Before I was made aware of my true heritage, I was always curious if not slightly fearful of the oddness to occur around me but my life was beautiful even with it. I was always a bit peculiar to my peers, too mature for my age yet to strange and unique for those older. My parents where my life, they taught me the importance of life and it's creatures, to be polite and kind, respectful and helpful. And to above all things be true to myself and have self worth for myself even in the hardest times.
I remember the unwavering love in their eyes for me, the way they would laugh and play intrigue when I told them of the newest creature to confront me and become a companion. Even when I told them of the more mythological creatures to approach me. The most painful irony was that the one time they met such creatures, I watched from an jarred cardboard as the hooded harpies tore their limbs from their sockets and cackled in glee.I was seven.
It was that very night that I lay beside my parents mangled corpses, or what was at least left of them. Britain was a relatively dark place, the endless clouds and bitter downpour fitted to my grief and distraught. Being a child and clueless of how to conclude my dire situation, I gathered all things of importance to me, photos, cloths, my mamas jewellery box, my father's favourite book and my own stuffed toy wolf before shoving them into a bag and running as fast as my small legs could carry me.
Turns out they led me across an entire ocean to a bustling city of chocking polluted air and hollering sounds.
New York City.
I was later founded by the police, placed in the parental custody of an chief officer from a small town Alaska and an undercover centaur from a camp for people similar to me. It was a confusing and difficult situation, the centaur, Chiron, having pulled strings to place me within the care of the officer from Alaska as my birth father was originally from the Indian reservation. Charlie was nice, he treated me as his own immediately and worked me through the trauma of my parents murder while also supporting me through the odd annual living arrangements and even introducing me to my brother on the Res. It took a few years before he was finally told of my true origins, finally needing an explanation to my odd boarding school program in England and my Camp time in the holidays. He took it quite well all things considering.
Some how I had managed to keep my English accent strong through the years, and though I did visit my old home in London often and resided in an English boarding school for the gifted, it was not enough to naturally keep the vocal origins. It was left to the divine genetics, like most oddities.
It was also thanks to these genetics that I was sought out by the dark creatures more dominantly then the demigods, which made Forks an ideal home ground as it was easier to dispose of the monsters within the endless vast forest. It was hard for a long time, even as the daughter of a titaness and a shifter, to find balance between school, travels home, Camp and the battles and tragedies that follow. And so it was decided that the last two years of my schooling would be completed at Forks.
Little did I know that a certain Swan was returning and was to grow an unreasonable loathing for my little demitian arse.
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Queen of Monsters
FantasyWhen the daughter of a powerful Titaness, with the ability to make the all powerful King of Olympus and God of the Sky shake in fear, and a Quileute with the ancient shifting blood of his tribe returns to Forks after years between living in London...