Sur le Soleil et la Colombe [Charlie]

(The title means "Of the Sun and the Dove" in french.)



Away from the hustle and bustle of Camp Half-Blood, a distance from the english speaking Aericans who despite their kind natures, still made her homesick, Helena stood in the shade of a tree called Thalia's Pine. Shockingly the dragon there, guarding a shimmering piece of textile didn't frighten her at all, instead he seemed calming and yet protective. It made Helena feel safe in a whirlwind of uncertainty that she wasn't sure how to handle. She had, accepting her place in life just a little bit, put on the orange shirt she had been given upon arriving to Camp, but she still felt disdain towards Apollo.

He had claimed her outside of camp, did that mean he was ashamed of her? What had she done to offend the sun god so badly that he didn't even want to claim her in front of the rest of his children. Was it the fact that she had the strange ability to know things about people? Was that some sort of defect that wasn't regular in a demi-god that he thought made her strange? Helena knew that she was different but having your own father ashamed of you was a different story, it just confirmed what she was afraid of.

Chewing her lip and tugging at the hem of her t-shirt, the young french woman looked out against the horizon from the hill. But as she did a figure caught her eye. It was the form of a young man, he looked to be her age but something was more striking about him. He was what the girls in her past school would have called handsome and it was true, he was. But something else tugged at her that casued Helena to step forward, moving away from the shade of Thalia's pine where she could feel the sun on her skin. The sun had always felt like a warm hug before but now Helena resented it scerectly. Yet this young man was too intruiging to avoid the sun because the aura that she felt from him was that of home.
He felt like home, so much so that Helena could hear the mutters of the french along the crowded streets of her hometown. It caused her pace to quicken the rest of the way to meet him.

"Bonjour!" She called, waving with her charm bracelet jangling on her wrist as she approached him. He heart lept as she noticed his distinctly french face. Straightening her beret, Helena smiled unassumingly at the blond young man. "You are new here also, yes?" She asked in french, not feeling hesitant to speak her own tongue. "Oh no, exuse my rudeness. My name is Helena Sylvestre...I am from Saint-Tropez, France." She introdouced herself mildly breathless, sunlight shining unnaturally against her hair and eyes shining a contented shade of blue like morning sky in France.