room.
tags: AI10100