ੈ｡ﾟ ･ׂׂ ✩ RED ⌇˚ɞ act iii . . . the dying breaths of hope
· 。ﾟ *. 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 TWENTY-SEVEN, ───── ❛ not a dream girl, just argumentative ❜
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WAR IS COMING. A storm of hatred and violence is brewing behind the misleading shine of excited faces and hyper-focused training sessions. Welcome back to Camp Half-Blood.
Life seems to have returned to something similar to normal for most campers, if they tried hard enough to ignore the looming veil that was the threat of war hanging over them all. Some of them were great at doing so, some others, not so much.
For the senior campers, every counselor meeting was like hell. Nothing was ever resolved it felt like, only more and more problems popping up.
Clarisse and Laurie argued almost every meeting, only being torn out of shouting at one another by Silena. Annabeth and Laurie hadn't spoken to each other voluntarily in two weeks. Travis and Connor missed half of the meetings because of how many campers they had to keep up with in the overflowing Hermes Cabin.
Campers came and campers left, but more and more failed to return.
The sound of metal clashing against itself echoed through the grounds of camp, something familiar and almost comforting to the ears of those so accustomed to it.
The sun beat down as Apollo turned his summer rays on full blast, pressing tans onto the skin of teenagers as they got in their daily practice.
But just like everything, there were people that loved the art of swordsmanship, while others would rather stab themself than practice it. In this case, Laurie was the former, whereas the newly proclaimed daughter of Athena she was training with was the latter.
Marjorie Stoneheart had been at camp for about a month now, brought through the barrier on Half-Blood Hill by none other than the man himself, Alec Lightfoot.
The girl had a strong build and, like several of Athena's children, blonde hair that matched her irony eyes. Her skin was pale, surprisingly so, and Laurie was almost afraid that so much time in the sun was going to cause her new friend blisters.
But that was the least of their present concerns. Mars had just dropped her sword for the seventh time in the past half hour, her knees and arms littered with minor cuts that were mostly from her own blade.
Not everyone was cut out for swordplay, but this girl was a different kind of hopeless.
"Okay, maybe swords just really aren't for you." Laurie finally admitted, pushing her hair out of her face for the tenth time. Her hair tie had snapped long ago and she was now left to the wrath of the summer humidity mixing with her thick hair. Also known as every girl's worst nightmare.
