Silence Them (Luke Castellan)

05

It felt weird; to be taken under the wing of the girl Alanna had thrown a knife at just days before. To be pulled into their wicked schemes, and dragged into rough fights between siblings. But she didn't complain. Clarisse was kind to her - well, as kind as an Area kid can get - and Alanna relished in the chaos.

She was born into chaos and survived in chaos. It was where she thrived. Spite and wrath were her closest friends, and the mutuals that brought her and Clarisse together. Her little pack was shoved into the Ares room and she actually had a bed for once.

She'd found a little sense of home in the madness. They'd taken her in, and she'd enjoyed the rambunctious group and the daily escapades that followed the children of war. It gave her an opportunity to bite back at Luke, and it became a pastime she was severely entertained by.

Her heart was in pieces, as her sudden alliance not only brought the disgruntlement of the Hermes and Athena cabins, but the little rage of the blonde she'd originally befriended. Clarisse never gave Percy a break, and from their newly formed sisterhood, Alanna was by her side in each attack.

The harsh glares of his raging blue eyes and sneers from his young lips were enough to crush her and beg him to forgive her, but she was stubborn. She took her emotions out on the targets, something the war-children respected. It became a highly appreciated show for them, all attempting to use her pitch black shards, oftentimes ending up in the Infirmary with deep red gashes on their limbs.

Not only did the other cabins dislike her for her choice in friends, but they feared her. The way her eyes burned as each of her violently sharp blades were released from her grip, and how artful she was in her anger terrified them. The young girls didn't want her murderous hands plaiting their hair anymore, hurting her more than their fearful minds could imagine.

The day of Capture the Flag approached, and Alanna watched as the head counsellor of the Athena Cabin prepared her troops diligently. Annabeth had her mother's slate eyes, disproportioned to her rich brown skin. Curls tucked in professional braids, mostly pulled into styles away from her face, clearing her vision for her mind to process her surroundings.

The Ares Cabin and its alliances were less regulated. Clarisse and some of her siblings took over war training. It was just them kicking the shit out of everyone under the guise of teaching them combat. They didn't order or organise their bundle of children, they just taught them to not show mercy, and fight dangerously dirty. Biting, clawing, gouging, nut shots. All allowed in Ares' war handbook apparently.

Weak spots were the targets, and even if it was unsportsmanlike, it was how they were teaching the group to win. Charge. Hit. Cut. Win. The only orders given to the clan.

Luke watched from afar. Annabeth's carefully thought out plan had been ruined by Alanna's arrival. They had never seen a girl with such a thirst for vengeance, and with such skill to quench her hunger for blood. She heavily believed in an eye for an eye, and was no doubt going to be taking out her generational fury on the poor victims laying in her path.

Annabeth's statistics did not account for someone so adaptable and technical with a weapon that ranged from long to short distance with such artisanal ability in violence. They couldn't access the full potential of the blades when in her possession, only what they had been able to see.

These weapons had never been seen before and there was much for Annabeth to learn, but too little time. She began to teach her troops to always be alert and shielded. These knives were silent and so was Alanna. A deathly concoction.

Luke found her skills admirable. The grace in her movements was intoxicating, and he fell harder and harder into his addiction. Willingly.

He hadn't spoken to her since she was moved into the Ares Cabin, except from when her and Clarisse ripped into him, and he couldn't deny he found her confidence heavenly attractive.