til the ceiling can't hold us [open to one]

Tiberius stood gazing at the dance floor before him, wishing that Charlotte, his little sister, was here. He remembered those warm summer nights when the two of them went out onto the deck and waltzed the night away, the sounds of street cars and honks being their music. Ty could dance excellently, but he chose not too, mostly because he wasn't in the mood. He wore a white collared shirt with an elegant black blazer. His tie choice was exceptional, not to big, not to small. So he had chosen a blue patterned one that brought out his ash grey eyes. His black hair was tousled, but hung loosely in his eyes, where he swept the strands away with his pale hand.

Everything had changed once the zombie apocolypse had ended. Though Tiberius hadn't been in it himself, preferring to stay out of the limelight and hide somewhere safe during the night, he had still been subject to hearing screams of campers, zings of swords, and the moans of the undead. He was very unnerved, but yet he still managed to stay calm. Inside, Ty knew he was a coward, but he wasn't exactly a son of Ares. Aphrodite didn't have any good battle traits. He was good as a model, but he had never tried that. Fighting battles had never been his thing, and it never would be. Getting decapitated was not on his wish list.

People danced and laughed and talked as if their loved ones hadn't perished. The lanterns that floated above Tiberius gave off a fiery glow, and he could almost imagine sparks showering down and burning the place. It wouldn't surprise him if that did happen. Demigods never rested, not even him, who hadn't had a good nights sleep since he arrived here. Tiberius felt somebody bump into him, knocking him slightly off balance. He looked over his shoulder and saw a girl in a pink dress, apologizing.

Ty smiled. "It's okay." He said, waving a hand to say that there was no harm done. "It was my fault. I should have been more aware of my surroundings." 
 

Tiberius shrugged. "If you say so." He didn't want to fight with this girl, so if she wanted to apologize, she could go right ahead. He noticed that Quinn twirled her curly hair around her fingers as he talked to him. He didn't understand why she did so. Ty was clueless about a lot of things, and that included girls. He was very intelligent  and that later would insure him to get into a good college like Yale or Harvard, which was what he had always aimed for. But when it came to people, well he was more of a loner. Ty wasn't mean, he was actually quite nice. 

"Thanks, Quinn." Tibs said, trying her name out. It was odd for a girl to have that sort of name. Then again, every sibling of his had an old fashioned Victorian London name. His father, Bradley, believed in a nuclear family system, except that Lucy, his wife, could work. Honestly, she didn't need to, they were rich enough with his father being a lawyer. It was because of Ty's father that he could afford all this nice stuff, the suit, the tie, the shoes that were on his feet. He self consciously played with his blue tie, letting the fabric run through his slender pianist fingers like silky smooth water. Soon though, he found that he looked like an idiot so Tibs just let his necktie hang loose once again.

"I'm Tiberius." He said, running a white hand over the back of his head, feeling his soft hair. It was like down in between his fingers, just another perk of being the son of Aphrodite. "Most people call me Ty or Tibs though. Tiberius is kinda a mouthful." Sometimes his name was bothersome, because it was so old fashioned, dating back to the Roman empire and even then it wasn't used very often. Other times Ty liked his name because it was uncommon so he was sure to be the only one in his class named Tiberius. And everyone could call him by three names, his given name or his two shortened names. 

Be Still by The Fray was still playing over the speakers for the hundredth time in a row. Tibs wished they would play some classical music, like Beethoven or Bach or Mozart. His father had groomed him into a perfect 1800's gentlemen, coaching him to liking the fine arts like opera and chess and old paintings. "So," Ty said, shoving his hands in his pockets, smiling. The girl standing in front of him was awfully friendly, and because he was such a loner in camp, he'd be nice to her back. Of course, he was nice to everyone. "Who is your godly parent?" He started with an easy question, avoiding the apocalypse because he knew that it was still touchy for some people. Besides, he hardly knew Quinn, Ty didn't know anything about her except for her name.