HEAVY IS THE HEAD ━ connor stoll

𝟮𝟵 have some hart

Silence followed.

"Cat, please...they're going to start the shroud burning soon..."

There was the sound of something crashing lowly to the floor, maybe it was Catarina. Then silence followed once again, entrapping the cabin in a series of solemn, lifeless hums. Verona was on the floor beside the door, her knees tucked close to her chest and her head resting in her hands, staring down at the floor in half hearted interest. Everything moved in slow motion, from the sound of James' voice to the knocking on wood he repeatedly put up with in order to coerce Catarina out of hiding, even the way her hair constantly fell over her shoulder if she shifted her head the wrong way felt as though it was moving in slow motion. Over and over and over again.

She wondered who would be the one to tell Hart's father that she was gone. Hart was a summer camper who had an excellent relationship with her father, they completed each other and helped one another out — how would he survive without his only daughter? Would it be Chiron who would tell Mr Soleil that his daughter had died fighting for what she believed in, for the love of her siblings, or would it be Dionysius who did that (she found this very unlikely). Maybe Chiron would have Silena do it. She could not imagine the girl who had volunteered to go and sort out Hart's shroud as having the emotion capacity for limit her feelings and tell Hart's father she was gone.

Dead. Not gone nor no longer with them, but dead. She was dead. Hart was dead. She wasn't on a quest she would soon return from, or gone the year from camp to school, she wouldn't step foot back into the cabin again complaining of the burning feeling the sun bought her skin, that Chiron had trained her in archery for hours until she was sure her manicure had been completely chipped, or that the cute boy from cabin four had neglected to say hello to her as he did everyday normally on her way back from the shooting range. Dead. Hart, a daughter of Aphrodite, Verona's sister, was dead. Deceased. Taking a one way trip to the Underworld.

"...Maybe that wasn't the thing to say," Elska muttered to James, in relation to his comment about the shroud burning ceremony starting soon. James huffed at his sister quietly, though not the least but angry, and ran his hands through his hair worriedly.

Verona lifted her head up and glanced around at the scene before her. The only person not present was Silena, who had gone to put the final touches on Hart's shroud with the help of the Demeter cabin. Amada was leaning against the edge of her bed, still bleeding from her forehead and her head in her arms, thoroughly exhausted and eternally upset. Mitchell did not look as fiery and ambivalent as he normally did, but completely lost, out of this world as he flipped a page for a large book, though Verona was not sure what was inside.

Lacy was hugging into Elska like her life depended on it on the opposite end of the cabin, tears streaking her face. The poor girl, aged just barely eleven, understood exactly what it entailed when Silena had explained to them that Hart was not ever coming back again. Even Carwyn had — the little boy was hugging James' from the opposite side of Verona, waiting hopelessly for his sister and cousin (of course, Aphrodite had to swing for both brothers one after the other...) to come out so he could check and see if she was alright. Even Drew looked solemn, legs crossed as she sat on her end and fiddling with her bangles idly as she waited patiently for Catarina to come out.

"Maybe..." James muttered back to Elska. He ran his hands through his hair, worn out and tired, faded and no longer the same person he had been moment prior to the battle. Verona could feel James eyes on her, pleading and heavy. "Will you do something, please?"