The King bearer three

Part 5: Toby

Toby was stomping through the camp for a half hour after his infuriating encounter with Jay Chen. He knew he shouldn't have gotten so mad, but after an entire day of being confined to an infirmary bed by force, and even longer of being considered crazy and being played with by the fates, and then Clotho being annoyingly illusive, he wasn't in the mood to be accommodating. Besides, Jay knew the Hermes Cabin was a sore subject for him, it always had been, it wasn't his fault she decided to aggravate the subject. Although, he thought, I did bring it up, so maybe-. He cut himself off. No, there would be no second guessing himself. He refused to waste time doubting whether or not he was in the right, whether he made a wrong move, whether he ruined something, whether that something could be everything. 

He looked to the stars, trying to figure out what Clotho sent him out here to do, to find. It had become frighteningly obvious frighteningly quickly that Clotho wasn't at camp, not least because her voice had almost immediately dissipated the moment he stepped out the door. He continued like that, wandering absentmindedly in the direction of his cabin, or the cabins in general, not looking, and not caring where he was going. As he was not looking where he was going, Tobias unintentionally walked himself into the central area between the cabins, and specifically to the hearth, and he crashed into the marble. 

"Careful," a gentle voice called, "Wouldn't want you to get hurt," the voice was light and warm, it wrapped Toby in the warm feeling of a comforting sweater, of long winter nights spent near the hearth fire, wrapped in a cosy blanket and sipping hot coco from a warm mug. He turned around, and a young woman draped in a long, hooded dress was standing in the empty courtyard. The hearth behind him came to life with fire. "Lady Hestia," he breathed, making to kneel, as all demi gods did in the presence of the gods. He may have fought against the Olympians in the Titan war, but he could not begrudge the last of them. 

"Please," Hestia intoned, stopping him, "we have no time for pleasantries I'm afraid." She sounded scared, panicked. "Lady Hestia," Tobias inquired, "What is wrong? Is something happening?" "Lady," Hestia mused "my Lady. You will not be calling me my Lady much longer I'm afraid." She drew a breath, as if fortifying herself for what's to come. "I came to give you this," she asserted, extending a pair of scissors in her hand. The blades were the shining colour of silver, darker swirls and strands streaking through. Damascus steel. The handle was exquisite, a solid blue thing of shimmering tanzanite, as if to mirror the stars themselves. It looked enchanting, it looked ancient. 

He reached out his hand, and Hestia grimaced, withdrew, seemed to lose her nerve. "My Lady," he chimed, "is something the matter?" Hestia steeled herself again, and smiled,  "No, my dear, nothing." The grimace was still present on her face. The flames behind him shrank and flared, seeming timid and nervous. They were mimicking her feelings, her thoughts and emotions. He thought it best not to mention it. He reached out to take the scissors from her hands. "WHOOPS," Hestia crowed, her hands flying open, flinging the scissors into the air. The last thing he saw of them was a star like glint from the tanzanite handle as it vanished beyond the horizon. He looked back at the goddess, partially speechless. When he finally found his voice, the first words out of his mouth were,  "What the HE-" She disappeared in the moment that the fire went out. 

Toby, dumbfounded, sighed with annoyance and marched back to his Cabin, muttering something about 'Hestia', and 'Clotho', and 'damn women'. He was so consumed by his mild annoyance, that he didn't notice the soft, rustling THUNK, or the entrancing glint, of those magical scissors, falling back to earth, not three steps behind him.

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When Toby got back to the Cabin, he walked through the door and into the Cabin's plain, empty reception area. Not many people knew about this, most people saw a building just like any other. They opened the door and saw what they expected to see, which in most cases was a cabin no different from the rest of the cabins at camp, full of bunk beds and bustling with campers and comrades, or something like that. Only a select few, the Hecate campers themselves and those smart enough to figure it out or lucky enough to get to see, knew about the other entrance. If you walked through  the door, without opening it, you would be brought to the Hecate cabin reception, and greeted by Libby, the cabin's receptionist. 

"Morning," Libby drawled. "It's night," Toby responded curtly, to which Libby looked up at him from under her glasses and said, "Check the clock," turning the digital clock on her desktop towards him. It read; 2:15am. Toby sighed, "Okay, yes, fine,  it's technically morning, but it's still dark out, so THERE!" Libby stared at him, reactionless, not taking his childishness seriously, as she was won't to do. "Aren't you supposed to be in the infirmary?" she quipped, "Record says that you ain't supposed to be out for two more days. Well, today included," she tapped her clock with a smirk. "Just get me to my room," Toby muttered. He was tired, mad and increasingly confused by the day he had just witnessed. He wanted to get to bed,  "No can do," Libby denied casually. 

"Why not," Toby gritted, and Libby shrugged, "Cause, I don't want Solace to be mad at me," Toby grit his teeth, cursing Jay for spreading her, mostly, irrational fear of William Solace and healers in general to his siblings, "Well, if you don't tell him, he won't get mad, see!" Libby gave him a sceptical look, "You know that isn't true," she remarked, "and I ain't saying why. I try not to state the obvious," she shut her laptop abruptly and got up from her chair, walking down to the end of the reception, "I'm going to bed. See you Tobes," she called over her shoulder, "Good luck with the Harpies!" She disappeared up the magical stairs assembled out of the wall. Toby sighed, when the receptionist went to bed, the Hecate cabin was officially closed for business. Surprisingly, this was his first time on this side of the cabin closing up, on the wrong end. 

He walked back out, just in time to hear the sound of the locks, plural, clicking into place behind him. He watched the sky, cautious of the harpies that patrolled the camp's skies at night, enforcing curfew. They didn't seem to notice him, even when he walked straight across the field and kept out of the shadows. He ran, banged into things and fell down, anything that would attract the attention of the Harpies, yet they stayed clear.  He thanked his lucky stars, one little grace in a night full of infuriating missteps and minor struggles.

When he arrived at the infirmary, he was glad to see that, despite the frigid night air and safety concerns that came with an open door, no one had locked the door that Clotho had so mysteriously opened. He slipped silently inside, and made his way over to the bed he had been confined to for the last day and a bit, grateful for the comforting softness of the sheets as he slid into bed. An unpleasant thought slid into his mind. Damnit, Jay, he thought as he drifted off to sleep, remember your cane, you stupid bat .  

With that, he fell into a blissful, dreamless sleep.