𝑷𝒓𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒚 𝑰𝒏 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑫𝒂𝒓𝒌 ꨄ

S i x t e e n

The fights continued, but Luna didn't get near any of them again. Funnily enough, she even helped stop a few, even if that did start a row between her and Clarisse. The Ares girl claimed that Luna was supposed to be on their side, so she'd explained that she was on their side, but that the fighting was unnecessary and helped absolutley no one - never mind that it would not affect the situation whatsoever, either. Poseidon and Zeus wouldn't stop their petty war because a bunch of adolescent demigods were taking sides.

"You fought too. You literally ripped out a girl's hair. How's that for unnecessary?" Clarisse had snapped as Luna was dragging her back to their cabin after -surprise surprise- one of the fights.

"That was different and you know it," Luna said fiercely. "The only reason I even got involved was because  Malcom punched you. And then that girl said those things about my mom. I was taking revenge. You don't have any revenge to take because its not your fight."

The Ares girl yanked her arm from Luna's hold. "It's mine as long as we have contradictory opinions."

"You just want an excuse to fight the Athena kids," She scoffed.

Clarisse didn't look deterred by that information. "Yeah, maybe I do. I like arguing and I like violence. I get that you don't, and I respect it - you don't see me pushing you into fights or trying to control the way you act, do you?"

"That's not what this is about," Luna answered, slightly aghast.

"Isn't it?" The Ares girl stopped walking and peered down at her. "When are you going to get it? We're different from each other. We've always been and always will be. I'm okay with the way I am, so when are you going to get over yourself and be okay too?"

Luna had opened her mouth to answer, but Clarisse had walked ahead of her before she could. This had been yesterday, and she hadn't had the heart to go up the Ares girl since. Her words had made Luna fall into a spiral of thoughts she'd never accessed before, but what was more frightening was the fact that what Clarisse was saying made sense. Deep down, Luna had accepted the way she acted the moment they'd called a truce, had accepted all the violence and flaws because she'd seen something good enough to rival it.

But her consciousness wouldn't let it go- her morals wouldn't stop belittling her inside her head, saying that anyone who was so inclined to act that way had to be bad news. She had to remind herself that not everything was black and white, that the world wasn't split up into good and evil. In the end, Luna had fought as well, and even as much as she told herself it wasn't true, she didn't regret it. Jumping that girl had felt good, and it kind of scared her.

Maybe this was the reason she kept trying to mold Clarisse into something she clearly wasn't - because the more time she spent around her, the more she realized that the violence was something they shared.

Feeling slightly stupid, she'd trudged back to their cabin hoping for some peace and quiet after that whole affair, only to be met with a very weird sight - honestly, she should of just gotten used to it by that point.

Ellis, Clarisse and Shae were sitting on the ground surrounded by two cans of red paint, a handful of spiky brushes and Luna's Walkman, which was blasting The White Stripes. The floor was filled with splotches of crimson, and she scrunched up her nose at the fact that Ellis was sitting with his elbow right into one of them. Between them was a long dirty bedsheet which Clarisse was halfway through painting two bloody x's on.

Up on the beds, Mark was snoring like a tractor -why the music was on, probably-  and Sherman was shuffling and re shuffling the bloody Drobble cards.

He looked up and grinned. "Ah, finally - Someone I can play with,"

That's when Luna's eyes widened. She clicked her tongue in annoyance and snatched her Walkman from the danger zone - a few more minutes there and it would looked like it witnessed a murder happen. She was in no mood to spend hours scrubbing red paint off her most prized possession.