and the blood run stale --- [libby]

Georgia felt the slow pain spreading throughout her limbs as the poison continued invading her bloodstream. Even blinking seemed like an unnecessary chore, that demanded all of her energy. She saw a blurry outline of what she assumed was Christopher yelling something, before the world faded into the realm of unconsciousness.

Hours passed like seconds, with medics cleaning her wound out, trying to get the poison out of her body. The demigod laid unmoving in a kind of sleep, her skin like porcelain. Her cheeks were a strange pink, like it had been painted on her. Occasionally, Georgia would twitch or groan in pain, but was otherwise silent. Her appearance would remind most of a doll, with her still limbs, slow breathing, and soft face.

The medics didn't expect her to wake until her fever went down, which was expected to be a few more hours. However, she would blink from time to time, her jade eyes and constricted facial expression making her look lost and confused. It would be longer before she would truly wake.

Around ten thirty, about nine hours after the attack, the demigod's eyes snapped open, inhaling frantically. She searched around the ceiling for any sign of where she was. The girl stayed silent, her wound and bandages constricting most of her movement. Her brow was still sweaty, chest heaving unrealistically with each breath.

Looking to one side, she saw Christopher, softly smiling. "Hey," Georgia muttered, her voice weak and strained.
outfit

Georgia sensed something wasn't right the second she opened her eyes. The once peaceful cabin had a loud him to it, and even with her limited view, she could hear the shuffling of feet. People were moving all to fast for what was supposed to be a safe haven. Her jade eyes flicked around, seeing several cots with white sheets over them. People had died.

She turned her attention to Christopher, who also seemed quieter and more serious than ever. His words hit her like a brick wall, and sent her gripping the sheets until her knuckles turned white. "W-what?" she sputtered, eyes searching for whichever bed was his. Georgia noticed the blood on the future in front of her first. It had dried, but still made her slightly faint. He had been there.

The remorse was written on his face clearer than words, which only made the situation worse. She could tell he was blaming himself. Yet, if Gee knew Jesse, he would've ran into a flaming building for anyone. "It's not your fault," she whispered softly, tears forming in her eyes.

Her pale hand went to reach for his, but even the slightest movement was difficult, and she only move enough for her hands to dangle over the side of her cot. "He's in Elysium now, I'm sure," she added, tears streaming down her face in slow rivers. The demigod might've not known him long, but it was still a friendship she wouldn't soon forget.

She couldn't manage to look at Christopher, so instead she kept her eyes on the blood on his clothing. Some of it was her's. She shoudlve been the one dead, as the girl who failed to save her parents. Not Jesse, who was young and innocent.
outfit

Georgia let her hand lie there, just letting it dangle. She tried to ignore the pain in her stomach, it feeling like another spike was being stabbed unto her side with every flinch. Tightening her facial muscles, she gripped the sheets again, biting her cheek to avoid screaming in pain. While she hated feeling helpless like this, like the world was supposed owe her something. She wished that the world wasn't giving her such pain, but she didn't want to show it.

She glanced over at Christopher as he scooted farther away from her. The tears on her face were drying, and left a sticky kind of residue on her face that only made her want to cry more. Georgia slid her hand back on her bed, and looked over at the white sheets once more. Jesse was gone.

That simple thought errupted another wave of tears from her green eyes. The liquid fogged her vision, but it wasn't like anyone wanted to talk to her anyways. The only person she had left to talk to was facing the opposite direction. The demigod sniffled, wiping her face off with a flick of her finger.

Hearing more about how Jesse died wants exactly what she wanted to hear as she went to sleep. At all, actually. "I -I..." Georgia couldn't get words out of her mouth. Her thoughts weren't processing correctly.

She wanted desperately to reach out to him, and be there, but she was stuck. "You should sleep," Gee muttered softly. "Or stay here... either," she added even softer.
outfit

Georgia  watched the back of Christopher, like maybe something would be written in the leather that clothed his back. Like maybe he would say something. Anything. The demigod was convinced the worst thing in the world was feeling alone, and right now she needed to have someone. Her newest and kindest friend was dead, and no one cared. Maybe he did, but he wasn't showing it.

Was that how the world was supposed to work? With people faking smilies and emotions until there wasn't anything left to feel. If that was how the world functioned, maybe it would be easier dead. No one really needed to worry about her anymore. Christopher had the world to explore, and he seemed to be doing a fine job of taking care of himself. She knew no one needed her anymore. It was time to face the facts.

Glancing as he got up from his seat, the girl exhaled. He would leave soon. She didn't need to ask questions about something as simple as that. Whenever things got tougher he always left. Maybe it was for the guilt, or to just get a new atmosphere, but whatever the reason, he would be gone by morning. This she knew for sure.

Georgia felt tears forming in her eyes again, swelling up and threatening to make them stream down her fave once more. But they didn't. Apparently her body was sick of crying too. Sick of being pushed over by the relationships she thought she had, knowing that in the end no one would be there for her. Not even Christopher.

Georgia heard the smack of the iron door against the lock, sealing then people inside for the night. She guessed it to be close to eleven, if not later. Rest was something sick people needed, and no matter how much she hated the thought of it, her limbs agreed with sleep. It would be quicker than she realized if she kept her eyes closed.

Yet, she couldn't dare open her eyes, she didn't want yo see people, anyone. Georgia exhaled, trying to keep her breathing steady as she attempted to drift off into sleep. A thick smell of cigarette smoke woke her from her attempt, but didn't open her eyes. She could take a guess at who it was.

The ruffle under her bed almost dared her to flinch, but she was too drained to be startled. Georgia felt like the world had put her through enough already, it'd be almost too easy to just... drift off permanently. Enabling, the scent of smoke filled her lungs, making her gasp for more breath as she felt rough lips on her forehead. So she was right. It was him.

Christopher's words sent a shover down her spine, tempting her to open her eyes and respond, but she couldn't. Nothing would make her move, or feel. Not tonight at least.

Lowering her arm, she felt the drawstring bag under her cot. He was leaving soon. Georgia was tempted to grab it and just throw it at him, but even that was too much. She didn't want to solidify what he was already thinking, so instead Georgia just pulled her hand back and attempted sleep once more./div>

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Georgia's sleep was easy enough to come by, but had a haunting tone to it. She knew that a simple skip of a breath would wake her, or the creak of the door. The demigod woke several times, all after a dream. The first was the mildest of the three, but all were equally painful, like her old woulds were being torn open again, and then rubbed with salt.

In the first dream, she was standing by guard duty, with Jesse. He seemed alive, but when he turned out of the sunlight, into the shadows, you could see the pale, blood-stained version of the boy. Whatever was left of him, that is. They were just talking, like normal, as if he hadn't ever died. Apparently the ghostly appearance of her friend wasn't bothering her in this state. Once the sun went down, the boy turned at Georgia, wielding a broken manticore spike, and stabbed her. Over and over until nothing was left, and she woke up breathing heavily.

The next was a familiar dream of her's; her first ever break up, with the person she loved the most. Only this time, it wasn't raining, or dark at all. The sun was a bright blue, with birds cheeping and flying around, while rabbits and squirrels danced around in the meadow grass. However, she looked the same as she had that day, lost, confused, broken. Christopher seemed fine as well, just like the landscape around them. After hearing the all too familiar dialogue between the two of them, he laughed. He smiled, waved goodbye, and left. Happily.  

Her last dream hurt the worst, bringing back the deepest of her regrets. She found herself sitting next to her mother and father's bed, as they perished due to scarlet fever. Their bodies were sweaty and pale, eyes hardly moving, and chest barely managing breaths. "Georgia," her mother breathed, running her hand along the demigod's tear-stained cheek slowly. "Promise me you'll find someone to protect you, and stay with you." Her mother (not her godly mother, but a kind of mother all the same) was fading, fast. "Promise us," her father corrected, reaching for her hand. "I promise."

The landscape shifted to the first time she met Christopher. The memory seemed to freeze, and her older half-brothers appeared. They seemed as youthful as the last time she saw them, almost a century ago. "Him?" one of them grunted, laughing. "He won't be there for you, Georgia." The twins advanced towards her, as if to embrace her in a hug. "He never really was, was he?" The scene then shifted to her own funeral, with a closed pale casket being the only thing she could see. No one else was there, just her dead body and the priest. "You're supposed to be dead, remember sister?"

She woke up to a familiar sound immediately after witnessing her 'funeral', green eyes scanning whomever was talking to her. Christopher. Georgia wanted to forgive him, but her current emotions made it difficult for her to forgive much of anyone. She was angry, which could be visible by the clenching of her jaw and fists. "Morning," she said softly, exhaling. "You can keep your bag," Gee muttered, glancing down at what was visible of the drawstrings. "I know you're leaving, so why haven't you left yet?" she asked, demanding more than wishing for a reply. "If it helps you forget this place, then you might as well forget me too, just forget all of it," she snapped, a firey look in her bright eyes.

"Forget me, it shouldn't be that hard for you, I mean, he was my friend, Christopher, I needed you," she felt hot tears welling up in her eyes. "And you left -" Georgia inhaled sharply. "To go increase your chance of dying, so have fun, out there, doing whatever it is you do. Go find whatever you're looking for, because it's obviously not here."
outfit

Georgia grimaced as he grabbed the wrist where her IV had been stuck. She was still weak, and her sudden outburst reminded her of that. She tried keeping the glare in her eyes as he started spitting out words, keeping his tone oddly calm. The girl didn't know if she liked that, heated arguments were better than those when there was only one person arguing.

Pulling her wrist back to herself, the girl scowled at what she was hearing as she rubbed her wrist, the bot where the needle had injected antibiotics into her skin still red. "I wouldn't know, you tend to leave whenever you want," she said softly. "And yes, yes I do, that's when you always left before." Georgia crossed her arms and stared at him, sure to make her point crystal clear. He always left at the worst times, and then came back at strange times.

"You're not a man," she chided with a soft laugh, her voice still pained and hollow. "You run, Christopher, that's all you ever do." The demigod reached her hand over the edge of the cot, grabbing the drawstring bag and tossing it at him. "Maybe next time you'll find what you're looking for."

"Don't think I don't know why you put that by me, I'm not stupid. You wanted to make sure that if you left, you wanted to leave. It seems like it, with your new hobbies, I mean, come on, we've got enough to die for, and you want to die for that?" she flicked her jaded gaze at him, hard and cold.

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Georgia felt each breath taking more effort than the last, and a woozy feeling filling her brain. Now was a really bad time to black out. She blinked more rapidly, or flicked her fingers, just to make sure her senses were still working. Unfortunately, her ability to hear was as functional as ever, and it was making her scowl. She let the bag fall back at her, landing in her lap before she slapped it aside.

"Not if running hurts the people you care about!" she countered, a dangerous glow in her eyes. Georgia couldn't keep her voice soft and calm, this wasn't a time for soft and calm. This was a time to let out all of her inner struggles and dump it on him, despite how he could feel about the situation. "And yes, it did." She inhaled and exhaled, trying to calm herself down. She didn't get into arguments, she didn't fight. The girl wasn't like this. "Do you know how often I wondered if you were even alive?"

She stared at the cigarette he had produced from his pocket, wishing her glare would make it vanish. With each rise and fall of her chest she felt herself closer and closer to the need for rest again. This could only last so long. "I guess it doesn't bother you," Gee said softly, her gaze falling onto her white sheets, that would've been pulled over her if she had died. "You know how often I thought you were dead?" she asked, tears welling up in her eyes. "To hear you put that little care in your life, it... it's sickening!" the girl sobbed. "I care about you, you jerk!" The tears were streaking down her face now, as she stared up at him. "And you just... leave?"

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Georgia reclined back in her cot, finding it difficult and painful to sit upright like she had been. That position put tension in her abdomen, which was still bleeding if she remembered right. Or maybe it had been stitched up, the demigod didn't honestly know what was under the bandages around her stomach. "Good, I thought you would've forgotten that," she remarked, raising an eyebrow at him.

Normally, a girl her size would've been terrified of someone like Christopher, but Gee wasn't. She knew that she was his weakness, and that he wouldn't be in this mess if it wasn't for her. Nothing either of them could say would end their feelings for each other, and that was something she was positive about. Her green eyes flicked towards the spectators that had gathered, and she felt herself wishing to sink back into her white sheets and sleep.

His words about hurting her, intentionally, did scare her. Eyes wide, she turned to him, and almost smirked. Almost. "You wouldn't dare," she whispered. "If there's anything about you I do know, it's you would never hurt me." Her tone scared even her, the confidence in her voice almost unrealistic for someone raised in a century where women didn't get a say in anything. "Ever," she added, just for good measure.

Cringing as he yelled to shoo away the crowds of people, she took the sound of shuffling feet as a sign that the people had left, for now. They would be back later, she was sure of it. "Yeah, it was," Georgia responded, looking him in the eyes. "We're in a war, these things happen," she explained, motioning to her abdomen. "I care about you," the demigod muttered, her voice almost silent.

Pulling her sheets over her shoulders, the girl turned her body so her back was facing him. The shift in position caused her to shriek in pain as she bit her lip. "I'm going to sleep now," she told him.

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Georgia almost cringed away from his touch as it brushed hair away from her head. She didn't want him touching her. Not now, anyways. Sleep was all she needed, and for the angry blush in her cheeks to subside. The door slammed, making her jump in her cot with a flick of her eyes. Christopher was out again.

The medics came by to check her bandaging, and to report that she was healing as best she could, but the pain would be obvious for another few days. All she could do was nod, feeling like her voice was used up in her previous argument. The demigod spent the rest of the daylight hours staring at the ceiling while medicine was being pumped through her veins, or sleeping. The sleep wasn't the same though, it contained no dreams, and barely managed to make her feel anymore alert.

That night she was left to her thoughts, the urge to sleep almost gone. It was like rest had lost all meaning, but was the only thing she could do. So, Georgia let her mind travel to what caused the argument. The bag. That damn bag, and the reason that she knew he put it there. The girl wasn't stupid, she knew that the only reason he came back was likely her being there, otherwise he'd still be who knows where USA. While she normally wouldn't mind admitting it, she was usually at her best when Christopher was around, and missed him when he wasn't by her side. However, his exiting for her 'safety' were bothering her. Didn't he know she could handle herself?

Then it was the smoking, and, stress reliever or not, the things bothered her. She learned about their death - causing powers, and how they were really terrible things. Georgia's family wouldn't have known better in their age, but it was obvious now how bad they were. The idea of him just letting his stress go by that made her sick. Maybe they were better off separated.

Separated.

Even the word sent shivers down her spine, and made her feel more alone than she already was. Georgia needed him, she knew that the second she saw him on the hill twenty four hours ago, and she knew that now. What had changed since then? People had died, and she had gotten hurt. While she knew she would miss Jesse, the girl had understood that. The demigod didn't understand what it had done to Christopher. He seemed like a different person, and not the kind of person she wanted to be around.

Had she changed? As she closed her eyes, she didn't have the attention span to think about it, leaving her thoughts to blur into sleep. Maybe it was better to just sleep away her problems, rather than face them. Maybe her dream brothers were right; she would be better off dead, like she was supposed to be.

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Georgia didn't dream after she fell asleep the next time either, but her sleep wasn't deep. It was soft and easily broken, at the sound of a door slamming, the fire crackling, or if someone shifted as they slept. The sound of a voice woke her easily, as her jaded eyes snapped open the second she heard something. Christopher. For a split second, she forgot why she was mad at him, but then that second was over, and she felt her expression turn sour. "No," she lied, blinking her eyes slowly.

The medication was still coursing through her veins, even after the medics had taken the IV out of her hand. Soon the sight before her became clearer, and her vision slowly adjusted to the nightlight. Something about the boy in front of her was off, maybe it was the sweat forming along his hairline, or the fact that he was noticeably shaking. "Are you cold?" she asked dully, her eyes shifting over the rest of him. The nurse in her proceeded to go through a mental list of what other problems could be linked to sweating and nervousness.

"You had a bad dream," Gee concluded, raising both eyebrows at him. Ever since their argument, she had felt more confident in her accusations. Back before the Lotus Casino, she couldn't have ever had so much faith in herself or her abilities. Then again, she guessed the feeling would go away after a while. She screwed up enough for that to be possible. "About... me?" the demigod continued, her gaze drifting back down to her white sheets.

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Georgia noticed the glare she got in return for her accusations, and simply looked at her feet, visible on the other side of the cot. It wasn't her fault she was right, and could guess. Sometimes people had obvious movements, where the flick of an eye or the twitch of a hand could mean something. After spending a century with people, the girl knew how people acted.

The cabin was soft and quiet, with the embers of the fireplace giving off small amounts of heat from time to time. Campers were sleeping silently, occasionally moving in their sleep, either from lack of comfort or dreams. Personally, the girl was happy she didn't have dreams. The medication at least had one upside, other than the whole 'making her live' part. Sighing, she glanced over at him tentatively, wondering if he'd mistake it for her trying to read his actions again. As tempting as that was, she didn't bother.

Nodding as he spoke, she pulled her hands out from under the sheets and began braiding her hair, something she did when she was young and had nothing better to do. "All demigods have nightmares," Gee muttered softly. She watched the embers across the room as they changed in colors as they got hotter or colder. "You've been strange ever since I woke up after the attack," she continued, casually changing the subject. "But you won't tell me what is actually bothering you."

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She continued braiding, unbraiding, then re-braiding her hair as she pleased. Sometimes she braided it normally, other times she fish tailed the thing, or just twisted it. Anything to keep her mind off of what was going on, and the situation they were in. "I can't lie on my stomach," she responded, glancing away from her hair to stare at her midsection. The girl would've let him braid her hair, but the pressure of her weight on her wound was too much to stand.

She kept braiding as she listened to him explain, and she couldn't help but feel a surge of painful memories go through her at the mention of someone dying in your arms, someone you didn't hate. "My parents died under my care," Georgia said softly. As soon as the words escaped her lips, she felt frustrated with herself all over again. Surely she could've done something, anything to save her loved ones. Thinking the memory over, it sounded terribly similar to the situation Christopher was going through. Both were just coincidences, but had eaten away at them."Scarlet fever," she added.

Undoing her current pigtail braid, the girl sighed, deciding to fishtail the golden hair this time. Taking a strand in both her hands, the girl looked over at Christopher. "You didn't kill him, the monster did," the demigod insisted. "Jesse would follow anyone off a cliff." The girl sighed, realizing her mistake. "Would've, at least," she muttered, sliding her hands through her braid, returning it to a plain state once more. Starting over once more, she kept her eyes on the fireplace, because it was the only almost constant thing in the room.

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