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𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪
HE CAME BACK ON A WEDNESDAY.
Elia was running late to the war council, which already sucked enough. She was supposed to be there with Michael, who was probably arguing with Clarisse again over the chariot. While Elia was tired of the fighting and thought it was stupid, she did stand with her cabin— she'd been on that mission and she knew Cabin Seven had earned that chariot.
But she'd found the time to take a power nap just after teaching her morning sword-fighting class, so she'd curled up in her bunk and fallen asleep for a couple of hours, still in her clothes, only finally waking when Jack shook her shoulder.
"Ellie," her little brother whispered, nudging her awake so he could sign, "The war council is starting." He paused, seeming to consider his words for a moment before adding, "And Percy's back from his mission with Beckendorf."
That woke her up. Something sunk in her chest like a rock to the bottom of a lake, and she forced herself to sit up, rubbing sleep out of her eyes and groaning. She had a migraine already, which was just great, given she had to put in her ears for the war council. This was going to be a great day.
Pushing herself out of bed, the blonde leaned down to press a kiss to Jack's forehead, ruffling his hair. "Thank you for waking me, bubba," she murmured, her voice fond and soft.
Jack just nodded, smiling shyly and scurrying off to his bunk. Elia watched him go; he was growing up, his hair longer and his face losing the littlest bit of that child-like roundness. He was growing up too fast, and it made her chest hurt.
After shoving in her hearing aids, pulling her hair into a pathetic bun at the back of her neck, and slipping on her shoes, Elia cursed the dull ache behind her eyes and walked across camp, entering the Big House like a ghost. The rec room was loud already, a shock to her still-adjusting ears, with Michael and Clarisse shouting about something around the ping pong table and the rest of the counselors watching in varied amounts of annoyance and amusement. When the blonde walked in, both heads snapped to her.
"Elle, back me up!" Michael demanded, his hands flying through the sign language and his brown eyes blazing with fiery anger.
The daughter of Apollo just sighed, walking around the table to the seat between him and Castor and sinking into her chair. She felt a pair of eyes on her, a gaze so familiar it felt like something was ripping her apart right there in front of the ping pong table, but she ignored it. Ignored him. What would she say?
Clarisse sneered, glaring at Michael. "Yeah, Little Miss Sunshine," she spat to Elia, glowering at the blonde. "Tell your brother not to be a selfish prick."
The daughter of Apollo looked at the older girl, her tired eyes sharpening into a glare just as fierce as it had ever been, no matter how exhausted she was. "Watch it, La Rue," she said, her voice low and dangerous. "Michael and I risked our lives for that loot. We were willing to compromise at first and share, but you just couldn't take that, could you?" Elia cocked a brow, unimpressed. The fighting was getting old.
