ᴾʰᵒᵇᵒᵖʰᵒᵇⁱᵃ [ᴶᵃˢᵒⁿ ᴳʳᵃᶜᵉ]

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SHE had a dream there was no war. Camp Half-Blood thrived in its present glory, with homes for children of minor gods. Her friends surrounded her once more: around the campfire, an orange flame the perfect height for roasting marshmallows, there were no whispers of traitors nor battles nor hatred of empty spaces. Fewer constellations decorated the blanketed sky, and in the firelight there were fewer shadows behind the pearlescent smiles.

Her dream was a work of art, Aza decided, long after she awoke and dawdled in bed, hoping to lodge it in her mind forever. She had forgotten the brightness of Annabeth's smile, and the innocent challenge in her cloudy eyes. On either side of the blonde, Luke's eyes remained a splendid summer-sky blue, and Percy's warm laughter enveloped those around him.

Even more beautiful were the empty spots, warmed once more, she used to loathe. Charlie's hand rested on Silena's knee and he burnt her marshmallow to perfection whilst she bickered with Clarisse. It had been a long time since Aza saw her aunt's shoulders so relaxed, with an easy smirk playing on her lips.

Michael's cheeks were rosy and once more his laugh graced her ears: clear and slightly abrasive, like a discordant chord. The most beautiful chord she'd ever heard, which she thought to be lost to time. With Jason – radiant and glowing – at Aza's other side, the love she felt for the son of Apollo was different. It felt old and familiar, and yet deeply buried. Like he was. But her love for him was pervasive; it would stay with her as a lingering thought of what could have been. It was a love that had been torn too soon, and Jason knew that. Michael would remain with her forever, but her heart held more than enough room for the two.

There was nothing worse than the last fuzzy moments of a dream, where she tried her hardest to grasp on. They were always chased away too soon, forced to cower in the subconscious once the sun shed light on truth and forced her eyes open. Her bed drew her closer, but she could no longer toss and turn. No true warrior would choose luxury over duty; she could never be like Achilles, sulking in his tent.

Annabeth's braid still wove her hair, but her flyaways were easily slicked from her sweaty forehead. The heat was unbearable enough to break out her only tank-top – a MCR shirt with the sleeves cut, which once belonged to Clarisse – and she unzipped her lightweight adjustable cargo pants into shorts.

Leo snatched her finger prosthetic the night before, claiming he had another 'lightning strike of genius' to give her a better grip. She felt naked without it, and she forced away the voice in her head that despised the gap in her left hand; if it was anyone else, she would have told them it was no big deal: that they'd be okay. Somehow, it made her feel useless. It was always a different case when it came to her. But, she'd learned to accept what the gods threw at her, and part of her knew it had only been a matter of time before she was injured.

Besides, she didn't expect to make a full fist with those two metal fingers anyway and it was truly her right hand she needed. But Leo claimed he wanted to test a bronze model, claiming it would give him more flexibility (somehow), and Aza didn't particularly care if her prosthetic didn't match her body.

It was too hot for even her boots, and so she pulled on a pair of sneakers and cracked her neck before making her way to the dining room. She was irritated, but not surprised to see Jason half-way through a plate of pancakes, resting his head in his palm. She crossed her arms over her chest and tapped her toes against the floor, waiting for him to notice – Percy, Frank and Hazel kept their heads down, but they sneaked a few glances at Jason and finally Frank banged his spoon against his cereal bowl and coughed in pity.

The blonde looked at him first and followed his gaze; Aza got a pleasant view of her boyfriend's food as a guilty expression slowly spread across his face. He gestured towards her chair with a sheepish smile, "Good morning, sleepy head. These, uh, pancakes are really good."