❝𝘴-𝘴𝘢𝘺 𝘪𝘵 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯❞
❝𝙞 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪.❞
𝗣𝗘𝗥𝗖𝗬 𝗝𝗔𝗖𝗞𝗦𝗢𝗡 had met a lot of people and he had seen a lot of things that had caught his eyes. But she was a different story. The girl with the long hair was just someone he coul...
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LI. THE DAY I'VE BEEN TOLERATING EVERYTHING AND NOW I WANT TO CRY
━━━━━━
"I made you my temple, my mural, my sky
Now I'm begging for footnotes in the story of your life"
LIFE WAS ALL AND ALL the very definition of pain, especially for someone like Dodie, who seemingly never knew when to bloody give up — even if she had frequently said that she was about to. But that wasn't important. What was important, however, was that giving up was just never an option for her, and perhaps that was why the world just seemed to never give her a chance to take a bloody break.
It was the same for the small ten-year-old that used and always did rule the infirmary within the Big House of Camp Half-Blood.
Dodie D'Amour, since the tender age of eight — now ten —had already become the very pillar of the infirmary at camp. All the while everyone around her was learning on how to defend themselves with weapons, Dodie had been busy tending to those who were constantly hurt.
That was her job.
And even now, as her small body moved around diligently her hair shimmered gold around the white walls of the room as the scent of antiseptic floated around, she had never ceased from her task.
"Seriously, kid, you're a lifesaver," the camper said with a small and grateful smile as she worked her healing magic, her golden hair shimmering as it wrapped around the wound, closing it seamlessly. "And here I thought I was going to go through months without using my leg,"
"Pretty sure dislocation doesn't work that way, but you're welcome." Dodie forced a smile in return but couldn't hide the restlessness in her voice. "Just be more careful next time, okay? We can't afford injuries like this."
"Of, come on. Even if there are more injuries, you'll be there to heal it," grinned the camper, before he patted Dodie's head and hopped off the cot. "Well, thanks!"
As the camper exited out of the infirmary, the smile upon Dodie's lips had finally fallen into a bitter expression.
Don't get her wrong — she loved being a healer. If she could pick between fighting and sitting on the sidelines, she would rather sit on the sidelines and heal. That was her job. That was her destiny. That was her fate. And she wouldn't change it for anything else. But, truly, she could not help but feel a slight bitter taste in her mouth every time a camper was to come by.
They relied on her.
That was a good thing, no?
Sure, if it weren't for the fact that it meant that she was nothing short of a healing machine.
