Hunters Of Apollo (SYOC~ closed)

Elisabeth II

ELISABETH WAS FAIRLY CERTAIN that her day couldn't get any worse. First, a spider appeared right next to her bunk, long and hairy with a large abdomen. Then, her half-sister, Annabeth, had a panic attack because of said spider, and when Elisabeth tried to calm her down, she was nearly impaled. Annabeth had apologized profusely afterwards, but Elisabeth was still grumbling to herself. Finally (and this one takes the prize), Bush the satyr and a strange boy comes crashing into the river while she's canoeing.

Not cool, Bush.

Elisabeth supposed she should've suspected a bad day; after all, her week was unnaturally good and it was only logical to assume that a bad day was coming. Some daughter of Athena she was.

When the water came splashing from beneath her, she was drenched from head to toe. Malcolm, her cabin mate, spluttered at first but then jumped to attention—literally. He jumped underwater. While she watched as bubbles rose around him, a tug began at her wrist. She looked down, having just enough time to plug her nose before Malcolm pulled her under.

She tried to yell at him, but seeing as she was beneath the surface, she settled for a glare. Malcolm flinched back slightly but jerked his head toward the sinking demigod and satyr. With a start, she realized she needed to save them. Malcolm couldn't handle both.

So she gave a determined nod and dove deeper.

The closest one to her was the demigod, so she aimed for him. It was too dark to tell his features, but she could see him struggling. Ignoring this, she gently pulled him upwards. The tide seemed to be lifting them, and she briefly wondered if Percy Jackson was helping them.

But she dismissed the thought immediately. Percy Jackson had died while protecting Annabeth from a fatal Hydra strike.

After what seemed like minutes, they broke surface. She gasped for air, her legs like boiled spaghetti. The boy heaved, coughing up water and a little bit of blood. His hair was superglued against his head, liquid dripping down his thin face. She tried to pull him closer to shore, but he resisted, his legs kicking every which direction. She growled, pulling with more force—enough to be noticeable. This time he followed along, and she hauled him up to land, letting him rest next to the coast.

With shaking legs, she stood and walked further on shore, ignoring how her wet feet collected grass like a magnet. She reluctantly accepted the towel handed to her, trying to avoid all the eyes trained on her. She was an introvert for a reason; being watched made her uncomfortable. It reminded her of her step-mom, watching with a smirk as Elisabeth fended off the spiders and the taunts.

Annabeth stepped forward, grey eyes dull and empty. Her voice was cold and sad as she spoke for the second time that week, all joy faded, "Welcome to Camp Half-Blood, Jace Lambert, son of Hephaestus."

Sure enough, a glowing hologram of a hammer and anvil circled above his head, flickering with ghostly orange light. His hair, which she assumed would be dirty blonde if not wet, was plastered against his forehead, a confused frown likewise on his face.

He tried to follow everyone's gaze to atop his head, but couldn't link it as everyone had started kneeling, heads downward. It wasn't nessacary to kneel (Genuflect, her mind corrected), but it was a courtesy.

She gently lowered herself to the ground, catching his eyes briefly. Her breath caught in her throat. His eyes were a unique shade of grey; not stormy like Annabeth's or even slate like Malcolm's (who had made it to shore with Bush). They were bright and lively, like a lake at dawn. They glistened and sparkled in the sun, like a diamond in the sky.

Then she shifted her gaze to the floor, a heavy blush floating to her cheeks and neck.

Thoughts whirled in her head like a tornado. Grey eyes were unusual for Hephaestus, but not unheard of. Besides, children didn't always have their godly parent's eye color. Hers were grey, but spotted with her fathers shimmering blue. Kendra Gilliam, another half-sister, had brown mixed in with hers (which may sound strange, but was actually quite stunning). She sincerely hoped that he wasn't misclaimed (which happened surprisingly often), but she doubted it. He had the Hephaestus look to him, with long, thin fingers.