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SHE'S SO LOVESICK, IT'S SAD.
Anela Kalani Aolani was currently on her bed, in the newly refurbished Dionysus cabin, eating from a straw woven basket of strawberries, her radio blaring to Daughters of Eve, while tears streamed down her face. They flowed and flowed, the oversized cheer shirt she had on dampening, her mascara that she had put on, running and splotching on her rosy, flared cheeks.
It had been a month since Silena died.
A month since the love of her life had died.
She remembers it like it was yesterday, from Silena charging into battle disguised as Clarisse La Rue of Ares, to the drakon spitting poison directly in her face, to their last kiss. She hated that day.
"I-I'm sorry . . . Nela," Silena whispered, slightly wincing as Anela accidentally grazed her finger on the infected skin near her lips. "I'm sorry fo-for everything, love."
"Lena, babe, what were you thinking?" Anela whimpered, wiping a tear away from her eyes, ignoring the protruding eyes on her and her girlfriend.
"I was just trying to protect the camp, 'cause everyone knows that Ares is the strongest at battle, and we need them, and they-they would only come if they saw Cl-Clarisse," she slightly gasped, a blister near her eye popping. Anela gasped, frantically taking her scorched backpack off, unzipping it and scrummaging for something.
"Ambrosia won't help, love," she said, manually turning her head, tucking one of Anela's matted curls behind her ear.
"Just let me try, Silena, please,"
"All my fault, love," the girl murmured.
"Stop it!" Anela spoke, lightly kissing her lips, knowing that it would be the last time she'd be able to. "That's not true."
Silena opened her hand. In her palm was a silver bracelet with a scythe charm, the mark of Kronos. No wonder she only wore long sleeved shirts now, she was so stupid, goodness, how in hell didn't she notice?
"Lena, w-what?" Anela's eyes were wide is shock. "You were the spy?"
Silena tried to nod. "Before . . . before I liked you, Luke was nice to me. He was so . . . charming. Handsome. Later, I wanted to stop helping him, but he threatened to tell. He promised . . . he promised I was saving lives. Fewer people would get hurt. He told me he wouldn't hurt . . . Charlie. He lied to me."
The mention of their best friend dampened the aura even more.
The Ares cabin had broke, getting ready to carry Silena's body.
"Forgive me," Silena took a heavy and painful breath, Anela starting to sob. One of the demigods claimed into Hermès, Valeria Washington, had grabbed her hand softly, taking her into a much-needed hug. Although younger, she was the perfect height for hugs, and she felt somewhat safe in her arms.
"You," Silena's eyes seemed a million miles away. "I'll love . . ."
She drifted away, like the gleaming sea that they used to watch on the milky shores of Camp Halfblood, like the ivory doves that flew over them when they kissed, she drifted away.
She was gone.
Forever.
Ever since she had died, the dreams would start to come. Small flashes of Silena standing there, looking at her in a type of haze. Flashes of the little picnic dates that they would go on, the two girls laughing and trying to throw strawberries into each other's mouths, failing miserably, the two giggling as they kissed the strawberry residue off of each other's lips, or of the time they first met, the two then seven-year-olds completely oblivious to the future above them.
Sinking her toes into her rosemary comforter, the hopeless feeling of love washed over her. The feeling, adorned in lace lilacs and lavenders galore, was utterly and completely covered on her spirit, before it was taken from her, spit at, and dropped on the floor, as if it hadn't mattered in the first place.
Goodness, the constant sympathy, I'm sorry for your loss, I'm so sorry for you, or, She's in a better place now ━━ they didn't understand it, the pain, the heartbreak ━━ any of it.
The heartbreak, binding her to her bed, the words Silena + Anela carved into the birch wood of the bed, adorned with her mother's sheer scarf, the rungs Charlie Beckendorf had cut in, holding the late's oversized Camp Halfblood t-shirt, her headband that Anela had shyly given her a few years back, and all of the little knickknacks that they had made together.
Two soft knocks on the door has taken her out of her lovesick trance, now focusing on the girl walking into the cabin.
"Ela? Are you okay?" Valeria, or as Anela called her, Val, Washington, a daughter of Hermes softly called.
"Better," she muttered, as Valeria walked to her, taking out a polaroid, it looked like.
"What's that you're holding?"
"I found it in some of the rubble from the war, and I wanted to give it to you," She handed the slightly scorched photo to Anela, moving to sit on the bed.
Anela, taking the paper, rubbed her thumb over the ashy part, revealing her eight year old face, with her gapped teeth, glasses and long, curly hair, smiling brightly at the camera, holding hands with nine year old Silena, her short black hair shining from the sunlight, her blue eyes sparkling, and her grin that could make anyone laugh.
Staring at the picture, she was pulled back into her abyss of heartbreak.
Those mauve lips that she so dearly remembered, gone forevermore.
Valeria was hugging Anela as she sobbed. It was just them now.
