how rare & beautiful :: open

“Alright son, now smile - there you go. Pull back the bow to your smile - that’s it. Good job, good boy.” Spencer stood behind his son, Archer, who had a homemade haircut from his mother, light brown bangs hanging straight down in a sort of bowl cut, his cheeky grin surrounded by baby fat cheeks, freckles dotted his skin like stars. There was a bow and arrow in his hand, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Spencer had seen the talent his son had possessed at an early age, and made him start practicing. Life as a demigod would be difficult for his sons, he wanted Archer and Landon to be ready for anything that hit them. “Okay, Archer. Line up your shot and fire.” Archer did as he was told, and it was only a couple inches away from a bullseye. 

“Dad?” He asked, turning around with a curious expression, his eyes as blue as the sea. His grandfather’s eyes. Spencer didn’t know where his children inherited the dark brown hair that sat atop their heads like crowns, but they were beautiful nonetheless. 

“Yeah?” 


“Will I ever get to be a great bowman?” 

Spencer chuckled, lifting his son up onto his shoulders. He’d never lost the strength he’d gained as a teenager. “Archer, do you know why your Mom and I named you what we did?” His son shook his head, grabbing onto his hair for balance. “It’s because we knew you were destined to become greater than your father. Not your grandfather, mind you, but you’ll become the greatest bowman Camp Half Blood has ever seen. You’ve just got to be patient. Now come on, your mother’s calling us in for dinner, and you know how much she hates being kept waiting when she’s made spaghetti tacos for dinner.” 


With a sickening, thudding THWACK, Archer knew he’d hit his target. He opened his eyes, blinking as he adjusted to natural sunlight. He couldn’t hear them, but the birds were singing and the trees were whispering with the wind. Thirty feet away stood a target with an arrow still vibrating in the middle of it. His dead father had been right. If Archer was patient, he’d become the greatest bowman here. It was a nice spring day out, one that the demigod never really got to enjoy much anymore. Mostly he’d just stay locked up inside his cabin, sulking away at had he lost and what would never be found again.

At one point everyone said that the pain would go away and he’d be happy again. Archer called bullshit. Pain never went away, but one could find things to do to numb one’s pain for a while. For the legend, that thing was archery. In archery, he could lose himself in the modernness of his bow, and the sleekness of his arrows. Custom made from the children of Hephestus as a pity present. Archer didn’t need pity presents. He notched up another arrow. He needed his father back. The arrow hit its mark as he started to get another one. He needed his mother back. It fired, hit its mark, and another one was loaded. He needed his sister back. Again, it hit on point, and another one was getting ready. He needed his hearing back. 

The final arrow went wobbly, and landed in the loose dirt, scattering a few feet left of the target. Archer groaned in anger, not caring if he was being loud or not. Thinking about that memory made him so angry that he couldn’t save his family. So angry that the gods would take away the most important thing to him. Archer threw the bow on the ground and sat down in the dirt, one hand covering his face.

Normally, Archer Thrush was a pretty forgiving guy. He understood that every human, no matter how perfect they seemed or how good they were, made mistakes. He understood that everyone had their bad days, and their good days, and to not necessarily judge a person based on how they handled a particular situation. Before the explosion, before all his deafness, Archer was the nicest person you could ever meet. Known as ‘the golden child’ at his school, if you had a problem - school or not - you went to Archer, and he’d help try and dig you out of your predicament. He was part of the popular crowd, and they molded into his image. If you weren’t kind and nice and helpful to the other teenagers of the school, Archer simply banished you. 

Now, after he’d lost his family and his hearing, Archer kind of snapped. There were some people - like his brother and Tessa - whom he’d always be sunshiny bright for. In his opinion, those two people deserved all the happiness they could get, and he felt it was his duty to make sure he was always an optimistic person. You’re an amazing person. You’re the best person. Archer told that to them daily, making sure it stuck in their brains that he loved the both of them, and would die for them without hesitation if it meant their safety. But anybody else and Archer kind of pushed away. It didn’t matter which cabin they came from - Athena or Apollo - the demigod tried not to get attached. Because attachment meant feelings and feelings meant bad things and bad things meant explosions and explosions meant deafness. Archer couldn’t go through that again. 

So he sat there in the dirt, beating himself up because he’d failed his father, because he’d told him he’d make him proud. Archer had missed a bullseye. A demigod named Archer should never miss a target. The only good thing, in his opinion, about losing his hearing was that his other senses were heightened. For instance, from a distance of twenty feet away, Archer could read a sign in small print perfectly. His sense of smell was better too - from the arena he could tell what they were making from lunch. Sloppy joes. So it wasn’t hard, even with one eye closed, to tell that another person was there. Archer looked up finally. 

“Hey, idiot.” He spoke out loud, knowing that the camper probably didn’t speak a lick of ASL. Most campers - most people - didn’t. It was a shame really, because they could have gotten to know Archer, and Archer was pretty amazing. “I’m deaf. D-E-A-F. Meaning I can’t hear."

To Archer, everyone was a bit thick. Maybe that was the Athena blood speaking through him, but a lot of people he’d met had particularly low IQ’s. That wasn’t to say he was rude about it. No. Archer knew perfectly well that it usually wasn’t their fault that they hadn’t soaked up knowledge like a sponge, that they weren’t naturally gifted like him, that they didn’t know how much carbon was in a human body. So he stayed quiet, played along with their game, talked about the subjects they were strong him and stayed far away from those they knew nothing about. Doing that was how Archer had so many friends in school. None of the football players or cheerleaders were particularly bright, though they all got A’s and B’s on their report cards. However, once they had passed their finals, they forgot the information. Archer, though, he remembered it.

Just like he remembered his father. Just like he remembered his mother. Just like he remembered his sister. The demigod was constantly hounded by their ghosts and their memories. It didn’t help that long ago his mom and dad stood where he was standing, shooting arrows and jeering at each other. That was what his parents did, insulted each other so the other one could do their very best. Their footprints were imprinted in the ground, guiding their son. It should have given Archer a sense of peace. It didn’t. It just made him more lonely, more pitiful, knowing he’d failed them. This kid, no matter who he was or how good his intentions were, wasn’t help either. 

The other demigod also didn’t know ASL. Great. That just made Archer’s life ten times more difficult than it had to be. He couldn’t grasp why kids didn’t learn ASL. It was a great tool, it made communication easier between deaf people and people who could hear. He looked up at the kid, reading his lips. Archer formed the same shapes with his own mouth silently, trying to eliminate possibilities.  I’m-not-dumb. 

“You could have fooled me.” This wasn’t Archer speaking. This was something new. A monster. It frightened him, yet he couldn’t stop. “Have you ever actually tried learning anything? Besides Archery, I mean. Actually, you’re not even that great at Archery. I bet I’m better. My name’s Archer, which makes me the best bowman in camp."