#*orion

Genevieve Gothe never wanted a third child. One daughter, one son; Ginny and Geoff—that was good enough for her. However, by the time she found out that she was pregnant, Genevieve’s other two children had fallen in love with the idea of a new sibling. They had seen their friend’s baby sister and adored having one of their own. Her lover also adored the idea, suggesting what to name the child. (Of course, he split town just before the child was born—a fact that never failed to piss Genevieve off when she remembered).

And so, Gabriel joined their family several months later.

The first few months were normal. Hectic, yes, but that was expected when a family had a newborn. Then the madness set in. It looked different for each family members.

Ginny was afflicted with constant anxiety about what could happen. Her symptoms presented as paranoia akin to OCD, but no amount of OCD treatment worked. Geoff began to hallucinate. It presented close to schizophrenia, auditory and visual hallucinations, but his brain chemistry didn’t match that diagnosis.

And Genevieve, mother of three, had not madness, but an insatiable urge to partake in wild parties. She wanted to drink until she couldn’t walk straight; she wanted to binge on whatever drugs she could get her hands on.

The three changed practically overnight. The brother the twins had wanted so bad took the brunt of the changes—telling him how they were better off before he was born, how he ruined everything. Their mother did everything but beat him those early years. Gabriel didn’t understand what was happening to him. He didn’t even know how much his family had changed because of him.

At seven, Gabriel was left alone with Genevieve. His siblings had graduated the previous year and moved out over the summer. Her drinking got worse, becoming the “Mommy Juice” at all hours stereotype. She began to have the same hallucinations Geoff had; she gained Ginny’s paranoia. (And though neither mother nor son knew it, the twins had their mental issues lifted a few months after leaving the house. They weren’t entirely gone—seven years of constant madness flowing into them was untreatable—but what lingered was easier to manage.)

Genevieve first laid her hands on her son that year. Her near-constant drunkenness led Gabriel to manifest his own anger. He only knew interaction through violence, never having anyone around him to teach him that there were ways to deal with his emotions other than fighting.

The fights pushed him into abandoning his home two years later.

Grapevines began to grow in the shape of arrows, pointing him North. And North he went. As he followed the arrows of grapes, eating them (they tasted sweeter than the grapes his mom bought at the store; they were also slightly harder to bite into), a boy approached him. What stood out was the pants he wore—no one wore denim in Florida in July, it was far too hot and humid!

“Gabriel Gothe, Lord Dionysus has sent me to escort you. He feels that you’re taking too long following the trail.”

Gabriel recoiled at his name. It had been so long since he heard it. Never had it been said so nicely, always hurled with an insult to follow.

“Can you not call me that?”

“Oh! You prefer Gabe.”

“NO!” Gabriel wanted no association with the name he had been given. “I, uh… I actually go by Orion.” It was his favorite constellation. It was something that brought him comfort.

“Okay… Orion, let’s get you to Camp.”

The other boy hailed a taxi. Only instead of one driver, there were three and only one had any eyes (and she only had one!). The other boy gave the drivers instructions before sitting next to Orion in the backseat. On the drive, he explained everything to Orion.

Camp was farther north than Orion had ever gone. Of course, he’d never left the Florida Keys where he’d been raised until running away, so that wasn’t hard to triumph.

As soon as Orion and the satyr walked through the barrier, a man with dark hair and a leopard-print Hawaiian shirt pointed at him. “My son has arrived.” The man shifted his pointer to the satyr, “You’re dismissed.” He beckoned Orion closer. “Gabriel, right? There’s so few of you, but I still lose track.”

Orion flinched at the sound of his name and stayed rooted to his spot. He swallowed on nothing. “That’s me.”

“Good. Follow.” The man began walking towards a semicircle of cabins, each with their own unique design. He pointed towards a building with a grape vines running up the sides and on the roof. “You’re mine, so you’re in cabin twelve. Have fun.” With that, he left.

The nine-year-old was met by two pairs of purple eyes staring at him. Two identical boys smiled at him. One of them introduced themselves as Pollux and Castor, along with the information on how camp life was.

Orion introduced himself using his chosen name, confusing his brothers who were under the impression their new brother was named Gabriel. (“I don’t like Gabriel. So I changed it. Got a problem with that?”)

Time passed by with plenty of problems between Orion and the twins. Orion was prone to outbursts of anger, scaring his brothers and other campers alike. Dionysus put him on the football team of their homeschool co-op the summer after Orion turned eleven to try and help. It worked well enough, but a teammate introducing him to boxing is what really helped Orion mellow out.

It was such a drastic change that the other gods brought it up during the winter solstice trip, praising Dionysus on his parenting skills.

Unfortunately, the next summer Dionysus was caught up in bigger issues—leaving Orion distrustful of parental figures once again. (“It’s not Dad’s fault. Two of the Big Three are getting ready to go to war because of that kid. Dealing with that is more important.” / “Do me a favor? Shut up, Castor.”)

Orion spent the next couple of years throwing himself into training. He’s barely a teenager and already his fellow campers are scared of him again.

He rolled his eyes at the quest into the Labyrinth. His immortal stepmother was the only reason Theseus had survived his trek and she wasn’t here to help this quest.

By the time he figures out what’s actually going on with the Labyrinth, it’s too late. The monsters emerge that July, forcing Camp into battle.

Orion was distraught by Castor’s death. He barely knew his brother and didn’t understand why he cared so much. He showed up to Castor’s funeral, but afterwards, snuck out to the training gym.

He needed to mourn apart from his siblings. Orion forgot to wraps his hands and punched sandbags until he bled. The next few nights he did the same. It was Pollux, terrified of losing another brother, that managed to pull Orion out of his spiral. (“Why do I care? I was nothing but a dick to him!” / “He was still your brother.”)

Boxing took a back-burner. His family didn’t trust him to not use it as an unhealthy coping mechanism again.

During the Battle of Manhattan, Orion fought alongside his brother, Pollux. That was, until Orion was slashed through the left calf. The brothers were forbidden to return to the battle by Dionysus, forced to heal up instead.

After the battle, he pleaded to return to boxing. Orion needed the structure more now than ever. He needed a contained adrenaline rush. Dionysus accompanied his son, keeping a watchful eye on Orion, double-checking his safety gear. An executive decision—as both father and camp director—was made stating that Orion could continue his hobby so long as a sibling accompanied him.

Orion became popular through boxing. He barely noticed the winter arrivals, too busy engaging in the parties he got invited to. These parties introduced him to the world of alcohol and drugs. (“A little addy won’t hurt you.” / “It’s just a White Claw.” / “Weed. Everyone’s favorite thing to smoke.” / “Take a hit from my vape.”)

This is the world Orion found himself in all throughout the Second Giant War. His life was getting high, boxing, and attempting to keep up with his schoolwork.

When Apollo fell and yet another war is fought, Orion was too busy getting high. He doesn't care about the god of the sun showing up. He doesn't care about another war being fought.