Fantasy 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗥𝗨𝗟𝗘 𝗢𝗙 𝗠𝗔'𝗔𝗧

[natasha.]

the rule of

ma'at

natasha x reveriee

 

[reveriee]

mood :

pretty neutral, but with an underlying feeling of morose anxiety

location :

JFK Airport --> Camp Duat

outfit :

tags :

arlo ( natasha. )

Musabyimana

;; pierre

hey maman. i'm taking a week off from university to go back to camp. i wanted to let you know, love you

Jean-Pierre???

Why are you returning to your camp right now??

It is not even summer break, you will fall behind on your assignments

skylar passed away recently.

Skylar? Who is Skylar??

you dont remember, maman? the crazy bookworm with the pink hair ..

... I do not believe you have spoken to your camp friends in a while Jean-Pierre

I cannot recall

Poor child

I send my wishes to their family

Do not feel the obligation to return earlier for university, Jean-Pierre

Family is more important than school

The sky was gray.

Mottled with the colors of an impending drizzle of metallic rain, Pierre wryly found the weather rather fitting for the occasion. The sky was too pale to carry the beauty of a coming storm; the blinding sunlight shone through the clouds, searing at Pierre's eyes unpleasantly as he stared out the airport's grand windows, waiting for his luggage to come down the carousel.

I'll have to take the metro, Pierre mused to himself, watching the repetitive cycle of suitcases passing by. But first I'll have to take the AirTrain, and then I have to transfer . . .

The thoughts were useless. Pierre, being Pierre, had already lined out his entire transportation plan, along with a few backup plans in case there were some complications (as there always were, in the horrors of JFK airport). Pierre would never leave something so significant to the last minute.

However, if anything, the thoughts were soothing; repeating his familiar plans to himself over and over again was far more preferable than ruminating about Skylar's death, or letting his thoughts wander towards a four-letter name beginning with an "A" and ending with an "O."

It was unlike Pierre to avoid the inevitable; this time, however, as he stood in the middle of JFK airport, Pierre Musabyimana realized that he was about to face the full brunt of his mistakes. Individually, they were minuscule, but the passing years had allowed the fallout to accumulate until they formed a monster even Pierre hesitated to confront. He was a bad friend, he admitted that at least; after he turned eighteen and went to uni, he left his old life behind, and the friends that came with it. His most recent text from Arlo was the first in months, and it was to inform him of Skylar's death. He didn't even know how Skylar died -- did they have some chronic health condition that Pierre was too distant to find out about? Or did they get into a spontaneous car accident? Or even worse, Skylar may have fallen victim to a thing of the godly realms -- something Pierre purposefully removed himself from after his days at Camp Duat were over.

Pierre was rarely unsure of himself. He was aware of his goals and aware of their moral questionability at times, but he had accepted them as part of what he wanted to achieve in life. But facing Skylar's dead body after his abandonment, and facing Arlo after the passing of one of their mutual friends? Well, Pierre could safely say that he never had to handle such a situation during the previous instances where he had to face the consequences of his actions. The worst of it were usually hurt feelings or harm inflicted by Pierre in some unintentional, careless disregard -- easy to fix and easy to move on from.

Death was not easy to move on from. Death was a looming presence, a half of a whole, an inevitable end. It wasn't something Pierre could fix and turn away from.

The flash of the bright gold sash tied to the handle of his suitcase shook Pierre out of his reverie. He grabbed the luggage and went on his merry way.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘​

Standing in front of Camp Duat felt like standing on the precipice of fate.

Pierre was a lone figure, a tall expanse of mortal, clothed with a long, dark trench coat. He stood out so starkly from the warm families and giggling children he had passed by on the way.

Why am I so doubtful? Pierre grumbled to himself. I'm Pierre Musabyimana -- I've never been anxious in my life.

And with that, he entered. Pierre's eyes wandered around the camp, a place so familiar yet so distant at the same time. The typically confident man felt absurdly out of place in an area he had spent a great deal of his childhood living in.

Hopefully, he would find Arlo and approach her first, and not the other way around.

coded by reveriee.

 

[natasha.]

mood :

Feeling a lot of different things right now.

location :

Camp Duat.

outfit :

tags :

Pierre
[ reveriee ]

de santos

;; arlo

Arlo felt Skylar's death before she officially got the news.

She'd had cryptic dreams revolving around it the night before, and while demigod dreams usually meant something more, she didn't think much of it. Not at the time. Arlo could barely make sense of what she was seeing, and it didn't help that her father appeared in the same dream. The last time she had a dream like that was right before her brother died. In hindsight, it should have been a big clue, but Skylar always thrived. They were confident and fierce and had experienced many dangers alongside Arlo. The life they led wasn't an easy one, and there was always a risk involved, but Arlo never thought that the last time she saw Skylar would be the last time.

The next night she woke up drenched in cold sweat. She'd been dreaming, but she couldn't remember what it was. All she could focus on was how she felt. It was like a string inside her had just snapped. She'd been cut off from another living person, and the only name that came to mind was Skylar's. Honestly, when she woke up feeling the way she did, Arlo originally assumed that something had happened to Pierre. She hadn't seen him in so long, and even if she was a little sour about the lack of communication since he left, Arlo was terrified at the thought of losing him. There was some relief in knowing it wasn't him, but that relief was shortlived.

The rest of that night was a blur, and though she already knew the truth in her heart, the news was announced shortly after breakfast the next day by their camp director, Abta. After that, there was one person that came to mind: Pierre. Nobody else was going to tell him, and Arlo knew he was the only person who'd understand what she was going through, because he'd likely feel the same once he got the news. Even if they hadn't spoken in months, she needed to let him know. What he did with that news was up to him but she made up her mind, headed back to her cabin, and texted him. The use of phones was always discouraged, and while Arlo usually took that rule seriously, this was an exception.

Arlo had sent that message a while ago, but she still felt the same. She suffered from sleepless nights because she was scared of waking up and feeling that way again, and she didn't want to see what dreams — or nightmares, rather — were in store for her. Her brother hadn't shown up since she got the news, and she couldn't tell if it was something his spirit was doing or if it was her own doing. She'd been pretty emotionally charged the past few days so she figured something was happening that was out of her control. The bright red poppies that were always in full bloom around her cabin were now wilting. Arlo made an effort to continue on with her role as mentor in the camp but it was going to take time for her to get back to normal. It didn't help that she had only herself to digest all of this with.

Part of her was waiting for Pierre to show up, but another part dreaded it. She was half convinced that he wasn't going to show, but she'd convinced Abta to hold off on the memorial's and tributes for at least a week, figuring that if Pierre was coming, he'd need at least that long to do so. Even if he'd barely been in contact with Skylar since he left, it didn't feel right to go through with everything without him. He'd been close friends with Skylar too.

Arlo hadn't been very responsible when it came to keeping track of the days that passed. Everything seemed to move slowly, and she was doing her best to keep it together for the younger demigods she was meant to be in charge of, but it was hard. Things only brought about a sudden change later that afternoon while she worked on a painting in her cabin. She'd been trying to express herself through her art since Skylar's passing but for some reason it wasn't working. At least, not in the way art therapy usually worked when Arlo needed to deal with something. She'd been in the middle of sketching an outline on an empty canvas when a shabti knocked on her door to inform her of Pierre's arrival. She'd asked as many of the clay servants as she could to keep an eye out for him so she could be the first to be alerted to his presence. Now that he was actually here, Arlo felt a whole lot of other things on top of the grief, and she wasn't sure which emotion to address first.

Deciding to push everything down for now, Arlo took off her painting smock and stepped outside her cabin. The sky was overcast, and she was sure it would rain soon. The camp's magic usually prevented that but everyone was feeling a little low since Skylar's death had been announced, and those emotions often affected the camp's magic. Arlo didn't dwell too much on it as she made her way toward the camp's entrance. She knew Pierre would likely come and find her eventually, but sitting around and waiting wasn't something she did well so she hoped to catch him along the way.

Sure enough, she spotted him after a bit of walking. He seemed to get taller as she approached, and it made her realise that she hadn't done much growing since they last saw each other. The entire way over, she wondered what she'd say since she was seeing Pierre after so long. Now that she was finally in front of him, only one thing came to mind. "I didn't think you'd come."

coded by reveriee.

 

[reveriee]

mood :

ha, a lot of shit ...

location :

Camp Duat

outfit :

tags :

arlo ( natasha. )

Musabyimana

;; pierre

"I didn't think you'd come."

Well. That was certainly never the impression one wanted their friends to have of them, but Pierre noted to himself, with a wry sort of disappointment, that Arlo’s words were exactly what he was expecting. Ever since he heard of Skylar's passing, Pierre would occasionally catch himself thinking about how unusual it was for him to leave school abruptly, even especially if it concerned his friends from days past. One could even say that it was completely out of character, and Pierre -- someone who had never gone through a teenage phase of immense self-doubt, someone who blazed a path with a fire so unrelenting that it was nearly frightful -- well, he felt guilty.

He never expected that.

The smile Pierre gave Arlo was sombre, poorly masked with a layer of unsteady blitheness. Pierre was self-aware, but in all honesty, he didn't like to admit his flaws. If Arlo was anyone else and if they were meeting for any other reason, Pierre probably would've scoffed and made a pointed, passive-aggressive statement about the other's poor judgement before moving on. But this was Arlo and Skylar was dead, and Pierre couldn't bring himself to employ his usual lofty defenses.

"Yeah, I've been busy lately. University and all."

A heavy pause lingered in the air. Pierre pursed his lips, hesitating before continuing.

"I've . . . neglected my past." Pierre struggled to elaborate. All the words in the world were running through his mind, but he couldn't bring himself to force them out of his mouth. He continued. "I guess it's too late to make up for that."

Of course it is, Skylar's dead. If there was a single moment in Pierre's life where he didn't know what to say or do, it was now.

He didn't even know what to think, and that was beyond terrifying in itself. Death was different to everyone, especially demigods. People like Arlo and Pierre had completely opposite experiences with it; for Arlo, a daughter of Anubis, the line between life and death was arguably more blurred. But Pierre was like the earth below one's feet -- absolute and resolute. For him, life and death were the black and white of a world with no grays. They were separate worlds, separate states of being, and the border that separated them was as fixed as the northern star. One day, Skylar was in the realm of the living, and the next, they were gone. Completely, utterly, gone.

How does one approach something so drastic?

"How did they die?" the words stumbled out of Pierre's mouth unprompted. His mouth had run dry from his constant thoughts about Skylar. It was like eating sand, but he couldn't stop -- not now, not after what he had done before. "What happened to them? How could they suddenly . . ." Pierre trailed off.

It had occurred to him many days ago that Skylar's death could've been completely predictable. Maybe they were ill and only had a few months to live -- in that case, their death was expected. But how would Pierre know? He had left this life of magic and mythos behind, and his friends lingered, lost and nearly forgotten, alongside it.

Pierre didn't know if he regretted anything more.

coded by reveriee.