Chapter 17:Off to Camp

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Summer of 2005

Asteria had spent the last few months on Olympus with her father. Zeus had allowed this because the girl was a 'special case.' When was the last time a demigod child of the Big Three had been born that had the first instinct to kill whatever pissed her off? Oh right, World War 2. Hitler son of Pluto and Stalin son of Hades. Yeah, the Olympians were trying to avoid something like that ever happening again, although one could've argued that it was too late.

However, Asteria had shown a lot of progress in her 'therapy lessons' with the other gods. Except for Ares and Dionysus. All that happened with them was a fist-fight that typically ended with a destroyed building or two, or an attempt to get drunk...which never worked.

Hephaestus and his cousin had been working together on repairing the Veritech, a machine that had the Forge God highly impressed. Hermes had shown Asteria around his oversized delivery warehouse, and introduced her to Martha and George, the snakes on his Caduceus. Demeter had introduced her niece to the wonders of agriculture and practically force-fed Asteria cereal; something that only filled her acid sacs. Athena had acted as the teacher one would expect, but her lessons were pointless to one who had telepathy and had spent years among some of the brightest (twisted) minds on the planet; honestly, young Asteria could've gotten PhDs in almost every subject known to man. Apollo, under pain of castration by rusty spoon, had only introduced 'Aster,' his pet name for his cousin, to the greatest eras of music in history: the 60s and the 80s, with some stuff from other decades thrown in here and there; the daughter of Poseidon found that she enjoyed bands like ACDC the most.

Asteria's time spent with Artemis was the one she most enjoyed; the goddess could fight, run, climb, hunt, and was generally a fun person to be around...excluding the extreme anti-male sentiment. Aphrodite valiantly tried to get Asteria to wear something to protect her dignity, but the girl was a nudist by definition, which resulted in heated, almost sister-like arguments over trying to put on a simple pair of panties; the tail kept getting in the way which raised the question over how Athena managed to do it. The Goddess of Wisdom refused to give an answer. Although, the two had come to an agreement of sorts: learn to manipulate the Mist, and create fake clothes.

Interactions with Hera were unwelcome by both, the goddess not caring about her niece, and Asteria returning the sentiment. The time spent with Zeus was short and sweet: the Sky God allowed Asteria to fly whenever she wanted to; those energy-wings had to be good for something. Hestia was the sweetest goddess to with, both for her cookies—which Asteria developed a sweet tooth for, despite not needing to eat—and her devotion to her family, something that was beginning to rub off on young Aster. The time spent with Hades was best left unsaid, but it involved familiar faces and a lot of screaming.

But now that Zeus felt that Asteria was of enough mental stability to not commit mass murder, he decreed it was time to send her to Camp Half-Blood so she could build friendships, interact with people, and train to be a hero...

...right, hero. Totally. Nothing at all was going to go wrong with that idea.

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Bottom of Half-Blood Hill

7:00 P.M.

Poseidon and Asteria stood at the bottom of a large hill, a gigantic pine tree at the top of it. The girl asked her father what the story of that was, and the answer was that there was no story. It was just an enchanted pine tree made to keep monsters out. Aster remarked that it was anticlimactic. Poseidon just shrugged.

"Are you nervous?"

The Princess of Death looked at her father. She was using the Mist to alter her appearance, making it appear that she was wearing jean-shorts that came down to her mid-thigh, and a t-shirt that was a faded mix of sea-green and white. Her tendril-ish hair now looked like a silken curtain of raven that almost seemed to shine in the right light. On her feet was a simple pair of brown sandals. Her usual pitch-black exoskeleton now took on a healthy shade of Caucasian, not quite Hispanic, but more than white. Her eyes had also been hidden by the Mist; no longer did she have sclera the color of deep space, or the pupils of a dragon, now her eyes looked like a regular set optical organs, even if her irises were a poisonous green. Her tail, dorsal tubes, and claws had all been covered in a layer Mist so thick that even Poseidon couldn't see them without having to consciously try.

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