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 you are more [paras]

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Nico
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PostSubject: you are more [paras]   Mon Jan 28, 2013 6:27 pm

development
Welcome to my self-para topic. This will be mainly for character development, but it might also turn into an outlet for my muse. Probably it will be a pretty even mixture of both. Some of these self-para's will be really short, while some might seem like they go on forever. Don't feel obligated to read any, but if you do, enjoy.

june prenston: i feel the love, i feel it burn, not about angels
sasha perry: none yet
cambley connors: none yet
tiffany powell: none yet
gus williams: none yet
gavin foster: none yet
justin posey: none yet


Last edited by Nico on Sat Jun 07, 2014 12:57 am; edited 5 times in total
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PostSubject: Re: you are more [paras]   Sat Jul 20, 2013 3:58 am

i feel the love and i feel it burn,
june has just been forced to kill a zombie version of her best and only friend, caleb wright. the action has such an impact on her that june knows she has struck rock bottom and can't find a way to climb back up. she wants all the pain to go away somehow. note, she is a sociopath who was almost recovering with the help of the boy she lost.

June was broken to say the least. Have you ever felt so alone that you suddenly decided you were the world and the world was you? And it was like a whole chain of events added together most definitely put you in the running for the crappiest life ever? Which is saying a lot, because you're alive and most people with the crappiest life were dead and didn't have to suffer from the crappiness of their lives anymore..? Because June felt all of those weighted emotions, and though she hadn't ever been convinced—even with her knife thrower, her glasses boy—that she had been given one of the nicer lives, she had never felt bad about it. Now? She felt bad about every little decision that had ever led up to the moment where she could no longer hold herself together. This awful little moment in time where she collapsed on her bed and started crying away all of her sorrow.
June had never cried by herself before. The only person she had ever cried around was the boy who was now just a fading presence in her life. The only time she would ever see him again was in hell, but despite how mean her knife boy could be, June believed he had good in him, and he would probably wind up somewhere much nicer than the daughter of Ares. And that pained her, too. That drew more tears.
Crying alone was so lonely. There was a CD somewhere in space, sent out for aliens to discover, that held a record of practically anything you could imagine, including several songs chosen to accurately describe human emotion. There was a song for loneliness, and if June could replace the song with a situation, an event, she would replace it with crying alone. Knowing, even if you wanted to deny it, that there was no one you could turn to. The girl didn't feel such strong emotions often, and she had made sure that she wasn't close to many people. No one around her could understand. She wouldn't open up to anyone about this. She was feeling sorry for herself. Sorry was another emotion she was pretty unfamiliar with.
June felt worthless as she shivered, curled up on her bed, trying to keep quiet so her sobs didn't bother anyone else. Along with the combination of several other pretty terrible emotions, like sharp pangs of guilt and wracking waves of depression, the worthlessness was the worst part of the climactic night of rock-bottoms. Having someone to care about had always made June a different person. Whatever had been the root of her original mental disorder, she had used to feel like she was conquering it. Now she felt like she was probably regressing all the way back to square negative two. If anything after tonight, things were bound to get harder.
Hands shaking, June started running them through her hair, attempting to sooth herself as her mind wandered to dark thoughts that she knew she was strong enough to ignore. No matter how down she felt, she had to at least survive—even if it was like a lifeless corpse—because who else could carry on the memory of her deceased best friend? She had just about known the boy better than he had known himself, even though he had never been completely open with her. She learned to read him like a child learned to read a book with some words they didn't know; a little bit of a challenge but accomplishable given time. There hadn't been enough time.
Time. Time was a real pain in the ass. For June, it was never smooth enough, either cutting her off, like every single time she attempted to hang out with Caleb, or giving her too much time to think, like tonight.
Taking a few deep breaths, June managed to stop crying, having felt thoroughly emptied of most emotion. Sitting up and blinking, the girl pressed her fingers to her temples and exhaled again. Her head hurt from over thinking, and everything was weak from pain that was mostly just in her head. Not trusting herself enough to be alone in her room with so much access to such dangerous things, June grabbed her sheets and a pillow and dragged them outside. She collapsed from utter exhaustion in the hall and decided it would have to do, because she knew she couldn't get up again. Curling against the wall, the cabin leader twitched in and out of sleep for an entire painful night, being awoken by terrible nightmares and dreams that made reality that much more crushing.

ooc: i just really needed angst right now i have no idea why.
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PostSubject: Re: you are more [paras]   Sat Aug 03, 2013 4:03 am

i feel the love and i feel it burn,
June didn't want to go to the graveyard that day or ever, but without the closure that she was pretty sure it would provide, the girl was pretty sure she was going to finally lose it. Forever. With no chance of someone as meaningful as Caleb drawing her back in. That was a very good reason to put yourself through the strain of telling a loved one goodbye. June had technically said goodbye to Caleb already, but.. that farewell had been nothing but harsh, frantic words screamed at a zombie form of what used to be her best friend. It had been more sincere than she had ever planned on being, sure, but it wasn't powerful enough to satisfy the relationship they had been somewhat blessed with.
June had one heck of an awful father, but despite how much he did to ruin the children's lives, enough time had been given to them to form a strong bond. June hoped it was strong for Caleb, as strong as it was for her, even though he had initiated them not being friends and she had once told him his mom deserved to die.
Thinking back on the sour memory, June clutched the item she was holding in her hands even tighter and quickened her walking pace. The road that led to the graveyard was lonely and abandoned, and it made the experience of visiting the dead that much worse. Her now very long black hair blew behind in her curls that had been very rushed, and her outfit consisted of a black shirt and white tank top. She didn't often dress up, and what she was wearing really wasn't dressing up at all, but she had tried her best to get herself out of bed this morning and get the grave visit out of the way.
Before she did something awful like change her mind.
But of course, deep down, June knew she would never change her mind. Something like this was very important to her. She had a lot of responsibility riding on her as the only best friend of the deceased boy with some pretty intense dreams of what he wanted to become of him after he was gone.
Mostly, he just wanted someone to care, and if he had ever been genuinely concerned about that, June made a mental note to cuff him upside the head when she worked her way to the underworld. She cared; she knew she did because of how painful everything about her new, Caleb-less life was. She cared about Caleb more than she cared about anything, her own health and safety included. As this disturbing thought passed her mind, June finally made it to the more recent graves and plopped herself down when she reached Caleb's. Her heart stopped working upon reading his name on the tombstone and she let herself cry for what was probably a solid thirty minutes before she pulled herself together.
Sitting cross legged across from her friend's grave, June took a deep breath and set a pair of glasses down in front of her. "When I went to go ask about what happened to you.. Chiron gave me these. He said people weren't usually burried with glasses, but I mean.. I don't want them. I have one of your knives. I don't want your glasses. You always liked them a lot more than I did, anyway." June went quiet for a few minutes as she played with her necklace absent mindedly. It was the one Caleb had given her. She hadn't taken it off in what felt like months.
"I was the reason you had those," June fantasized breathlessly. "Do you ever forget that? I did, towards the end. I used to see them as this big flashing sign that told me how bad I was for you, but in the end they really were just glasses to me. You used to say that you didn't really mind all that much, but I'm sorry. I don't remember what we were fighting about. I know my memory of the past was better than yours, and I've been trying to remember... but I can't. I'll.. I swear to the gods I'll let you know as soon as that memory comes back. But maybe your memories already came back. Does it work like that after you die?"
June froze instantly because she thought she had heard a noise, and if anyone caught her basically talking to herself she would be locked away for good and forced to wear the bracelet that she had always hated and she would never be able to visit Caleb's grave or have a normal conversation with her brother, James, again, and she wasn't about to let that happen. Upon not hearing another noise for several minutes, June continued her long, unrehearsed monologue. "So, um, if you're going to listen to any of this, Cae, now's the time to listen. Perk up your little dead ears and try to get this thought into your head. I know you were worried about dying, or like, not dying, but leaving a legacy or something? No one caring? That's all bullcrap." June stopped talking for a very long time then, extremely suddenly because she couldn't continue. Her head hurt and her body was weak and this was physically painful for her to admit so willingly.
By the time she opened her mouth, she hardly remembered what it was she wanted to say. "I kind of already told you this, but I love you and loved you, and if I could do this over again, do us over again, I would say something so much sooner because look at what happened. I lost you. And I don't believe in the power of love fixing anything, hell, I don't even believe in the power of love, but I just wish I could have told you sooner." June put her head in her hands and again went silent for a long while. She was saying things she never imagined ever leaving her mouth. It was refreshing, but it tasted awful leaving her lips.
"You never really believed anyone without some proof, so wanna hear about how much I miss you and how much I care that you're gone?" June offered, her voice taking on a more optomistic tone. She wasn't an optomistic child, optomisim wasn't in her nature, but that was a good description for how she was beginning to sonud. "I lik—loved you enough to save your life from a stupid monster in the stupid arena before I even knew stupid ole' you." June grinned, even though she was sad, because it was a good memory and she was allowed to be happy thinking about it gosh damnit. "And I didn't even love you then, you were just special." Special. That was a good word for Caleb. That's what he was. "And I gave you an adoring nickname right off the bat. Knives, Wright, Cripple Sticks, Cae, Four Eyes, they were all bursting with admiration. Even if it didn't... seem like it. Sorry if it didn't seem like it. You know me well enough to understand why it didn't seem like it at times."
June hugged her knees to her chest and stopped telling her story because she couldn't handle it. She had planned on going through every memory she could recollect about Caleb starting with the first time they met at camp, but she couldn't even get through nicknames. June let out a strangled sob before sitting up straight and huffing. She was strong, stronger than ever actually, and big girls didn't cry. "You're such an asshole for leaving me, ya know," June complained, leaning back on her hands and sighing contently. That was what the normal, non-grief striken June would say. That was a good sign. "Like, the biggest asshole out of all the assholes. I loved you and you go and die on me." June didn't sound bitter, she wasn't bitter, she just needed some comedic release if anything, and being herself, her sense of humor was kind of twisted. "Hey, listen, if you ever want to visit, feel free to, like, Paranormal Activity my ass. It'll be greatly welcomed, just don't break anything in my cabin because James'll get mad. And don't be lame, you gotta scare me. Maybe that's not how ghosts work. I'll look into it at the library. I've only been there, like, once, and it was during the zombie apacolypse where your body tried to murder me, but I'd go back for you."
June shook her head and rubbed her eyes. "Bye Caleb Austin Wright. I love you. Don't cause Hades too much trouble. Come back if you can, because I miss the hell out of you and I need a warm and fuzzy Caleb hug. Mine's long overdue. Thanks for putting up with my run on sentences. I use them when I get too deep on thought, which I want to blame you for, so come back so I can blame you appropriately. And I need to tell you about how much I care and watch how annoyed you get, even though you care, too, even if I mess up sometimes, and that's why I love you and care so much about you, Knives. You care about me as much as I care about you. You're the... you're the only one."
The daughter of Ares blinked and began standing up. "I'm going to try to make more friends, even though it's hard because I hate just about everyone, but I'm still holding out for you, okay? Always." June turned to walk away before she whipped something off of her wrist and set it down next to the glasses. It was a bracelet. It said danger. June started crying again as she stood staring down at the grave. "I know it's not flowers, but I didn't really know if you would want flowers. You got the bracelet off, Caleb. That was the best thing anyone's ever done for me. I love you because even if I start to care way too much, I know you did, too, at least a little, because you got the bracelet off and that's realy proof that you honestly did. Bye. See ya when I see ya, Cae."
Back in her cabin June had to do the thing where she slept in the hall again because her room was such a lonely place. She would have to find a bunk in the actual cabin to sleep in when she got this depressed, or maybe she would find a place in James' room to shove a matress. The depression came in waves, always returning, always reminding her of good times, always feeling like Caleb.

ooc: done with june paras for a while because they get really repetitive in her current state, but i have so much muse for depressed!june and victim!june so if you want to rp with me, feel free, i have overwhelming muse.
also saph ily thanks a million for making caleb and plotting with me on juleb and making it great. you're the best.<3
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PostSubject: Re: you are more [paras]   Sat Jun 07, 2014 12:56 am

i feel the love and i feel it burn,
June didn't remember what series of unfortunate events had lead her to being trashed alone in her room, but she was pretty sure that she should consider herself lucky that she remained unharmed—strike that, undefiled was a better word. It was the eve of her sixteenth birthday, or maybe by now it actually was her birthday (she was extremely unaware of the time), and in mocking celebration, she had hit the club harder than she ever had before.

Since Caleb, June had made friends. She wasn't a completely incapable human being just because she lost her best friend. She had lived before him, and she had already made up her mind (a long time ago) that she would live after, but without his somehow positive influence on the development of her mental disorder, the girl's life had twisted in a horrible direction. June had never been one of the good kids. She was sent to the principal's office something like twice a day, however it had always been for acting up or getting violent in class. Never before had she had an abuser problem, but it had been the only way to really numb her senses when she was left with no real friends—dull her pain.

Someone from camp had probably walked her home, June realized as she sat on her rug. Her head was throbbing, so she had been rubbing her temples and desperately searching her still completely wrecked mind for any sort of memory of that night. The thought of someone she might possibly know getting her to camp made her somewhat irritated. She couldn't imagine anyone who would for a second want to look after her, especially considering her drunken state. June had discovered after her first big party that she was a mean drunk, but honestly, had there ever been any doubt? For the first few parties, June held out hope that with alcohol in her system she would become a completely different person, but it was liquid gold, not liquid magic, and nothing seemed to run deep enough to change June.

Except for Caleb.

June took a swig of the bottle of something she had honestly been unaware she had been in possession of. It burned going down, but the stinging in her throat was enough to distract her from her own thoughts. "Do ya think Claebbjmskm.. Calmnmns.. Ca.." Even speaking to herself June had trouble forcing out Caleb's name. She didn't speak about him much, unless someone directly asked, which she found more and more insulting as it dawned on her that they were asking out of pity for June. For one thing, June hated pity, because pity implied weakness, and while June understood her own weaknesses, she didn't think anyone else could. Mostly, though, she hated how people didn't ask about Caleb to learn about Caleb. He wasn't a life to them, he was a faceless name only ever really associated with June, and some few other friends the daughter of Ares had been unaware he had made. June hadn't made an attempt to associate with these friends because she didn't want to feel sad. She was tired of the feeling of regret that condensed in the pit of her stomach and weighed her down so heavily. That's how she had gotten into partying. There was regret every night, but it was a much more tolerable regret. It wasn't the kind of regret that kept you up until 6am rethinking your entire life.

June forgot what question she had been trying to ask herself and sighed loudly through her nose. Another swig. Burn. Forget. Caleb wouldn't approve. June laughed as she pictured him taking the bottle out of her hands. She took another swig, just to show Caleb whose boss. "You can't leave and be in charge of me," she shouted, although she was too drunk to think about why she was raising her voice so much. "I'm June Prenston." If June was sober she would have hated herself that. Even drunk, she knew Caleb would have hated it.

"You're such a [oops bad word]'ing d**k," June moaned with a sigh, leaning back so that she could rest her weight on the foot of her bed. She immediately curled up into the fetal position and held back a coughing fit. She wasn't crying, or if she was she was too dehydrated to manage tears, but she was shaking heavily. She hadn't felt pain, even hangovers, in so long, but suddenly her grief was slapping her across the face. June grabbed her unidentified bottle and hugged it tightly. She wanted to drink until she couldn't form a coherent thought, but she realized how vulnerable that made her and decided against it. Caleb's dying wish always rested so heavily on her shoulders in times like these.

What if she were to forget everything? She had lost all memory of Caleb before, what was preventing that from happening again? The boy who had only wanted to be remembered had dedicated his life to the wrong person. June forced out a cry similar to that a dying cat and finished the entire bottle of whatever she was drinking. "My name is June," she mumbled, determined to not lose everything. Her memories were all she had left. "I am 15—no, 16 years old." June's head hurt but she kept talking, somewhat aware that she was falling asleep. "My best friend is dead." June stood up abruptly, mind still 10 paces behind but reflexes taking over. The girl stumbled to the bathroom and threw up before stumbling back to her room and collapsing on her bed. "I am killing myself slowly." June tossed off her jeans and ran a hand over her face, smudging her excessive makeup. "My dead friend needs me alive." The drunken girl slipped under her covers and reached blindly for the lamp that was still flooding her room with light. "My mom does not. But I will stay alive anyway." June almost threw up again but used her strength to prevent the accident. "And I have brown hair." June dozed off after that.

June slept through her birthday, but she was pretty sure that was okay, because she was now officially older than Caleb, and she was perfectly fine with forgetting that.
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PostSubject: Re: you are more [paras]   Sun Aug 31, 2014 2:09 am


hale drem
(au in which hale never died, he got help, help in the shape of a antidepressant, which he had never let himself off of for fear of becoming bad again)

Hale was so numb. Getting off the pills was more tempting now than it had ever been, than it had been in the 3 years he had been choking them down. He wanted to feel again, but it had been so long since he had allowed himself the simple pleasure of emotion that he wasn't sure he would be able to handle it. Hale was possibly still too dangerous to be bombarded with every emotion at once, after suffering from "feeling-withdraws" for a good part of his adolescence. Even as he pet his new puppy, named William in honor of his late best friend, Hale didn't feel happy. If he soul had a color, he had a feeling what had once been yellow would now be grey.

He often wondered if this was any way to live. He had almost killed himself, he had almost found an out, but he had been too weak to finish the job and had been put on a "recovery program" that to this day stripped him of any life. Everyone in charge of keeping him sane saw themselves as mini Jesus Christ's, bringing redemption to the once great Hale Drem. Hale didn't really see them as anything at all.

Maybe he deserved this numbness, though. He had escaped death so many times. He still wasn't sure how he had evaded it so many times; he didn't previously think it to be possible, and if he was being honest, he still wasn't sure if his life was real. His dad had brought him back once, but at what cost? He couldn't feel anymore. When he did, he wasn't himself. He wasn't Hale. Hale was so long gone, the boy in his place felt like nothing but an empty shell. He went to therapy twice a week, trained in the area with the rest of his free time, and skipping any further obligations. He couldn't remember the last conversation he had had with someone other than one of the mini Jesuses. {wip also what even is this idk i was just thinking of hale earlier and i wanted to see what would happen if i had chosen to go another way instead of killing him poor hale}
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PostSubject: Re: you are more [paras]   Tue Jul 28, 2015 3:16 am


hale drem
(PSA i haven't written in 10 years but hale is a classic so it's gotta be like riding a bike right??)

Hale swung his car door open and stepped out with an uncharacteristic lack of coordination. His eyes were blown and his mouth hung open slightly, indicating he was far from sober. He smiled, though, with his eyes, and his dimples were faint but visible as he eyed a group of girls standing outside the club. "Ladies," he chuckled with a nod, throwing up his hand in a wave as he staggered past. He wasn't set on finding anyone tonight. He was mostly running from himself.
You couldn't tell by Hale's overwhelming confidence and swagger but the teenager had long ago decided he hated himself. He'd done some regrettable things in his day--puberty and depression and dying not treating him well--and he had never fully recovered from the impact of his poor decisions. He'd lost most of his friends that had always held him together and abandoned the others. For a while he turned to antidepressants to get him through, but when even they didn't make him numb, he did his best to completely lose himself. His new antidepressants ranged from girls to alcohol to drugs, sometimes all three. It seemed like a reoccurring thing, cabin leaders falling so far, and Hale didn't even mind that he had become a cliche, because he barely remembered who Hale even was.
Stumbling up to the bouncer, Hale pulled out his fake and flashed a crooked smile. "Bradley Pitt, at your service," Hale laughed, throwing his head back and pretending he found life utterly humorous when really, he felt nothing. The bouncer returned his smile and shook his head. "You're lucky I like you, kid," he whispered back, passing Hale through, horrible fake and all.
Even at his lowest point, Hale had always remained adorable and undeniably likable. He was a people's person; it was probably his best attribute. Something about him was magnetic. He was able to not only pull people in, but keep them there. Bouncers, girls, guys, teenagers, adults, even children--no, especially children loved Hale Drem.
Hale staggered through the club, passing between bodies and drowning in the feeling. He was so insignificant amongst the entirety of the crowd. He lived for it. Hands grabbed at him, ran through his hair, played with his shirt, and he drank it all in. He never stopped to give any of those who showed interest a second glance, but he melted under their touches. People didn't need to know who he was to know he was special. He glowed, lit up the room, like a god. Nights like these, Hale was a god.
And all too soon, he was laying on the floor of his cabin the next day, a trash can hugged tightly to his chest and a blanket wrapped securely around his shoulders. At camp, he wasn't a god, just the child of one, and everyone knew his mistakes. Everyone knew his story. He couldn't pretend. It was out on the town, intoxicated enough to be unable to form a coherent thought, that Hale could pretend.
All the demigods had addictions. Hale was addicted to nothingness.
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PostSubject: Re: you are more [paras]   Sat Jul 23, 2016 3:20 pm



brush off the dirt and

LET MY CHANGE OF HEART OCCUR
June Helen Prenston was no longer afraid of anything. She stared Death in the face and laughed. She greeted Misery as a friend. She embraced Pain with open arms. The broken girl was too full of shattered passion and burned out hatred to have the capacity to feel much else. She'd been but a fragment of her old self for several years by this point, time hardening her, filling her gaps and fissures created by loss with concrete cement and apathy. She was hardly recognizable. Her drive and resolve had been crumbled away, never deeply rooted enough to withstand even a faint breeze, anyway. June Helen Prenston never felt anything anymore, a state of being she was not even remotely unfamiliar with. And while once upon a time, this personality pattern and backwards progress would be devastating to the young girl, June had honestly never cared about anything less.

Most days June didn't leave her cabin. She no longer felt she had been given a life purpose—allowed herself to succumb to the idea that she was put on the earth at random, only to fill space and feel loss. When she did leave her cabin, it was to sleep in other cabins because she couldn't stand the stench of testosterone and confidence that suffocated her quarters if she remained in them for too long. Although it was decidedly random, June usually ended up in His cabin if she wandered. These nights, June didn't consciously feel comforted by a once present presence, but, admittedly, slept better than she did on the nights spent away.

It was extremely boring to be June Prenston, not that June felt boredom anymore. She was never restless. She never felt the tug that had once driven her mad, a need to fill all of her empty space. The tug had driven her to a lifestyle of fillers. She immersed herself in parties to feel company, drank until blackouts to forget hardships, smoked too much to numb her scars. The tug drove her to them, all of her habits. The tug, too, had faded. If you don't feed your feelings, water your soul and allow it to grow, everything withers. June wasn't sure yet if everything dies. She had never attempted resuscitation.

It was well past midnight and the summer heat still managed to seep through the walls of her overcrowded cabin. June's bedsheets had long since been abandoned and lay in a heap at the foot of her bed. She no longer had her own room, as she was no longer a cabin leader, but she did manage to still hold enough authority to sanction off her own corner. It wasn't much, but during the summer months, when almost all demigod children took to inhabiting the camp, it was all June could reasonably ask for. Her head pounded as she flipped through a home decor magazine, a topic that didn't interest June in the slightest. Turning the pages kept her mind somewhat occupied, gave her twitching fingers something to do, even if she couldn't bring herself to focus long enough to comprehend.

June felt as though her entire life had become an out of body experience. She watched herself shuffle through her existence, never quite there enough to feel in control, but so aware. June was sharp, paranoid, and dangerous. Those traits, she was sure, would never be able to escape her. Before she realized she was done page turning, the girl was striding through the courtyard, and before she had time to register where her feet were taking her, she was in a new bed, sliding beneath thin, crinkled sheets. The cot was crunchy from weeks of avoidance and cold due to its obviously extended abandonment. June wasn't sure which cabin she was in. Her feet had taken her, and her consciousness had hardly followed.

"Why do you always come in our cabin?" It was a small voice from above that startled June enough to concentrate. She was in a cabin. How'd she end up there again? Was this not her cabin? Had she been asleep? What day was it? The absence of focus was more disorienting than the endless days of drunkenness had been. "What?" June coughed back, rubbing her eyes in an attempt to clear up her blurred vision.

"Why are you always here?" a girl repeated, obviously the source of the voice before, now poking her head out from the side of her bunk, furrowing her bushy eyebrows at June. She couldn't be older than nine years old, and she was missing a tooth, June was almost sure, as she detected a slight lisp in her speech pattern. The paranoia and indifference had made her extremely analytical. June was something like a robot. "You're an Ares girl," the child spoke up again, as if to coerce a response out of June.

"There's no rule against it," June murmured, looking up, her voice hoarse. She hadn't spoken in a long time. "Which cabin is this?" June was pretty sure she didn't spend more time in any one cabin than the other, not besides her own. Her head pounded as she tried desperately to concentrate long enough to take in her surroundings. Her attempts were futile. June felt lost. It wasn't until her eyes fell onto the bedpost that she realized. The letters "JP" were carved into the wood frame several times. A blurry memory returned, stunning June for a moment. She had been trying to annoy Caleb, then, scratching her initials into his bed, whispering how even though it wasn't brail, he would know. June locked eyes with the girl who was about to respond and shook her head slowly. She wished she felt relief, or comfort, or even melancholy, but she only felt understanding. "Cabin 2?"

The little girl nodded, her hair swaying distractingly as she remained hanging upside down. "Are you a double demigod?" the girl whispered, an unmistakable look of awe spreading across her face. June scoffed and shook her head. She was not full god. And she certainly had no relation to any minor gods. She didn't so much look down on children of minor gods, seeing as though her own father was the literal bane of her existence, but she did have an overwhelming sense of entitlement. "Just Ares," June shot back, crossing her arms protectively across her chest. "Do you know the boy who used to sleep here?" June inquired, feeling her voice catch the slightest bit. She wasn't sure what was drawing her to ask, why she was engaging at all, but she felt something in her chest. A weight, a pain. In that moment, she was desperate. She wanted a connection—needed a connection to her old friend.

"I'm new," the girl corrected, smiling shyly at June from above. "It's always been empty. E'cept when you're down there." The girl's face scrunched into a grimace, and she stuck her tongue out slightly, as if contemplating. "Do you know him?"

June sighed and looked ahead, eyes glossing over as she lost focus again. It was dumb to allow any feeling, any sense of purpose, to wash over her like that. There was never anything in her life, never any hope. She was a zombie, a shadow of what she once was. June was hollow, unable to be filled. She shifted uncomfortably in the bed before sliding back down, shutting her eyes tightly and turning away from the girl's prying eyes. "Nope," June managed to shoot back before slipping into a different state, one that hardly registered night and day, life and death. Her breathing slowed and her consciousness faded. She couldn't be sure, as during these episodes everything felt the same, but she thought she might be nearly asleep. She had known the boy who slept in this bed, but she didn't anymore. He had escaped, and he had left June behind. June wished he had taken her with him. It was the only desire she allowed herself to hang on to, because she was sure that one day, it would have to come true. And she was not afraid.
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