*BATTLE/LUST.

 draped  in  nothing  but  silk  &  wistfulness  stood  a  woman  in  the  center  of  a  bookstall  ,  reading  secondhand  scriptures  like  it  was  man’s  greatest  discovery  .  on  the  spread  of  a  magazine  was  the  flourishing  gaze  of  a  memory  long  repressed  .  heartwarmingly  brown  &  eternally  embellished  with  a  million  tales  only  the  brave  dared  to  fathom  .  a  scoff  .  torn  somewhere  between  the  lines  of  revolt  &  delight  .hysteria  is  quick  to  sheathe  her  movements  ,  making  her  slam  the  magazine  back  with  the  rest  ,  surface  crinkled  from  just  how  tightly  she  held  on  .  turning  to  move  far  from  the  picturesque  gaze  of  her  so  called  father  (  the   mortal  one  )  ,  the  young  woman  accidentally  stumbled  into  a  figure  ,  a  customer  ,  startling  her  to  bits  . “  oh  ,  crap  .  i’m  so  sorry  ..  it  was  my  fault  &  i—  ”  a   pause  .  upon  exchanging   looks  with  the  other  ,  the  bitterness  in  her  eyes  transmutes  into  roguishness  ,  mind  tentatively  trailing  away  from  the  bitter  stab  of  her  life  back  in  the  real  world  .  “cute  store  ,  huh  ?  ..  the  owner  said  some   dryads  donated  wood  to  build  this  place  .  ”

“Maisie.” It was a curt introduction, but Maisie was torn between annoyance and resignation. She didn’t know this girl, and had no idea why she was suddenly giving her advice. At the same time, she can’t help but feel charmed. She kept her lips pursed even when faced with the girl’s smile. Shifting her gaze to the water below, she observed as the naiads greeted her with ghastly, mischievous smiles before shaking her head and sighing. 

“Look, I don’t want this to stop being surreal. The moment it becomes my reality, I’m done for. I don’t want this town to be my whole world.” She still remembers the day a woman who explained her situation. There were plenty other demigods living normally in the world, she said, but Maisie’s powers are growing too strong for her to control on her own. She was told that Olympus was the best option for her, who knows what another fit of fury would result to in the outside world? She looked back at the other girl and regarded her one more time, “Whose kid are you anyway?”

She’d hate to admit it, but Stoner’s Bridge is the closest thing to a favorite place for her in Olympus. On some afternoons, she’d find herself sitting cross-legged, smoking a cigarette, and contemplating her odd situation. This was one of those aforementioned afternoons. “I think I’m going mad,” talking to herself is a new habit that she has taken to when she arrived in Olympus. She’s not pleased about it, but it helps her cope. “Freaks like me with special powers, magic alcohol, flying shoes and fucking mermaids. Five-year-old me would have loved this, but fuck I wish this was a dream and I’d wake up soon.”

 Her somber monologue came to an abrupt stop when she sensed that she wasn’t alone in that certain area of the arboretum. She did not turn around to see who it was, but still addressed her erstwhile companion gingerly, “Well, have you been there long enough to think I’m insane?”

She’d seen weirder, she realized when she heard the voice muttering aloud and with further inspection noting that the mutters were directed to no one but herself, sitting dangerously close to the ledge of the bridge. “Oh, you’re one of the kids who didn’t know huh?” Goldie walked over to her now, too bored to ignore the new girl, it was rare she found herself seeking out social opportunities, but she hadn’t spoken to anyone yet, Indigo had an early class and when she woke up for her morning run there was no one in the apartment but a messily written note stuck to the cling wrap that covered the breakfast he’d made for her.

Leo let out a heavy sigh, feeling judgemental eyes on him once again. Rumours were evil. They really were. And once they were out, they lived forever. “Gods, this is awkward. Listen- I don’t know what you’ve heard, but like, I don’t actually do that. I mean, that’s illegal. And disgusting. Dead people are gross- like, really gross. And kinda scary. Trust me, I know, I have to deal with them all the time. And I’m just not into that, okay? Yes, I am the son of Death himself, but like, that’s not my thing.” 

hello all, tis i mon, 25, est, and this is my angry beautiful child goldie keelen, descendant of ares & aphrodite !! under the cut you’ll find a quick synopsis of her, i’ll be working on a full-fledged bio for both her and kyle as we speak but i just wanted to make sure to get something out for her in the meantime! 

tw: crime, violence, abandonment, murder.