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CHAPTER TWENTY NINE have some hart
——— VERONA! ( CAMP HALF BLOOD, EARLY JULY )
THE APHRODITE CABIN HAD BLED.
Badly. The heart and center of their cabin had been shattered into tiny pieces of minuscule glass, shattering as they walked over it with their bare feet. Metaphorically, of course. Physically, Cabin Ten was in prime shape, with its lacy curtains and checkered steps, but the mood inside was one of somber indulgence. Catarina Leth would not stop crying, no matter how hard she tried. Catarina had to be one of the most straight forward people in all of cabin ten (which was something to say, it really was), and yet she could not stop crying. Her blonde, near white hair had been pushed back by her hands so many times it looked like a tangled mess, her eyes leaked black tears at this point, mixing in with mascara and eyeliner and the sweat on her cheeks, and each time Catarina closed her eyes, all she could see was the image of her half sister screaming as a bony sword was pushed through her stomach (at least, that's what Verona assumed she saw. At least, it was what Verona saw).
Hart Soleil, in all ironical laughter and not, is — was — the heart of the Aphrodite cabin. For words woven on a blank peace of paper and pen scratching against the flimsy material, she had been a poet in times of conflict, an artist in times of crisis, and a lover in the most heated of moments when everybody else could not control their anger. She stood for peace and affinity, and above all, love. Without a doubt, the daughter of Aphrodite had believed in love thoroughly. Not just the romantics, no. She had believed full heartedly in familial love, in friendship, in the type of love that would lead to somebody taking a bullet for you, a hit to their head...a sword to their stomach.
Then it is exactly what heart had done, take a sword to her stomach in place of her younger sister. She had pushed Catarina aside with all her spite and might, the sword missing the blonde haired beauty by inches and instead imbedding itself into Hart's stomach, and in turn ending her life. Catarina had screamed, she had been the first to charge at the drachnae, slicing it to pieces. When that was all over she had dropped to her knees over Hart's very, very dead body, no longer breathing, and sobbed until sobbing no longer became an option. She had fought, then fought some more, and when fighting was over and there was nothing left to say, the sobs had come bubbling back up her throat and down her cheeks. Now, they would not stop.
James knocked on the door behind which his sister had locked herself in repeatedly, the same series of KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK! entrapping vibrations through Verona's ears until eventually, he stopped and simply leaned his head against the door, solemnly looking to the ground. "Catarina, please come out. You have to come out now."
