—closed starter for @stavrodromi & @ellaofmckinley
it was surreal to be back on the grounds of camp half-blood, and there was a moment as he and marcy exited the labyrinth where he had thought that the barrier around the camp wouldn’t let him through. not that alabaster had enough courage to actually go to the camp. they were still only by the entrance in the forest, by zeus’ fist. his notes from before the war had still been hidden behind a couple of stones, and when he looked at his lopsided handwriting that his fourteen-year-old self had written, it almost felt like time hadn’t passed.
alabaster shook his head, his hair falling into his eyes. “no, no. you’re doing fine. you just have to---think less about it.” for alabaster, magic was less about spells and charms and more about intent; latin and runes were just one possible conduit out of many to take. like marcellina, he didn’t have the chance to get taught by someone who knew how to practice magic, and had only taught himself. teaching her felt like a release, like an injustice set right. “you’re doing well, really,” he insisted at her disbelieving look. “look, i was horrible when i first started.”
