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Eli Lennox was not very happy.
Somebody was speaking, but it must not have been anyone she really cared about, because she couldn't find it within herself to care very much. Their voice was a dull drone in the faraway corner of her mind, just a backing track to spit on while she gazed around the ping-pong table meeting of head counselors.
She wasn't happy, of course, for a good deal of reasons, the first being an aura that had surrounded her since she'd left Cabin Ten's friendship bracelet masterclass. Silas had tracked her down in her cabin (in the safety of her own home) and informed her that the Aphrodite campers weren't out of pink string for Eli—they had found an extra spool at the bottom of their trunk—and that Eli was perfectly welcome to join Silas and Luke, if she wanted. And who was Eli to say no to Silas Whitlock? She felt like she'd be telling the poor kid Santa wasn't real.
So she attended an aforementioned hour-long info session on the dynamics of making friendship bracelets. She left with three adorning her slender wrists: One from Luke and two from Silas, who had enjoyed making them so much that he made a grand total of fourteen within the sixty-minute time period. Eli made one. She gave it to Silas.
Saying she had enjoyed her time in the amphitheater with the Aphrodite cabin would be like saying Kronos enjoyed being banished to Tartarus—an absolute lie.
It left her, unfortunately for everyone, in a dejected sort of mood, the kind where she would sit silently for half-hours at a time, not listening to anyone or anything except her own mind. Lucky for her, she was in the perfect place at the perfect time to be doing so: A senior council meeting at the Big House.
When she reentered the conversation within the Rec Room (albeit, rather begrudgingly), she remembered the next reason she was in a bad mood: Listening to Clarisse's ranting about how her cabin was bigger than all the others and therefore deserved more time between cabin checks, so as to give them more preparation to get tidy.
"As if your cabin is ever tidy, Clarisse," said Castor, curling his lip. "You can just say you don't want to do cabin checks on Five anymore."
Clarisse clenched her jaw, her fists tightening atop the green top table. "I wasn't talking to you, punk. Shut your trap and let me talk to Chiron—"
Eli shut her eyes, inhaling a long breath of Cheez-Whiz-flavored air, unsure if she could handle another argument breaking out over this stupid ping-pong table. Gods, how she hated council meetings.
This time, Chiron seemed to sense a room-wide discomfort and annoyance. He raised a hand to quiet Clarisse and Castor's arguing, raising himself from his wheelchair to his full centaurian form. Eli sat up in her chair, wide awake now; he must have finally decided to discuss Luke's quest. Everyone else noticed, too—even Beckendorf seemed mildly interested. Lux and Silena—who shared counselorship over Cabin Ten, out of true Aphrodite fashion, claiming coming to a decision over who decided it more was impossible—cut their whispered conversation (likely over how to dive-bomb Clarisse with a hair comb) to an abrupt end and perked up. Lee Fletcher and Katie Gardener exchange a glance, like they were expecting some tension to enter the room.
