Apollo and Khione... wait what?

landon blinked, being sure not to change his expression, even though he felt a pang of empathy. He could easily relate to a tragic history. Maybe they could exchange stories? ...Probably not. If she was as shy about it as he was, then it would never happen. But he'd give her the opportunity to express herself if she chose to, anyway. With a shrug, he gave the girl the option to talk. "Try me."

Landon's face softened. His eyebrows curved up into a triangular roof shape in sympathetically. Cautiously, he looked the girl up and down, determining whether a hug would be appropriate or not. He would've stepped closer and embraced the girl, but that probably would've scared her, or worse, pissed her off. Not doing so would probably be the best choice.

Losing a parent is harsh; he already knew that. Having one betray him? He couldn't fathom the thought. Thoughts of his own childhood flooded back to him, and keeping a straight face was difficult. A flare of his nostrils as he took in a slightly shaky breath, and he collected himself, wiping the thoughts from his mind. It was unimportant, irrelevant to the situation. And he had to forget, had to stop caring or it would tear him apart on the spot. Another mental breakdown was not what the night needed.

"That's..." Collecting his thoughts was difficult, as a proper verbal response for the aforementioned events was impossible. Not enough emotion could be put into any words he said to truly represent his feelings. "A past," He sighed, "That you need to put behind you, because none of it could be helped. Not by you or your mother or your satyr friend. It made you who you are today, and... And has shaped you as a person. It has taught you to cherish, love, and never take anything for granted, because anything can be taken away at any given moment."

Landon resisted the urge to immediately pull away from the girl successfully, just twitching slightly and tensing his body. When she pulled away, he eyed her critically. "Don't...do that." His cheeks turned pink, and he wasn't quite sure why. Must've been from the cold or something. "What about me...?" He asked uncertainly, not sure he wanted to get so far into this conversation. He had a faint idea as to where it was going, and didn't like it in the least.

Landon's eyes shifted to the ground, and his grit his teeth, trying to keep his hands from instinctively moving to his stomach, or lack thereof. His past hadn't been as bad as Miranda's, but it hadn't been particularly... pleasant, either. He shifted his weight on his legs and kept his eyes fixated on the ground in silence. This girl... They had just met. What would she think of him, knowing that he had an eating disorder? Knowing that sometimes he didn't care if he died? Wanted to, in fact? What would her reaction be?

She'd probably notify someone. They'd probably take him away. Back to the mental institution where crazies like him were put...Where they belonged. No life outside the barred windows. Trapped within their own insanity. She couldn't be trusted with the information. She'd...she'd tell, for certain. And he'd be completely screwed. What did Chiron do with psycho demigods, anyway? Kill them?

Landon muttered curses under his breath, then reluctantly raised his eyes from the snow to meet Miranda's, searching for...something. A hint of honesty behind her promises. Some sign of interest or curiosity. Something else, maybe. He inhaled, his breath wavering as it bounced through his throat like a pinball. "..." His mouth was open, but he couldn't make himself say anything. His mind and mouth refused to utter the words. Strangely enough, his heart was telling him that it was okay. That she could be trusted, against all the odds. Finally, his jaw clicked shut, and he just shrugged. "...Stuff. Stuff happened."

Landon chewed his bottom lip until it bled--not that it was difficult to make bleed, the icy winds had chapped them up something fierce--and fixed his eyes on the small of her back. She was leaving, and this would probably be his only chance. Work, voice, work! "W-what..." Warm air flared through his nostrils and he sighed. "Stuff...happened. Bad stuff. My dad...I didn't see him much...He was always busy, but... He took care of me. We took care of each other..." His voice trailed off, as he chose his words carefully. Actually I took care of myself, and I didn't really ever ask him to spend time with me. I'm an idiot for that and I can't ever take it back.

"He was going to work one day, like usual. I was getting myself on the bus and...when...When I got to school..." He cleared his throat as a film of gloss covered his eyes. They sparkled under the light of the moon, and with a quick wipe with the back of his sleeve he forced the tears away. "I got called down to the principal. I thought I was... in trouble, you know? I wasn't a very good student; always got the homework questions wrong and failed the tests. He was always busy so I could never stay after or I didn't have a ride home." He shook his head and inhaled shakily. "So I went and they said, 'We're sorry, Landon. Your dad is dead....'" On the last word his voice cracked, and he raised one sleeve covered hand over his mouth.

His nose was bright red and his eyes puffy. He stared dejectedly into the snow for a while in silence, before shrugging finally. "I got moved around a lot... Khione didn't take me so I moved around foster homes. I did... stupid things. Got sent... away." A nervous laugh escaped him, as well a shimmering tear that slid down his face. "Did some stupid things...stupid...things..." Things that he still did. Old habits, biting, poisonous. Landon always fell back to them.

Finally, he mustered the courage to look up into Miranda's eyes. He didn't notice the tremor in his legs, the chill tingling down his spine. His cheeks and forehead radiated with heat, despite the frigid air. He felt like an idiot. Embarrassed by his story. Terrified of how Miranda might react.

Guess I'm going to be sent back, after all.

Landon's shoulders dropped, and he sighed, suddenly very exhausted. He shrugged carelessly. "Yeah." He avoided her eyes. She'd probably give him the you-shouldn't-harm-yourself talk like everybody else who knew that he did liked to tell him. Of course he shouldn't, but the urge fed off his grief. Took him, consumed him when he was most vulnerable. And then suddenly, the habits of the old, unstable Landon returned.

Landon retreated into himself, eyes dropping to the ground again. She was trying not to be one of those people, but still managed to be. "I don't hurt myself." He muttered quietly, putting his hands into his sweatshirt pockets and shivering. I just don't eat...And also like to walk in front of trains. No big deal, right? Nobody would care, he was the vomit of a faulty system. Thousands of kids felt his pain and loss. Thousands of kids ended up dumped onto the streets. They got into drugs, fights, gangs. He ended up relatively well, he thought. Minus the occasional whim of suicide.

But she cared, apparently. And that..was probably something, right? He pulled one hand out and ran his fingers through his hair, before returning it into the warmth of his pocket. His fingers were blotchy and discolored. Crap.

Landon took a nervous step back. That was probably another something he should explain. How he turned various colors at random times. With any luck, Miranda didn't see. The last thing he needed was to have to person who he just spilled most of his life to to get up and walk away in disgust.

Landon could see the surprise and confusion on her face. Dammit, he wasn't fast enough. "Condition." He shrugged, trying to make it seem nonchalant. "Raynaud's Disea--phenomenon." Disease always sent up a red flag. God forbid she thought that meant something like cancer or herpes. "Doesn't do much... And you can't get it." He was sure to ad the last part on, because people these days were petrified of anything even remotely similar to illness. Raynaud's wasn't what every day people picked up like a cold. It was a condition. Sometimes, the causes are known, other times, Raynaud's is just a symptom of a more worrying disease. Luckily, Landon had the idiopathic version(as far as he knew, anyway) so it wasn't related to anything worse.

Landon frowned. "It's not just from the cold. It can also be triggered by emotional and mental stress." He moved his fingers so that they were hidden in his sleeves, self-conscious now. With a blink he replied, "You'll have to go to bed at some time... I don't think the Khione cabin is... warm enough for a daughter of Apollo.

Landon said nothing further to the girl. Instead, he retreated back to his cabin, where he stroked his sea shell collection a few times and thought about how he divulged all of his information into this strange girl he had just met and thrown a snowball at. Weird, this feeling he had for her. It was like, everything he did was somehow justifiable. Somehow it was okay, for her, and only her. After trying to figure out what it was and coming up empty, he nestled into his bunk and turned out the lights to sleep.

The next day started similarly to the last. Being a Khione kid, he was stuck helping out with the festival. And, of course, the pointless snow cone machine. At least it didn't attract attention though, except for maybe a few laughs. He showered and changed into a pair of jeans and a white t-shirt. He slid a gray hoodie on over that, and then a Penguin's Hockey Jersey on top of that one. Afterward, he headed off to the festival to man his shift at the snow cone cart.

"Uhm, sure..." Landon blinked, taking out a paper cone and scooping some ice in it. "What flavor?" He eyed the girl curiously. She was back, and smiling, but...something seemed off about it. Did something go astray last night? I thought it went well, surprisingly. But, maybe he had misinterpreted something.

His stomach knotted, and he had to restrain from growling at his idiocy. He shouldn't have told her about anything. Not about his father, not about his stay at the institution, not about his suicidal tendencies, eating disorders or even Raynaud's. It had been a mistake.

An expression of darkness flashed across his face, but as soon as it came, it disappeared, and his features were in a neutral position once again. He walked around the cart and leaned against the front, crossing his arms and gazing out. "Yeah, I do." His dad, not being dead. Scratching at his casket. Screaming, choking. Getting out in a daze and searching for Landon. Looking high and low and finding him at camp half blood, exhausted, destroyed, and asking, "Why did you leave?"

Not that Landon thought his dad would come back. But every once in a while the scenario played in his head. That maybe, hopefully, his dad was alive somewhere. But then he felt like he had abandoned his dad. He already felt like he didn't try hard enough to get to know the guy. He was young, it couldn't be helped. Nobody thought Mr. Greene was gonna die so soon, but... Things happen. He sighed through his nose and turned to Miranda. "Wanna talk about it?" A simple question, if yes, he'd listen. If no, the subject would be dropped.