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✈︎ - Demigods.
Unbeknownst to the mortals, it was an odd label created to separate their kind with the ones living blissfully with an oblivious sight of who and what roams in their city. Labels that were formed to divide them but have made it into the books of fiction. Easily blinded by a magical mist, confusing a horrid scenery with an incoming natural catastrophe. Normality being categorized differently, as their only focus is serving a life and wasting their time accordingly that reaches their satisfaction with happiness such as a dream career, finance stability and fulfilling goals.
A balanced world of both sides, where human beings whose blood runs without an ounce of magical abnormalities can live without knowing the truth about the mythical realm and the real history behind the words written towards each species, defining with the typical stereotypes regarding them—but often being correct. Reality being to survive and live satisfactorily before reaching an old age, to fight against their obstacles with harsh acceptances and continue to thrive for another day. Accepting that perfection is not standardized nor real but where their own imperfections and flaws reside makes them quite unique, even perfect in their own ways.
It is amusing, quite frankly, that the deeper and confidently an individual goes into defining mortals from demigods, it begins to sound distorted.
Truth be told, there's no minor difference between mortals and demigods. These two species have much in common, even so, demigods are still humans with an ability that does not define them, but their actions and how they choose to use it that shines more. However, even having many fair shares of similarities, there are still the major differences. Demigods survival risks are much higher than mortals, levels of risks with the supernatural and even beasts that can go undefeated can lead some to death from shock. They are placed in a position without any choice, even if they avoid the crucial truth, just knowing the path one must take they can be easily slaughtered by their enemy if dared to run. An enemy that mortals cannot see, in disguise as one of them, believed to be just a myth, a silly story to scare the children into behaving good and a history to be buried forever, for they are called malicious monsters just like the Minotaur.
The right to be free was not a right among demigods, for it was a dangerous game to play. These half-bloods did have freedom, in some ways—freedom to lurk around a territory that's a safe haven for them, protected against the foul beasts that roamed in the depth of the forest, darkness concealing their movements. Unfortunately, those who find the place with the help of their assigned searcher and are welcomed into this life are only filled with an overwhelming amount of oblivion to what's real and not, eventually those lost in denial will plummet to their deaths in despair and regrets.
In a time of need, during a second of mental havoc, desperation tends to lead individuals into misbehaving in an irrational manner. Manners such as not analyzing nor observing before commencing their plans, plans with sacrifices they are willing to give if it meant their desires would be accomplished and result in being pleased. Although the runner's heart was full with good intentions, it was just the beginning. A journey with thousands of paths, monsters awaiting their victim, past repeating and cruel fates in position, the future becomes unpredictable and unstable.
Pitch black in a forest, where its only light was the moon shining brightly through the many randomized tree leaves. The winds howled as the branches moved around, forming hallucinations and mocking the minds of those who held the audacity to travel at such time. Creatures happily slumber in their rightful homes, as crickets sound echoes throughout the environment while communicating with one another, the hoo's of an owl looking for nutrients entered nearby ears yet remained in their solitary. A quiet heavy breath escapes the lips of a runner, interrupting these creatures' peace as the earth below them lightly trembles. Branches being pushed backwards, dirt flowing with the increased wind rates, even with the rapid steps and the strange faint glows illuminating the area was not enough to alert anyone, not even the night guards or the gossipers.
Run.
Paranoia, a beast that lurks in your mind and fuels each thought with a negative message. A guidance to help stable the delusions, temporarily blinding their host with villainous motives by psychologically toying. A reminder, that no matter the efforts, the path they crave is unforeseen, a game of probability as it feeds its victims with a drop chilling feeling in the pit of their stomachs and a night long worth of nightmares. The heavy weight remains unbothered by who's shoulders it rests upon, as long as it has you wrap around their clawed bloodstained fingers.
Each step taken is another weight upon the runner's shoulder, a stomach filled with nausea with a goal in mind. The branches continue to inflict pain, the ground continues to dance in broken harmony, worms shuffling away as the sticks break under the impact of a pair of combat boots. Pupils dilating, cheeks rushing with blood, colors flowing through the irises as the glow remains faint, irises never remaining as their original hazel colored. Ebony hair locks roughly ruffles around through the cool air, tears dripping endlessly and a mind that refrains from enhancing its memories, never failing to taunt that the fault was in their hands.
Sometimes, even the strongest wish upon the stars, praying for a break from this world. Praying eventually becomes meaningless for it'll be a message sent directly to the ones that aggressively threw them there. They say the past is a lesson, the future is where you utilize all that you have learned to avoid the same mistakes, yet the past can become repetitive. A cycle that never breaks, where the strongest must fall but continues to run with a heart tinted in flames. One may release the past—but who to say, they'll forget it?
In the distance, there awaited a source of transportation. Bright headlights glaring into the silence of night.
No matter the distance the escaper gains, no matter the days spent away, she will always be Verity Odessa Jackson, Olympus' heroic savior alongside the son of Poseidon, Percy Jackson. A shattered heart, heavy with sorrow, a battle of guilt still left undefeated with a stern face forming, Camp Half-Blood's own flame of hope, she is and always will be the,
