[IC] Olympus Academy // A School for Demigods and Demigoddesses

[HereComesTheSnow]

Jonas Highwind

Pond Pugilists
@Krayzikk@Altered Tundra@Inkarnate

"Under the mattress. It'll make your whole week."

Those were my words to Rebekah Cross as the image of a nameless and wholly unremarkable Rapier formed within my mind. I had found it somewhat surprising that nobody else had taken me up upon the offer, but much less so that she, the only one, made a request twofold. Perhaps the Athenian was the only one who truly knew of Glorious Eidolon's capability— Nobody else has sparred quite so much with me save my sister, who already held a weapon of her own. And in truth, that one pistol's true nature blew almost everything I had out of the water— almost.

But this was not enough to warrant the only surefire exception. Too many people here, too much nature to wreck, and no enemies that necessitated it. I am not a grand strategist like Fell, but even me and my humble schemes have more nuance that vaporizing a kilometer of forest and lake for these lowly beasts.

I quickly pulled that Rapier into reality, and tossed it to her waiting grasp, hilt-first. With no legend attached, there was no need for specificity, and as such I could draw up a perfect copy of what I had envisioned— a sword I had even the pleasure to wield in my own hands before adding it to the library. There would be no dissipating, no time or force limit that came with trying to use Divine Magic to brute-force an incomplete visualization onto the material world. What her request traded in unique attributes, it made up for in reliability.

For all intents and purposes, the thin and elegant stinger she held was real. Everything from material composition to structural layout to even the attached history— It was all as good as genuine.

After that, I only had the opportunity to rearm myself before the swarm came. Despite constant bombardment, their proclivity to multiply upon being damaged gave them enough staying power to close the gap without suffering visible losses in body count. However, this initial wave had given me an important piece of information— These shadows did feel fear.

That I knew how to leverage.

Ten minutes had passed since I entered melee combat now. I know for certain I've cut through them like a tempest, leaving dozens cut and broken in my wake. They had come at me from multiple sides, first in twos, then threes, then groups of five. Very much like wolves indeed. I doubt they intended this, but it did manage to dampen the effects of the pair of blades I hold.

The terrors of the Moors, symbols of the Reconquista, and the hero that arose from it that outshone all others from the nation before or since— El Cid. Both are well-crafted and marvelous things, resplendent with gilded crossguards and inlaid jewels at the pommel; only the finest livery that would befit a great hero of Spain. Their razor sharp blades, however, and the deadly arcs of moonlight I cut with each swing—

The hound leaps back as Tizona catches the fire's light. It yowls not in anger, nor in pain. Upon the sight of this weapon and his twin, Colada, all even this unnatural beast can feel is frigid terror. Brave men, courageous vanguards of Castille and Al-Andalus alike, knew the very same fear when they faced the man known as El Campeador. According to legend, upon catching sight of either of these three-foot swords, they would throw their own down and scream "I yield!". Ferrán González had not even met the blade in El Cid's hands, but rather those of Pero Vermúdez— and surely my own would too elicit surrender in a duel.

These hounds do no such thing, and have a nasty habit of trying to go for my neck from behind, where they have both the least chance of catching sight certain death and the "best" chance of taking me out. Annoying, but not troublesome. The line that has formed from my peers has had no trouble, even bolstering their ranks as the newly arrived Haluk Erdogan brought with him the party favor of a lifetime— a radius of courage. Let alone myself— not even they, mostly partygoers who did not live and breathe this nearly so much, were in any trouble.

An inhuman burst of speed drives me forward, as Tizona's downward arc continues unbidden by the thing's skull and torso. Strength, speed, agility, fighting intelligence— they are outmatched in every area. I whirl, and to no great surprise, three are midair with claws outstretched, leaping for my neck. Pack tactics emphasizing bait-and-switch play. Smart enough for dogs.

In my left hand, carried by the momentum of my turn, Colada tears through three more victims, rendering them smoke.

Not smart enough for me.

The sound of moving paws from roughly where I had noticed a dark mass beforehand reveals a new nugget of information, one I by now digest in the same instant. This one is new, lining up with about what I had expected for a timeframe.

The root individual that spawned these leaps through the inky smoke they left behind by their passing, absorbing some of their dispersing matter back into itself. Maximizing strength whilst attacking through a screen, off-beat from the pattern I had grown so clearly used to.

They are learning. Getting craftier. Not smart enough yet, but inching their way through the gap between themselves and I. Perhaps with enough numbers, they could eventually overrun me. I'd be stupid to ignore it, even if the possibility was nowhere near a concern right now.

My shin crashes into the hound's jaw, and the best-plotted attack of the night falls limp as the force of my roundhouse kick renders its neck completely shattered.

They did not multiply. The first four have all dispersed, adding to the growing dent I've punched in them over ten minutes— but the fifth and original joins a frothing mass at the center, all darkness reaching out and coalescing into the field of pitch that cascades before us, before pulling back inward.

A lull forms. The fighting everywhere else has stopped— it seemed everything that had survived the onslaught had huddled together into this one mass, a last-ditch effort to consolidate strength and punch through our defenses. Fair enough, I suppose. They were getting nowhere with wave tactics.

The darkness rises, taking the shape, finally, of a man. I observe it as it speaks. Two stories tall. Cloaking the outline of its frame with ambient shadow. Tail seems active, likely a weapon. Consider as large cat o' nine tails, each sub-appendage ends in a long spike. Limbs are bulky, suggesting a rather severe uptick in power, and end in trios of robust but sharp claws. Similar to the beasts that in was borne from, doubtless. Most concerning is the ooze which these key points secrete, seeming of some sort of corrosive or corruptive nature. How fitting if I were to fight All the World's Evil after playing at what I have for so long— But I doubt it's so grand.

Least concerning is its mouth. I want to sigh hearing this.

"'Shadow'. How..." I intone off-handedly, planting the blades of Tizona and Colada in the earth for a moment. Taking a second to roll out my shoulder, my disdain must be apparent even as the spectral image of Fail-not gives way to yew and string.

Drawing a trio of Ornithes Arrows to full, I settle on the expression as I aim for a very high arc.

"How utterly two-bit. You've been trying to take us out for ten minutes straight, and that managed to be the most tired thing here."

I honestly really doubt it's very grand at all. Especially if it bites on the bait my words have just placed.

Smirking, I let them fly. They will continue on their own accord and adjust for his movements, should he make any, until they fall as thunderbolts from nearly straight above.

I dismiss the conjured bow. I have no need for it where I am going.

I reach for my swords, pulling them free from the earth, and start forward. I am a supreme athlete even amongst my demigod fellows, and now that I am in the full heat of battle, my physical prowess is all but unmatched. This distance between us is as nothing.

In the blink of an eye, I am level with it's grinning "face", covered by the shadows of its hood. My eyes bore into where its should be, assuming a humanoid skull structure. A smug look might be on my face, but there would be no doubting that I have intent to kill.

And in the blink of the next, I swing Tizona and Colada in a murderous cross, beginning my assaults both physical and psychological. He was confident, yes, but so were many before they faced either of these preternaturally terrifying blades in combat. I want to see how he reacts to that.

Not to mention whether or not he minds me cutting a huge X through his torso.

[Krayzikk]

@Plank Sinatra@HereComesTheSnow @Write @Inkarnate

---

”You and your sister give the nicest gifts.”

The sword’s hilt touched her left palm and her fingers closed around it with ease, despite the use of her off hand. Not optimal, but she wasn’t dueling; a deft touch was not needed. Her right quested under the mattress where directed, and a smile broke across her face when her fingers brushed metal. In a single smooth motion she withdrew a gas-operated, stainless steel-constructed mechanism of divine judgement dispensed through thirty two 12-gauge shells contained within the first of two drum magazines. On an intellectual level, the Auto Assault-12 was a marvel of mechanical engineering suitable to bring a tear to the eye. It delivered its payload with borderline negative recoil, would never need to be lubricated, and would only require cleaning after ten thousand rounds. If you felt like it. You could drop it, wade through an ocean, drag it through the muck, and it’d still roar to life to fulfill its function.

On a visceral level, it was the most satisfying way to bring a tear to someone else’s eye with a twelve gauge.

What came next was the most precise of juggling acts, tossing the rapier up with her left, looping the firearm’s sling over her neck, transferring it to her left and sliding the drum magazine into place with a satisfying click. Braced against her hip, she racked the bolt once with her left hand to ready the mechanism while the rapier’s hilt again found her palm, though this time the right. To the naked eye it was impossibly fast. Fast enough, for certain, to bury the point of her blade in the first of the creatures to reach the truck. Jonas was keeping them busy, for sure, but the disordered beasts still needed addressing. They moved in slow motion to her eye, little more than composition assessments and patterned movements. Academic. It was almost boring with the son of Ares occupying so much of their attention, there was nothing to fill her mind.

The beasts themselves were such a letdown.

”They’re shadow,” She relayed in the same tone as someone discussing their cooking, idly kicking the mutt’s corpse away from the truck bed. ”Certainly not natural beasts. Personally I’d advise fire.”

Though, their multiplication was slightly more distressing. Rather than stay down, a single slain creature seemed only to become more. It wasn’t an outright magical feat, she would see the workings of such like strands in the air, but perhaps a natural attribute to their existence? Further observation should tell. The tip of her blade whipped out, here and there, to end a foe when they wandered within her reach. She felt her brother before she saw, or even heard him; a shot of pure positivity to the soul, a swelling of focus deep in the chest. Raw conviction in every thought, tenacity in every flex of a muscle. It was a feeling she occasionally wished she could figure out how to bottle, as the traditional liquid courage was not quite the same. This one didn’t cost her lucidity, too.

”Glad you could join us, brother.” She greeted, directing a glance off to her left. Another smile graced her features, a touch less restrained than usual. ”I was beginning to think you would miss it. Watch the left flank, if you please. One less front for me to consider.”

The next ten minutes was an exercise in probability, not even approaching the definition of strategy. It was a matter of force calculation, nothing more. Her own blade flashed in the dim light to punctuate simple instructions that amounted to little more than directing one of her compatriots to an impending flank. Even with their increasing numbers, the forces leveled were laughably imbalanced. It was like a swarm of ants trying to overrun a military compound. The amount of force that could be exerted was so many times more than needed that it actually took more work to hold them at bay than simply wiping the grid coordinates off the map. An exaggeration, but an apt comparison. In time there might be enough of the beasts to overrun their position, given their ludicrous rate of procreation, but it would be many hours before anyone began to tire. It was simply a matter of determining how to stop their spread.

In time, however, something approaching counter strategy began to occur. Directed flanks, not mindless exploitation of an opening. Groupings approximating battle lines began to emerge like an infant hitting on a plan.

But before that could amount to more, the whole scene changed.

The creeping morass of shadow looked like something out of one of Dana’s animes, the swarm giving rise to a voice of the legion. A bishonen line, if you will. The more human it appears, the stronger it is. Strange but simple. She watched in slow motion as it formed, grew, the way the energies involved interplayed and interlocked to create a monster among monsters. Considering its height, probably a bit too much for a rapier.

But historically, fire is a cleansing force. Prometheus’ gift to humanity, harnessed to propel mankind to dizzying heights. Fire, that in Norse myth cleansed the world to begin anew. The enemies of humanity truly despise fire and this towering evil could not more clearly an enemy of humanity be.

It would die in fire.

”Marcy, I’m going to need more magnesium. And I’m going to need you to toss it to me with this.”

The daughter of Athena casually tossed the second mag in her friend’s direction, and pulled a road flare out from the same place she’d grabbed the shotgun. It turned to dust in her hand at a mere thought, flowing through any opening down into the AA12’s magazine. Though she could not see, she could feel and know how it mixed with the shells within. There wasn’t enough in the flare for every shell, but Marcy would see to that. Alternating the thirty shots would work for now.

”And you.”

Deigning to address the hulking shadow as she hopped down off of the truck, moving the shotgun off of her hip and into her hand. Her walk had all the assuredness of a victor, emanating from every swaggering step.

”Shut up. Highwind, danger close.”

The normally passive demigod blurred into motion, actually catching up with her more martial friend though she started later. While Jonas cut into the creature, she pulled the trigger and felt the satisfying thunk of the bolt action as a lance of white-hot fire a hundred feet long stabbed into its form. A round of military buckshot followed a fifth of a second later, then another flame, and so on. Never once did the mechanism stop, nor did the demigod. She kept running full-out in strafing loops too quickly for the monster to every hope to keep up with.

If it hadn’t died after thirty two shells in the next fifteen seconds, Marcella would have her next salvo locked and loaded.

Kill it with fire indeed.

[Write]

<sub>Location: Right in the fucking thick of it (lol this was prophetic)

Marcy Interactions:
Jonas @HereComesTheSnow,
Beks @Krayzikk</sub>

_{☠ Marcella Aveline Bonaparte ☠ 20, Fifth Year}

---

A shadowed hound snapped at Marcella, but before it could reach her two of Creboros’ jaws sunk into different parts of the dark beast’s flank and tore it asunder. His owner placed a steady palm on his back, waiting to find a better target to send him towards. She surveyed the battlefield, staring down Lovecraft’s newest boytoy. Ten minutes of pure grindhouse and that’s what they throw at us?

Its appendages bent in ways that appeared vaguely human, with knees and elbows. But its tail and the protruding, sharp bones made it seem as though it was something corrupted. She didn’t recognize it from her time in Hades.

No, it wasn’t a monster of the underworld. Her glare returned with a smile confirmed that. No monster of her father’s domain would dare cross her, let alone begin open combat through such cowardly means as to ambush her. A proper villain would have challenged her, they would’ve wanted the name of the beast that felled Hades’ daughter. They were predictably driven by a singular ambition of creating an easy life for themselves.

No beast of hell was this cocky around a team of demigods, let alone the princess of hell.

Even if they were, they definitely weren’t this vocal about it.

Marcy opened her mouth to tell ‘Shadow’ exactly how weird his flex was, but Jonas single-handedly took the vanguard. The daughter of death knew it was to be expected of her hulking friend. He had most likely discerned a weakness in the creature’s stance or was biding time for Bekah’s. Marcy’s head snapped back to the Athenian just in time to intercept the magazine.

She watched Bekah mix in the road flare to the shotgun cartridges.

“You’re a crazy bitch Beks.” The secondary magazine and absolute indefatigable purpose landed with her. “Understood.”

When the daughter of Athena asks for flames, it was your job to deliver. And gauging by the rate of fire of the weapon, she didn’t have time to be delicate.

As Jonas’ assault of yew and Bekhah’s of flame began Marcella got to work. Give the rate of fire of the weapon at play, she’d have no more than fifteen seconds to replace her friend’s magazine.

15 seconds, she thought.

Marcy wrenched a shell free from the magazine, popping it into her mouth and uncorking it in order to get a better look at its contents. She made the calculation in a matter of two seconds before thrusting her hand into the Earth. She scanned the frontlines as Jonas and Bekah continued their assault on Shadow. A hound flanked around Creboros.

It’d make a fine target.

13 seconds.

“Devour the foolish sacrifices that grovel on thy land.” Marcy's voice was met with nothing but alacrity from the Earth. She felt pieces of minerals separate, elements channel and change into the earth until finally an ashen icicle jutted through the shadow’s sternum, impaling it with a glacier nearly eight feet tall of pure magnesium. She heard some cheering from the lake but she stowed the jubilation, the bulk of the task still remained.

11 seconds.

The thunderclap of Bekah’s weapon punctuated Marcella’s steady heartbeat.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

Her hand grasping hold of the raw magnesium, molding it in her palm until it formed a fine powder. She commanded the brass caps of each shell to separate as she filled each of them with a mix of gunpowder and magnesium, that took six seconds. She clenched her fist and the shells each sealed themselves shut as if they’d never been opened.

Save for a small engraving of a winking face and her signature.

5 seconds.

Marcy’s fingers delicately, quickly moved. Each shell flew through the air, the magnesium and brass was enough for her to manipulate each cartridge back into the magazine. Bekah fired her last shot at the smoky creature, “Bekah, Incendiary rounds coming in hot!” Marcy’s voice came loud and fast as her arm whipped the magaze like a baseball directly towards the Athenian.

Time!

Marcella had given Bekah the tool she needed to bring the flames of the underworld to this small little lake party. Who said the girl didn't know how to party?

[Rockette]

<sub>_______________________________________________________________________________________

𝚢 𝚘 𝚞 𝚠 𝚎 𝚛 𝚎 𝚝 𝚑 𝚎 𝚕 𝚒 𝚐 𝚑 𝚝 𝚝 𝚑 𝚊 𝚝 𝚜 𝚑 𝚘 𝚝 𝚝 𝚑 𝚛 𝚘 𝚞 𝚐 𝚑 𝚝 𝚑 𝚎 𝚍 𝚊 𝚛 𝚔 𝚗 𝚎 𝚜 𝚜</sub>

^{_______________________________________________________________________________________}

When it happens, it happens fast.

It blurs into singular motions warped in strides, it's a quickness that lopes and plods with terrifying haste suspended in the gloom, haunted by a scarlet glow and glimmers of baited bone that snap rigidly through shadow. Emma inhales, sharp, whistling through gapped lips and teeth and the banked darkness at her heels is abloom, expanding far and wide and whippingly fast in its security as such rapidly attaches to Damien's casted shadow. Miniscule twitches of muscle within her hand suddenly spasm, a quivering tell of danger that spells coldness across her limbs, rigid and binding, she gasps around the wealth of power pooling across their connection that arises within her and surrenders her visual to rejoin his own graces. Emma moves, and when she does, the eclipse of the night responds with haunting tilts of the sky, stars suspended in colliding pings that reflect upon her eyes brightened by swirling starlight.

But they move much quicker than she, her person guided back, told to remain at the water's edge less she come to harm; stay back, we've got this. You'll only get in the way. She knows she's not useful in such an affront, her prowess is afforded to decimation and subtle harm, something that festers and accelerates treacherously slow, rather than the sudden and harshness of outright strength. Emma gazes upon those thick into the fray, summoning weapons of valour and within the images of their patronage that christens them almost godly. Raw potential and power coiled upon the fringes of warrior intrigue and brutality. Champions, she thinks sudden and swift, landing on shields, rapiers, manipulated alloys and righteous crests of a manifest. Mortal frailty is not found here and she is breathless in reproach and perhaps fear of the sudden unknown. She seeks out Damien helplessly, her shadow a flicker of a connection that clutches desperately to his slickly coated shoulders quivering broad and weighted in his power, her palms burn, but she cannot respond beyond wet gasps and wide eyes rapt in diving nebulas donned in concern.

"Damien..." she breathes on a feathered whisper and with Shadow now formed, Emma quiets and stills, hair lazily toiling upon an unseen breeze.

Such a creature is not unknown to her entirely, it's akin to an exposition of her eternal nightmares, endless skies, and careening shadows, compiling haphazardly amidst her waking world and stilling within her bones. The voice sluices upon her pores, blackened and rippling with malice, every assault and blinding attack christened white and blinding, martial competence that blurs seamlessly together as they attack. Terrifying screeches peel through her ears with wanting pain, bubbling laughter that pursues Shadow's eerie cry that is wholly mocking and baiting. Each blow and parry and impale lands true, with slick blood that reeks of poison oozing from yawning sores, Shadow slumps forward from their assaults, wicked teeth having risen into a smile, snapping around a blackened tongue that uncoils and drenched in death.

But it does not fall, not yet.

Emma has not realized that she has stepped forward, breaking among the crowd protected by the shores of the lake, bounded by her shadow, spurred by an unknown force that compels her strides whilst Shadow falls, foiled to its knees. A roar of laughter rings against her ears as the creatures raises both arms, black tendrils swirling amidst the bi-mortal children, slithering betwixt her figure then, taunting as it speaks.

"This is all the children of Gods have to show?" Shadow hissed, a slithering speech that rocked Emma to her core. "Pathetic. Undeserving. Mistakes."

Shadow's barbed tail coils then, bunched together before it releases, bidden by reflexes that released numerous projectiles upon the earth, shadows pooling forth in their wake. One comes dangerously close to Emma, a black barb grazed upon her cheek that weeps red upon her pale skin. She flinches, only barely, and listens as another voice summons forth upon her mind: whisper soft and delicate, a blanket to soothe her frayed nerves and soul burdened by the power jolting between her and Damien. Emma's lashes peel wide, her gaze brightened incredibly so, silver stars that bolt across the eerie blackness of her eyes that shimmer then with knowing.

You can help...

Emma kneels, nails raking across whipping shadows, grasping such within her usually fragile gestures now confident and sure, muscles thriving and bounding, her heart aflame and anxious. She breathes around a surge of power that boils within her veins, it wakes across the shadow joined between her and her brother and through such she siphons his emotions: his usual abrasive nature, and confidence within a battle, his raw potential. Emma inhales all of this and more, silver tears spiked upon her lashes whilst she tugs, pulls, ripping apart the veil of shadows usually commanded to shield her within. The rendered darkness splits into a yawning abyss of a void, an endless and desolate pitch that groans eerily within a low-crowned crescendo of barely constrained fury.

"Force it into the void," she cries. "Let it be lost, forever."

[HereComesTheSnow]

Jonas Highwind

Basin Brawlers
@Krayzikk@Altered Tundra@Rockette

Steel bites deep into abyssal flesh, my foe either neglecting to or not having the ability to turn either sword away. Below me a steady chug heralds a stream of sustained fire— a substantial portion of it literal.

Well, Rhea got half her wish. Bekah's definitely having fun. As for me—

Nothing about the resistance I feel suggests much more toughness than the usual beast of this size. He isn't even particularly well-muscled, let alone encased in some armor or carapace beneath that murky haze. Fruitful. It means I can hack him to bits if I so desire, and that the ignited buckshot his midsection's being filled with ought to do much the same.

That said, gravity's still constant. I can't hang around forever in the air unless I get real creative, and "Shadow" isn't a foe that calls for such. I continue lashing out on my way down, drawing one, two, three lines of silver across my enemy's perforated midsection. All of them cut through sinew beneath shadow as they should, moving from clavicle, to chest, to abdomen in the brief instants between each discharge of 00 Buckshot. By now, I've fallen to about the level she's been aiming at as she circles the ink-colored monstrosity with dizzying speed, three full laps made and counting— a bad spot to be for anyone.

I plant my feet in his stomach as the Athenian's strides place her directly behind me.

Anyone else.

Rebekah Fell knows she has no need to release the trigger— I can handle myself with a fifth of a second to make a decision. She, more than anyone, knows all too well.

I kick off, sailing clear over the tight spread of fiery pellets with the force I've imparted— just in time for my own projectiles to complete their long arc downward. I was beginning to wonder if I'd somehow fucked up that opening salvo. I land, and note that my foe appears to be listing forward from all the work I've done trimming him down. Oh, that meant this next part would be pretty fun.

Three arrows cut through the young night sky at an almost vertical angle, and crash upon the thing's head with thunderous report. While not the bolts from the blue carried by the king of Olympus himself, the force equivalent of a trio of 40mm grenades is something nothing on this Earth can ignore.

The figure drops to his knees as I dash in. As an amalgamation of those dogs from before, it only stands to reason that he shares some of their regenerative ability— And with the night so low, a creature of shadow has much to draw from. Further scattering his head should prove insurance—

I don't get the chance. In a burst of motion, he wrenches his arms skyward, directly swatting away at my incoming form. Tizona and Colada cross to meet it, saving me from real harm, but I'm still knocked off my feet. Not ideal. Could be worse.

"This is all the children of Gods have to show?" he snarls, loosing waves of tendril, tail, and onyx-colored spike. "Pathetic. Undeserving. Mistakes."

"Well, not really."

I frown in midair, batting away strikes with the twin blades of El Cid as they come until I have a moment to dismiss them altogether. It's unfortunate, but it looks like I do have to give 'Shadow' this much credit: he doesn't seem to be quite so swayed by preternaturally terrifying weaponry. I'll have to come up with something else. Something to leave a more lasting impression on that pitch colored giant.

Giant...

Moreover, he seems mostly recovered from what we've thrown at him— at the very least, enough to put up this much of a fight. I hold no doubt in my mind I can kill him. I have stared down worse than this, and intend to do so many more times in my life. He is nothing that I can't eventually cut down to size... but considering the others, that may take time I don't have.

My feet find the earth again, and am greeted with something that challenges my sense of reality. A creaking, keening groan assaults my ears from behind the misshapen beast, like that of a splitting ship— Or indeed splitting dimensions.

A tear in reality has formed behind my foe. Even with the nigh-unparalleled acuity of vision I possess, I see nothing but blackness within. A rift into endless and starless night. What the hell is that?

A voice I have not heard crest a whisper until now answers my unspoken questioning.

"Force it into the void," the Daughter of Nyx cries, stepping forward with newfound steel. "Let it be lost, forever."

You don't say...

Force a being of shadow within a world of shadow, and what boundary does it have? Where does one draw the distinction between it and the rest? So long as she can close that gash in space, the concept was simple and straightforward enough. A Daughter of Darkness like her ought to be able to stop what she started just as easily— and just as I know my way around combat, I'd expect her to know her way around a foe like this, too.

"Understood, Boss."

But now I've gone and disarmed myself, haven't I? Let's fix that.

I search once again within the annals of my mind. I had an inkling of an idea earlier that, just as luck would have it, lines up perfectly with the new task at hand. If arming swords aren't up to snuff, then I needed something bigger. I needed something that wouldn't just cut well. My goal isn't to force something without real blood to bleed out.

I need to knock this guy around a little.

I need weight.

I need something scaled properly for fighting things larger than man...

Like a Giant.

I don't know much about this one, but I settle upon it. It has all the important qualities I need right now. I can swing it. It's massive. It's in a weight class well above that of human foes.

My right hand closes around not a proper horn or wood grip, but practically just a tang wrapped in white cloth. So old and improperly understood that this is what I ended up with, huh? Goes to show what just hearing a brief blurb about something would get you. I need to study up after this. Might shatter after the second swing if I'm not lucky.

Then again, I'd say I'm not lucky if I need to swing this more than once. And it's just as well that the grip has worn to nearly nothing— I doubt I could get my hand around it otherwise.

I grit my teeth and lift, bringing the blade longer than I am tall to bear. It holds a single, straight edge, faded blotches of random runes running down its fuller. The back of the blade tapers down to meet the edge in a point for somewhere between a third to a quarter of its length. The metal, I assume, is steel— and plenty of it. Multiple hundreds of pounds.

Out of anyone here, only I'm going to be swinging something this ridiculous around. Dallas is absolutely liable to rib me about it later.

The thing roars again and lashes out, well aware of the plan. He knows that, all at once, the situation has changed. His position is much more precarious. Enemy could be growing desperate, then. Will do everything in his power to avoid that rift, assumedly making the same conclusion as I.

Eh, let him rib me. I have work to do.

I dash forward. I am, by simple nature of physics, slower than before. I'd have to really push myself if I wanted to match my previous "blink of an eye" speed lugging this thing around— but "slower" and "slow" are separate terms.

The shadowy tendrils are back, and I count a half-dozen moving to intercept my advance. Normally I'd just knock them aside or chop them off so they could swipe at me no more.

A spike rushes past my cheekbone, a hair's breadth from breaking skin. I duck fully beneath another swipe, and sidestep past a third thrust.

But I content myself with dodging as I chew up the distance between us in the span of two seconds. I can't spare any of this old poem's tenuous grasp on the mortal world with small morsels like this. With such fragmentary knowledge, I can't guarantee its stability. It's an old tale from Germany, far more obscure to me than those of the Volsung or Nibelungenlied: This is Eckeseax.

The blade of a Giant.

I get inside range. Sorry for being such a slippery bastard, really, but I'm not here to be fair about it. You kind of interrupted the party we've meticulously plotted under the noses of all the staff.

I step in deep. Starting from the ground up, feet legs, hips, torso, and arms become one massively powerful kinetic chain. I exceed any man that has ever drawn breath in the past six hundred years, all to deliver a singular, smashing strike against the interloper's center of gravity. All of my strength carrying all of that weight with all of that speed— I am bound to force him back.

No matter how little I know of Ecke or the man who stole the seax from him before me, I know the one thing that matters for this fight.

There's not a damn thing that walks the Earth that shrugs off me hitting it with a quarter-ton of steel.

[Caasicam]

---

Cold steel met inky black flesh with divine might and singular intent, Jonas' strike carrying such an intensity that appeared to fill the sky with a blinding cerulean glow. The Shadow's grotesque contour was put in sharp relief, a brief second of illumination that made its oily black look waxy and artificial. Being thrust into a radiance so unlike the entity's natural form did nothing but give it an even more outlandish appearance.

It was then, the sky itself lit from the eerie brilliance and combatants' vision clearing, that the source of the sudden flash was shown. Or heard, in this case, with the thumping report of air abruptly ionizing slamming into the illuminated scenery around.

The thunderous clap was preceded by Liam's electric arrival.

So focused on the immediate threat of fully-automatic immolation being dealt out by the Athenian woman, and even more on the aspect of war cleaving his way through its dark sinew, the beast had no chance to defend against the newcomer's own blinding assault.

Liam had, to his credit, made towards the site of the unexpected battle once it was clear the sounds emanating were more than just a party, arriving just in time to see the ghastly form take shape. It was now though, both Jonas and Rebekah's attacks taking the majority of the Shadow's attention away from the others around in their intensity, that Liam began to move. The tear in the fabric of reality, blacker than the ghastly apparition itself, ripping into existence behind it only served to solidify the demigod's course of action.

This monster had to be put down now. This was their best opportunity, maybe their only given the monster's foreboding speech.

Liam had taken a running start. Meters back from the action, he was far enough away for this to seem like a futile approach to foe that was already on the back foot. Even so, bluish energy danced across his body, sparks of power tracing lines around him and forcing his hair to stand on end.

Three more strides and Liam was in a full sprint, moving at a prodigious clip towards his target. Still not fast enough.

It was then that his right foot left the ground, followed closely by his left. The electricity billowing around him clung to the earth from the soles of his feet in incandescent filaments, before breaking off one by one as launched himself upward.

An outstretched hand pointed towards his destination while Liam's right foot continued to rise, leg extending out with clear intent. A surge, and the demigod's motion was for a moment, no longer completely physical.

Thus the sudden lightning strike, in this case a literal strike, as the Son of Zeus rode the lightning to complete his attack. If all went well Liam's kick would firmly plant his foot squarely in the center of the Shadow's vaguely human body, just above where Jonas' staggering blow was landing. The demigod's own strength augmented by the force of the electric javelin of power that carried him there, adding to the assault attempting to push the monster into the void behind.

Liam himself elected to push off of the beast after the blow, launching himself far enough back to avoid retaliation. As he landed on the ground, consciously placing himself behind Rebekah so as to not obstruct her firing solution, the last bit of light faded from the area and the thunderclap became a low rumble as it reverberated away.

The smell of ozone filled the air, and the edges of his tee were singed, but with some luck, the one extra attack had pushed the Shadow over the edge.

[AlteredTundra]

@Krayzikk @Plank Sinatra @Inkarnate @Rockette @Onarax @Caasicam @NeoAJ @Allycat @Write

Vivian was coming in and out of her own consciousness, the head trauma from her fall was resulting in partial loss of awareness. She was holding herself steady with the remains of her sunlight gathered from when the golden orb was still out slowly depleting. She could feel it but the remains were just enough to keep her steady. The warmth of Apollo's light gave her enough strength to keep herself from peril, but she was useless. The fight against those creatures as well as against what became of them when they combined was, as she had partially observed, was getting to the end.

Emma, the Daughter of Nyx, was powerful. Vivian sensed something within her and, while she could sense the power, something about the pale-looking girl frightened her. She was thankful she had been present and did what she did when she did, but Vivian felt a sense of dread build from the pit of her stomach and consume her entire body. If she wasn't already weak from her injuries, this feeling would have certainly done its job. The way she was able to create the portal that threatened to consume all life -- not just organic life but anything that dared get in front of it -- scared Vivian. She actually could feel herself shaking uncontrollably.

And what made matters worse for her was just how unaffected the titan creature was by it, though something brought Vivian out of her nearly-completed, too-terrified-to-move state was the attempt to push him in. First came Jonas Highwind, the ever-powerful Son of Ares. With as much pushback the creature had given, Jonas gave just as much in return from the opposite end. The result of this was both at a stalemate, both unable to fend off the other. Vivian panicked almost. She hadn’t such a feat of strength since the Grand Tournament last year.

She watched even further, unable to peel herself away from the fight. She could see it when others probably could not. Being the daughter of light enabled Vivian Lucasta the passive of being able to see in the light. Darkness might be devoid of it but the light was present if it came from within and soon Vivian was blinded by a blue light suddenly coming in, then the sound of said arrival nearly deafening her.

And then came his attack. Blinding, fast, and brilliantly powerful, an explosion of electricity that lit up the area was enough to not only temporarily suspend the creature into the air, but when contact was made, it had not only pushed it further into the portal that was created from Emma, it had a foot into oblivion.

“Almost there. You can do it, guys!”

Damien Black had never thought of himself as the sort of person who liked to fight. He only did it to alleviate whatever intense emotions he was experiencing at the moment. Whether it was rage or sadness, he fought to siphon it out because that’s what he did. Damien was a siphoner. It was a weird title to be sure, but it was one that fit him like a ray of sunshine fit the Apollo kids. He was the person to go to if you ever needed to give excess power to. He had a knack for literally sucking it out, though it came with a heavy toll. After a while, though the exact time remains unknown to Damien, it will backfire on him and rid him of every ounce of physical endurance and he will practically be paralyzed for weeks.

The burden of wearing the crown is heavy. So that’s why Damien doesn’t use this particular gift, but when his sister jumps into battle, who rarely does so, how could he not follow suit? And surely for those among the partygoers who could fight, who among them could handle Emma’s burden? Who among them had the capacity to take in her excess so her dangerous, if not useful, connection to the void didn’t consume them all? Damien was the only one who could possibly fill that particular void.

He stood not too far from where Emma did. They were close enough to where one of her hands had remained connected to his, a literal symbol of his connection to hers. In any situation where danger was present and she had to jump into the fray, Damien held onto his sister in at least one way. When she created it, immediately the power flowing through her, which was to say the amount of raw energy flowing through both of them would make a lesser man crumble under the pressure, but with his heightened state from the moon and darkness, in addition to just how much Damien could withstand, he truly was able to endure through it and in turn, converting her light into his darkness, thus growing the shadow behind him that connected with the void portal.

“Keep it going, Emma!” Damien took in a deep breath, looking at the others. “Now’s your chance!”

And they took it in strides. Jonas Highwind had been the first to leap into action and then came the surprising -- and late arrival -- of Liam Kruger, son of Zeus as he came pouring down from the sky and chose to take his sweet ass time.

“Oh sure, it’s not like we’re on a strict schedule or anything.” Damien only rolled his eyes, ignoring just how long Liam was taking and instead focused on not being consumed by Emma’s power or his own for that matter. It wasn’t highly difficult, but the more time spent keeping it at bay was less time Damien could spend not depleting whatever strength he might have left after they secured a win.

And then Liam struck, adding to Jonas attempt as well. This was perfect. The beast had one foot in and Damien knew he could also add to the victory. He raised a free hand, shadows hugging to his arm and outstretching their form, contorting and swirling in the air. Like a snake, they slithered around the void, consuming the outer edges and had grabbed onto the beast. Each shadow tendril was like an infinite amount of rope that constricted the beast with three times the force that came from it trying to break free.

As Damien had dramatically closed his fist, the beast no longer had any limb, yet it remained in this dimension. It was on the literal verge of no longer being of this world. Damien only wished the final nudge into the portal would not take long. He did not know how much longer he could last without permanently damaging his body.

[Krayzikk]

@Plank Sinatra@HereComesTheSnow @Write @Inkarnate @Altered Tundra

---

The magazine ran dry too fast.

Marcy had it ready in a heartbeat and soaring through the air towards her, effortlessly intercepted precisely the moment the previous one ran dry, ejected, and loaded so quickly it was as though the bolt never stopped moving. With her hands too quick to properly track maybe it didn't. She registered the portal, and the infinite enigmas beyond it, almost without a thought; delving into it was a recipe for madness even with her comprehension and the reality was simply that she did not care. Her goal had altered, that was all. Rather than strafe she centered her fire on its chest, and pulled down the trigger hard. Jet after jet after jet of fire shot forth, again, again, again, again thirty two times over. Every flame seared and scorched, a wondrous crescendo of mechanical precision and ignition again and again until the weapon cycled empty.

Too fast.

She snatched the last shell out of the air and laughed at Marcella's signature, spinning the emptied munition on her finger as she surveyed the battlefield. Time felt like a crawl after the high speeds she'd been experiencing only moments before, like almost everyone else was moving in slow motion. It was over too quickly, she was just beginning to enjoy herself. So long on that truck, surveying the scene, and the big finish would resolve so quickly? So easily? Laughable. She wanted more.

This fight, it didn't deserve to be called a battle, required no strategy anymore. It was a grand game that she had already won, the conclusion foregone before it even began. But it failed to satisfy her. It was to end, but how? What would be suitable? She could let Highwind and the arriving Kruger finish it, of course, they could do it easily; but where was the fun? A hundred scenarios spun out within her head, the shell's spin as inexorable as that of the earth and almost as slow to her eyes. It was a matter of perspective, of course, the planet was indescribably fast. But so was she. This captive audience to the grand spectacle and she was out of gas before the finale?

Blasphemous. There were people to impress. There was something to fight.

Her decision was made in the fragments of a second between Kruger's kick and the clapping thunder, fingers deftly sending the shell arcing into the air to glint in the moonlight. The Daughter of Wisdom broke into a run, her soul soaring to untold heights on her brother's support and the rush of her own glee. Her feet hit the ground hard, then harder, then harder, the pace like machinegun firing notching higher and higher until the impacts rang out seventeen times faster than the click of her borrowed gun and the earth plumed behind her. One circuit around the truck, a second, a third, the empty kegs within distorting and breaking down into raw material and shaping themselves into links. Four, five, six and the chain lunged like a serpent into her hand coiling with a few flicks of the wrist tight around her wrist. The raven-haired curl hurtled out of the cloud, low and controlled, in a blitz straight towards the beast. Her manic laughter rang out like a battle cry as her muscled coiled and released again and again, dust rising like tracer rounds after every step slammed into the ground like a bullet.

Let's show you fast. You'd better say it, Dana-chan.

Her heart's four chambers roared, chest heaved, and her grin spread wider against the wind. There was no control, no need to calculate the next move, that was already done; she had mapped out all the angles, checked every possibility, and now there was nothing left but action. Absolute certainty that her plan would work plagued with not a single doubt, simply determination.

If this was how Jonas and Dana felt every time they fought, she could understand the need to find this joy as often as possible. The rush was indescribable.

Someone had better.

On her last stride her feet shoved off like a rocket, propelling her up and up and up as the coiled chain shot out like a parachute towards Highwind's hand. One of the only people who didn't move so sluggishly in her eyes, one hand left the hilt of his weapon and gripped the chain tightly. The movement was fast, even to her gaze, and she wondered if he even considered it. Their perceptions were so similar, but so different; he might not even have consciously grasped her plan, as she would, but she knew he understood anyway. But there was no time to ponder it not even for her.

The climax was coming, the feeling the past eternal seconds had been building towards.

Her outstretched fists crashed into the creature's chin with a sound like a highway collision and her momentum continued unimpeded, following the falling arc of the unbalanced beast into the void. For a few, precious miliseconds she hovered precariously close to oblivion. One mistake, one error, and the gratuitous, reckless blow could have been calamitous.

She wasn't sure she had ever felt more alive.

Then her feet connected with its face, completing her hundred and eighty degree rotation, and the chain around her wrist snapped taut yanking her back towards her allies with even greater force than her feet pushed off rocketing her the opposite direction back towards her friends.

Hayai!

In truth, the danger was an illusion. Why be afraid of an illusion?

Now Jonas just had to help her slow back down.

[HereComesTheSnow]

Jonas Highwind

Shoreline Skirmishers
@Krayzikk@Inkarnate@Caasicam@Altered Tundra@Rockette

A bolt from the blue above my head slams into the chest of the inky giant, collision in sync with my own cleaving strike tearing through his midsection.

Proper extension of the knee, striking surface is the heel, every lever involved arranged in a proper line driving all of the force onto that single hard point. Heedless of the crackling energy, symbolic of the King and directly above my head, I allow a smirk to play across my features. Nine out of Ten, Liam. You pick up Karate over break?

A beat follows his arrival, and with the crack of thunder, he leaves as quickly as he came, springboarding off of the monster's chest and leaving the fresh scent of ozone in his wake. His leap carries him clear over my vision, the same direction he came, and I hear a pair of feet return to earth with a slight skid as he bleeds off momentum. Outside the firing line Bekah's revolutions had set from the sound of things, which then begged the question— Where was she headed?

As I track with my ears, tendrils of shadow rise from the boundaries and wrap themselves around "Shadow's" limbs while he staggers back towards the rift, now closing in on its boundary. Restrained. That has to be one of the Nyx kids. Dunno who, but the assistance is welcome. Gives me a moment to think. Now, the staccato rhythm of Bekah's footfalls has ramped up two or three notches. My guess is she's building up speed for another charging all-or-nothing shot, same in principle as Liam and I. That this now-constant drone of pounding footfalls is near my venerable vehicle is...

Look, don't you dare touch my truck, okay?

The rattle of metal concerns me, but I can name the sound— chains. If nothing else, I know the end product. That narrows down a few things about the situation. I don't know what plot of hers specifically involves a small length of the stuff— but I can name a few potential ones, and I'm in a good position to read them all. Nothing has changed. I can handle whatever is thrown at me.

The black, corded ropes compress upon the lanky sihlouette's extremities, who all the while I've been eyeing as he struggled against these bonds to no avail. They tighten further and further, before with a final and sharp tug, the creature's arms and legs give out beneath the pressure. They are torn roughly from their beginnings, leaving it with... stumps, really. It teeters over the edge, with nothing left to dig into the earth with or brace itself against. The battle is by all means won. One solid hit would be all we need.

A cornered animal.

In a panic, it summons what little free mass is left and lashes out with a final tendril, based from the stump of its left arm. It doesn't look like a true attack so much as desperately reaching out to grab the closest thing it can— In this case me. Does it want to use me as an anchor? Is it trying to make me with it?

Is there any point in trying to know, when there's a fair chance the thing itself doesn't?

No.

There's not.

Whatever it's trying to do to me, I will not allow.

A thick ebon mass rushes towards me, desperation propelling it faster than any other. The last vestige of its power, so boldly spoken of as eclipsing our own. Almost pitiful now.

"Is this all you have to show? Pathetic."

I bat its own words back in its face behind a smirk. Haluk's aura of courage must have me feeling myself after all— I've been pretty taciturn until now. It's a welcome feeling— something different than my own innate warrior's steel. Where I usually was simply able to cordon off any fear or concern in my mind to some safe spot far and away from the parts that let me plan out a win, this was emboldening. Invigorating. Before, I could set off to take on the world with a calm, clear head.

Now? I can take it on and know in the deepest pits of my soul that I'll win.

In the instant the tentacle splits into a seven-pronged net to encompass me in those inky tendrils, my right hand handles the quarter ton heft of Eckeseaxe without complaint as I swing it back across myself, straight through the base of the web. The weight still more than doubles my own, so a necessary shift in stance to compensate for the change in balance occurs—

And several things happen at once.

Firstly, much like the hounds that originally made up the creature, the chunk that had been lopped off like a branch beneath a machete did not retain its shape. It bursts into a cloud of inky smoke, one quickly dispersed by violent waves of wind in the wake of my weapon.

Or what's left of it. That second strike was evidently the limit for the tenuous grasp reality had upon the concept I had asked of my father's armory. After all, such was a reflection of the limited understanding I myself had upon the legend. I knew of it, and I knew enough based on the context alone to understand what I was looking for, but that is not enough to keep it around. The blade I once held in my hands has met a fittingly similar end to what I tore it through, shattering and returning to nothingness with the resounding crash of glass breaking. Such was not an alarming sound— many an Eidolon has given out on me before, and I knew this one would do so quickly.

Speaking of quick.

Third, a raven-haired blur far faster than the tendril I just dealt with rockets past me, towards the creature. In an instant, my eyes adjust— and in that instant, she has completed ten more strides and is long gone, only thing in her wake the chain I'd heard, hurtling towards me.

Well, not being red means I probably still have transportation. That's good.

Towards my face—

My left hand, free from the fading hilt of Ecke's emblematic weapon, reflexively catches hold of it as I would an arrow, out at arm's length as my eyes play catch-up to the one who'd thrown it at me.

She's gotten faster again, then?

Great.

Awesome.

Good for her.

I can't ever take it easy.

But now I see, as she bounds through the air towards the thing's skull, the length of it that's wrapped around her hand and wrist. A simple gambit— given how the onyx giant is a second away from falling on its ass, and her own ridiculous speed, it's pretty clear that she doesn't believe she'll have the ability to fully replicate Liam and I's little spring board routines.

"Shadow" is teetering and recoiling from several critical strikes in the span of seconds. When she crashes into it with all that speed and momentum, it'll certainly knock it into the rift— but for the precise reason it will, she's in danger without this precaution. It cannot brace against this attack. It'll fall over far too soon. Won't absorb the totality of her force, so there's a good chance she'll still be moving forward after it enters the void. Even if she does manage to catch a rebound off of the jaw, I can feel from out here that it might not be enough to clear away from the tear in reality.

If such a thing comes to pass, I'm insurance to prevent her falling in after it.

I just need to wait for the right moment. Too soon, and she'll be caught between her force and my own.

I don't want to rip the girl's arm out of its socket. I'll catch hell from Dana and Haluk.

Not to mention, I'll feel awful about it.

I need to pull her in right at the moment where her forward momentum is neutralized— that crucial instant of hang time. That's when I bring her back to terra firma. I just need timing. She more than anyone knows my gift for it. Nobody else would be able to catch that instant in the heat of things.

She collides, hitting the far end of the pendulum with a thunderous force akin to a car crash. Kinetic energy was the weapon we both shared and adored, but her application of velocity may have just beat out mine of mass for this one. The argument for placement, however, isn't even close. I forced it back from its center mass— she knocks it over from the top.

And over it falls.

Knowing that her opportunity is rapidly fading away, Rebekah Cross uses her momentum to, recklessly and gratuitously, fall in for fractions of a second with the creature as she twists herself fully in the air, chain doubling as an axis.

A relative eternity to her and I compared to most. And judging from that manic grin of hers— enjoying every moment of it.

She needs a few more inches to optimize the connection. More distance to fall, to drift precariously close to certain death in the air. Against all reason, I lean forward, adding just enough slack to the links of metal that serve as her lifeline. I know what you wanna do. It's stupid. It's really dumb. It's needless.

Fortunately, you and I get along for a reason.

Her feet find its jaw, and she pushes off.

It does not carry her far.

It barely carries her at all, as her increased strength within the radius of her brother proves useful in pushing his mass down— but even we do not ignore Newton's Third.

She and the screaming torso of darkness accelerate away from eachother equally— it alongside the force of gravity, and her against.

She inches upward, mouthing something with an absolutely churlish grin on her face.

...Nani?

For an instant, a space between milliseconds, she floats as that momentum bleeds off against the ever-present pull towards the center of the earth.

Go time.

I step my left leg deep behind me and wrench the chain from out in front of me into my ribs, accelerating sharply over the distance once I see that she's braced her arm after feeling and recognizing tautness. It's not maximum power, but I'm certain it's more than enough. I'm not so dim-witted as to hurt my main training partners while we sparred, let alone when we're cooperating.

And no matter what happens to a girl's weight over the summer, she flies to safe territory.

[NeoAJ]

_{Location: Niaides Lakeshore
Interactions:
Jonas @HereComestheSnow
Avem @Rockette
Dustyn @MissCapnCrunch
Mentions:
Viv @Altered Tundra
Marcella @Write
Rebekah @Krayzikk
Liam @Caasicam}

The party was finally about to kick into high gear. People were starting to get a solid buzz on. Pong was going to go down. Everything was right with the world, and Kelsey was feeling it. Her boast to her new roommate was proof, and the fact that Avem was fair game was a good sign for the year to come.

"My money is on you girlie. Might I suggest a nose ring though. Maybe win a new piece for me, I need some new jewelry in my body."

Kelsey tilted her head back and forth, bangs crossing in front of her face as she did. "I dunno. Marcy got some pretty pieces, prob'ly gonna draw away from everythin' else ya got." She winked. "But I like your thinkin'. Nose ring wouldn't take away from the shootin'."

She didn’t have much time to plan for the game ahead, however. Not with Viv’s scream piercing the night like her shots usually pierced the cups. The owner of Dustyn’s tooth kept yelling at everyone to run, but Kelsey was no runner. Not unless basketballs were involved.

However, once the entire beach party became surrounded by black beasts and red eyes, running wasn’t an option for anyone from the looks of things. The dark creatures had the numbers advantage. But they didn’t have the weapons advantage.

The Missouri girl had her bow in her hands quicker than she could finish downing the beer that was left in her can. She drew one of her arrows and nocked it, keeping it primed as the beasts seemed to be sizing up the various morsels collected on the beach for them. “Stay behind me, Dust,” she told her friend as she tried to figure out which one of the shadow creatures would make the first move.

Turned out it was all of them.

"Rhea! Gather up everyone who can't fight and hit the water! You can keep them safe there!"

Jonas was taking control of the situation. At least someone was. Kelsey was never exactly a coach on the floor. Her job was to catch and shoot, and that’s what she started doing. “Do that instead, Dust,” she amended her statement as she started placing arrows in red dots with precise accuracy.

"Dana! Bekah! Kelsey! Truck's as good elevation as you'll get without climbing trees! If anyone's got weapon requests, say so now!"

Apparently there was a plan for her after all. Get her onto the roof of the truck so she could ping targets with impunity. Kelsey could get down with that. She hustled over to the pick-up, quiver in hand before leaning it up in the back against the window. “Just make sure I got all tha arrows I’m gonna need, Joe! Fill tha damn truck bed if ya need to!”

Marston posted up at the top of the vehicle and started firing at will. It was actually fun for a while. Definitely was better target practice than she was getting from some of the ranges on campus. It was a lot more fun shooting things that could actually scream out in pain, too. However, nothing fun lasts forever and eventually the beast converged into one giant being that was suddenly way too big for its britches. Talking about rights to powers and some typical preachy bullshit that villains or creatures that got too hissy about what they didn’t have whined about to the heroes that ended up filling them with enough magic or projectiles or whatever the hell killed them. Better not be beer.

“Keep talkin’, ya blown-up oil puddle,” Kelsey muttered to herself as she merely readied another volley of arrows in her bow. She was pretty sure the silver-tipped heads were going to work pretty well. Usually handled creatures of darkness in the sims.

Bekah and Marcy had other ideas, going the “kill it with fire” route that was pretty effective as well. Liam, was nice to see Liam, Kelsey wasn’t sure the Zeus kid was going to make it to this party, he came in with the lightning and it appeared every single element was going into sending this overgrown MCR fan back to the basement it crawled out of. The Nyx siblings had opened up some sort of portal to suck it back in. Fuck. Didn’t think the emo kids would actually prevent the apocalypse. Guess I owe someone a beer.

Kelsey was determined to help with the final push though. It was going to be tough aiming around all the other demigods looking to nail the final blow against this giant shadow fart, but there was going to be no one else who could do that without putting an arrow into something of this world. The nominal daughter of Artemis took aim and launched multiple arrows towards the beast, hoping that while not flaming, the bolts would be enough to end this thing and get back to what was truly important in this world, beer.

[AlteredTundra]

@Rockette

Shadow, the name it currently went by, was a creature whose powers should have surpassed that which was of the mortal realm. Those who it saw as inferior and less than what it was couldn’t begin to understand how powerful this being of darkness was. Its very presence was able to render even the gods worried for their kin, but despite this, despite it being more powerful and more menacing than primitive young adults, Shadow of the Black was unable to move.

As tendrils summoned from Damien Black, son of Nyx, constricted the limbless being in a space in front of the vortex that was both in a separate dimension -- a dimension forged from Emma’s consciousness -- as well as the one that the Demigods existed it. In a manner of speaking, Shadow both existed and was starting to cease its own existence. Damien didn’t possess the powers to push it in further. Had he not taken up the mantle of Siphoner, then perhaps he could focus on the being, but it was either put the others at risk of getting tangled up in Emma’s excess powers or absorb it and simply put the being one step closer to certain death.

”You think you can hold me, boy! I am above your comprehension! No mortal can defeat me!” Shadow screeched a terrible sound from its large mouth, begging to deafen those nearby.

Damien’s eyes winced, his body trembling slightly as its horrendous sounds as close as it could disrupt the position that Damien held beside his sister. Eyes twitched and his ears started to bleed slowly and soon he heard muffled sounds. It only took him a moment too long to realize the muffled sounds he heard was the screech and soon his own concentration was starting to give way.

“Emma, I’m not sure but this could be bad for all of us.”

He wasn’t sure if she could hear him. Or if he heard whatever she said in reply. Like his name, the sight in front of him went from dimly illuminated light to a blackness he had not experienced nor felt since his first meeting with his mother. It felt very similar too, like right now, it felt like she was reaching out to him in the darkness. Cold hands wrapped around him, embracing him and lifting him up.

As every inch of him became immersed in the darkness, there was a small glimmer of light that was attaching itself to him. Like a magnet, Damien was getting closer and closer to it. Instinctually, the demigod reached up to grab it. In his hand a twinkling star exploded in his hand, it consumed his entire being, but then he came out of it. Shining bright like the star that had swallowed him, Damien emerged, his hand still connected tightly with Emma’s and everything around him as it was when the darkness had consumed him.

...Only it wasn’t as it was before.

“What’s happening--”

As the black creature kept wailing about, it soon locked on with something emerging from the sky. And soon Damien followed suit, a feeling overwhelming him as the devil on his shoulder made him look up. When he spotted just exactly what had sent Shadow into silence brought a sense of wonder and slight fear into him.

“They’re here…”

@HereComesTheSnow @Plank Sinatra @Krayzikk @NeoAJ @Caasicam @Inkarnate @MissCapnCrunch @Write

---

Like meteors, they came down from the sky, each different colors -- all different colors, shining brightly in the night that was the sky. The moon had only added to the brilliance, radiating hues of all shades of the multi-colored rainbow surrounded The Seven. Their power was felt for miles. Damien could sense them from miles away. To think that they had fucked up so bad that The Seven needed to come out themselves.

As the seven meteors crashed fifty paces away, the amount of force that was present at the exact moment of their landing created a cloud of dust and dirt to surround them and surround the entirety of the area. Damien heard leaves rapidly shake to the point where they were ejected from the branches and the branches themselves snapped. The ground around him started to break. Though it was difficult to see for those who weren’t able to at first, Damien had the added bonus of being able to see what most could not.

And so he activated his Eye of Nyx, increasing the range of his vision, seeing through cloud and smoke, seeing past the debris. He focused on the slowly approaching group of seven and he saw them as clearly as he could given the situation. They were present in a way that was detailed in the texts. “The Seven are a legion of warriors permitted by the gods to use lethal force upon an enemy that poses a threat of bodily harm to the students they, as the staff, are tasked with protecting. They are also permitted to punish these students if they misbehave.”

As he recited that part from the text he surprisingly remembered word for word, the pit in his stomach he felt before only seemed to increase as his Eye of Nyx deactivated and for everyone else, The Seven were finally visible.

The strongest warriors of the Olympus Academy Staff: Akani and Odeya, The Huntress Trio: Saya, Mimi, and Lucy, and, of course, Anastasia DeVille and Brandon Montgomery. The Seven, who all were known for their intense classes, were also known as the frontlines and “ace in the hole” for Olympus Academy. The ones who answered the call to arms in the event that a call should be made. And as the Gods of Olympus as their witness, not a single face that looked back at the students were happy.

“Wow! They nearly have it handled, Dey!” Akani, the least fearful one of the Seven spoke, a partial smile on his face. He spoke from a place of surprise.

Odeya sighed as she saw signs of a long battle. “And look at how much they struggled.” She shook her head, spotting Emma and Damien and immediately narrowed her eyes. “That’s a call of desperation if I ever saw one.”

“Well, just think of it this way: they did most of the work for us!”

“At what cost, though?”

As the conversation between Akani and Odeya continued, Anastasia DuVille stepped forward. She was regularly known as the one professor who didn’t play around and hated to be held back. During class, she was understanding but still very cruel, but on the battlefield, when she was able to fully unleash every bit of her rage that she could, she was a monster. In the terms of the modern generation, she was referred to as what one might call a tank. Her feats in magic and ability to cover wide-spread threats in a short amount of time was legendary among the staff and OA”s alumni.

She snapped her fingers and without missing a beat, a nameless spell was cast that severed the tie that Emma Laurant had with her portal while still keeping it intact. Additionally, she had waved her other hand that sent a pushing force to remove any of the students at a safe distance from the portal.

“Saya, Mimi, Lucy,” Ana spoke, looking to the three Huntresses. Saya held her Katana tightly, Mimi tightened the grip on her two pistols, and Lucy had a firm grasp on her polearm. “Secure the students and don’t let them do anything foolish.” As she spoke, the three armed Huntresses of Artemis went forth to round up the students. “Akani..” Her voice trailed off into slight embarrassment at the hyperactive male who was built like a Minotaur.

“Do you need my help?” An eager Akani was ready to get into the fight.

“No.” Ana coldly demolished his hopes and dreams. “Stay here with Brandon. The students will need you two for emotional support in preparation for their punishment later.”

That was the last thing that Anastasia, Daughter of Hecate, said before she lifted herself off the ground with a levitations pell and slowly put herself three paces away from a near-death Shadow. As she examined him, it wasn’t a pretty sight. Despite how many rules they broke by not running away, her students did well by the teachings from her personally and the school. This monster, this...creature, was strong. Even in its weakened state, she knew that it must’ve taken them a lot and several instances of risking their lives to protect the school and their fellow student.

Pride washes over Anastasia’s face as she quickly shakes it off. “I will put you out of your misery, being of shadow.” Her words were brief but in the time she spoke them, her hands were moving as both of her hands gripped onto both the left and right sides of the white portal. As Ana’s eyes went black, her hands did as well -- blacker than anything seen before -- and the creature’s physical form started to degenerate. With every second that passed, that was one less physical inch it had. In less than a minute, as if nothing happened, not only had the portal been manually closed by Anastasia’s magic but the creature that was such a threat was no more.

The most anticlimactic finish to a fight since the ending of The Sorcerer's Apprentice.

---

And less than ten hours later on the dot, life at Olympus Academy would return to normal. Or at least as normal as it could get for those who weren’t at Dallas Relo’s party. For those who weren’t present at the party, they were safe from the punishment coming the way of those who were. Sure, there were going to be acolytes of bravery given, but to the Headmaster and Headmistress, that wouldn’t be the case. Some of them took unnecessary risks from the perspective they choose to look at it.

But if you were one of those who didn’t break any rules, then you probably didn’t hear about it. No, sadly this information wasn’t made public nor would it ever. As part of the punishment, those involved would make the solemn promise that what happened at the lakefront would never reach public ears. If they broke this rule, all of those who were noted in attendance would be expelled on the spot without question. So this would be the thing to keep them in school and nobody would hear about it.

September 4th, 2018 would commence as though it was any other day. Nothing special about it.

Just another normal day at Olympus Academy. Just ordinary...

[Krayzikk]

@Plank Sinatra@HereComesTheSnow @Write @Inkarnate @Altered Tundra

---

Twelve Hours Ago

---

There's almost nothing more exhilarating than flying along at speeds human beings were never meant to reach, flaunting mastery over trivial things like gravity and accelerating. Defiance of the natural order. The slim odds prevailing, the victory at the eleventh hour. The feeling of flying down the highway with the top down, or skydiving and trusting your pack to save you. All those things that give you little jolts of adrenaline.

None of them had anything on hanging in the air, perfectly centered between gravity and her own power.

Rebekah felt her momentum fail and gravity begin to take hold, the portal straight to an endless purgatory still nipping at her heels. For endless milliseconds she hung perfectly suspended, caught in a moment of triumph over such a beast. Then she felt the yank on her arm and gravity overtook her, again turning her into a swift projectile though this time on a rapid descent. Her hair once again streamed behind her like a comet's tail during her brief drop of a few dozen feet, the ground looking thoroughly unfriendly. How she avoided injury was a new question.

Jonas had efficiently yanked her out of danger, but unless he intended to spin her like a shirt on dry cycle there wasn't much he could do to slow her down. No, that wasn't a bad idea; just a smaller axis. She was already on the right approach. Her left hand relinquished the chain, leaving her untethered to place both hands flat on the ground when she drew near. Her elbows bent with the impact, forward momentum carrying her forty five, sixty, seventy five, ninety degrees to vertical; and then she continued. Bending all the way backwards until she could plant her feet on the ground and repeat the flip twice more.

She laughed again when she came to a stop on her feet again, a mere handful of steps from the truck she'd started at. She spun the casing she'd dropped and picked up again during her flip around her fingers, taking an exaggerated bow in front of Dana and her friends at the truck.

"Landspeed record on foot, for sure." The dark-haired girl said, pushing her hair back out of her face with a laugh that bordered on a giggle. The teachers were talking, and she heard them; she just didn't really care. Her heart was pounding and her brain was on an endorphin rush of unimaginable proportions. All of the pyrotechnics unleashed in so short a span, between Highwind's arrows and her shells, had ash and dust floating down onto her head. Not that she payed it any more mind than the teachers. "Nice catch, Joey. Marcy, I'm keeping this."

She tossed the shell up and caught it, using her other hand to pull herself up into the truckbed where her Japanese friend had been watching.

"Nice of them to play cleanup, huh? Cocky teachers can kiss my ass, I tell you." The Daughter of Athena giggled, for certain this time, and leaned in while she picked up her sandals to plant a quick kiss on Dana Harada. "Better have been watching. Come on, let's get packed up. Teachers are going to want to lecture us. I'm going to need to go to bed when they're done."

---

Contrary to her energized behavior the night before (thanks, Haluk, all the rush no hangover) Rebekah Cross was asleep like a rock when morning rolled around.

She couldn't forget the lectures, but she wasn't bothered. What, was expulsion a threat? Damned school wasn't going to get her hired anywhere anyway.

"Ngh."

Morning already.

[Plank Sinatra]

_{Interacting with: Nobody atm (Jonas @HereComesTheSnow, Vivian @Altered Tundra mentioned)}

It was a rare and terrible thing when Dallas Relo was speechless in rage.

The dynamic duo of Dallas and Jonas had been throwing parties on Olympus Academy grounds since their first year, when a hastily-struck alliance to pirate the Weidman/Silva rematch and a couple of beers had blossomed into the truest friendship of Dal's life. They had thrown a Christmas party weeks later on the campus grounds, then a Valentine's Day party, then an Easter party (a bit of a jab at the gods? Maybe. But Dallas had been a Catholic in an old life, and these things still mattered) and on and on and on the fuck on. It had been in their first year that Dallas had conspired to first slip past the barrier around Olympus Academy.

It wasn't as awful as it sounded - and, he liked to note with some pride, he'd learned to do it long before he'd even learned Bekah existed. Granted, it was a simple bit of mischief to do in hindsight; more likely than not some demigod or another over the years had figured out how to do it when things got truly desperate. Whether he was standing on the shoulders of giants or not, he had figured it out in only his first year - and judging by the fact that his parties reigned uncontested in his half decade tenure at Olympus, he felt pretty confident that he and Jonas were the only students alive with the knowledge to do it. On its face, the barrier was a mighty, intangible iron curtain, capable of absorbing and refracting any energy by a demigod thrown at it. It made slipping out of the academy's curfew with the use of your powers nearly impossible - but it was still just that, intangible, and could be bypassed if it were fooled. Dallas had spent weeks practicing his illusions at the barrier as a first year, attempting to trick it into thinking one Relo was another, or another, or another. Eventually, as he practiced earlier and earlier in the morning and spent more and more time in the sunlight, his illusions had reached a point where even the barrier was fooled by which Dallas Relo was capable of passing through it and which wasn't. Over time, and with more practice, he was able to survey the area surrounding the barrier while on-campus at fall or winter break and figure out paths, weak points where you could fit another student or two on a trip out.

Or, say, a truck. A truck that could carry a lot of beer, and a meathead capable of navigating it through the mountains.

But such a thing never did any damage to the barriers - they just had to get back by sunset for Dallas to be able to refract sunlight back into it, and the barrier would register the pulse as a fruitless escape attempt and soak up its power. Often the invisible air seemed grateful for the extra juice; for a second it would go from transparent to translucent, a brief shimmer in the air from heat and light that clued an eagle-eyed observer in to the existence of a safeguard. His escape attempts made him more certain of the barrier's fortitude, if anything; he was sure the headmaster and headmistress could brute force it, and he had found a few little paths in and out, but that was it. There was no way to just break the fucking thing. He wasn't that strong. Right?

No.

There was no way. He hadn't done anything they hadn't done for years, Dallas was positive of that. But the idiot head motherfuckers in charge didn't want to hear that from him - with uncharacteristic urgency, Dallas had warned them that no, this wasn't his fault, something was wrong with the Academy's defenses. He had let his guard down, just for a second, sleep deprived and bones quaking with fury at the danger his friends - his sister - had been placed in, and they had looked at him like dog shit and threatened them all with expulsion. Like Dallas could give a fuck about not being forced to come to some godly boot camp where he could relearn the same myths he'd learned in fifth grade. Like he could give a fuck about anything other than the fact that it was him on the cross for this, 'Dallas Relo's party' being held up as an example to rule breakers and miscreants about the dangers of ignoring the Academy's rules, when it was the staff ignoring actual threats to the Academy.

Like they thought he would actually put Viv in fucking danger.

The mountain air felt thin in his heaving lungs this morning, and his hands were quaking from the heat and strength of the sunlight, burrowing into pores and boiling his blood. It filled Dallas with the comfortable, familiar buzz of power in his veins.

We didn't do anything wrong! he wanted to scream into the empty courtyard, but only the bench he was pacing circles around would have heard him.

Like they thought he would actually put Viv in any fucking danger.

One hour since they had been dragged into the Headmaster's office and read the Riot Act, and still the words had been stripped from Dallas' incredulous throat. Words wouldn't express how he felt. So he screamed.

It was long. High. Furious. The scream only died when his throat started to break, still parched from alcohol consumption and his wasted explanations. When his voice finally cracked and the red left his vision, the park bench was the last thing to come into view; it had flown forty meters from the strength of his toss, and against all odds had landed askew in the branches of an imposing-but-ancient oak tree that had been dying since the oldest student was born. The branches of the poor old oak were holding the bench for now, but a shower of leaves was raining from the branches on its right side, which made loud groans of protest with every bounce of momentum from the bench put.

Fuck. I should get that down, he thought, guilt forcing a deep sigh from his lungs while the anger slowly stopped lapping away at his insides. It seemed like he had two choices on how to get it down; fall and cushion it, fucking up his back or ribs, or break the branches and dismember even more of the oak tree beyond repair.

Dallas stared at the swaying bench for a second before turning and stalking away from it, headed nowhere in particular on campus. Blaming him for breaking shit that was already busted seemed to be this year's MO already.

---

@Krayzikk

"Sun's out," Harada Dana observed, leaning out the open window of Apartment 2B with her elbows on the windowsill and the aforementioned star reflecting off her smile. "Dal-kun's blood is gonna cook. Very funny."

Not that Dana could blame the hotheaded, short-sighted heart of her friend group for his irritation at the situation. Dana had been roused from a perfectly blissful night of revels and then deep, deep sleep to be informed that they were being summoned for a lecture. At first she assumed it was because they had forgone the second bedroom in their dorm and turned it into Dana's exercise palace, but no. It turns out that the staff had no problems with the bedroom situation. That was good. The girls didn't either. They weren't even here about the noise complaints emanating from the bedroom after their return from the party, which was good too. Baka was always feisty after getting to play with weapons.

It turned out they were here about playing with the weapons at all, which was very rude, and very unfair considering none of them had even conjured a shadow demon. All she did was sit on a truck and admire all the skin everyone had on display all night. If she had wanted to dice that ghoul into sashimi she could have. But she sat still and followed the rules, and was still being threatened with expulsion for her restraint. Expulsion meant it would be harder to take trips here, especially on student visas.

Very rude. She had already texted her mother asking for legal advice, and would be getting onii-chan to communicate with Father about white phosphorus usage on impolite teachers immediately.

For now, she was just having fun watching Dallas throw furniture around. It was always more fun - and more safe for others - when he went outside and did it for a change. Americans were so hot under the collar. She liked that in them. Boys and girls alike.

"Ngh."

"Don't be so grumpy," she chided the girl who had managed to bury and tangle herself in the mess they'd made of the covers overnight. "You're white. You'll wrinkle."

[NeoAJ]

_{Location: Niaides Lakeshore
Interactions:
No one in particular. The Gods if they hear her cursing.
Mentions:
Avem @Rockette
Dustyn @MissCapnCrunch}

THUNK!

The arrow embedded itself right next to several others in a landmark of the Mystic Forest that was referred to by one of the local residents as the "Shootin' Tree". It was a lodgepole pine that stood about 60 feet tall with a thick trunk that had almost every square inch of the bark from 20 feet up to the roots riddled with pock marks in the bark caused by every single incident that cause Kelsey Marston to retreat for some angry archery. Some of the notches had grown up with the tree, making it look like Kelsey had a higher range than she did. Either way, it was getting another set of arrow holes following last night's display of bullshit.

THUNK!

They fucking had it. They had that oversized edgelord in a jumpsuit right where they wanted it. They were going to finish it. But noooOOOooo. Fucking staffers had to come in on their fucking high horses and show off by banishing the thing to the land of wind and ghosts or wherever the hell they sent things. Then they had to give the party the fucking stinkeye like they summoned the fucking thing themselves. Fucking Lucy, that damn bitch with her snide "Why am I not shocked you're here?" as she rounded Kelsey up with the rest like a gods-damned preschoolers. And then the bullshit lecture they got, about responsibility and knowing when to run and just ignoring what they managed to do with a threat to the campus. And that they were gonna be punished for that. Kelsey wanted the expulsion. Get her out of this place, let her start her WNBA career finally. But nooooooo. Just punishment and monitoring and just more. Fucking. Bullshit.

THUNK!

And what was worse was what happened to Dustyn. Apparently, she was her usual graceful self in getting to the water with the others, and got raked by a couple of the shadows in the process. So now she was on the injured list. A quick text this morning told Kelsey that she was fine and would definitely heal from this and would be back slinging pong balls and other balls before Kelsey knew it. It was nice to see her sense of humor endured. Still, the fact that D took all that punishment last night and had things end like that. It wasn't right. Some freaking gods. There's your shock. That none of them dared to show up and rectify any of this. The Peak of Bullshit Mountain.

THUNK!

At least her shooting was still on point. Kelsey wasn't feeling any kind of hangover. Hadn't since she was 13. No surprise. She left while Avem was still in his room, unsure if he was asleep or not. Didn't matter. Kelsey had things to do. Like get out all of this anger from the universal amount of bullshit that she was feeling was just piled on for no reason.

"Fuckin' bullshit!" she shouted as she channeled her frustration into the last arrow of her current batch.

THUNK!

It threaded the needle in between all the other ones, almost like one solid clump had found the same spot on the Shootin' Tree. Kelsey breathed a sigh and lowered her bow. She was going to trudge over to start digging her arrows out of the trunk, but she stopped. She needed something to go right after the absolute shitshow that was last night.

Might as well give 'er a go.

She stood and started concentrating on the bundle of arrows. Almost trying to will it out of the tree and back to her hand. The arrows started to shake one by one, vibrating in the tree, like an earthquake was happening until the mass of them popped out and floated in the air outside of the trunk before returning slowly to the quiver at its owner's request.

Kelsey smiled and nodded, a rare action for her. "Guess that gravity shit's fine'ly startin' ta come along if I got tha whole bunch in one. Wish I coulda used it on that damn cooler last night. Be flyin' like a dang moon demon yet. Lucy kin suck on that."

She grabbed the top arrow and began the process over again.

[HereComesTheSnow]

Jonas Highwind

@Krayzikk@Plank Sinatra@Write@Caasicam (text) @NeoAJ@Altered Tundra@Rockette@Inkarnate (mentioned)

What an utter anathema.

Setting the door to Apartment 2A shut behind his back, the dark-haired son of War itself dispassionately placed an array of overpriced groceries from the campus market onto the marble countertop that flanked their new range. With how they had needed to scramble to put their faculty-maligned bash together in the span of the afternoon, the space was for all intents and purposes pristine save for a sea of boxes— they'd just barely managed to unload his Ford and Dallas's Subaru before setting off to work.

He doubted either of them would be in the mood to settle into this place for a while longer. It was only in search of pots, a pan, and a whisk that he even thought to tear one open. And only because he immediately needed them, at that. With the threat of expulsion looming over their heads for the crime of daring to stand against a glorified punching bag rather than run, Jonas saw no real reason to go through the work of turning this place into a home just yet.

Not when there was every likelihood this exact course of events would happen again, party or no.

He and Dallas had argued until they were blue in their faces about that point— with nothing to show for it. Not even a concession that they hadn't been able to alter its strength for four years prior. That paths they could only sneak through as a duo had not gotten progressively wider in the slightest, that nothing else had proven capable of slipping through—

Nothing.

"These are gas burners? Nice."

They had to hoof it to get the party favors delivered this time, yeah— but that was precisely because they never skimped on their method of exfiltration and infiltration of the Academy's defenses. It was threading a needle. Even after years of searching, they'd only found a precious handful of points of entry wide enough to accommodate his Ford. Nothing so large as a two-story 'Shadow'. They'd always made sure to give it a solid whack on their way back in, time and again, as a way of "covering their tracks". Whatever weakening their escapades had done, surely the absorbed power was enough to rectify it.

They were mindful. They were studious. They were experienced with this barrier. Probably moreso than most of the faculty that professed to maintain it. Their technique to bypass the field, even if somebody had observed the two beneath both of their notices, was singular to Dallas alone. Nobody else could have fine-tuned a replica version of themselves to throw at the thing— They would have seen this hypothetical third party emulate them by now. They had been doing this since 2013. It wasn't covering their own asses, they understood how the damn thing worked.

It all fell upon deaf ears, and had driven his best friend speechless with fury. Every single time something went tits up, he was regarded as though the organizer of every event that took place. Made a martyr and "example" to others, ignoring the very real threat that they'd stood against. It had been close to an hour since he'd last seen the Son of the Sun, stalking off towards open air and a serene surrounding to attempt to cool his head. Jonas had seen him get like this before- he usually said he needed the space. That it'd be better if he didn't wreck their walls.

This time, he couldn't bring himself to say anything.

I get that.

He felt a scowl grow upon his face, brow furrowing further and further, each time he replayed the last fourteen hours in his head.

We pull up to the barrier. We aren't followed. We use the lull to sneak my truck through. We hit it with a couple of "failed" attempts at escape. The damn thing absorbs enough juice to the point that I can actually see it. All is standard procedure.

With a trio of clicks, a blue flame kissed the bottom of a saucepot, warming the few tablespoons of butter that began to coast within. Another held a bath of water, slowly rising to temperature. Into a glass bowl he deposited a trio of egg yolks, reserving the whites in a measuring cup off to the side. Omelette for tomorrow.

We arrive at dusk, requisitioning the girls for help with transport. Everything kicks off properly. People are getting along, enjoying drink, music, eachother's company. The worst they could do is come at us for contraband alcohol from Denver. That's barely even mentioned post-mortem. This is at least an hour after we make our pass through the barrier. After we verify that it's absorbed equivalent force to what we used in passage, leaving it as strong as it had been in the months prior to our return. At this point, they have as much reason to concern themselves with the main road in we all took to get on campus.

A small splash of white wine vinegar fell into the yolks, acidity brightening the rich orange orbs within. As the pot with water came up to a simmer, he placed the bowl atop it. A bain-marie, the perfect source of indirect heat to cook these things through without scrambling them. Whisk in hand, he began to mix vigorously.

More time passes. It feels like an hour, but at this point it doesn't matter— if we were followed, we'd have known well before then. I begin to fend off unwanted advances. Dallas begins to make a psychological attack against my composure— Off-track. Unimportant.

Now he reached the part that had personally pissed him off: everything involving 'Shadow'. They were told by the teachers in no uncertain terms to never speak of this event— and that they had made it through by the skins of their teeth until the faculty had dropped in. It was dead. They had Original the Character dead to rights. It was literally falling through the portal when those idiots had closed it up on them.

The butter had melted. The yolk and vinegar mixture had taken on a creamy, ribbonlike texture. Time to incorporate. Pouring the hot fat into the bowl in small, controlled streams, just a tablespoon or so at a time, Jonas let some steam off as he whisked— the eggs needed to be constantly moving anyway as each portion of butter was homogenized into the Hollandaise, and he needed to get himself back to objective review. Inhaling and exhaling deeply, he turned the full force of his mind back onto the problem.

Vivian shows up. With her, hounds. Obviously she's not at fault and is fleeing. They at minimum quintuple our group in number, and form a wall that pins us to the coastline. Nowhere to "run" as the staff so prudently suggest. I get the ball rolling tactically as they begin their wave tactics. Non-combatants stick to the lakefront, where Rhea's hydrokinetics prove stalwart defense against any that slip through both my point defense and the firing position I've set Rebekah, Danaye, and Kelsey onto. Ten minutes of combat pass without tragedy.

Without casualty.

Without even injury.

Last of the butter incorporated. The texture resembled custard. Perfect. Seasoning with a bit of salt, pepper, and the juice of a lemon to cut through the richness of the fat upon the palate, he set the simmering pot aside, leaving the bowl over the warm water to prevent it from going cold while he moved onto the next step.

It's by every account a perfect defensive position. It was the only choice we had to begin with, and as a group we excelled. Then as their numbers wane the thing coalesces from the remainder of the hounds, naming itself 'Shadow'. I still can't take that seriously. It never gave me a reason to in the first place. What the hell kind of hero would run from something that barely fights back? From a big target more interested in trying to belittle as opposed to kill or maim?

He quickly bisected a series of English Muffins before heating up the frying pan and laying in one, two, three strips of bacon. He'd do those in batches given the premium on space. More time to think. To try and come up with a fault in their actions, one so worthy of scolding by the higher-ups of the Academy.

He struggled to conjure an answer in their stead. He doubted a worthy one existed.

"Aha. Ahahahaha."

He still couldn't contain his mirth at how wholly wrong they had been.

"Threat to the campus"?

"Powerful enough to merit our arrival"?

"You obviously had a hard fight"?

I've taught kindergartners that offered more resistance than "Shadow"— And it only ever struck at me and that one Nyx girl. Didn't even attack her outright, it just opted for another attempt at mental warfare. El Cid's blades cut through it like butter, even if it did not feel fear. It had no answer for my Ornithes Arrows. If I wanted, I could snipe at it with impunity until the explosions rendered it smoke. I could easily go toe to toe with it in a contest of pure strength even before Haluk shot me full of adrenaline. Eckeseax nearly cleft it in two with one swing. And that was just me.

Liam and Rebekah both exposed it to primordial destructive elements, expressions of pure power gifted to mankind and the world by the Gods themselves. It had no answer for those. They also mimed hypervelocity kill vehicles, just outright slugging the thing with pure kinetic energy. Between the three of us, we were chewing through its composition with impunity. Knocking it all over the place.

Even if that girl hadn't opened a portal for us to direct that merry session of kicking around a training dummy the size of a house towards, we had it handled. Damien, punk that he is, took out three of its limbs with no recourse. Kelsey spent the whole time filling it with arrows, just as I could have, and she hadn't even broken a sweat. Haluk's arrival and support were unchallenged. It couldn't even figure out that it was HIM that suddenly made everyone twice as strong.

I am fully confident that I could take that thing on my own without much trouble. A certain level of danger perhaps, but that is the nature of fighting. With everyone here?

All those teachers did was steal our rightful kill. They saved nobody. They prevented nothing. For all their talk of Gods-granted authority and power, they accomplished exactly none of what we hadn't already. And then, they had the gall to turn onto us with every bit of the fervor they should by all rights have confronted the thing with in the moment it had appeared.

Even in the face of the smell of rendering pork fat that wafted through the room, Jonas's expression had hardened and set, his smug derision fading as his indignation swelled again. No matter how laughable their read on the situation was, no matter how much he, even in the midst of their lecturing, couldn't keep that smirk off of his face, they were still treated as the party in the wrong. Not even allowed to discuss the goings-on in the aftermath, to proceed as normal under heavy surveillance.

Prisoners in the very cage they'd defended.

He thumbed through his venerable iPhone, quickly finding the group chat Dallas had set up between their little contingent of demigods, and tapped out a quick message with one hand as the other laid crispy, smoky strips of bacon onto a napkin-lined plate to drain.

>Making food
>Grab a bite if you guys want
>Faculty's retarded

Three more strips sizzled as they entered the pan.

I think I'd welcome an expulsion by now. Under the tutelage of those who do not understand my ability, I learn nothing of combat. I scour through more myth on my own than they teach, rebranding the same basic overviews of Grecian and Hellenistic stories that any fifth grader could recite at least semi-accurately. I already know how to read and write, and am more rigorously tested in anything STEM back at UT. It's only my peers that keep me caring. My student. My sister. The people I've grown to love and care for and trust to test myself against. Who I've taken it upon myself to teach and protect.

I wouldn't see them. The only reason I wouldn't accept expulsion is if they aren't expelled alongside me... And to a name, they've all been held just as responsible, and stand at just as much risk. If we leave as a group, what would I really miss?

He hit send, and leaned against the counter as the meat cooked, folding his arms and regarding his still very-packed boxes.

If I am punished for valiant deeds here, of all the places in the world, then the Age of Heroes really is dead and gone for good. I should have no attachment to a wannabe college campus actively stifling my ideals, trying to cast my dreams aside for the sake of being one of their good little students. Herakles would not have run. That man stood against my Father and won the day— a place that tells me to run against something that trivial in comparison offers me nothing. I'd never reach my goal. I'd never escape being anything more than what I am right now: Not Nearly Enough.

I cannot sublimate into legend if I do not take a stand against that which would bring ruin to me and my own. Nobody who doesn't put themselves in harm's way deserves to be spoken of alongside the names of mankind's storied pinnacle. I'd choke my potential, and my desires, to death if I didn't do what I had done. On some level I get their ruling on messing with the barrier— but to not stand and fight against a foe borne of the terrors of night itself? To not be a light in the darkness, a pure expression of humanity's hope and courage in the fight against all that would tear that which we love from us?

That, I cannot abide. I cannot obey. It disgusts me.

Were it not for my bonds with everyone I've met here, I think they'd not even need to resort to expulsion.

A place that so fundamentally clashes with me... I'd have left myself.

[Lionhearted]

_{Son of Hades | Prince of the Underworld | First Year}

_{Time: Morning
Location: Apollo’s Cafe
Interactions: N/A}

‘Dear journal’

Black pen ink scrawled the very first page of an empty journal, scratching across in terrible penmanship. The first two words were jotted instinctively, but the remainder of the text required a moment of thought. “What the hell am I doing,” Gus couldn’t help wonder aloud. As low as his tone was, it could’ve been loud enough for the surrounding students in Apollo’s Cafe to hear him. He didn’t care, though—the massive change in his life came faster than he could even pronounce the word ‘Hades’, and it felt like the shoes he turned running in were not his own, but somebody else's. What was his life before didn’t fade, but rather vanished into an unknown void that he could never reach, find, or see. Gus holds onto his memories, though, the pieces of his past that has made him who he is, even if his identity is changing wildly.

He continued,

‘It’s been a long, weird day. The last time I could remember this feeling was when I transferred high schools because the first one didn’t offer a good enough sports program. I don’t even know what to call it—nervousness, anxiety? Whatever it is, I don’t like it. It’s making my hands shake and I know that every new face I meet can feel it when I go to shake their hand.

Whatever the case, this isn’t at all what I expected. I feel anger bubbling up inside me, but I can’t pinpoint where it’s stemming from. I’ve lived my life exceeding my peers, and here—I’m just outclassed on so many levels. I refuse to write about my weird heritage, but this place is just hitting me with the reality of it all. Maybe I am the son of Hades and this isn’t all just a dream, or a sick joke.

Gus took a sip from his coffee. The combined strength of the caffeine and the bitterness helped to wake him up. The aroma also helped to calm his nerves, reminding him of the few mornings he could share with his mother when they both had no obligations of the day. It was strange how such fond memories can be so fresh, yet still somehow feel distant. Gus would deny the difficulty in moving away on such short notice, for he would abhor the willingness to feel weak.

They gave me my schedule for classes. . . I was hoping that I could just breeze through the year since I was taking higher level classes at my old school, but these classes are so crazy. It’s as if every damn class is based around mythology, and I can’t fathom that since that shit has always been treated like a joke and only the weird nerds really put any thought into the subject. Regardless, some of the classes are really physical, which I assume I can handle, but the teachers I’ve met have all warned me about the real strain they can have. The students here are very. . . hard. They remind me a bit of myself in a way, with my competitiveness. They seem ferocious in a way.

I don’t really know what I’m getting myself into, but I’ll just keep going for the sake of mom. I could tell she was holding back tears when she left after moving me into my apartment today. She wasn’t too excited about the fact that I’ll be living with a girl. Hell, I don’t even know how I feel about that. On one side, I hope she’s not pretty enough to distract me, but in a way, I hope she’s pretty enough to distract me. It’s weird to say that I live in an apartment when I’m only 16 years old. I think I’ll get chances to see mom throughout the school year. I hope I will anyway. I don’t know how she’ll be alone. . .’

The last few sentences stirred emotions in Gus, strong enough for him to finally remove the ballpoint from the paper and become lost in thought. He glanced out of the window, onto the campus of Olympus Academy, eyeing his new peers that made up the diverse, yet simultaneously similar, student body of such a peculiar school. Some walked with strong conviction and strength, some were more passive and laid back, some were observant and guarded—yet they all had the same glint in their eyes that Gus managed to relate to in some form or another. Still, the intimidation lingered with each passing student, and this was new to him. Being on the other side of things slowly, but surely, began to put things into perspective a little. Lost in thought, he sat with a steaming cup of coffee and chicken scratch for words on a fresh journal, waiting eagerly to uncover this new beginning.

[Sugar and Spite]

_{Location: Her apartment. // Interactions: Her dog, Nala.}

Insomnia had been kicking Haley's ass for the last few months. It was a constant thing, but the worst of it came in waves. Five in the morning seemed like a reasonable time to fall asleep after all, right? Besides, if you couldn't sleep, you couldn't have nightmares. She had been asked by a few people why she didn't just take a sleeping potion or two, and she always came up with some lame excuse; but in truth, she didn't want to sleep sometimes.

Her anxiety had been through the roof thinking of what person was going to be moving into her apartment this year. She had read the announcement and seen a guys name. Being paired with a boy wasn't a problem at all, but what if he was hot? What if he was one of those annoying jock types that left his smelly gym socks right outside of the clothes basket and refused to talk about anything other than basketball? What if he was a super neat person who insisted on organizing everything and even went so far as to make a chore chart? No. There had to be a nice balance, much like with herself. She had certain spots for certain things, but there was certainly a pair of jeans or two in the floor, and she always had to look for her shoes in the morning. The top of her dresser was covered in scratch paper, various pens, notebooks and reading materials. The young woman wasn't the best example for a role model by far, and knowing her luck, they had paired her with some first year that they expected her to mentor.

Meanwhile, Nala was nothing but a ball of energy, and all that Haley wanted to do was sleep. The ball of snow white fluff sat at the foot of Haley's bed, following her owner back and forth with her eyes as she moved from one side of the room to the other.

"What is it, girl?" she asked the dog, walking over to scratch her under the chin. "If we don't like the new guy, you can chew up his favorite pair of shoes," Haley said, a tone of sarcastic amusement in her voice. "Doesn't that sound like fun, hm? Gods I need something strong to drink."

She lazily walked over to the door, opening it for Nala as she wagged her tail happily and ran down the stairs. She had gotten used to the campus over the last few years just like Haley had, so worrying about her getting lost wasn't something anyone had to do. Leaving the door open, the young woman walked over to her dresser, picked up her black notebook and proceeded to quickly scan through some of her notes. Her newest possible creation was a health potion. It was going to be used for the common cold mostly, but if she could get it in a more concentrated form, perhaps she could use it to treat cuts and bruises - maybe even broken bones.

Pulling her phone from her back pocket, she opened Spotify, bluetoothed it to her speaker and put her playlist on shuffle. The first song to come one was Now by Chase Atlantic. If she was going to have a roommate, they would have to get used to the familiar scene of the messy-haired-over-sized-band-t-shirt-ripped-skinny-jeans-wearing girl listening to her music perhaps a little to loudly while she brewed her potions in the corner of the room and furiously scribbled her notes.

Her was to another exciting year at Olympus Academy.

[Onarax]

---

---

ADACHIHARA KAZUMA!

_{Landing gracefully and speaking with Kelsey @NeoAJ in the Mystic Forest
Dallas, Dana @Plank Sinatra, Jonas @HereComesTheSnow, and Dustyn @MissCapnCrunch are mentioned in the text.}

---

---

THUNK!

THUNK!

THUNK!

THUD!

Adachihara Kazuma was a man whose presence on stage never went unnoticed. Theatrics were the Japanese demigod's forte and when he deigned fit to bless the audience with his appearance he'd make sure it'd be an appearance they'd never forgot. Plenty a students had the dents in their vehicles to prove it. Yet unfortunately for Kaz today's appearance would not be premeditated. Rather today would act as a jolt to his system, as something other than an arrow fell from Kelsey's gravitational manipulation. It would appear that the vibrations had jostled free one son of Dionysus and the landing was not soft.

Now the first question one might have at such a sight is "Oh my god are you okay?" But all those who knew the demigod should know that such a knavish question is completely pointless. And in some ways insulting. Of course the man is alright, he was the great Kaz after all, such a fall would not affect his wellbeing. Indeed to his credit, it only took mere moments after his descent for the man to leap to his feet and stand at the ready. In his hand was a singular arrow plucked off the ground and pointed in the direction of an unclear target.

It would take a few moments more for the man to properly awaken. The grogginess of sleep and the daze from a sudden impact both had the tendency to linger for a spell.

So thus now one might ask the second question: "What the hell were you doing sleeping in the tree?" This time the answer had a few more variables. The Japanese warrior had spent the night training in the forest himself. The nights when Dal-kun decided to party were often the most liberating for Kaz. Nuisances would all go and be clustered elsewhere on campus and thus parts of the Mystic Forest would be even quieter than normal. So whether he felt like bashing his fists against the trees, or simply relaxing in the midnight glow, nights like last night had a lot to offer the young demigod.

Also there was the tiny fact that sharing a room with a young women was most definitely improper.

But that's a bridge he would have to traverse at another time.

Right now, something else required his focus and energy. Namely the young women he was currently pointing an arrow at. The movement had been instinctive and, now that his focus was coming back to him, Kaz realized he was probably infringing on the arrow discipline Jonas-kun kept going on about. Weapons had never really been a part of Adachihara's repertoire. Too complicated. Plus they removed some of the visceral thrill to be had in classical fisticuffs.

Although once the demigod had taken a likely to an iron pipe he had plucked from the ground. Good weight, simplicity, and most importantly the weapon just felt right in his hands. For a few weeks Kazuma had a new friend to accompany him in battle. That was until the pipe met its first worthy opponent during a routine sparring session. Just as quickly as Kaz had grown accustomed to his new friend, it had been cleaved in two by one apologetic Harada-kun (or as she kept insisting: Dana-chan). Of course he carried no ill will towards the other Kamiranger; it was the way of the world and his pipe had simply been too weak.

Needless to say, the man hadn't truly armed himself since.

By now it was obvious to the young man that he wasn't staring down an opponent, just a startled bystander. A familiar startled bystander. He recognized this women: a close friend of his younger sister. Not a common interaction of his, but nevertheless someone he did seen around from time to time.

What was her name again? Started with the K sound.

K... k... KARI! Carrie! Like movie!

"Yo." It would be impolite to not greet his sister's friend, and the arrow in his hand needed to be spun around and offered back to its owner. "Morning, Carrie-"

It always took some effort cutting off the honorifics. One of the earliest lessons the Japanese man had learned at Olympus was that most Westerners did not care for them. There were exceptions of course but they were all Otaku. Carrie, to the best of his knowledge, wasn't.

However despite the arrow no longer being pointed at the young women as a weapon something seemed wrong. The other demigod appeared frustrated, and what kind of older brother would Kaz be if he did not look after his sister's friend. He had to at least inquire:

"Angry?"

[Write]

---

---

Marcella Aveline Bonaparte II & Rhea Franky Psomas

_{Interactions: Knocking on Jonas Highwind's @HereComesTheSnow door and blowing up Dallas Relo's @Plank Sinatra phone}

---

---

Marcella Aveline Bonaparte the second stood in all her glory as naked as the day she swore to never bring up again in front of a dresser. After an hour in hair and makeup she was finally ready to pick her outfit. The dresser was so unceremoniously stuffed with clothes that the wood creaked with every touch and its doors that refused to close even halfway.

Her room was an absolute nightmare, the floors is clothes, the walls are clothes, the ceiling fan had a single bra hung from it. Morale was low, no one was certain when the war would end.

Marcy examined each blouse, jacket, crop top, and dress with the scrutiny of a federal judge, each one’s surreptitious flaws so plain to her that she was disgusted by the lot of them. She needed something provocative, but ultimately casual enough to go to a diner. Something that would cause Dal to take a third, fourth, fifth look at her, but nothing that Jonas would remark as out of the ordinary. Something flowy, but also tight to her body.

She settled for a burgundy cardigan, black crop top, white undershirt and a pair of airy frilly shorts that hugged her thighs. Selecting each piece with a sense of utilitarian pride. Now the outfit need only pass the most difficult test she could afford.

“Rhea!” She crowed, flying to the door to her better half’s room and assailing it with a series of knocks. She had slept in Rhea’s bed after last night. Before the last knock could connect a tired Canadian sea deity appeared before her, only allowing the smallest of openings in the door as her eye peered out of the crack at Marcy.

“Yeah?” She whispered.

“Don’t be like that.” Marcy quickly countered shoving as much of her body would fit through the crack as possible, causing the door to jut open and knocking Rhea back a foot or two. The daughter of Poseidon easily could’ve forced Marcy out, had she wanted to, but she was tired and possibly still at least partially asleep.

Rhea looked like she was wearing the discarded tee of a trucker and some underwear from a bargain bin back in Canada. Annoyingly, she pulled it off.

“You know I can get you nice clothes, your ass could be swathed in satin-"

“What do you want.” It wasn’t a question the way Rhea said it. She threw herself back onto her bed, her comforter the only shield she had against the cold reality setting in. She was going to have to help Marcy pick an outfit.

“Okay so, I think we should start from the top here.” Marcy cooed.

“How many tops are you wearing?” Rhea groaned from underneath her comforter.

“Counting the cardigan?”

“Yes.”

“Three.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“they work, shut up.”

Rhea pulled herself out from underneath her covers. Her expression softened when she looked at Marcy. She couldn’t help but smile at her. Marcella was a strange beast, and in the time, Rhea had gotten to know her she still hadn’t quite pinned down just what made Marcy, Marcy. She was charismatic to a point of intoxication. But there was more to it than that and it was hard to place.

“You doing okay?” Rhea asked, gently. Marcy had been somewhat off last night after the fight. “You were pretty shaken before.”

“Shaken? I wouldn’t say that.” Marcy countered. “Stirred.”

Rhea rolled her eyes. “I told you last night when you first made that joke, please don’t use that one on Dal.”

“You try coming up with only amazing jokes and showing everyone else’s outfit’s up. It’s hard.”

“Friendly warning, that’s all.”p Rhea raised her hands. “You look good.” She said, after a quiet moment of fake contemplation.

“Told you!” With that, Marcy was out the door.

Just down the hall, lay her quarry.

Bzzt.

Her phone went off.

Bzzt. Bzzt.
Short form rapid fire texts? That sounds like a certain muscle-bound intellect she remembered.

“Making food? Making food?”

No. That just would not do. A diner date was the way Dallas and Marcy always started the year off and it would not be thwarted this year by a child of Ares.

Marcella marched down the hall, making her own text.

To: The Sun
“Heyyyy, I just woke up and I’m honestly still a little dishevelled, but I should be good for some diner food if you’re still in?”

Rhea, meanwhile found a rather large hoodie that looked… Alright. It was a Calgary Stampeders sweater that belonged to one of her older brothers. She nestled into a pair of jeans and found her phone in the chaos that Marcy had left behind. She thought back to the last night, something that Marcy seemingly had no time for.

She had performed adequately, and had been assigned a lynchpin role in protecting those who could not fight. However, she lacked the glory the others were given. She was the defense for a team with the best offense in the league. It felt, underwhelming. She had been training with Jonas for a while now, and she had grown massively in that short period of time. But still, something felt like it was missing.

A chance to prove herself gone, and already forgotten by Marcy, at least. She shook her head, and worked up to leaving her room. She let a hand rest on a trident she had sitting up by the door. Along with it were some generic posters, and a small fish tank that currently lay empty until she could find some fish to put in it. Her room was neat, comparatively to Marcy’s. Though most warzones paled in the face of that monster’s room.

Bzzt. Bzzt. Bzzt.

Rhea’s eyes scanned the phone quickly.

“Jonas you’re a fucking life saver." Rhea exited her and Marcy’s apartment, quickly finding 2A and knocking on the door. “Yo coach, you in there?” She called out.

[AlteredTundra]

_{Location • Olympus Academy Infirmary
Time • 1:23 AM - 2:00 AM
Interactions • Dr. Angela Harris (NPC); Dallas (Mentioned) @Plank SInatra}

While the rest of her classmates who were present at the party had returned to the comfort of their apartments and slept in their comfortable bed, Vivian, per the orders of Anastasia, escorted the young sun child to the infirmary. She initially fought Ana on it. She felt as fine as she could. She had one of the worst headaches she ever had, which she knew was a direct result of the ungraceful bump she took from the tree she met face first. But she was fine. Nothing was wrong. She could sleep it off, but Anastasia insisted with force and a smell that bound Vivian’s hands to her side.

How embarrassed she felt when Ana proved her dominant nature wasn’t just for show as she was carried over the woman’s shoulder and into the capable hands of Dr. Angela Harris, alumni of Olympus Academy and the head nurse of O.A. She also happened to be the Daughter of Paeon, the official Physician of the Gods. She was bestowed the unlimited and ever-growing knowledge of herbal medicine as well as the art of modern and supernatural healing.

At the infirmary, there were many beds made available to any student who may, at any point, suffer an injury either from training or whatever activity they may be involved with. Should those who work for Angela deem them too injured to continue, they were to be rushed to the infirmary and treated for as long as Angela says. Despite her dainty form, she can be as gentle as a mother comforting her hurt cub or she may have the fearsome fury like that of the King of the Gods himself. It is a necessary trait to have when treating Demigods.

Angela was made available at all hours of the night and not even five minutes after arriving, the tales of horror she had heard from her friends about how scary Angela Harris was. A lot of people say she had one eye that was so long that it would stretch almost three years with the eye being so crimson it looked like a literal blood eye. But, as she walked in and came into light, even with her vision somewhat compromised, Vivian didn’t see anyone who matched the tales description of her. She was of average height, looked a lot younger than Vivian thought she would be, but nothing about her screamed danger. Angela Harris was quite beautiful. She had a youthful face and a warm smile. Her eyes relaxed Vivian. Brown as they were, she saw life in them and every muscle in her stopped tensing up.

“Vivian--” Angela’s voice was soothing to the blonde. “Vivian Lucasta...L-Cah-Stah…” She pronounced Vivian’s last name. “Did I say that correctly?”

She nodded. “I’m sorry that I have such a weird last name,” Vivian apologized, laughing awkwardly. She still was in a state of shock that Angela was so ...personable. “You know…”

“Hm?” Angela cut her off, eyes as wide as when Vivian herself hears her name being called.

“Oh, I only meant to say you aren’t at all what my friends say.”

And that earned her a big fit of laughter that lasted a little longer than it needed to. “I don’t know why those rumors started about me. So I had to play mean doctor with a few rowdy patients. Doesn’t mean I’m evil. Sooo, I had to pretend that I would send them to the underworld if they didn’t let me insert a needle into their arm? It’s not like Hades would do me that one, tiny favor.”

As she went on, Vivian suddenly felt herself sinking lower and lower into the bed. It was one thing hearing the tales from others, but for her to hear almost word for word was mindboggling. Viv’s first thought was, of course, if she actually meant it. And if she did, then was Vivian the next one using the express route to the Underworld? And if Angela didn’t mean it, then that just meant her sense of humor was right up there with those who post 9/11 memes online.

“I..can I go now?” Her voice was low but Angela was able to hear her through her rant.

“Huh? What? No.” Angela pulled a chair beside the bed Vivian was laying on. “Sia told me you hit your head.” She mumbled as she began flashing a light emitted from her fingertip in Vivian’s right eye and then came the left. “Well, your pupils are slightly dilated.” She nodded as though she did it to check off some list she had that Vivian didn't know about. “If you wouldn't mind, please lean forward.”

That part of the check-up went by so fast that Vivian didn’t have time to process any of it in time. So, being the confused girl that she was, Vivian did the only thing that made sense to her: do what her doctor tells her to do.

As she sat up and leaned forward, Angela put her hands along the front and back of Vivian’s neck and slowly rubbed her collarbone. “Well, there doesn't seem to be any fractures. Good,” she mumbled.

Angela was now doing the same to Vivian’s head. As she continued to rub slowly and gently, she took her time. It wasn’t until she stopped near Vivian’s ears that her neutral expression that had given the blonde demigoddess comfort had disappeared and a troubled look soon set in and worry was now the dominant emotion in Vivian Lucasta’s mind.

“What’s wrong?” She asked, panicking on the inside.

“It’s...nothing.”

And yet, the hesitation did nothing to quell Vivian's growing worry. “Tell me, am I...going to die?”

When Vivian was on a high, she was abnormally high, but when she was faced with even the slightest amount of bad news, better believe she was going to go so low that her mind entertains very dark thoughts.

“What?!” Angela was genuinely taken by surprise at Vivian’s question. “No, don’t worry. It’s nothing serious. I’m curious about something.” Angela backed up a few inches.

“What?”

“How long has your head been hurting?” She asked Vivian.

Vivian shrugged. “I don’t know. I've always had headaches. They tend to come and go at random times.”

Angela hummed curiously, looking at Vivian with a thoughtful expression on her face. After a long minute, she shrugged as well. “I suppose this will be a question for another day.” She stood up and placed her hands on her hips and nodded down at Vivian. “Okay, so rest up here and you’ll be woken up when it’s time for you and the others to meet with the Headmaster and Headmistress.”

“Oh okay!” Vivian smiled for Angela, though part of her was still puzzled about her interest in her headaches.

_{Location • En-route to the nearest Apollo Cafe → Eventually makes it!
Time • 6:30 AM - 8:00 AM
Interactions • Boy at Apollo Cafe @Lionhearted}

As morning would arrive and after Vivian and the others left the private meeting from the Headmaster/Mistress’ office, though she didn’t particularly share the anger the others felt, she could understand. They were being offered up as the fall-guy in the event they were to talk to anyone about what happened last night. Vivian more felt bad for Dallas and the others. They saved the school from certain doom and, though they were praised for their bravery, their reward was a threat of expulsion and swore to secrecy.

Safe to say most of those who fought the shadow creatures weren’t all that happy. Vivian, being one of the few who didn’t fight and instead ran away and watched from the sidelines, didn’t know what to feel. Should she feel anger because she was included in the batch of students who got treated the same even though a few of them, like Vivian, didn’t do much of anything? Or maybe she was more understanding of the rules and would do anything not to threaten her tenure at Olympus Academy? Honestly, Vivian wasn’t sure how to feel at the moment. The only thing she wanted to do was focus on today and get through her classes later on the best that she could.

So the Daughter of the Sun put a bright smile on and went about her morning as though nothing had happened.

She was closing in on an Apollo Cafe that was somewhat near where she was, but then she felt a throbbing pain surge through the entirety of her head, causing her to wince incredibly in pain and fall to a knee as she gripped her head. During the ten seconds the immeasurable agony lasted, Vivian saw glimpses of ...something. She saw the campus of Olympus but it was from afar. She saw the Hestia Building in view and she heard laughs.

But that was it. Before she could hear or see anything past that, Vivian’s pain started to slowly subside and her headache faded away after a minute. But the feeling of dread? Or whatever it was -- that stayed with her. The rate at which her heart was beating was high -- it was almost too high for her to hope to stay calm. Vivian had visions before. They were short and often not that far into the future, but what she saw just now felt like it was months away, yet why did she suddenly feel as though it wasn’t?

“I..I need a muffin.” She panted, running her way to the nearest Apollo Cafe.

And that’s what she did. Vivian ran as though her life depended on the familiar comfort of her famous blueberry muffins that she baked for the cafes. Something so personal to her and baked out of love was just what she needed right now. She knew it was the only thing that would calm her frantic state right now. So when she burst through the doors and rushed to the counter, the usually patient Vivian wasn’t present at the moment. She demanded it and the person working the register wasn’t about to deny the rare inpatient Vivian Lucasta what she desired.

As the butter she spread on the muffin melted, it worked like magic. Her heart rate lowered to a manageable BPM and she took a seat at a table where someone else, someone she didn’t know, was sitting. “Oh. I’m sorry, I didn’t see you..” She looked at the incredibly handsome guy sitting across from her who had some type of journal out. “I don’t think I know you. Are you new? I’m Vivian, Daughter of Apollo.” She held out her hand, which still had buttery crumbs of the blueberry muffin she had just devoured on them.