✓ | 𝗶𝗰𝗮𝗿𝘂𝘀 𝗳𝗮𝗹𝗹𝘀, luke castellan

ᴛᴡᴏ

Welcome to Cabin Eleven.

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       RORY SAID HER GOODBYES TO VALENTINE WITH A WAVE, lingering just a moment to watch her best friend disappear down the path toward the other cabins. The afternoon air was thick with the scent of pine and lakewater, a familiar blanket of summer that made her slow her steps as she wandered into the quiet of the Hermes cabin.

    Inside, the bunkhouse was deserted, the heavy silence only broken by the faint creak of floorboards under her shoes. Rory crossed to the mirror near the door, inspecting her reflection. Her hair was a little wild from the lakeside breeze, and she smiled faintly as she carefully unwound the crown of flowers Val had deftly braided into her curls moments earlier. She placed the blooms gently on the edge of the mirror, almost like an offering, and ran her fingers through her hair to smooth it back into some semblance of order.

    By the time the first shouts and laughter from returning campers echoed from down the hill, Rory had retreated to her bunk — bottom bed, farthest corner, exactly where she liked it. Half-hidden from the rest of the cabin, she cracked open her latest conquest: a battered book in ancient Greek she had been wrestling with for weeks now. The dense text swam before her eyes, but she stubbornly forced herself to focus, tracing the faded lines with her fingertip.

    The door slammed open, the peace shattering instantly as campers tumbled inside, dripping lake water and mud across the worn wooden floor. Rory tucked her knees up against her chest, determined not to be drawn into the chaos. She barely looked up when Luke sauntered in, shirt clinging damply to his skin, hair still dripping.

    He made a show of stripping off his wet shirt, wringing it out with a dramatic flair that drew more than a few glances. Rory, however, kept her eyes firmly locked on her book, even as her mouth twitched with the effort not to react. She reread the same sentence three times, the words blurring together, but she refused to give him the satisfaction.

    From across the room, she could feel Luke’s gaze — the slight weight of it — lingering on her like the sun through a windowpane. When she didn’t so much as flicker an eyelash his way, he eventually gave up, huffing under his breath and pulling a dagger from his collection. He began sharpening it with slow, deliberate strokes, the metallic shhkt of blade against stone slicing through the chatter of the cabin. A few of the younger Hermes kids edged away from him nervously, but no one said a word. No one ever did.

    Still, Rory felt the corner of her mouth tip up, just barely. Luke could be insufferable when he wanted attention — but there was a certain charm in the way he pouted when she ignored him. A certain warmth to being the one person he wanted to notice him.

    Her moment of quiet was shattered when the doorway darkened. Rory blinked up to see Chiron standing at the threshold, towering and dignified despite the fact that he couldn’t physically step into the cabin. Instinctively, all conversation ceased. Campers scrambled to their feet, bowing their heads respectfully.

    Beside Chiron stood a boy Rory hadn’t noticed at first — lanky, uncertain, with messy hair and an expression like he’d been dropped into a dream he wasn’t sure he liked

    Chiron clapped his hands once, drawing everyone's attention more sharply. "This is Percy Jackson," he announced, voice carrying easily through the crowded space. "I trust you will see to whatever he needs."

    Rory stilled, eyeing the newcomer with a practiced wariness. Her gaze flickered — almost unwillingly — toward Luke. He was already looking at her, one eyebrow raised, a knowing gleam in his eye. When their gazes locked, Luke gave a barely perceptible nod, and something unspoken passed between them.