"HOW NICE OF YOU TO JOIN ME, NATALIA.."
"IT'S ACTUALLY NATASHA, BUT, CLOSE ENOUGH.."
"WHATEVER DUMBASS.."
---
loss
noun
plural noun: losses
1. the fact or process of losing something or someone.
"Losing someone you love, it doesn't ever go a...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
"MIND CONTROLLED AGAIN, EVER..."
---¤☆¤---
THE FOURTH OF JULY.
Tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, she flips her braid over her shoulder, her eyes narrowing at the sight before her. While she couldn't help in Capture the Flag on the ground, she could help by staying out of the 'danger zone' as Luke put it. Inspecting the bow, she could hear Travis and Connor giggling making her raise a brow. What were they up to?
Feeling arms wrap around her waist, she lets out a yelp as someone lifts her up in the air, swinging her back and forth. Gripping onto their forearms for dear life, the sound of familiar giggling fills the air, a deep frown forms on her face. Luke. Shooting daggers at Travis and Connor, the duo are cackling loudly, leaning against each other for support. Not funny.
"You're a jerk." Natasha hisses, "I have a reputation to protect."
"You love me. And your reputation is as important as ancient Greek lessons." Luke argues, burying his head in her shoulder.
"If that's gonna help you sleep at night, then sure. As for my reputation, it needs to be hardened." She argues back, "I don't need the Ares brats to think that I'm someone that can easily be stepped on or bullied."
"I'll protect you from them." He argues, making her scoff.
"I can protect myself, I don't need you to do it for me. I'm an independent woman, now put me down." She orders, her feet dangling in the air.
Letting out a small chuckle, he carefully places her back on the ground, his arms still clutching her tightly. Rolling her eyes at his behavior, she picks up a quiver from the weapons rack, inspecting the different kinds of arrows. Some were covered in seeds so that the Demeter and Dionysus kids could manipulate them. A few fart arrows that could knock someone unconscious if you inhaled too much. Some paint ones and a few other ones that she wasn't too sure what they were.
"I don't feel comfortable with you playing tonight. Your knee is still messed up and I don't wanna risk it getting worse." He mutters, making her tense.
"I'll stay in the trees." She dismisses, "Out of danger."
"Natasha.." He warns, tightening his grip on her waist.
"I can't keep skipping things, Luke. I've missed at least twenty wrestling lessons. I've been banned from sword training lessons until further notice. I want to at least attempt to play tonight. Even if I don't get to see any of the action." She argues, waving him off.
Opening his mouth to argue, she elbows him in the gut, earning a pained groan. She was going to play⎯even if all she was going to do was shoot arrows from the trees. This was supposed to be a celebration after all, why would she not want to participate? Rocking back and forth in place, the feeling of eyes drilling onto her, and she doesn't have to look to know that it was Walter staring holes at her.
