flying too close to the sun --- [mc sarah]

Hangovers were the worst kind of punishment you could have in Blake’s opinion. Even tiny ones that told you that the sun was just a little too bright for you held every ounce of disappointment than a raging one with a migraine and throw up and aches. They both held the same meaning: You should probably stop drinking every night for the rest of your life because this is what happens and the next step is death. However, Blake never listened to the voice in her head. The voice in her head was quite boring, to say the least. It always held novelties such as self-respect, motivation, and responsibility. Blake could never be bothered to actually go through that filing cabinet in her brain to fetch the good stuff out. The rest of her brain was filled with dark terror, horrible habits, and her worst fears. The girl was trapped there, but by choice. She was a firm believer that to overcome her own mind, she had to wrestle her demons which were invisible to everyone else. While some campers fought actual monsters, Blake Grey fought deities in her own mind. Which was where the drinking came in. Drinking lessened the pain for a little while and left her blissfully numb. The only side effect was the hangover.

Last night Blake had drunk more than she had in a long time. Most of those starlit hours were a hazy blur to her, although she did remember having whiskey with a boy whose name started with an A. Was it Alan? Alex? Aaron? Blake really didn’t remember, but she didn’t think it mattered much. Right now the demigods at camp were all very suspicious of monster activity, and were all gearing up to fight. A lot of the campers not on guard duty were in the arena training, and those that were cowards and chicken started to build safe houses. Blake wasn’t a chicken, and she sure as hell wasn’t about to back down against some ugly, foul-breath smelling beast that was set upon her. But in order to protect herself, she had to learn had to use weapons. Well, technically she already did have a weapon, it was just part of her and very very limited. So here she was in the arena, practicing using throwing knives when someone caught her attention. Blake saw it was a girl, blonde like herself, and she, like so many other girls, was filled with unmatched rage. The way that she slashed the dummy and screamed out was enough evidence to know that she was furious.

Blake walked over to the girl and grabbed her wrist to get her to stop. “Whoa there, princess.” She said calmly to the girl. Anger was an emotion she was all too familiar with herself, and she didn’t want the flames consuming this girl like it had done to herself, though by the sparks in her eyes Blake knew it was too late. “You need to shut the hell up. Some of us have a raging headache, and your goddamn screaming isn’t helping.” She wondered who this ‘Tiberius Winters’ was. A boy with that weird and stupid of a name couldn’t have been that bad of a person. Blake gently guided the girl over to the sitting area, where she lazily flicked throwing knives upon the ground. “So, tell me, girl to girl, who is this Tiberius Winters and what has he done to piss you off so much?"