Hunters Of Apollo (SYOC~ closed)

Ashton V

ASHTON NEVER ASKED FOR MUCH. When he was little, he was never the type of kid to beg their mom to buy them the toys aisle; in school, he kept to himself and expected others to do the same. It wasn't until he first came to Camp Jupiter that he started asking: Will you get that hammer for me? Lend me that screw?

Dad, will you give me a little bit of attention?

That was the ball-dropper, the question he prayed to the gods each night at dinner before he ate. Of course, it had morphed over the years. From asking who his dad was at Camp Jupiter, then, after being claimed and sent to Camp Half-Blood, asking for his dad to send him proof.

It changed several more times before he finally settled on the current question, which was, as previously stated: Dad, will you give me a little bit of attention?

Now he finally got a little bit of attention from the gods; maybe not his dad, but he always admired Apollo. Apollo got attention; Apollo got noticed. Maybe, just maybe, that was what Ashton really wanted.

He sighed and continued clearing his designated cabin workspace. The trinkets and half-charred tools fell into the plastic Walmart bag with a single swipe of his hand. Saw dust (Did he even own a saw?) billowed up and out, sparkling in the fluorescent yellow light.

Ashton tied off the nearly full bag, automatically reaching for another one. His hand met empty space. He glanced over with skeptical surprise, only to realize that he was out of a Walmart bags. All that remained in his bed section was the old comforter he scarcely used and a flip phone he only used for emergencies.

Ashton smiled at his work, gingerly setting his most recent Walmart bag down. It clunked against the floor. He surveyed the Hephaestus cabin; it's steel-embroidered doorway, the Legos and wood scraps scattered amongst the floor. This place was like home to him, following only Camp Jupiter and his mom and step-dad's house.

Ashton huffed and cleared his head, turning away. He was packed now. Apollo had informed (read: demanded) them to meet him at Thalia's Pine at exactly four minutes from dawn. Most of his siblings were asleep by now, but he could still hear murmured speech and muffled drills coming from the lower workspace.

He wanted to say goodbye (who knew how long he would be gone?) but as he checked the one fancy thing he owned—a beautiful wristwatch his Vulcan friends crafted for his 18th birthday— he realized it was six minutes from dawn. He couldn't be late, couldn't have this taken away.

Plus, he didn't want to be turned into a duck. That would be bad.

Ashton grabbed the plastic bags and slung them over his shoulder, shifting his weight. It wasn't very heavy, but it was difficult to carry in terms of size. As he headed towards the door, struggling to keep his grip, he gave one last look at the place he had known for two summers.

Ashton quietly shut the door behind him and waltzed away, the lowered moon illuminating his path.

He got there a minute later. Jace, his half-brother as of three months, had been waiting there for probably a half-hour. He had dropped by a few times to retrieve forgotten baggage, but now he was slumped against his Walmart bags, eyes shut. Jace was long since over the Canada-U.S. time difference, but had opted to stay up to pack. Now, Ashton could tell he regretted it.

There were a few other people there that Ashton vaguely recognized: Josie Hart from the Dionysus cabin, Gunnar Wagoner from the Ares cabin, and Ambrosia Feint from the Hermes cabin. There were a few others who had their backs turned or were too far away for Ashton to see. Several dark shapes stalked towards the tree from the corner of his eye; he assumed it was the rest of the candidates.