𝗟𝗔 𝗩𝗜𝗘 𝗘𝗡 𝗥𝗢𝗦𝗘 ━━ apollo.

𝗉𝗋𝗈𝗅𝗈𝗀𝗎𝖾

▬▬▬▬HYACINTH OLOFFSON HAS ALWAYS KNOWN ABOUT THE EXISTENCE OF GODS AND DEMIGODS. Hidden among mortals, ordinary people who do not sleep fearful of being chased by monsters or having their powers attract attention, they live a fairly normal life, a life, in which their existence to the world has been reduced to their mention in ancient myths.

When she was as small as a tiny bud just beginning to want to bloom, Hyacinth used to believe that being a demigod was like a blessing, as she watched her dad work in the earth, make fruit grow from nothing and turn the driest soil into one so fertile that even the most ancient seed was able to germinate. To her childish eyes, her dad was the closest representation of what a god of nature could do, and happiness came over her as he began to show her that even fingers as small as hers could sprout life.

But as Hyacinth grew up and the ground under her feet became a shaky one, being a demigod turned out to be not as easy as the myths tell, having to move from department to department, from state to state to such an extent that while growing up she actually forgets the place where she was born, but her dad, as noble and as sweet as the morning dew, always showed her the good side of moving, teaching her little tricks to control her powers in every green space they could find behind some train station or some gas station by the side of the road.

But after almost four years of moving steadily, they reach a time of calm, a time of calm where being a demigod was like being equal to the rest, at least, that's what Hyacinth came to feel the moment her dad and she managed to finally be able to call 'home' a small house set apart from the suburbs on the tender shores of Volos, where her dad's small sale of fresh fruits and houseplants sprouted as if it had been blessed by her grandmother Demeter.

"It's not just your grandmother looking out for us, my little peach," her dad told her one night when they were eating dinner and as always, burning a small offering for the goddess of the harvest, "your father protects us too." And with that, her dad burns some more of their dinner in their small fireplace, muttering a name that doesn't quite reach Hyacinth's ears.

Her father, the other half that makes her one, has always been a sensitive subject for her dad, to the point that she doesn't know his name, what he looks like or his manner, the only thing she knew is that he possesses an intense gaze and a warm touch, and until she reached her tender eight springs, her dad finally reveals to her how it is the two of them met.

"We met one rainy daay, at Ales Stenar" he tells her, settling her into her bed for bedtime, "I was eighteen and he, was having a one day off, I had forgotten my umbrella, and he, apparently, was carrying an extra one."

Smile small, but laugh booming, steps awkward when dancing, but steady when creating, Hyacinth could only imagine the goodness of his heart, after all, as sweet and kind as her dad was, she couldn't imagine him falling in love with a cruel god.

And when she turned ten years old, when she saw her house collapsing at the hands of a monster while her dad ran with her in his arms, for the first time, Hyacinth doubted the goodness of the gods of which her dad spoke so much to her.

"Listen to me carefully, Hyacinth and engrave in your heart what I am about to tell you" her dad told her, as he deposited her in the arms of Coach Hedge, the satyr who had led her dad to the safety of Camp Half-Blood when he was her own age, "respect the gods, make your offerings but never, never get too close to one," her dad's eyes looked tired and pained, the sand that had tangled between his red hair shining like sun drops, "don't make the same mistakes I did. "

"Daddy ─"

"Take her away, Hedge," her dad ignored her, closing his expression and taking a couple of steps back, "I'll give you time."

Even when Hyacinth kicked, and called for him again, and again, and again, her dad did not come for her, closing the path that opened behind Hedge as he ran with her in his arms through the forest, she saw for the last time her dad smiling at her, a small smile salted with tears and moving his mouth in such a slow way, that she made out the 'I love you, my love' even with the distance that was building up between them.

After a few meters and with the rumble of thunder in the distance, the vegetation that protected them stopped short to wither, and Hyacinth knew.

Her dad was gone.

"Don't get too close to them," her father's voice repeated inside her head, "don't make the same mistakes I did."

And Hyacinth, daughter of Florian Oloffson, legacy of Demeter, daughter of an unknown god, promised it over the river Styx. 

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