"The look is referencing the glowing trident above your head, doll. Means you're one of us." The crisp voice comes from behind Artimes. An older camper approaches, white hair flowing past her shoulders and down her back. Brilliant gold eyes scan Artimes up and down, sizing her up, as she seems to glide closer. She stops next to Percy and extends a hand in greeting. "Darya Bassio, daughter of Poseidon. Just like you, so it seems."