world-ender || l. castellan

ii.

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ii. poison ivy

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BANNING NOEMI FROM THE LAKE was not the brightest idea on Mr. D's part. He doesn't know that she's partial to the feel of rocking water and looking at the blanket of sky, not the lake. He was idiotic not to think she'd just run to the sea instead, his punishment falling flat.

Perhaps that's because the rest of her siblings despise the beach. They aren't the cleanest people in camp, but they hate the sand and how it gets everywhere and the fishy stench of the water. But she doesn't have any qualms about dragging a canoe halfway across the valley to the shore, long after the harpies have left, in the middle of the night with no help.

She just needs space to herself.

Cabin Five isn't full, so to speak, but there are enough campers to make her feel crowded sometimes. A bunch of kids younger than her that serve as reminders to be good— to be the best with no repayment, give offerings to a god that doesn't care if you live or die so long as it doesn't stain his name, loyally serve with respect, and set an example despite the fact that half of the younglings won't live to the age she is now.

Turning eighteen has changed a lot for Noemi. Like many of her fellow campers, she never thought she'd reach this age. Graduating high school is a big dream for all of them. If there is a phrase other than fucked up to describe this, she still wouldn't use it, because it is just that: fucked up. In so many ways.

"You tire me, daughter of Ares. How disappointed your father would be to know you are so relentlessly stupid."

Noemi stops hauling the canoe and throws it to the ground. It hits the floor hard as she turns to face Dionysius.

"Well, he's had plenty of time to find out himself." Noemi drawls. "Maybe if he'd learned sooner he could've killed me to save you the breath."

The god sizes her up. He's skinny and raggedy, his hair a puff of frizz, his leopard button up doing little to earn her respect. In fact, nothing about him makes her feel the need to bow or kiss at his feet. Nothing screams at her that he is godly. He just looks like a sad alcoholic, bitter without his drink.

"I don't think I've ever met someone so proudly insolent." Mr. D looks at her as if she's a bug he can't help but study before he squashes it beneath his flip flop. "I could get away with it, you know. Make it look like an accident."

"Then I would come back from the dead just to spite you for the rest of your existence. Until the west fades and the world ends." It's dangerous waters she's treading, but she doesn't care. She cares so little, being blind to the future— what could possibly be worse than her life now? "Wouldn't you like that? Not to mention, my father, little about me that he knows... well, he'd be angry. I am his favorite daughter after all."

Mr. D crosses his arms, but he knows that what she says is true. Mr. D is here as a punishment from Zeus, he can never directly kill her unless he wants to start a war. Between cabins, between her father and himself. He'd have to summon a monster and hope it does the job, but even then, she knows with the help of all the other little heroes to aid her it would be near impossible while she's within the camp borders.

Or maybe she wants to believe that so there's a shred of hope to cling to. The will to live is a persistent little pin that's stuck in her heart.

If Mr. D calls her bluff or not, he doesn't show. "You value your life so little?"

"If you call this a life." Noemi shrugs. She kicks at the canoe. "Then, sure. It has little value to me. Monsters hunt me when I'm outside of these borders and immortals pull me along on strings when I'm in them, yanking me whichever way they see fit. You want to kill me, Mr. D, for my foul mouth? Do it. I won't stop you. Turn me into a dolphin, make me go crazy. Will it keep you satisfied in your long life, I wonder?"