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 the opposite of amnesia --- [wicked]

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moon
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moon


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PostSubject: the opposite of amnesia --- [wicked]    the opposite of amnesia --- [wicked]  I_icon_minitimeThu Jan 08, 2015 5:07 pm

the opposite of amnesia --- [wicked]  8AiZ3rH


Naeva
| The siren despised denim. She cursed whichever unfortunate mortal was gifted with the intelligence to create such a restricting fabric. It was too snug to the curves of her muscles that flowed on her body, marking everything with dark blue. What had the demigod called them? Skinny jeans? What kind of condescending maneuver was that? Mortals were so ignorant. At least her armor was not. The woman was dressed for battle, with a chest piece covering her front, thick straps of leather prohibiting the access to her flesh. It wasn't new, this much was obvious from the red stains covering the armor, holes scattered randomly around it with lazy repair jobs. A part of Naeva knew that this had once been worn by a demigod, and her skin itched because of it.

The sun had long ago set, and winter was upon the earth. She could tell, after seeing a thousand years worth of snowfalls, they all looked the same. Innocent and pure. Nothing was really innocent though, take herself for example. She looked beautiful and sweet, but her nails had dirt under them and her body was a weapon. The cold didn't cut very harshly, as she was seated around a fireplace near her tent. Its flames licked around the logs, filling the air with heat. Naeva wouldn't have been cold anyway, it had been years since she had felt any warmth.

Gloves covered her hands, keeping her dainty fingers safe from the roughness of the log she was currently sitting on. Naeva never liked touching people, especially not these people. The dracanaes smelled of fish and the hell hounds of rotting meat; she wasn't touching them. Her knife was strapped to her thigh, and her shield placed on the opposite side of the log, as if she claimed that spot for herself as well. A large tree had been cut down and then in half to create seating around the fireplaces, Naeva's was just one of many. Orange glows illuminated Kronos' camp at night. Her clear eyes stared at the flames for a second longer, before hearing the clang of Celestial Bronze. "Παρακολουθήστε τα πόδια σας, βρώμικο αποβράσματα!" she seethed, her eyes shifting into a dark crimson as she glared accusingly at the noise's source.

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p.s. the thing she says is 'watch your feet, you filthy scum!' in greek (:
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a. hams
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PostSubject: Re: the opposite of amnesia --- [wicked]    the opposite of amnesia --- [wicked]  I_icon_minitimeFri Jan 09, 2015 9:07 am


the opposite of amnesia --- [wicked]  Tumblr_ng0lsgkNI31rctq2eo1_250
sweet and honorable
Simon Crane had always craved the metallic tang of battle. Back in England, he had heard about the glory of fighting for Queen and country, how, when you defeated the enemy, you got all the spoils of war you could imagine and then some when you returned home. Everything in his mind about war was fabulous, and he was determined to fight in one. His father had not been like him, had not had the goal of feeling blood gush between your hands in a very trying battle, he had not been the cream of the crop, so to speak. But Simon realized that Benjamin wasn’t weak because of this, as there are many men who would rather stay on the home front. That, however, was not the life that appealed to the demigod. Maybe it was because his mother was Athena, goddess of warfare and strategy, and that was why Simon wanted to become the youngest general an army had ever seen. Maybe it was because that he was born during a time of peace and love in England, and the lad had had too much talk of sweetness and honeysuckle and delicate flowers to ignore the shouts of rebellion and bloodshed and death. Simon wasn’t a fool, he understood well that war wasn’t just about the glory of it all, and that it consumed many soldiers lives faster than you could blink.

So maybe that was why, amongst all the ‘modern’ classes he and Tessa were taking, or the new technology that was shoved in his face, or the new slang that kids used these days, Simon had drifted away from camp. Of course, it had taken much persuasion by his thought-to-be-dead-father-who-was-actually-a-monster, and even though now Simon knew the truth about that meeting, the damage had been done in his young deceivable mind. When he joined Kronos’ ranks everyone laughed at him, they mocked his scrawny stature, telling Simon he’d not amount to much besides sweeping up blood and hair and feathers. But that had been months ago, and in those months Simon had proven himself and his worth to the titan cause. Slowly he trudged up the ladder of ranks, and he landed himself in one of the highest positions a boy like him could have: Captain of some experiments. Simon wasn’t the one who did the experiments on them per say, no, he hadn’t the heart. After all, even monsters designed to kill you still deserved some dignity, and Simon often fell asleep at night to screams of torture that had apparently been going on for many years before he had even come out of the casino.

Instead the demigod commanded them, they were his toy soldiers to play with. Most of them look at him with a wicked sneer on their face, as if when they were along together Simon would have his face ripped off. As their commanding officer, it was his job to keep a straight face. You couldn’t let petty things like looks or words distract you from your job, and Simon knew better than anyone that if you looked weak for even a second and someone saw you, Kronos would have your hide. In this camp, it was kill or be killed, eat or be eaten, basically survive or die in the simplest sense. So Simon, in all his clanking metal which he had made himself, sat down by the fire, waiting to call his troops to go invade camp, and the armor was just for extra protection. But there came a voice to the right of him and Simon curiously looked over. It was a siren.

“Excuse me,” Simon said and his British accent was very prominent against the creatures indistinguishable one. ”But aren’t you a siren?” He went through he memories, trying to dig out some trace that would help him remember this person. They had met before, when he was over looking some experiments being done, and although they hadn’t talked, this bird-woman undeniably left a scar on the demigod’s heart. “Yes, I remember. Your name is Naeva.” Simon smiled smugly, crossing his arms which overflowed with metal. But then he also remember what Naeva had to go through in order to be here today. How he often heard her screams in the dead of night, and Simon pitied her, his smile turning into a frown of remembrance and sadness. “If no one else will trouble themselves to say this than I will. I am profusely sorry for what you have gone through. Nobody, siren or human or hellhound, should have had to endure what you did."
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PostSubject: Re: the opposite of amnesia --- [wicked]    the opposite of amnesia --- [wicked]  I_icon_minitimeSat Jan 10, 2015 12:25 pm

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Naeva
| Demigods lived in the perimeter of Kronos' camps as well, some higher up than others. Naeva didn't care for their rank, she despised them all. They came from everywhere and were constantly piling in, looking for long lost glory or retribution. Most were cowards, but a few of them were actually useful. Those useful types were usually the ones to have some sort of power in the army, such as commanding certain species of experiments. Some were rude and harsh, while others could be reasonable, but the siren hated them all none the less. Each one had something about them that reminded the monster of that demigod the had sent her to hell about three hundred years ago. She hated them all.

As the fire kept pretending to warm the air, she ran her fingers over the most recent of her wounds. Her left cheek was bruised from being thrown against a wall, and if she took off her gloves, they would reveal barely - healed cuts from where the demigods would inject a variety of chemicals into her. They had stopped recently, because of the fighting, but the pain was still numbing. However, the drowsiness had faded and she felt more alert as the throbbing in her hands continued. The images of her experimentation were always freshly carving themselves in the back of her mind, making sure she would never forget any of the occurrences. She never heard herself scream, but she felt it. The world would go black and all she could feel was the dry crack of her lips and the wet sting of the probes they used. She could still feel the sting in every nerve of her immortal body.

When her red eyes met the sight of her commanding officer, some British demigod, she frowned. He wasn't the worst of the bunch, but he was still a demigod. As he asked his stupid question, her eyes blazed a deeper shade of red, the familiar prick of her shift testing her limits. Naeva clenched her fists, the pain bringing her back to a neutral state as she continued to stare blankly at him. When he came to his own conclusion, the siren raised both  eyebrows, casting her gaze down at the flames. "Don't patronize me," she snapped, the smug expression on his face making her irritable again. Naeva didn't look at him, she could just feel the superior aura he carried around, and it fueled her hate fire.

His next few words surprised her. Commanders weren't supposed to apologize for what they did. Even if the demigod didn't have anything to do with the experiments, she would still blame him. He obviously wanted power, and power came with a price. You had to live with yourself. "You have no idea what I've had to endure," she replied, casting a venomous glance at the boy. Despite her tone, she was thankful for his pity. "Are you going to sit down?" Naeva asked, her voice softer.

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a. hams
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PostSubject: Re: the opposite of amnesia --- [wicked]    the opposite of amnesia --- [wicked]  I_icon_minitimeMon Jan 19, 2015 10:48 am

the opposite of amnesia --- [wicked]  Tumblr_mpw4dk54051r5l9g3o3_250
Out of all the elements, fire, air, earth, and water, fire had to have been Simon’s favourite. Fire was life in the most simplest of senses. You need the warmth of flames to keep you from freezing on a cold winter’s night such as this one. You needed fire to cook your meat until it was blackened and rich and salty, because raw meat could make you so terribly sick you would die. Fire could boil impurities out of lake water and make sure it was drinkable. Fire was life, although most people thought of it as death. Simon didn’t see it that way. To him, death was ever present and looming. Not one thing was or represented death because he was always one step in front of you, deciding with what to kill you with. Fire hardly killed anyone unless you were an idiot or a fool. Fire was his main source of heat as a child, because the closest store was a couple hours away, and the blankets that they had at home were threadbare at best. Fire was Simon’s friend, it protected him and taught him and preached lessons to him. Maybe that was why, was he stared at the flickering flames around him, he felt at home and not so frightened by the monster that was beside him.

“Oh, I’m not. Personally I find sirens to be magnificent creatures of vast intelligence and beauty.” Simon said to Naeva, but still looked at the fire. He knew that all these monsters had been specially trained to kill and if they were given a window of opportunity they would take it without a moments hesitation. As it was, the demigod was all stiff and tense with fear of being jumped on. He had tried treating these monsters with kindness and respect, as if they were people too underneath their scaly complexion and warped DNA, but it was hard. Sometimes Simon wanted to just go throw up because of the things he had seen done to these creatures and because of the creatures themselves. He really meant what he said. Demigods, especially those who lived here and worked for Kronos, could be immensely cruel and sadistic, and while the experiments would never know anything of love or happiness or kindness, the boy thought some should be pushed their way. Naeva seemed particularly in need, as Simon had formed an opinion that her life was one of the hardest he had ever seen. He noticed how she clenched and unclenched her hands, and he couldn’t help but wonder what the campers had done to her, but knew that asking would be a one way ticket to the underworld. Instead, he carried on a conversation as if she was human. “I’m Simon, and you probably hate me.”

Naeva’s eyes were like burning coals. Red and hot and glowing underneath a pile of smouldering ash. If they were not so fuelled with hate, Simon would have thought they were pretty, but then he always over romanticised the colour of red. Red, the colour of the english flag for which he stood under and protected. Red, the colour of blood, the colour of the enemies that you must defeat. Red, the glory that you felt when you made your father proud. Simon’s favourite colour was red. His eyes were grey like cinders, already cooled and powdery to the touch. When Naeva’s fire finally went out, her eyes would be like his. Sirens, especially this one, were beautiful. The books hadn’t lied after all, and Simon wondered how many men she had killed under her control. 

“No, you’re absolutely right. I don’t.” Simon nodded in agreement. Naeva had every right to hate him, because even if Simon was just following orders and being a good little solider like he had always dreamed of being, he still hurt lots of monsters which included this hostile siren in front of him. Every monster in camp that was under his control had every right to hate him, and Simon thought that they should. The demigod had never liked liars, and the monsters only lied when it sufficed them and their needs, so he’d rather them spit in his face and tell him how much they despised him and his kind than give him sneers behind his back. “I cannot possibly imagine your pain.” He pitied her so much, like a friend pitying another for not being able to attend a party on account of being sick. But these two, the siren and the demigod, would never be friends. It was not fated in the stars for them to form such a bond. Alliances, maybe, but never friends. “Oh, sit down?” Simon forgot the reasoning for which he came here, to relax and calm his nerves before battle. Talking to Naeva had made him forget to sit down, but he did so. “Thank you.” He said to her, though whether that was for not ripping his face off or allowing him to sit by her he wasn’t sure.
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Last edited by Wicked. on Fri Jan 23, 2015 9:47 am; edited 1 time in total
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PostSubject: Re: the opposite of amnesia --- [wicked]    the opposite of amnesia --- [wicked]  I_icon_minitimeMon Jan 19, 2015 12:27 pm

the opposite of amnesia --- [wicked]  8AiZ3rH


Naeva
| Back in the older, better days, Naeva would have no responsibilities. She could seduce whomever she please when Persephone joined Lord Hades in the Underworld, and when her patron was on Earth she had the choice of following her. Normally that implied that the siren could do anything. She could go anywhere, or everywhere. It didn't matter; she was immortal. Immortality was such a permanent, yet flimsy thing. She could life through everything, only to die and then reform to live through more of the Earth's mysteries. Naeva had walked into the Parthenon, been kissed under the Eiffel Tower, seen the Egyptian Sphinx.  The world was there for her taking, she was all powerful, all doing, all seeing. She had always dreamed of being side by side some other, powerful person to rule over the pathetic mortals and demigods. Queen Naeva, didn't that have a ring? But then the age of kings and queens died, along with that aspiration. She had a new one though: revenge.

His words were intriguing, but the siren wasn't sure she believed him. It was common knowledge that sirens were of the more intelligent, certainly appealing monsters. Yet it was a near compliment that she hadn't received in nearly half a century, so she took it. Her glowing eyes followed the demigod's towards the flames. She didn't particularly like fire, it reminded her of the sound the needles made before the experimenters injected her. Or it reminded her of houses burning, and that stupid demigod who had slain her. The fires had been meant to drive the mortals away, not close enough to her so they could kill her. They had called her a witch. Naeva had made a promise to herself that moment that she would show the entire demigod race just how unforgiving beautiful witches could be.

"I know who you are," she replied silkily. The soldier boy turned general. The son of Athena. Personally, Naeva found sons of Athena intriguing. Most of them she had met had attempted to confuse her, or manipulate her, but the siren always seemed to outwit even them. It was the girls that she had difficulty with; they weren't so easily convinced of her. She wondered if this boy was like the others before him. "What does your mummy think of this, hm?" Naeva asked, a smirk hiding behind her burning eyes. The siren hardly asked the demigods questions, but this was one of her favorites. Often they would either deny their parentage or clench their fists in anger, explaining how they had chosen the right path. Naeva envied their chance to pick a side, as hers was chosen by a group of rebellious teenagers. Watching them squirm made her forget her pain, just for a moment.

She raised an eyebrow at him. This demigod was certainly an odd one. Most of the generals couldn't give a care to their soldiers, instead they gave arrogant orders and little respect. They also received little to no respect. But this one was different, and Naeva wasn't sure she liked it. Demigods had a nasty tendency of being fake little pricks. Her lips pursed as he continued, about how he couldn't possibly comprehend her pain. He couldn't either. There was no word for feeling nothing because you've felt too much. The siren had heard the tone in his voice before. "You haven't a place to stay? Oh, poor child, of course you may stay with us." Mortals were such fools. A few tugs on their heartstrings and they could be molded like clay. "You must be very tired," she commented, her eyes fixating on his fire-lit face.
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PostSubject: Re: the opposite of amnesia --- [wicked]    the opposite of amnesia --- [wicked]  I_icon_minitimeThu Jan 22, 2015 1:17 pm

the opposite of amnesia --- [wicked]  Tumblr_mpw4dk54051r5l9g3o3_250
If Simon felt one emotion above all others, it would be remorse. Underneath his shining blonde hair, painted by his mother to look like a golden halo and grey eyes that glinted elegantly with intelligence, Simon was utterly lost, confused, and filled with the deepest sense of remorse.There never came a time that he was sure of himself, though back in England that was all he was. Sure and cocky and positive that what he was doing currently and what he was planning on doing was always going to be the right thing. Because that’s what soldiers are: right. But now? Now Simon Crane wasn’t sure anymore. It was safe to say that the boy he once had been was left back at the farm a century ago, and the boy he was today had trailed after him right as he stepped out the doors of the lotus casino, and the time in-between didn’t matter in the slightest. This new skin that Simon had donned was horribly deceivable, although it itself wasn’t manipulative in any way. While his mind and body commanded monsters and survived in this rugged camp, his soul always protested and asked one single question: Is what I’m doing right?

The obvious answer to Simon was I don’t know. Because honestly he didn’t. Left and right were topsy turvy, right and wrong upside down and twisted, so he knew nothing for certain. All he wanted to do was become a general, and this was the price. Whether it was right was a matter of perspective, and when the time came for Simon to sit in front of the deathly judges at the underworld they would condemn him for his crimes against the demigods that had taken him in. For now, though, Simon was living his dream of being in the army, and if he told himself that he was happy doing what he was doing, then he was. After all, the demigod was so susceptible to lies and dirty truths. Naeva spoke to him again, and the demigod was pleased she hadn’t stalked away. It was only so often he got to talk to creatures like her, and Simon was absolutely infatuated with the entire idea of them. He smiled uneasily back at her, not sure if that was a good or a bad thing that she knew his name. Also, nerves of battle were getting to him, and the boy had developed a nervous jitter. As the siren continued to ask him questions, he squirmed a bit. How was he supposed to answer a question about a person he’d never even met? 

“I wouldn’t know.” Replied Simon smoothly. “Part of me thinks she’d be proud of what we’re doing, creating new monsters and such, and another part of me thinks that she’s up there in Olympus right now getting sick in a pail because we’re harming you so much. I hope she’s doing the latter.” The demigod answered truthfully, shrugging as he did so. Honestly, if he had a son or a daughter who was following in his exact footsteps, Simon would pull them out of camp so hard and so fast that they wouldn’t know what hit them, so if Athena was horribly disappointed in him Simon thought he wouldn’t deserve anything less. “But either way I’ve never met her, and whether she thinks this is right or not does not affect my decisions. My choices are my own.”

Simon Crane rubbed his eyes as the flames turned from singles to doubles, copies of the other. Doppelgänger fire. Judging by the state of the moon and the stars, the boy guessed it was about one in the morning, and he sighed. Soon he’d have to rally up the troops and go raid the other camp. His sister was in that camp. Tessa was older than him, and more snobby and modern than him too. But even if the siblings rarely ever saw eye to eye, and even though Simon hated her for what she had done, she was still his sister and he loved her and wanted her to be safe. Of course, telling her to go hide would raise suspicion, and the last thing he wanted was to get his secret out. This, working for Kronos, was his big secret, and Simon was scared it would get leaked. “Yes, I am. Being a general is very tiring. Aren't you tired?” Simon said to Naeva, fatigue now present in his british occupied voice.
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PostSubject: Re: the opposite of amnesia --- [wicked]    the opposite of amnesia --- [wicked]  I_icon_minitimeSat Jan 24, 2015 4:06 pm

the opposite of amnesia --- [wicked]  8AiZ3rH


Naeva
| Time was a strange thing. It could drag on for seemingly eternal moments, or it could buzz by faster than the speed of light. The siren had come to realize that the good, pure moments of her immortal life were often the ones that went the quickest. The pain was the kind of time that lasted forever, and drug on. She knew it would drag on forever too, until the world and the Gods ceased to exist. That wouldn't happen though, Naeva knew that. As long as there were heroic demigods, the world would need manipulative sirens to try to destroy them. The world was a strange place.

Her time at Kronos' encampment, surrounded by mentally unstable demigods, had drug on longer than she had anticipated. It was about half a century ago that she was first captured, which wasn't long for a siren, but it was long when you were being tortured for useless information. What was the capital of New Mexico? Naeva didn't know. Couldn't they find that out themselves? Why did they ask her? Each wrong guess resulted in a bolt of electricity that zoomed along wires connected to her bleeding skin, her eyesight turning darker until nothing remained but the dry screams that echoed against her throat. Sirens played for entertainment, as did these demigods, but Naeva never had been this cruel in her forms of manipulation.

She blinked, all tints of red fading from her vision as her pristine blue-green eyes returned to their normal color. Remembering her violent past brought her back from anger, for some reason. Naeva didn't try to know why.  Listening to the soldier boy, she crossed her ankles, as she had at many royal balls, back when she was considered a beautiful girl rather than an unpredictable monster. "New  Monsters?" she repeated, her eyebrow raising in silent judgment. New monsters? Did they need more entertainment? Was she not enough of a challenge? Her eyes ignited a bright vermillion. Naeva quickly clenched her fist, feeling the scab of the old wound reopen as her palm became damp with blood again. She wouldn't lash out until the battle. "It is intelligent to think for yourself, so few care to do that anymore," Naeva commented, her eyes glancing down to the flames amidst the fire pit. She didn't have a choice to think for herself, she was a slave of the Kronos Army, designed for one purpose: to kill.

Brushing a strand of her curls behind her ear, the siren leaned forward, closer to the tired general. "Oh, no," Naeva answered casually. "I don't get very tired, you see, it's sleep I have a problem with." She almost continued her statement, but she stopped the words from slipping out of her perfectly formed mouth. Her eyes scanned the demigod's face once more, deciding on one rather obvious thing: the demigod was handsome. She had met plenty of handsome men over the centuries, so her judgment on the subject was quite good. "Do you sleep well, general? Or do the screams wake you?" she questioned, her eyes darting over to his face, waiting for a reaction. Naeva just wanted to hear someone admit it. He already had, slightly, but she wanted more. The siren wanted someone to look at her and spill their guts, about how they stole away her freedom and stole away her pride, all for nothing.
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PostSubject: Re: the opposite of amnesia --- [wicked]    the opposite of amnesia --- [wicked]  I_icon_minitimeSun Jan 25, 2015 2:15 pm

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Simon wasn’t about to tell anyone how to live their life. It wasn’t up to them if they strayed off the path of righteousness and goodness, deciding instead to fall into the dark pit of evilness and despair. He’d known plenty of people who had picked him up and dropped him off on the road again, never letting him experience things for himself. The first person to do that, understandably, was his father, and so Simon couldn’t hate Benjamin for it. Benjamin had taught his son the lesson of humility and humbleness, so that he may grow up to be a man of high learning but never gloat about it to the less fortunate people who couldn’t afford proper schooling like he. There were also teachings of kindness to the other children, instead of being a spoiled brat who took away their balls because Simon wanted them so he could play with his chickens. The Crane’s nanny, Emma, often smacked him if Simon did anything wrong, and he didn’t really like her that much. As a little child that was understandable, but as the two got older the demigod never took a liking to her, and often was just rebellious to see what he could get away with. But Emma, despite how much he would deny it, had taught him how to forgive and love, because no matter what Simon did Emma would always treat him with kindness and love and forgiveness, even if he was a rotten little shit. But that wasn’t why Simon didn’t tell anyone how to live their life. It was because of his older sister, Tessa, and what she had done to him. His sister had ruined him, had ruined his chances to finally be something instead of just a lowly old farm boy. Because of her and her ludicrous actions, he preferred to stay out of people’s self-decisions. Which was why he didn’t place any sort of judgement on Naeva. Whatever she did was her own cross to carry, and Simon wasn’t going to make the load more heavy.

It came a surprise to the boy when Naeva questioned him about the new monsters. “Yes.” He replied, hesitantly, leaning foreword and staring into the flames. Obviously Naeva was very sensitive about these topics, as she should be, and Simon really didn’t want to get eaten. Treading carefully was his best bet. “Surely you’ve heard screams at night? I assure you we don’t torture you for fun. It is needed." Of course, that wasn’t exactly true. Simon knew perfectly well that 9 out of 10 demigods that camped here wanted to cause creatures like Naeva torture and pain just because they can or because of revenge reasons. He glimpsed at the siren to see her reaction, and noticed that her eyes changed from red to teal to red again with anger. “Your eyes.” Simon marvelled, fully facing her now. ”They change colour! That is very cool, if I may say so myself." Then he turned away and stared back at the flames. When Naeva brought up intelligence, the son of Athena smiled, not sure if that was an insult or not. Whenever someone talked about how smart he was, Simon couldn’t help but smile and blush a little even if they were making fun of him. ”Thinking for myself is something I take great pride in.”

Honestly the boy didn’t expect what the siren would say to him about sleeping. Most monsters he knew didn’t ever sleep, though whether it was because they simply didn’t require sleep or because the nightmares were so bad Simon didn’t know. He didn’t really want to know. Everyone had stories of death and sorrow, even creatures like Naeva, who had been locked away from the outside world for many years before the boy was born. She might’ve been like Rapunzel, if not for her bleeding hands and heart. ”Oh. I-I see. I don’t get much anyways, maybe a couple hours a night. You’re not really missing anything.”  Simon replied, running his hands through his hair in an effort to stay awake. The downsides to fire was how sleepy it could make you because of its warming properties. Simon felt like he was being wrapped in several blankets and served hot chocolate, like his father wanted him to sleep because Santa was coming, and Santa would skip their house if he didn’t. Naeva probably never felt that, and now she’d never get the chance too.

Simon looked at Naeva again, his ashy eyes now distant and hollow. ”All the time, my dear siren. There is never a night where I have not waken up with nightmares of the things that have been going on in this camp. There is never a night where I don’t question myself and my authority and morals. There is never a night where I don’t regret what I’ve done.” This was all to get his dream job of general, and as long as Simon Crane told himself that, he could continue living like this.
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