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 flying too close to the sun --- [mc sarah]

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moon
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Age : 18
Location : under the stairs

PostSubject: flying too close to the sun --- [mc sarah]   Sun Jan 25, 2015 11:21 pm



Quinn Taylors
| Sunlight screamed down upon the wintery landscape, melting snow and bringing a much needed temperature change. Demigods were out and about, but they were quiet. The news of Kalina's death had traveled quickly, and no one dared smile out of the fear that they would disrespect her memory. Quinn didn't know her, she hadn't, at least, and she knew now that she wouldn't get the chance. She was beginning to realize that her knowledge on everyone at camp was limited, and she wasn't actually doing and good here. The sunlight did the teenager good though. It brought warmth to her skin and red to her cheeks again. It also brought rage, and a firey tantrum just waiting to be unleashed.

She moved quickly,  but not quick enough to escape the herds of people milling about. Speaking no apologies or explanations as she hustled through them, Quinn had a clear destination in her head. The arena was somewhere that she was sure no one would judge her for her childlike fits or messy form. She could explode without worrying of casualties there. While the sunlight heated the atmosphere, it was nothing like the hellfire that was raging inside the demigod's chest. Quinn had been holding back her feelings for weeks, pulling fake smiles and excuses instead of facing her real problems. Alcohol became her new soda. She was a mess.

Quinn grabbed a sword, not her knife or bow, but a sword from the public stack that was constantly available. It wasn't new, that much was obvious, but she didn't need it to be new, she just needed something sharp. A dummy a few meters away became her newest target as she took a swing at it, the bronze of the blade digging into the fake person's armor. "Goddammit," she breathed, yanking it out of the leather. Once the sword was free, she went back to her blind rage, several cuts becoming visible in the armor.

"It's all your fault!" Quinn gasped, her back braced against the unstable dummy as she wiped the sweat from her brow. "You had to ruin - " She turned, her blade stabbing at the figure. "Freaking." Another stab. "Everything." Carbon Dioxide rushed out of her lungs, but no white wisps formed. It was too warm of weather for that. She could feel tears threaten to break through her eyes, but she slammed her lids shut, preventing the display of sadness. Quinn didn't want pity. She wanted revenge. But not on him, oh no, she cared far to deeply for the shinny chess player. She wanted a different form of revenge this time. No longer would the teenager play her petty mind tricks; this time she wanted results. That's where the alcohol came in. Quinn had discovered it dulled more than just your senses, if she was drunk enough, she could forget her feelings too.

She was sober now, though, and all of her feelings felt amplified. Rage, love, passion, more rage. All times ten. They screamed at her, demanding answers for why she had neglected them for so long. Quinn's gaze hardened as she went back to her slash-stab pattern, not hearing someone else enter the arena. "Gods damn you, Tiberius Winters, damn you." She didn't mean it, but she wished she did.

outfit

you look so pretty but you're gone so soon
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PostSubject: Re: flying too close to the sun --- [mc sarah]   Mon Jan 26, 2015 9:07 am

Hangovers were the worst kind of punishment you could have in Blake’s opinion. Even tiny ones that told you that the sun was just a little too bright for you held every ounce of disappointment than a raging one with a migraine and throw up and aches. They both held the same meaning: You should probably stop drinking every night for the rest of your life because this is what happens and the next step is death. However, Blake never listened to the voice in her head. The voice in her head was quite boring, to say the least. It always held novelties such as self-respect, motivation, and responsibility. Blake could never be bothered to actually go through that filing cabinet in her brain to fetch the good stuff out. The rest of her brain was filled with dark terror, horrible habits, and her worst fears. The girl was trapped there, but by choice. She was a firm believer that to overcome her own mind, she had to wrestle her demons which were invisible to everyone else. While some campers fought actual monsters, Blake Grey fought deities in her own mind. Which was where the drinking came in. Drinking lessened the pain for a little while and left her blissfully numb. The only side effect was the hangover.

Last night Blake had drunk more than she had in a long time. Most of those starlit hours were a hazy blur to her, although she did remember having whiskey with a boy whose name started with an A. Was it Alan? Alex? Aaron? Blake really didn’t remember, but she didn’t think it mattered much. Right now the demigods at camp were all very suspicious of monster activity, and were all gearing up to fight. A lot of the campers not on guard duty were in the arena training, and those that were cowards and chicken started to build safe houses. Blake wasn’t a chicken, and she sure as hell wasn’t about to back down against some ugly, foul-breath smelling beast that was set upon her. But in order to protect herself, she had to learn had to use weapons. Well, technically she already did have a weapon, it was just part of her and very very limited. So here she was in the arena, practicing using throwing knives when someone caught her attention. Blake saw it was a girl, blonde like herself, and she, like so many other girls, was filled with unmatched rage. The way that she slashed the dummy and screamed out was enough evidence to know that she was furious.

Blake walked over to the girl and grabbed her wrist to get her to stop. “Whoa there, princess.” She said calmly to the girl. Anger was an emotion she was all too familiar with herself, and she didn’t want the flames consuming this girl like it had done to herself, though by the sparks in her eyes Blake knew it was too late. “You need to shut the hell up. Some of us have a raging headache, and your goddamn screaming isn’t helping.” She wondered who this ‘Tiberius Winters’ was. A boy with that weird and stupid of a name couldn’t have been that bad of a person. Blake gently guided the girl over to the sitting area, where she lazily flicked throwing knives upon the ground. “So, tell me, girl to girl, who is this Tiberius Winters and what has he done to piss you off so much?"
QUI AUDET ADIPISCITUR


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moon
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PostSubject: Re: flying too close to the sun --- [mc sarah]   Mon Jan 26, 2015 12:13 pm



Quinn Taylors
| Quinn almost wished she was still asleep, ignorant to the outside problems that pressed down on the camp's borders. Something new and wicked was coming, and all she wanted to do was sleep. She would postpone her feelings until the fresh evil was breathing down her throat, threatening to wake her from her eternal slumber. The demigod was eager to take her procrastination to a new, unheard of level. She normally wouldn't slink away from the idea of danger, but now, anything that wasn't slurred together in a haze of alcohol or drowned out by her snores was considered irrelevant. This wasn't to say that cabin seven's leader was a drunk, because she wasn't, but gods, sometimes she wished she was. Life would be a hell of a lot easier that way.

Her sober mind was exhausted with all of the emotion she needed to compute. She felt anger for being rejected by Tiberius. Quinn felt like she had forgotten how she accidentally fell in love with him, and now there was no reverse switch. He hated her. She was a monster. More than she hated him, she hated herself. Her drunken memories could attest to that. So, in her self hatred, she continued slashing at the dummy, all sense of good form lost. Swords weren't even her weapon, words were. Quinn could twist them into daggers and plunge her ideas into the skulls of the weak. She knew that. She hated that.

Words flew out of her mouth in angry spirals of messy curses, damning herself and cabin ten's leader to hell and back. Quinn only stopped when she felt a hand on her wrist, halting her movements. Her mouth opened to protest, but she said nothing, and instead scrunched her eyebrows together in a pitiful attempt at a glare. "Don't touch me," she muttered, yanking her limb free. The teenager followed the other blonde though, her muscles aching from the solid effort she had put into demolishing the dummy.

Quinn slunk down to the bench, discarding her weapon to the side as she assumed her normal, awful American posture. She raised an eyebrow at the girl, commenting, "It's not my fault you've got a hangover." The demigod was all to familiar with the scent of alcohol, and she smelled it on the other girl. Or maybe it was from her own sweatshirt, Quinn wasn't sure. Her eyebrows melted back together as she mentioned Tiberius Winters, and discussing him. Quinn Taylors didn't just open up to strangers. Her dark eyes cast a quick survey of the arena. They were alone. "He was - uh - my boyfriend, kind of," she muttered, unable to keep her gaze on the demigod. "It's complicated." A lump formed in her throat, and tears prickled on her eyes. She hadn't realized how this had effected her over the weeks. Quinn hadn't spoke of him in ages, and now that she was beginning to, she didn't want to. Emotion was weakness.

"I'm Quinn Taylors," she said, hoping to chance the subject as she glanced over at the other girl expectantly.

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you look so pretty but you're gone so soon
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PostSubject: Re: flying too close to the sun --- [mc sarah]   Today at 6:49 am

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