Post by Aurora Aldenberg on Apr 4, 2015 22:22:54 GMT -6
Aurora woke up from her mid-afternoon nap with a start, a vivid jolt to her head striking her upright. “Jäklar”, Aurora cursed, her tongue slipping into her first language, Swedish, often present in her dreams rather than English. The headache that had plagued her from the ‘post-nap’- era had rebounded once more. Her vision was spotty, sensitive eyes wincing away from the light of the empty cabin. Aurora’s head throbbed dully in the confines of her skull. The irritated Swede clutched her cranium with a sigh, her glare narrowed in distaste. Looking around, it seemed most everyone had left the cabin, not willing to wake up their cabin leader. Was that the right choice? Probably. Unless anyone had wanted to be formally degraded by a very tired and very pissed off Aurora. Raising her arms above her head, Aurora stretched for a moments, her hands afterward lightly teasing her messy layered locks, which were slightly disheveled. She hadn’t bothered to change into a set of pajamas, taking a short nap in her day clothes. Not the most hygienic, but she was likely to tired to really do much. Just another coffee crash. Chugging her way through another espresso or occasionally an energy drink she had pawned off one of the Hermes kids might have been the only way Aurora made it some days, with her insomnia.
The white haired juveniles attire consisted of a long black coat and leather pants, with black, thick soled boots. As well as a black fedora. Of course there was a fedora. Fedoras are hella cool. With no hurry, Aurora had left the cabin, her gloved hand slightly silencing the door, which had a tendency to slam, whether it was intentional or not. The next thing Aurora noticed was just how noisy Camp Half Blood had to be. Just why in the name of the Gods were carols going on in the midday. A rogue group of girls were hollering their way down the trails, laughing and singing like even younger children then they seemed. It was likely that they weren’t even at the age whoever spawned them was required to own up to it. The only thing Aurora could do was pull her fedora over ears, and scowl. Jamming the handles of very large scissors into their abdomens would just cause another issue, the god awful screaming and shrieking.
Standing still for a moment, the platinum haired blonde massaged her temples, her optic nerves pinched and flaring her already lackluster vision. “Why did i ever leave the cabins in the first place”, Aurora muttered under her breath, unheard by anyone, her words lost to the chatter of the birds above. Tranquility was a rarity at Camp, unlike her large living spaces back at home, with enough tightly packed snow to drown out the loudest shriek. And there was an appropriate time to wear sweaters and thick clothing. Spring and soon, summer were fast approaching. Which meant nothing but simply more tightly packed quarters and even more people to deal with. And in midst the humid days there was simply no way one could make it alive wearing a thick coats and sweaters. Aurora was already pushing it, the month being April.
Aurora followed the hollowed out path that led towards the Long Island Sound. Aurora remembered that there was a creek nearby, not much of a popular destination to many. Most lovestruck demigods turned their thoughts to the beach. There would be little to disturb Aurora’s thoughts. Not even the strong saline scent of the beach which she sniffed up. Her nose turned up in disgust, Aurora passed the beach quickly, not wanting to deal wit tha todor for longer than what would be considered necessary . Passing an array of trees, none of this fazed Aurora, not even blinking a vivid crimson orb at what she might have seen, providing what she had seen was even accurate in the first place. Blessed with the requirement of some sort of vision corrective device since childhood, what Aurora saw from her red eyes was often distorted and unreliable. It was a hurdle to jump over, coming to camp knowing that she would need to be proficient in the art of sword fighting and the such. Not that Aurora would ever give up scissors, of course. They were her prized possession. Of course she had other weapons in her arsenal, but none were as close to her as the obnoxiously large pair of blades she had, which had almost became synonymous with her name at one point.
The sound of water rushing down the grooves of the creek eased her aching head, the tension melting away almost mellifluously. Tucking her long layered locks in front of her, Aurora rest her head on the ground, her legs kicked up. her head was shielded from the debris by the fedora, the grass crisp and glossy as to where it would not leave a residue on the underside of Aurora’s pants, provided they could cling to the leather. Aurora briefly shut her eyes, her sight fading to black under her eyelids. The crash of the waves which had once terrified her now resounded in her head like a metronome, consistent and ever present. Never having fear of much, the water was one of the few things that could at once trigger panic in Aurora’s younger self. Aurora had moved on, for the most part. The cerise pull of the waves was always uneasy, due its closeness with unfavorable memories. Aurora didn’t have many of those. Excluding the whole ‘I’m a demigod and if I step out of a small piece of Manhattan I might be a dish of Swedish Meatballs” ordeal, her life was pretty easy. For the most part, her mortal mother just left her to her own devices when she was back home.
The sound of something in the distance disturbed Aurora from her thoughts, optics of vivid incarnadine blinking open, her gaze trailing the area around the creek.
The white haired juveniles attire consisted of a long black coat and leather pants, with black, thick soled boots. As well as a black fedora. Of course there was a fedora. Fedoras are hella cool. With no hurry, Aurora had left the cabin, her gloved hand slightly silencing the door, which had a tendency to slam, whether it was intentional or not. The next thing Aurora noticed was just how noisy Camp Half Blood had to be. Just why in the name of the Gods were carols going on in the midday. A rogue group of girls were hollering their way down the trails, laughing and singing like even younger children then they seemed. It was likely that they weren’t even at the age whoever spawned them was required to own up to it. The only thing Aurora could do was pull her fedora over ears, and scowl. Jamming the handles of very large scissors into their abdomens would just cause another issue, the god awful screaming and shrieking.
Standing still for a moment, the platinum haired blonde massaged her temples, her optic nerves pinched and flaring her already lackluster vision. “Why did i ever leave the cabins in the first place”, Aurora muttered under her breath, unheard by anyone, her words lost to the chatter of the birds above. Tranquility was a rarity at Camp, unlike her large living spaces back at home, with enough tightly packed snow to drown out the loudest shriek. And there was an appropriate time to wear sweaters and thick clothing. Spring and soon, summer were fast approaching. Which meant nothing but simply more tightly packed quarters and even more people to deal with. And in midst the humid days there was simply no way one could make it alive wearing a thick coats and sweaters. Aurora was already pushing it, the month being April.
Aurora followed the hollowed out path that led towards the Long Island Sound. Aurora remembered that there was a creek nearby, not much of a popular destination to many. Most lovestruck demigods turned their thoughts to the beach. There would be little to disturb Aurora’s thoughts. Not even the strong saline scent of the beach which she sniffed up. Her nose turned up in disgust, Aurora passed the beach quickly, not wanting to deal wit tha todor for longer than what would be considered necessary . Passing an array of trees, none of this fazed Aurora, not even blinking a vivid crimson orb at what she might have seen, providing what she had seen was even accurate in the first place. Blessed with the requirement of some sort of vision corrective device since childhood, what Aurora saw from her red eyes was often distorted and unreliable. It was a hurdle to jump over, coming to camp knowing that she would need to be proficient in the art of sword fighting and the such. Not that Aurora would ever give up scissors, of course. They were her prized possession. Of course she had other weapons in her arsenal, but none were as close to her as the obnoxiously large pair of blades she had, which had almost became synonymous with her name at one point.
The sound of water rushing down the grooves of the creek eased her aching head, the tension melting away almost mellifluously. Tucking her long layered locks in front of her, Aurora rest her head on the ground, her legs kicked up. her head was shielded from the debris by the fedora, the grass crisp and glossy as to where it would not leave a residue on the underside of Aurora’s pants, provided they could cling to the leather. Aurora briefly shut her eyes, her sight fading to black under her eyelids. The crash of the waves which had once terrified her now resounded in her head like a metronome, consistent and ever present. Never having fear of much, the water was one of the few things that could at once trigger panic in Aurora’s younger self. Aurora had moved on, for the most part. The cerise pull of the waves was always uneasy, due its closeness with unfavorable memories. Aurora didn’t have many of those. Excluding the whole ‘I’m a demigod and if I step out of a small piece of Manhattan I might be a dish of Swedish Meatballs” ordeal, her life was pretty easy. For the most part, her mortal mother just left her to her own devices when she was back home.
The sound of something in the distance disturbed Aurora from her thoughts, optics of vivid incarnadine blinking open, her gaze trailing the area around the creek.
