"we are unusual and tragic and alive."
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weighed down by sorrow, haunted by grief.
[the lost hero - blood of olympus]
[a narcisa silva stand alone]
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"we are unusual and tragic and alive."
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NARCISA SILVA HAD NOT planned to stay at Camp Half-Blood after the Battle of Manhattan. The blood, the bodies, the screams, the death, had remained imprinted in her mind and haunted both her dreams every night since and her daily life because the trauma found her imaging her dead friends standing before her, only to find nothing in the place of bloody corpses when she blinked. Being at camp hadn't had the positive effect on her that it had on her siblings. No, it only worsened the tremor in her hands and the plummet of her emotions.
But, Camp Half-Blood had been her year-round home for nine years, so she hadn't anywhere to go, but she knew she didn't want to stay.
Annabeth had begged her not to go, and Narcisa couldn't even find it in herself to want to, even for her oldest friend. But, it was Jem who woke to find his sister quietly packing a duffle in the middle of the night, and he forced her out onto the porch. Somehow, Mitch and Virgo ended up out there with them, and the four had cried and laughed until the sun began to break the horizon. Against her better judgement, Narcisa did not leave that night.
She faded into the shadows of Cabin 10 after she'd refused to step up and take on Silena's former role of cabin counsellor, allowing Drew to take the mantle, her night terrors slowly worsening and the ghosts of the war following her.
It had only been a few months since the war; she still woke in fits of panic, tears in her eyes and screams lodged in her throat from the memories she couldn't even escape from in her dreams.
She couldn't blame her siblings for trying to act as though the war had not happened, but sometimes she wanted to scream herself hoarse because they'd just lost friends, their siblings, and yet, they were cheering for another heart stomped upon, all in the name of tradition and passage rites.
Narcisa was disgusted by love. It upset her, brought along far too many bad memories and nary any good. Given who her mother was, the irony wasn't lost on her.
She had witnessed far too many of her siblings get into relationships and charm their partner's into falling in love with them, and when they were content in the knowledge that their partner loved them, they slithered forth like a viper. They cruelly tore the metaphorical heart from their lover's body and stomped on it with cruel words and actions, all in the name to uphold cabin tradition. As disgusted by it as she was now, she had completed that awful tradition once upon a time. All in the name of acceptance, she had just wanted her siblings to love her like the way the family she had run from didn't.
Narcisa Silva had also heard many rumours of the other end of the axis, witnessed it twice. The one where her siblings refused to play into the cruel tradition, again and again, leading their partner to die a tragic and horrifying death where they would follow soon after as the children of Aphrodite whispered of the curse upon Cabin 10.
