Write

Secundi Lux

---

Had you asked Aoife Sturmgaard one week ago how she felt about active combat against a Void, she'd have fumbled over some optimistic verbiage before landing on something to the effect of 'we'll do our best'. She was an extrovert, charismatic, quick on her feet. Some had called her a natural born leader. However, one knows when they are outclassed and the human knowledge of mortality was a damning one. Yet, as she and another Ars Magi made their way to the Palmyra Military Exercise Zone her heart was thrumming in anticipation. She wanted to speak to the blonde lightning user beside her, but her mind couldn't focus on words or niceties. It thought only of combat, about winning.

She had to steady herself as she was nearly bowled over by a sudden tremor beneath her feet as a shockwave erupted past her and Noel. the unnerving sound of concrete shorn from structures and glass being pulverized through sheer velocity rung loudly in the freshly minted Ars Magi's ears. She felt a sensation creep from her fingertips across her spine, but it was not fear nor a flight response from her body. It may've been just a week ago, but now, something had irrevocably changed in her. This gem that had been housed within her. She could feel it pulse in time with her heart. Aoife looked to the girl to her right, one arm steadying herself against the alleyway.

They made it to the exit and began to witness the beginning of what would likely be a short conflict, no matter the victor. She laid eyes on it, finally. This was C-Class. The Void bore a slender figure, so seemingly fragile that it caused Aoife's blood to boil in anger. It should be easy to crush it, to snap it, to sunder the beast.

The Void generated a black sphere no larger than a basketball, condensed in a way that made it look like a star before its capitulation to oblivion. It launched a volley of them upwards towards the observation tower that it was facing. Aoife braced herself for their impact, but not fast enough. A verdant-haired maiden of imposing stature loosed a slab of concrete with a single kick colliding with the ball and brilliantly erupting. The sound of the eruption itself marveled Aoife, it excited her. Two more cracks rung out not a moment later and erupted into another volley of these projectiles before Aoife was even able to parse their existence. Lilac light burst from the sky as another explosion carried a girl further, to the roof of a different building before disappearing past its lip. Two cracks followed and the Void stumbled backwards, barely catching itself.

The blonde opened her mouth to say something, an excuse to be sure. "It's alright, I feel it too." It was all Aoife could do to hear her own voice over the blood and adrenaline pounding in her ears. Noel nodded to her and leapt, a burst of electricity lapping at her heels as she did. Aoife marveled at the girl, firing herself like a bullet from a gun, she impacted hard against the creature, knocking it further off balance as it begun to reel back toward her.

---

C A S T A S T E R I S M

“Aoife!” Calls the lightning Ars Magi, “Go!”

Time slowed to a crawl as the girl heard her name echo across the desolate city-scape, into the ears of the other Ars Magi. For the first time since becoming an Ars Magi, Aoife felt purpose clarify, and intent crystallize unto her soul. She felt her body pulled towards the void, being spurred on and catching glances from each of the other girls. This was her chance to prove who she was, that when she arrived on the battlefield, the tide would change.

Aoife closed her eyes as he legs continued to carry her forward. She stretched her arms out towards the void, feeling the pull of the tide in the pit of her stomach. She could feel the cosmic ocean this planet was adrift in all around her. Her ears filled with the sounds of the tide as she leapt into the air, gracefully caught by water she conjured around her. The water bore with it the stars themselves under its waves as it spiraled around her waist lifting her further and further into the air. But this impressive show of force was unnecessary. Aoife's hand glided across the water by her waist, plucking a strand of it like a seamstress would a thread. The thin chord of pure water danced along her fingertips as she continued to climb. The water playfully danced around her as she finally found it.

There you are. For the briefest moment she felt as though the Armagus implanted within her resonated with her, as if it acknowledged her intent.

Aoife's eyes slowly opened, meeting the void before her with the gaze of a conqueror. "Fear me, fiend." Her words were nearly silent, but the look on her face spoke volumes. Her visage filled with ire that would put the fear of the divine upon a mortal. She bore her gladius in one hand, a brilliant silver blade with an azure ribbon dangling and dancing with the water below her. She continued to rise, and would until she could take her rightful seat upon the heavens. But, for now, that creature mocked her and her fellow Ars Magi by still standing. She could feel the pride and divine right coursing through her veins, it might've worried Aoife, had she not been so singularly focused.

The water she contorted into a singular thread spun violently into itself, condensing into a jet stream with enough pressure to carve a diamond. She could feel its power radiate through her hand and up her torso, releasing at the base of her neck. It gave her chills. She felt as though she had become the very waves that crushed sailors against the cliffs. Aoife couldn't help but smile with glee at what she was about to do.

Her fingers danced in a brief formation for only an instant before the thread of water that she'd pulled from the typhoon propping her up lanced outwards like a whip toward the creature, striking with a crack as she aimed it to land a blow on its knee. "Creature," this time she spoke loud enough for everyone to hear. "We are the Ars Magi. Kneel."

Secundi Lux

Aoife

The Mundane

Name: Aoife Sturmgaard

Age: 17.

Sanctum City: Danaster, Jupiter

Description:

Aoife

Personality: An easygoing and extroverted girl, Aoife is most well defined as fairly well adjusted. She's generally content, athletic and fairly charismatic if a bit apathetic to the opinions of others. A flaw for Aoife is that she does not feel much motivation nor drive. She lives each day happy and generally without regret, and yet there is something missing from her life. A destination, perhaps a goal. And yet, above all else, Aoife is content. She does not want for much - nor does she lack pride in the work she does. She does not fear conflict nor battle, for what does it mean to be an Ars Magi if not to stand tall when others cower? To lord over the darkness, and demand once more that it is thrust back into the breach from which is leapt?

Background: The Sturmgaard house is a noble one, or, they were. During the first void they thought themselves unsung heroes, poachers of evil – until that fallacy was made apparent. The patriarch of the Sturmgaard family and Aoife’s grandfather was struck down unceremoniously while defending a small ensemble of aristocratic cowards. Though, Aoife’s mother had told her that they weren’t really cowards at all. In fact, they were quite brave for the time. The first void made cowards of humanity, pushing themselves ever further into their spires of humanity, biting back at the darkness which each opportunity like a caged rat. The Sturmgaard’s, lacking a leader, fell significantly to a place of humility. They did what they could to make ends meet, often making busy work of Aoife and her three siblings as they were raised to make ends meet.

That was, until one day when one of those cowards came to pay the Sturmgaard family a visit. He was a young man, no greyer than Aoife’s eldest brother. He bore a sickening scar leading form somewhere below his collar all the way to his forehead. He did not come to pay homage to a dead man, nor to honour the family in particular, but to good on a promise he once swore. This man carried with him a blade he claimed had belonged to Aoife’s grandfather once, it was a beautiful thing. When Aoife saw it glistening in the candlelight, it was as if seeing one’s self for the first time. Her life, clarified in a single sentiment, this was what she was made for. She reached out to the blade without asking nor thinking, but to her surprise, no one stopped her.

They watched in silence as she took the blade in her hands, its beautiful azure ribbon lazily dangling from the pommel. Her mother said something like ‘you’ll have to work hard at it’, but, in fact, she was wrong. Aoife had extraordinary magical aptitude untapped and ready to be explored. Nothing had ever come to easier to her than her training to become one of the Ars Magi.

It took her family a few years of saving until they could afford to let her walk the path she now saw before her. Her goodbyes were all oddly unspectacular. As if she was simply running out to pick up some food for tonight’s dinner. Aoife didn’t mind. The time for tears had long since passed. In front of her Aoife could see that there was a simple road that she would walk until she could no longer. The path of the Ars Magi.

The Magical

Armgaus Name: Lazy Spring Lazulite

Gladius: A sword with an extending ribbon with a half-moon blade. named 'Joyeuse' after Charlemagne's weapon of myth. Aoife is able to use the ribbon as a whip of sorts, swinging the half-moon blade with deadly precision, while the Jian straight sword is honed to a razor's edge. Both ends are immediately deadly, and allow for off-kilter attacking patterns, Aoife relies on enemies only needing to make one misstep to end the fight.

Parma: While Aoife's clothes and demeanor shift dramatically she physically stays almost exactly the same. Save for her eyes which look like swirling pools of navy. Aoife's demeanor shifts from that of a lackidasical part-girl to one of utmost confidence and unerring charisma. Even in the most dire of circumstances it is the unholy belief in herself that allows Aoife to push further than most. Her attire changes to something of a mystic's features. She wears black tights with the constellation of aquarius imprinted onto them. Her light blue bodice is wrapped delicately with silk gloves that stretch the entire length of her arms, though it's a much more durable material. A large witch's hat completes the outfit, casually flopping from one side to another, with no bearing on direction.

Violent Riptide

Elementum: Water

Elementum Abilities: There are many wise men who have commented on the tumultuous, often violent nature of the sea, ocean and water as a whole. Aoife takes those words to heart when she fights. Water is bending, but unbreakable, a steady stream blocked will erode even steel over time. Aoife is able to take powerful blows and shrug them off with minimal effort. She can manipulate any liquid element from water to blood. She can compress it to create a high powered jet, drain plant life of all its moisture, or use it to soften attacks. Aoife cannot control hydrogen or oxygen separately, however. Likewise, she cannot control water in its solid form, ice. Aoife is also capable of swimming at speeds far surpassing boats, as well as breath underwater. One techique she's grown quite fond of are creating bubbles that act as shields or cushions, by manipulating the water she can create extremely durable bubbles capable of catching a person falling from a building or absorbing a dangerous blow. Her highest feat of strength is that with some level of concentration she is capable of making thunderstorms by manipulating the clouds themselves. Though, this is not simply done at a whim and requires a good deal of careful exertion.

Secundi Lux

Hey there! I think @Krayzikk or @HereComesTheSnow mentioned me, but I heard there was an open spot and I thought I’d try my hand at applying for it. So if you’d allow it here’s my bid:

Aoife

The Mundane

Name: Aoife Sturmgaard

Age: 17.

Sanctum City: Danaster, Jupiter

Description:

Aoife

Personality: An easygoing and extroverted girl, Aoife is most well defined as fairly well adjusted. She's generally content, athletic and fairly charismatic if a bit apathetic to the opinions of others. A flaw for Aoife is that she does not feel much motivation nor drive. She lives each day happy and generally without regret, and yet there is something missing from her life. A destination, perhaps a goal. And yet, above all else, Aoife is content. She does not want for much - nor does she lack pride in the work she does. She does not fear conflict nor battle, for what does it mean to be an Ars Magi if not to stand tall when others cower? To lord over the darkness, and demand once more that it is thrust back into the breach from which is leapt?

Background: The Sturmgaard house is a noble one, or, they were. During the first void they thought themselves unsung heroes, poachers of evil – until that fallacy was made apparent. The patriarch of the Sturmgaard family and Aoife’s grandfather was struck down unceremoniously while defending a small ensemble of aristocratic cowards. Though, Aoife’s mother had told her that they weren’t really cowards at all. In fact, they were quite brave for the time. The first void made cowards of humanity, pushing themselves ever further into their spires of humanity, biting back at the darkness which each opportunity like a caged rat. The Sturmgaard’s, lacking a leader, fell significantly to a place of humility. They did what they could to make ends meet, often making busy work of Aoife and her three siblings as they were raised to make ends meet.

That was, until one day when one of those cowards came to pay the Sturmgaard family a visit. He was a young man, no greyer than Aoife’s eldest brother. He bore a sickening scar leading form somewhere below his collar all the way to his forehead. He did not come to pay homage to a dead man, nor to honour the family in particular, but to good on a promise he once swore. This man carried with him a blade he claimed had belonged to Aoife’s grandfather once, it was a beautiful thing. When Aoife saw it glistening in the candlelight, it was as if seeing one’s self for the first time. Her life, clarified in a single sentiment, this was what she was made for. She reached out to the blade without asking nor thinking, but to her surprise, no one stopped her.

They watched in silence as she took the blade in her hands, its beautiful azure ribbon lazily dangling from the pommel. Her mother said something like ‘you’ll have to work hard at it’, but, in fact, she was wrong. Aoife had extraordinary magical aptitude untapped and ready to be explored. Nothing had ever come to easier to her than her training to become one of the Ars Magi.

It took her family a few years of saving until they could afford to let her walk the path she now saw before her. Her goodbyes were all oddly unspectacular. As if she was simply running out to pick up some food for tonight’s dinner. Aoife didn’t mind. The time for tears had long since passed. In front of her Aoife could see that there was a simple road that she would walk until she could no longer. The path of the Ars Magi.

The Magical

Armgaus Name: Lazy Spring Lazulite

Gladius: A sword with an extending ribbon with a half-moon blade. named 'Joyeuse' after Charlemagne's weapon of myth. Aoife is able to use the ribbon as a whip of sorts, swinging the half-moon blade with deadly precision, while the Jian straight sword is honed to a razor's edge. Both ends are immediately deadly, and allow for off-kilter attacking patterns, Aoife relies on enemies only needing to make one misstep to end the fight.

Parma: While Aoife's clothes and demeanor shift dramatically she physically stays almost exactly the same. Save for her eyes which look like swirling pools of navy. Aoife's demeanor shifts from that of a lackidasical part-girl to one of utmost confidence and unerring charisma. Even in the most dire of circumstances it is the unholy belief in herself that allows Aoife to push further than most. Her attire changes to something of a mystic's features. She wears black tights with the constellation of aquarius imprinted onto them. Her light blue bodice is wrapped delicately with silk gloves that stretch the entire length of her arms, though it's a much more durable material. A large witch's hat completes the outfit, casually flopping from one side to another, with no bearing on direction.

Violent Riptide

Elementum: Water

Elementum Abilities: There are many wise men who have commented on the tumultuous, often violent nature of the sea, ocean and water as a whole. Aoife takes those words to heart when she fights. Water is bending, but unbreakable, a steady stream blocked will erode even steel over time. Aoife is able to take powerful blows and shrug them off with minimal effort. She can manipulate any liquid element from water to blood. She can compress it to create a high powered jet, drain plant life of all its moisture, or use it to soften attacks. Aoife cannot control hydrogen or oxygen separately, however. Likewise, she cannot control water in its solid form, ice. Aoife is also capable of swimming at speeds far surpassing boats, as well as breath underwater. One techique she's grown quite fond of are creating bubbles that act as shields or cushions, by manipulating the water she can create extremely durable bubbles capable of catching a person falling from a building or absorbing a dangerous blow. Her highest feat of strength is that with some level of concentration she is capable of making thunderstorms by manipulating the clouds themselves. Though, this is not simply done at a whim and requires a good deal of careful exertion.

Heroes of Beacon - the Next Chapter

Hope you're all doing well, see some of you at the continuation, one day.

Olympus Academy // A School for Demigods and Demigoddesses

---

---

Marcella Aveline Bonaparte II

_{Interactions: @Plank Sinatra
Mentions:@HereComesTheSnow}

Marcy’s expression was perhaps a confusing one, as she regarded Dallas chewing on every aspect of the question. At first, he did what he was born to do, turn a question into an Oscar-award worthy monologue detailing such normalcies as dealing ADHD medication in a popular coffee chain bathroom. But when Marcy watched his cobalt-blue eyes roll up to the back of his head as she realized he’d have to give a genuine answer for her to be satisfied a smile crept upon her lips.

The fork collided with her nose, but didn’t leave before she could give it a quick peck. She purposefully looked at the fork rather than Dallas and mouthed ‘call me’ to it before letting her eyes roll back over to Apollo’s spitting image sitting across from her.

“Who, me?” She asked, a faux-shocked expression happily adorned by her. “The highlight of my year, three references? My, my. So many choices? Who wouldn’t hotly anticipate our annual drive-in date night? But then, perhaps we’ll be so lucky as to see Rhea get drunk enough to do karaoke to the Canadian national anthem for a fourth straight year? I suppose you’d also be obligated to put in some kind of bid towards Jonas’ big fight of the year. The one he really goes all out in. You know just gives it his all? But highlight?” Her tongue clicked as she purposefully averted her gaze, staring down at her now empty plate. She returned to meet Dal’s gaze after a heartbreakingly long five seconds. “I don’t know, what’re you up to in twenty minutes?”

Heroes of Beacon - the Next Chapter

Revelry

@Plank Sinatra@FlitterFaux@HereComesTheSnow

Bianca Celestia Nuit sat upon a throne of carbohydrates and good vibes.

Tonight, I could lay my doubts to rest, and truly welcome into my arms companionship with the three others surrounding me. The mission hadn’t gone perfectly, in fact, there were fairly significant hiccups here and there. All the same, I regarded my teammates proudly and with the visage of someone who was not only content but fulfilled.

As I sat across from Jericho, diagonally from Skye and adjacent Luke I found myself unable to keep from smiling. Unable to keep from rocking back and forth with an overwhelming sense of joy, to stop from leaning on Jer’s boot even though it had just seen heavy use in the field. Because at the end of the day, I had been an asset to the team, not a liability.

I considered the path that had led me here. Through Gratia’s arms in Mistral, in that van, to Beacon, to Jer, to JBLS, to Luke, away from my father, here to this Waffle King, preparing for my return to Beacon once more. The last time I had returned in a stretcher, I was doted over, chastised and disregarded from active duty. This time, I was triumphant. I was everything Vignoble couldn’t be due to my status. Everything I wanted to be last time.

It was already done.

On to the next.

“I think we are in great company,” I said. Jer’s previous statement still hung in the air as my teammates regarded me as I did them. I laid my head down on Luke’s shoulder closing my eyes and taking a deep breath. I peaked out at Skye and offered her another smile; this one was more pointed, playful. I picked up my glass and raised it, tipping it ever so slightly towards the table and clearing my throat. “To us, to JBLS. Fore tonight, we are all Waffle King’s and Queens.”

Olympus Academy // A School for Demigods and Demigoddesses

---

---

Marcella Aveline Bonaparte II & Rhea Franky Psomas

_{Interactions: @HereComesTheSnow, @Crimson Flame @Plank Sinatra @Krayzikk @Caasicam}

Marcy observed the controlled chaos that was Dal’s breakfast at an Apollo diner. Things were thrown, he likened himself to a slut, he referenced his own romps with a child of Dionysus. It was good to be back.

She watched Beau leave, the man had removed his pink shirt and strode out of the room as if it wasn’t early an early morning café. Well, what were you going to do? When you hung around Dal too much you tended to lose clothing piece by piece. After last night and the soreness of her body this morning, Marcy was strictly in the laissez-faire mindset.

She picked at the food in front of her all the while touching on her own summer vacation. She talked about getting to damn a few souls to eternity in the void, a nice night she spent with an actress. Some other interesting tidbits she only half expected Dal to pay attention to. Though, to the boy’s credit in-between bouts of him scarfing food down he would pipe up to make a point, catching Marcy off her game. She had forgotten how observant Apollo’s favourite child could be.

As the sun began to assume its position and the bits of orange, peach and yellow fled from above them and gave way to pure ocean blue Marcy found herself watching outside. “What do you think will be the highlight of this year, Dal?” She asked, her voice was sweet. She looked warmly at him, letting her teeth gently rake her lip. “Any ideas?”

---

Rhea and Bekah shared a sentiment and glance when Liam knocked on the door. Rhea certainly didn’t mind the company, even if she felt a little weird given their dad’s. She wasn’t sure what Liam’s relationship with Zeus was, but she was sure he respected how big those shoes were to fill.

She graced him with a smile and a nod as she polished off her plate.

“Jonas these were seriously delicious.” She stretched out and offered a big toothy grin to her coach. “Man, I needed that.” He started to cook once more, and as he did he offered the group a question:

"In all of your years and all of your texts, who is a hero for running fearfully for the trees? I can recall none."

Rhea’s mind didn’t go to the history books. It wasn’t a question that demanded an answer. Jonas knew it already.

He wanted us to know that what we did, however it was handled by the staff, we were right. Whether they want to acknowledge it or not, it’s what they’ve been training us to do.

It was the right thing to do.

“You’re right.” Rhea confirmed quietly. She glanced at Dana; who’s compliment came as something of a surprise. Dana was always kind to Rhea, but not always as direct.

“Thank you, Dana. I’ve been working hard to improve, so, I’m glad it shows.” Rhea turned to the spitting image of Athena sitting across from her. “I've still got much to learn, though.” Rhea smiled half-heartedly at her, rubbing some sleep from her eyes.

Olympus Academy // A School for Demigods and Demigoddesses

---

---

Marcella Aveline Bonaparte II & Rhea Franky Psomas

_{Interactions: @HereComesTheSnow, @Crimson Flame @Plank Sinatra @Krayzikk}

---

---

It was difficult to acknowledge when a bit hadn’t worked. As a lover of all things dramatic, this was chiefly true for Marcy. Marcella Bonaparte’s acting career began at the tender age of 8. She played Stella in Streetcar, it was a big part for such a small child, but the reviews spoke for themselves. The show was lauded, she was offered roles in Hollywood blockbusters and Bollywood musicals. But she gave it up for the real prize. Ending on top. Marcy’s rule when it came to acting? Never abandon a scene.

But,

Marcy looked at Dallas for a moment, and nodded. “Fair enough,” she added to the gesture. She sat beside the son of Apollo, watching his gaze turn from angry to mournful as the croissant hit fine china.

She slid the confectionery back towards him, shooting him an unconfident grin.

“Ah, Beau! Oui! It’s wonderful to meet you.” Marcy reached out towards the son of Aphrodite, allowing him to kiss her hand. “Of course, I’ve heard far and wide of Mr. DeRose.” Marcy offered him a smile she usually reserved for the damned and a sly wink. She could’ve sworn for a moment the room heated up. Her gaze returned to her side, to Dallas, he looked… Okay?

“I apologize for the theatrics, but, well, I can’t help myself sometimes.” Marcy turned, prying her gaze from Dallas. But even when she looked at Beau, her mind wandered back to Dal.

He was on edge, to put it lightly. She assumed, because of the reaming out from the headmasters. She feigned laughter with Beau, taking the opportunity to scan the son of Apollo once more. She saw the croissant looked as though it had been choked, the residue chalking the sides of his fingers. She could see his clenched jaw and the bite marks on his lower lip. The tension in his shoulders as they barely moved between breaths.

She gently covered his free hand with her own.

“Crazy night last night,” she started, her eyes belying the casual tone she carried and concern speckled across her expression. “You holding up alright?”

---

---

Rhea rubbed the back of her head at Jonas’ comment. “I know, I’m not trying to fight your battles it just pisses me off,” she spat. “Either way, I’ve got your back coach. If they try to kick any of you out of here, they’ll be kicking me out too.”

She wasn’t quite as quick as Bekah, Marcy, or Dal – but Rhea knew when someone wasn’t saying everything on their mind. She was getting that feeling from Jonas. She couldn't quite pin down whether it was suppressed anger, some concern he was currently tracking or if he was altering her training regimen on the fly while cooking. But whatever it was there was something he was thinking that he didn't want to share.

“I get the idea of their lazy form of justice, though. I don’t agree with it but I’ve seen it a hundred times before. My brothers-“ Rhea winced at the memory and offered a weak smile in the place of the words she had started. She saw Jonas’ gaze scan over to her as he took a deep breath. She braced herself to suffer questioning when the door opened behind them.

"Morning," Rhea returned Bekah’s smile and nodded at Dana.

"Yo," the conversation was between perhaps to two most utilitarian of their small posse. But their few words carried the weight of a won battle, there was an air of victory.

"What's for breakfast, Highwind? And is there coffee?"

"No coffee, didn't bring a machine and if Dal did, he didn't unpack it. Sorry. But forget that, what I've got here," he paused for dramatic tension. Thus, he began the final steps.

Rhea warmly greeted the two demigoddesses with kind and tired eyes as they took their seats.

Jonas made it look both casual, and artful as he topped his creation in beautiful goldenrod sauce and ocher flakes. The smell of the bacon that lay guarded beneath the ivory towers found gentle interplay with the light spicing.

"Enjoy. You've earned it."

Rhea was quick to help herself, getting everything she needed onto a plate before locating her fork and digging in.

She delicately and with great precision forced her fork through the soft exterior of the egg, allowing the yolk to tumble down the muffin and begin to pool onto the plate. She scooped up a forkful of egg, bacon and muffin and lifted it to her mouth.

She was transported back to Early July, 2007. She was sitting in a crammed movie theatre with her family, watching that Disney, no, Pixar? Dreamworks?

The movie with the fuckin’ rat that came every time he ate.

The scene where he eats some cheese off the fuckin’ dirt and like-

Fireworks happen?

It didn’t matter the eggs kicked ass and Jonas was a fantastic chef.

“Anyway,” Rhea forced words through the food. “I had a few things I wanted to go over with you for training. I was kind of slow until I got in the water.”

She swallowed hard, even she couldn’t contain the smile the eggs brought. “But that can wait for later.”

She turned to Bekah. “I don’t mean to sound patronizing, but I hadn’t seen you in action in a while. You’re stronger that I recalled, we should try and fit some sparring in at some point.” Rhea scarfed down some more egg, trying but failing to go slow and savour it. “If you want.”

“You too Dana.” Rhea’s fork rested against the edge of the plate. “Everyone looked like they were in great form, even Marcy.” A hint of surprise peppered Rhea’s voice, though it was mostly meant in jest.

“I’ve still got a lot to learn and this school isn’t teaching me shit – so thank the gods I’ve got you guys.”

Olympus Academy // A School for Demigods and Demigoddesses

---

---

Marcella Aveline Bonaparte II & Rhea Franky Psomas

_{Interactions: Venting to Jonas Highwind @HereComesTheSnow, elbowing Viv @Altered Tundra, and rescuing Dallas Relo @Plank Sinatra (Also mentioned: @Lionhearted, @Allycat, @Crimson Flame)}

---

---

Marcella Bonaparte
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?

Dallas Relo
apollo cafe
prettying up now
see who wears the sexier welcome mat

Oh that little.

"No," Marcy cautioned herself, "don't give him that power, he's one ego trip away from causing a singularity." Marcella rexamined her outfit before truly commiting to her approach towarsd the Apollo cafe. She'd make do with what she had at the moment, though her mind was already planning out future outfits. A Bonaparte didn't dress for anyone in particular. A Bonaparte dressed for everyone. For if a Bonaparte shouldn't attempt to give the proletariat something to look at, who would?

She smiled intimiately at all who passed her, a few run-of-the-mills who happened to be lucky enough to cross the Demigod's path on her morning commute to the cafe. As well as some of the school's staff. She smiled at them, fluttering her eyelashes just enough to direct an onlooker towards her sterling cerulean gaze. Children of Aphrodite had it easy, they'd turn on their magical pheromone and you'd swear they were pretty, no, for any other demigodess, one had to put in the effort.

Finally coming upon the cafe, Marcella looked on in abject horror as she saw him there, flanked by two men she didn't recognize. Viv was also in the cafe, Viv was speaking to Marcy's brother, Gus inside. Those two could be problematic.

But, the mission was clear. Extraction.

Marcella waited for a pair from the faculty to enter the cafe. She silently followed as if she was their third. Not saying anything, but just close enough to not garner attention.

She immediately broke off and elbowed Viv's side quietly whispering into her ear.

"Follow my lead and keep everyone else out of this. It’s for your brother."

Marcella approached the hostage with caution and knowing in her eyes as she locked on Dallas'.

"Oh zut alors! Pouvez vous m'aider, Ma voiture est tombée en panne. Je ne c'est pas quoi faire!" Marcella loaded her voice with a rich Parisian upper-crust accent that only came through when she cried normally. She gently grasped Dallas' bicep, pleading at him with every part of her face. She conjured images of rose clinging to Jack atop that frigid door. "Please monsieur, s'il vous plaît, come 'ere." Marcella's accent was as rick as dark chocolate, pulling Dallas towards him, attempting to free him from his new bonds. "Je suis tres desole." She muttered as she waited for Dal to seal the deal.

---

---

The smell of eggs further roused Rhea to achieve new tiers of consciousness. Her awareness of her surroundings started to come back, slowly but surely. Jonas' voice send her head spinning, back to last night, to getting reamed out by the higher-ups. Rhea had stayed the quietest of the present company. She certainly hadn't fought back against it, and when her and Marcy got back to their rooms Marcy had wanted to stay with Rhea for the night. So she hadn't had the chance to really process it, until now, anyway.

"...Helluva start to the year, huh?"

"Yeah," Rhea spat, awkwardly rubbing the sleep from her eyes. "Some fuckin' thanks for saving their entire experimental alumni, huh?"

She sighed loudly enough that it almost evolved into a groan. "Eggs smell good, thanks for making breakfast." Rhea glanced over at the pot of water. She tried to feel a connection to it, just as an early stretch.

The sensation came in waves. It was difficult for her early on to try and discern information about water she couldn't see. But it's movement mirrored Jonas' stirring, and its heat rose with the stove top. Little by little she garnered everything about the water, and their contents. She felt one with it for a brief, fleeting second.

And then she was back.

"You guys pretty much said everything there was to say, I didn't want to add fuel to that fire I guess." Rhea still had the bad habit of explaining things when she wasn't asked to. "Here, let me help." Rhea pushed herself up from the chair she had sat in. "How many are we expecting? I'll set the table."

Olympus Academy // A School for Demigods and Demigoddesses

---

---

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.