Pyrrhic

━━ XIII

APOLLO HAD TOO MANY CHILDREN. Lyra was quite worried about him. Even though she'd known half of them for less than a few days, she was already willing to give the world for them. And even though she'd met the god only thrice, yet talked twice with him, she knew enough of his mythology to understand he was a god quite infatuated with the idea of love, though in practice he was a disaster. Aphrodite really did seem to despise him—or perhaps it was Eros the one who laughed at his misfortune. Whatever the case, his chaotic endeavors led to more people for Lyra to love, so she couldn't judge him too much.

However, the amount of descendants of Apollo (ten sons, two daughters, way too many in Lyra's mind; rivalling even the Hermes cabin, which was only so full because it housed undetermined campers, most of which would stay there for there was no cabin for their godly parent) was enough to keep her entertained for those few days when everybody returned back to camp and things got a little hectic in order to settle down throughout the week. If Lyra had been bored out of her mind before, now she would never have a moment of peace. At least not inside the cabin. The woods, though peaceful, had never been silent.

Lyra was welcomed by every single one of the children of the sun. They opened their arms and wrapped them around her frame as soon as Lee repeated the words he'd said to little Will Solace: "she's staying with us even though she's not dad's". The first night they were all together, they decided to start referring to her as their sister. She was one more. They wouldn't treat her as an outsider—she was one of them, now.

(Quite literally. The boys plus Felicity took her outside, formed a circle around her and loudly chanted in front of the entirety of the camp: one of us, one of us, one of us. Marisol judged them from her spot in Cabin Ten's porch, yet still fervently agreed when asked if she was okay with this.)

Her heart still swelled. It was the first time she wanted to cry of happiness. She'd never felt like this before, and it was almost suffocating, but in a good way.

And talking about suffocating—it quickly became quite cramped inside Cabin Seven. Luckily, at some point during the last month new bunk beds had appeared out of nowhere, so no one had to sleep on the floor or ask someone to share their bed with them. But it was still too many people inside the cabin, and it was even more noticeable to Lyra, who'd gotten used to the meager four people living in it for the past six months. It wasn't the same living there when Lee had his duties at the infirmary and Michael did "whatever short people did" (according to Marisol), but it was outside the cabin, leaving her to peacefully do her own things.

They all learned quickly that Lyra wanted to spend as much time with them as possible, probably thanks to Lee's whispered influence, and everyday they asked her to accompany them to whatever activity they were doing at the moment, even if it was in silence: practicing their poetry writing skills or reading beside her while she fiddled with Marisol's lyre or doing anything they were good at, quietly. She'd borrowed some tragedies from Castor and Pollux and her cabinmates were more than happy to read them to her, even acting them out if there were enough people inside the cabin. So while she had no poetic capabilities, she could still enjoy one form of art around them, and because of them.

In short, they all fit. Marisol read her usual love stories, Alexander wrote, Felicity poured her soul in her diary, Jim composed new songs for his rock band, Will practiced bandaging Lyra's limbs in record-time, Michael slept, Austin interpreted his sheet music with an invisible instrument and perfectly-tuned whistles, Zach studied from his anatomy books (he was as bad as a child of Athena, said Lee) while Makoa struggled to memorize the periodic table (which took a while for Lyra to understand what it was—pretty cool, as the Stolls would say). Mauricio brought fruits and vegetables that he asked Cabin Four and Twelve to grow for him and painted still life, while Kenji was more adept at portraits, and thus, he'd painted his siblings in a multitude of scenarios. Her favourite was the one of the twins helping each other with their writings, for it was a rare scene, and seeing it immortalized in oil painting was beyond beautiful. He'd promised she could keep it and hang it above her bunk once it dried. And Lee was always helping someone when they struggled, and if not, he was helping the other campers with their injuries or trying to teach them how to take care of themselves.