Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
QUINLAN THINKS maybe it's a combined effort of his lack of organisation and his dad's body clock that refuses to get up earlier than nine during the holidays that makes the trek to Camp Half-Blood bleed into the night. He doesn't mind it so much though, even if he does complain to his dad. He likes the journey, actually. It gives him time to draw and for the two to spend time together- even if he is getting booted off to a summer camp for freaks like him for a summer.
Quinn (because that's what the lovely ladies above their apartment call him- the three of them practically acting as his pseudo-grandmothers) frowned. Not a freak, he tried to remind himself, dad said it was because I'm the child of a god.
A child of a god.
Huh.
Objectively, that sounds stupid and Quinn would hardly believe something like that usually- but not much could be done about it given the fact Quinn had seen his dad for the first time (the god one- not his biological dad. Andrew Lai was around far too much for it to be the 'first time' Quinn had seen him). There in all his fiery and metallic glory was what was supposed to be his godly parent: Hephaestus.
Quinn still thinks it's all a bit silly, but he presses through it- even when for the first half of the drive his dad spends it explaining everything.
Everything from the gods moving from Greece around to the places with the most power to them finally coming to America. He was the son of both a mortal and a god- all of that stuff. All these old myths and legends about three-headed dogs and snake women?
All true.
All real.
All definitely dangerous.
Monsters and whatever else was lurking seemed to be the least of his problems though, especially with the torrential downpour beating up their poor car on the drive over.
Personally, he doesn't know how other kids find out they're demigods (or half-bloods, as some others call it. They're essentially the same thing from what he can tell) with one of their parents being a Greek god or goddess from ancient times, but his dad explained it with good precision.
"Your father and I met when I had just arrived in America," his dad explained, the radio humming softly in the background, almost in tandem with the sounds of pencil scratching paper coming from Quinn. "I was fascinated by classic art at the time- anything from sculptures to mosaics... I settled into Renaissance paintings quickly but... well- I don't know. I suppose we found love in each other."
"Will he pay child support, now that I know he exists?" Quinn asked (ever so blunt for an eleven year old). He had yet to look up from his sketchbook and was drawing with an eye of determination. "Can gods pay child support?"
