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CHAPTER TWO — FIRE ESCAPES
CATALUÑA HAD STRANGE DREAMS. She watched, powerless, as childhood friends turned to monsters, and prophesies unfolded. She dreamed in mixed mythology from times long before her birth. She knew what she was, even before she had gone to Camp Jupiter, call it intuition.
The silent, blue hues of night became Cataluña's sanctuary, with the stars acting as silent witnesses to her existence. Moonlight, a gentle caress on her skin, seemed to hold the tenderness of a mother's lullaby, casting a protective glow around her. Her unique ability to perceive dark spirits made her both a beacon and a confidante for nymphs and other mystical creatures, finding refuge in her comforting presence.
But boy, did she hate the nightmares. Fear was something that bonded people like her together. Demigods were born from lust and false hope, unforgiving love, and fate. Left on earth in a dangerous limbo between powerful and powerless. The gods weren't fit for parenting.
The dichotomy of fear and favor, excitement and trepidation, wove a golden tapestry within Cataluña's existence. She knew she was not alone in discovering who she was, her nightmares, and the anger she sometimes felt for Olympus, but she knew she was dangerous. The night, with its shadowy mysteries, became both a refuge and a battlefield for Cataluña. One she knew she could only fight on her own.
It's lonely being a demigod. She hated to admit, it was a vulnerability that sprung from the depths of her stomach, more proof that she was not a god. Cataluña craved to be understood, and listened to, as if her words were religion.
Thoughts swirled in her head, encasing her mind in shadows of worry and emotion. She was sat on the fire escape right outside of her window, recalling the nightmares that had plagued her sleep earlier, the pretty sea green eyes of a boy she didn't know haunting her when she closed her eyes.
Her dad had been apprehensive to let her have her room right by an escape, as she was known to get into trouble at night. In California, she would have sleepovers with Iruri, and they'd sneak out for walks by the sea, getting drunk on nectar and flirting with the night. Luña wasn't lonely in California, at least not as lonely.
She took a quiet drag from her cigarette, seated on the fire escape of her newly occupied Brooklyn apartment. The serene night unfolded around her, and she took in how quiet it actually was in Brooklyn. The late summer wind brushed against her face, and she smiled against it. She wasn't a smoker, that was all Iruri, but she had a couple cigarettes left in the care package her friend had given her before she left, and waking up from yet anther confusing nightmare seemed reason enough to poison herself.
She heard rustling in the apartment next to her, and subtle music coming from the slightly opened window. The fire escape stretched out to the window next to her, and Cataluña squinted her eyes, silver painted nails inching towards her seashell necklace hanging just above her collarbone.
