ice cold (open)

It was about nine in the morning when Cas finally roused himself from sleep, blinking away dreams and nightmares as he stared at the ceiling. He had the top bunk, while Ezra got the bottom. The reasoning behind their sleeping arrangements were quite stupid, as the drywall and barren attic above them blocked the night sky from Cas, but he felt safer and more at home the closer he was to the stars. Casimir groaned, looking at the cloudy sky outside, although he was happy with not being looked at strangely if he wore lazy day clothes. Actually, he got strange stars no matter what he wore, so Cas didn’t care. The demigod ran a hand across his pale face, climbing down the ladder, not noticing if his twin was up before him or not. Ezra usually was, because he had friends and places to be and things to do. Cas, on the other end of the social spectrum, didn’t. His days were quite boring to say the least. The demigod got dressed in a black t-shirt and blue cotton hoodie complete with jeans that were tattered and torn. He slipped on some shoes and didn’t bother to look in the mirror this morning. Cas knew what he looked like; ghostly pale skin, bright blue eyes, and carob hair so dark it could almost be considered soot coloured. That hair was straight as a sword, and stuck up in twisted angles that shouldn’t be possible. But then again, Casimir was a very impossible boy. He trudged slowly to the dinner, half dead with fatigue and loss of sleep. He’d only gotten about four hours of sleep, and even those were restless enough that they could be considered two. Casimir had stayed up the entire night, as usual, stargazing. It showed on his sleepy face. 

When he walked into the mess hall, Casimir noticed a girl throwing bagels at a boy, and if he weren’t so sleepy, he might have cringed. But for now he was so hungry all he cared about at the moment was food, and he didn’t even leave a mental note to himself to stay away from the mean girl. He stood in line much like a zombie would have, feet shuffling and head down with half lidded eyes. If Cas was even more undead, there might have been a bit of drool coming out the side of his mouth. He put his hood up as he grabbed his plate, piling eggs and toast on it. It was a very bland meal, very unsatisfying and very unoriginal. Although that was one thing that Cas liked about himself. Continuity. For the past three years at this camp he’d been getting the same thing over and over again every morning despite Ezra’s concerns and protests to be more adventurous and try something new. 

Considering his past and considering his family, Casimir had plenty experience with bullies. The worst bully he had to endure so far was his older brother Michael, who beat and shoved him around every night without fail. His mother was the worst at verbally abusing him, berating the boy on how much of a failure he was and how baby Zachariah was better than he was. Cas had gotten used to all of those things by the time he was eight years old. By then he had stopped crying, stopped complaining, stopped saying how life wasn’t fair. Because it wasn’t, at least not to him. Cas expected karma to bite him in the ass every chance it got, which, as it happened, was a lot. Just yesterday while Cas was training, he slipped and fell into a mud puddle, splattering gunk all over his camp tshirt and jeans, deeming them unwearable until he did laundry. That wasn’t the worst part. The worst part was everybody laughed at Casimir, pointing with glee and tears of joy slid out of their eyes. If Cas could cry, he’d weep with humiliation. As it was, his face just turned as red as the boiling blood inside him and ran off, ending up on some rooftop or another. That was where he could always be found after a hard day, someplace high up and away from all civilisation, where Cas could finally feel the cold wind in his scalp and the clouds so close he could almost touch them and breathe in the silky moisture. 

“Don’t.” Casimir warned the girl as she grabbed him. He was a boy of very few words, finding that they were useless when no one would listen. There was a point in his life where Casimir had gone a day and a half without so much as saying ‘yes’ or no’. It also annoying happened that that day and a half Ezra was over at a sleep over and no one bothered to include Cas in the family activities of talking and being a loving family of kids and mother. Actions spoke louder than words, Cas found out at an early age. His face was set in sheer determination, blue eyes suddenly bore sky coloured fire instead of being wrecked with sleep and lethargy. His cracked lips were tight with hostility. Casimir James Young was not a demigod you wanted to anger. Before he could kick the girl in the shins and escape like he had planned, Casimir was shoved to the ground. He growled, almost animal like. “Oh boo hoo for you princess.” Cas snarled at the other demigod. “You think you have such a shit life.” He stayed on the ground, hands stinging from the impact. Casimir was thinking about kicking the chair out from under her, sending her spiralling to the ground like he had. That revenge would be sweet… But before Cas could act, once again the girl did something nasty. 

Back in his old home in Denver Colorado, Cas never fought back. There in the tiny and cramped oak panelled hallways, he’d been pushed and shoved countless times, each injury different from the rest. If he was luckily, Michael would go easy on him and just punch him once or twice in the arm as hard as he could. Even that sent Casimir spiralling to the floor and caused his skin to bloom with green, purple, and yellow flowers that hurt every time you touched them. Casimir never once struck his older brother or went to anybody else in the family. Hael, his older sister and Michael’s accomplish, would just call him a baby and push him away. He never told Ezra because his twin would just get into trouble. Besides, Casimir didn’t need a bodyguard. Tessa and Zachariah were too young and couldn’t really do anything. So Cas kept the beatings to himself, taking the black eyes and dislocated shoulders with as much dignity as he could muster up. The demigod never even cried anymore when he was hit by anyone else. When Cas came to camp, he knew that he was free from Michael and his mother, and three years ago he’d made a promise to both himself and his twin that if someone hit him, anyone, that Cas would fight back. That was exactly what Casimir Young was doing while defending himself against this girl. Fighting back. He was done being someones rag doll. 

Yes, being elbowed in the stomach hurt, and Cas almost spit up what little breakfast he had onto the girl, and this only prompted him to grind her hands into the floor harder and further, wanting to cause her pain. So much pain. Pain that was thick and red and hurtful. Pain that would last throughout the ages like the stars above them and pain that she’d remember until the second she died. It wasn’t good thoughts for a teenager such as Casimir, but damn was it satisfying. He smiled, a wild glint in his eyes as she screamed from the right hook he gave her. The other demigods jaw was bleeding, mingling with the orange juice and creating a mixed breed of fire; iron and citrus. Cas hoped that the juice burned her cut like a thousand knives. If he had his weapon on him, Cas would have drawn it by now. However, he hadn’t been planning on being attacked for sitting in a chair he thought wasn’t taken. Casimir thought this girl was a pompous twat, and he was going to tell her that. Cas could be more hurtful than Michael with words and with actions, and though sometimes it scared the young demigod, most of the time he felt great doing it. When he was like this, he felt powerful and mighty, as if he was the creator of worlds and destroyer of evil and good alike. Cas was so tired of being second best to everyone, and all this pent up energy was being transferred to this girl in blood and words. 

But then the other demigod wrangled free of his iron-like grip and froze his ear. Casimir screamed out in pain and shock, leaping off of her and moving both of his hands up to his ear, trying with desperation to warm it up. In Denver there was always the gloomy possibility of frostbite, and so Cas was all too familiar with the act of removing useless body parts if they were too cold for too long. He just hoped he wouldn’t have to lose his ear like he saw so many homeless people lose toes and fingers, dropping like flies everyday. However, despite the pain and fear he was drowning in, Casimir smiled triumphantly at the pain the girl he beat up was clearly in. His victory was short lived, it seemed, when she went and tackled Cas, knocking the wind out of him. While the boy was trying to regain air in his lungs, coughing and hacking his way towards oxygen, the girl froze his hands and feet down to the ground. Cas fought against the restraints, ignoring the cold because it wasn’t as bad his ear. “Freak!” He screamed at the girl. “Let me go!” Cas’ head was slammed against the ground a few times, and every time that happened his vision went a little darker, his head a little foggier, and his body a little more warm and lethargic. One more time and he would be out like a light. Through blackness and shadow he saw the girl move her frozen fingertips to his eyes.