Name: Hildegard Rose Cheviot
Nicknames: Although she prefers being called Hilde (as she feels her name is far too strange, to say the least), she has a history of being named things such as, “Princess Hildegard”, “Duchess Hilde”, so on and so forth, due to her Medieval-sounding name.
Age: Hilde turned eighteen on the sixteenth of August.
Godly Parent: Hilde’s godly mother is Nyx, which might explain her daring and all-around dark personality.
Mortal Family: Hilde and her father [Maxwell, 42] never got along too well. And it wasn’t solely due to the fact that he had chosen her name (she tried not to keep a grudge). He was never around when she needed him. He locked himself away, never speaking, never interacting with his only daughter. He had told her ever-so-blatantly at only seven years old that her mother was the Greek goddess Nyx, without so much as an, “I’m so sorry, Hilde. I’ll help you get through this tough time in your life.” She promised herself she would erase him from her life, just as he had done to her.
Claimed or Unclaimed: Claimed
Year-Round or Summer Camper: After a major fight with her father, Hilde vowed to never return to that place. She doubted he even noticed she was gone.
Years at Camp: All was hopeless without a fatherly figure in her life. Hilde tried to keep strong, she tried to hold it out and fight her way. But towards the middle of her thirteenth year, Hilde decided that she just couldn’t anymore. And at Camp Half-Blood she has remained for the past five years.
History: Hilde was born August sixteenth in Long Island, New York. For reasons unknown to her, she and her father had moved almost immediately to Oklahoma City. There, she grew up until seven years of age. Up until this point, Hilde’s father had been the most important thing to her. She loved him so much, she hadn’t even noticed the days they would go without speaking. He would be locked away in his office, a sign on the door reading, “DO NOT ENTER, UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES”. But Hilde was far too young to understand.
“Daddy,” she called one day through the door, “Daddy, I’m hungry! I don’t like pizza anymore. I ate it too much. I’ve been eating pizza for days, daddy. Can’t you cook something else? Pretty please?”
Only a few seconds later, the door creaked open slowly. “Hildegard.”
“Daddy! Can you make grilled chicken, pretty please? I love grilled chicken, daddy. Then can we watch The Wiggles together, daddy? The Wiggles is my favorite. Can’t we watch one episode before bed?”
“Hildegard, what are you doing?” He spoke calmly, though his face showed nothing but annoyance.
“I missed you, daddy!”
“Go order pizza, Hildegard. I will not make you grilled chicken. Please leave me in peace.”
“Why, daddy? Can’t we just watch The Wiggles together once?”
And then he did it. It was hard for a seven year old to understand at first, but he explained it well enough. And then, she began to change. She began to hate the world. She loathed the times her father was in his room, as opposed to all those times when he wasn’t. He would attempt to make small-talk those few times he came into the kitchen, saying things like, “How are you, Hildegard?” She would ignore him, of course. Why did he deserve to hear the voice of the daughter he abandoned? And that was the sad part. He had abandoned her, but he was still there. Like a ghost. He began to speak with her so infrequently, to the point that it stopped altogether. He refused to give in the effort to make things better, and she, even to this day, believes he didn’t deserve it.
When she turned nine, the monsters began to show up. Somehow she was able to hold them off for two years prior, but apparently they were done waiting. Monster after monster, she either ran away or managed to fight them off. And still not a word from the man under her roof (she refused to even call him her father). And then, at almost fourteen, it all became too much to handle.
“Dad, I can’t do this anymore!” she screamed through the door, having just run a mile home away from some monster she didn’t even know. “I’ve been almost killed more times than I can count, and you’ve done nothing to stop it. You won’t even speak to me! Help me!”
And he told her about Camp Half-Blood.
“I’ll drive you there. New York is too far away from Oklahom—”
“No. I’ve fended for myself thirteen years of my life. I don’t need you.”
Long, long after, she arrived. After countless bus rides, hitchhikes, illegal hotel lodging, she made it. And she couldn’t have been happier.
Five years later, although she would never show it, her happiness grew. She might not be at the top of the social pyramid, or have any friends at all, for that matter, but she was happy. To this day, she has no idea whether her father is still in Oklahoma, or if he’s long gone. But it doesn’t matter. Because for the first time ever, Hilde was happy.
Personality: Although she may come off as so, Hilde doesn’t want to be remembered as ‘that angry Nyx kid from camp’. Her outside layer might be glazed with unhappiness and anger, but she truly wishes someone would bother to wipe away the outside and see what’s on the inside. That’s what truly counts, after all. The only problem is that she is possibly the worst at expressing her feelings clearly. In fact, that might just be one of her least favorite things. Although she does wish someone would figure her out, she absolutely refuses to talk to anyone. If you show your insecurities to any potential enemies, they’ll know your weaknesses, and ultimately have the upper hand over you. As Hilde always says, anyway.
Fatal Flaw: Hilde’s fatal flaw is independence. She relies on herself and only herself to fix the things that are broken, and most of the times she has no idea how to fix them.
Likes: Although she would never tell anyone, she’s always loved to draw. Added to the list, Hilde’s always had a huge knack for dancing and baking, and she’s a natural at both.
Dislikes: Hilde’s number one dislike is her father, although I’m sure you’ve heard enough of that already. She’s also not very fond of her mother, whom she believes abandoned her the first thirteen years of her life, and even now has only contacted three times. Not so much of a dislike as she finds it more uncomfortable and weird, but she really doesn’t like happiness. Not necessarily her own, as she enjoys being happy, but of other people, seeing as the whole concept of ‘happy’ is extremely alien to her.
Physical Description: Hilde stands at a towering five foot three (that was indeed sarcasm, yes). Her hair was once black, but she has since dyed it a fiery red, perhaps to keep her fellow campers from assuming things. Her eyes are a mix of somewhere between blue and grey. Her smile might be able to light up a room, if you can get her to. She’s not necessarily chubby, nor is she skinny; she might be described as curvy. She’s definitely not the most muscular, even after five years.
Dressing Style: As she walks around camp, you’ll most likely find Hilde dressed in a pair of skinny jeans along with her favorite green-sleeved baseball tee. Her hair will be flowing naturally straight over her shoulders, a black bandana holding back her bangs.
The Defensive System
Demigod Talents: N/A.
Weapons: An imperial bronze sword called Excalibur (named after her love of the Arthurian legends).
Pets: Hilde’s trusted companion since she was young was her cat, Iris. She had rescued the small feline from an alleyway as she was making her way home from a party one night. Ever since the age of twelve, she and Iris had remained inseparable.