Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪
ELIA DRAGGED HERSELF out of bed for Beckendorf's funeral.
Annabeth and Lucia had assured the blonde that it would be okay if she stayed in for the rest of the night, that Silena would understand, but Elia had just shook her head and uncurled herself from a ball in her bunk.
Will had gotten off his shift in the infirmary just after lunch, arriving back in the cabin to find his big sister curled up against Fletcher, her freckled skin sickly-pale and her brow drawn tight. There was a sort of defeat in the blue of her eyes that had been growing in the recent months, and it worried all of her siblings, she knew. Jack was sitting next to her, back against the wall, playing the lightest, softest little lullaby on his flute, his eyes wide and worried.
Will, the lovely boy he was, had just crawled into bed beside the blonde girl and pressed a warm hand to her forehead, softly humming along to Jack's lullaby beneath his breath. His palm grew warm, sending something like a soft breeze through her tense muscles. Elia didn't think she could ever express how much she loved her brothers.
But now, as the late afternoon sun flooded through the stained glass window and dropped colorful fragments of light across the room, Elia shoved in her ears and untangled herself from the sheets, pressing a kiss to each of her brothers' messy hair. She had changed out of her overalls earlier, curled up in loose sweatpants and a tank top, and she almost didn't have the willpower to change again. But this was Beckendorf, and she felt like he deserved a little more respect than that, so she changed into a pair of worn jeans and pulled a too-big zip-up hoodie over her top.
Will and Jack both waited patiently for her, matching clear-sky gazes wide in that childlike way that made her want to tuck them away behind her ribs and keep them safe forever and ever. But this was the real world, and safety was so far away, so she just pressed another kiss to Jack's head and ruffled Will's golden curls before walking with them to the funeral.
Elia had no hopes for her day getting better, but the sight of the chain-mail shroud glimmering in the afternoon sun was enough to kill any last foolish hope. Beckendorf, with his loud laugh and broad shoulders. Beckendorf, who pressed his lips to Silena's knuckles and called her baby. Beckendorf, with his big, precise hands and bear hugs. Beckendorf, whose body was now in pieces at the bottom of the sea.
The flames of the campfire burned low and black as Jake Mason and a couple other Cabin Nine kids lit the shroud, the metal melting and dissolving into soft gold smoke that curled into the sky and disappeared. There was an unspoken truce between the Apollo and Ares cabins for the night, sunkissed kids huddling around Elia and Michael and watching the sparks with sad eyes. They knew funerals too well; Lee still clung to their shoulders like the last wisps of a foggy night.
