𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘸𝘣𝘦𝘳𝘳𝘺 𝘮𝘰𝘰𝘯𝘴!〔 percy jackson 〕 ೃ༄
𝒊𝒏 𝒘𝒉𝒊𝒄𝒉, wherever the starry-eyed daughter
of the wilderness finds herself going, the sun-kissed son of the raging seas is always 𝒒𝒖𝒊𝒄𝒌 𝒕𝒐 𝒇𝒐𝒍𝒍𝒐𝒘.
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SPRING WAS A FAVOURABLE TIME for the cluster of young demi-gods confined in the invisible barriers of camp half-blood. it symbolised the death of frosty nights and instead celebrated the arrival of blossoming leaves and freshly grown flowers — which excited the children of Demeter to no end. Overall, it welcomed the approaching humidity of June with open arms.
In truth, Colette quite enjoyed the springtime embrace that blanketed over the camp at the cusp of march. It meant the strawberries in the formation of the fields turned ripe with rich crimson, and the temperature of the lake increased gradually. Persephone's blessing of spring had left her thankful, most of the time.
The passing spring had been her fourth inside the confined and transparent walls of Camp Half-Blood, a sanctuary for the offspring of Greek Gods disguised as a harmless strawberry farm.
She'd been seven at the time of her arrival, almost eight. Now, she was twelve—turning thirteen in December, and the differentiating line between Camp Half-Blood and home had some how merged into one. The satiny lilac sheets of the cabin had replaced the Disney Princess blankets upon her bed and her days spent under the San Francisco sun, that had once been filled with the warmth of nostalgia, had been dimmed beside the jovial exhilaration graced upon her by the camp.
Days upon bustling streets with her smaller hand held tightly in her mother's had been traded for nights spent with thrilling rounds of capture the flag and toasting marshmallows around an amber campfire.
Of course she missed her mother much more than she was comfortable to admit. But things were just easier this way. Less dangerous.
And besides, Colette quite adored Camp Half-Blood as though her blood ran through the soil and her soul breached every wall. Camp was as much her home as the house where her childhood burned away was. She ravished under the eternal sunlight that blanketed over the hours of the day — unburdened by Demeter's anguish in the months of winter and autumn. Though, she couldn't deny that yearning to experience a shower of rainfall or a snowy winter was a regular occurrence within her mind.
Because, sure, camp was cool. Filled with those alike and different to herself and the activities within the community were brimming with adrenaline. But the world that lay beyond was just that: beyond. Always slipping out of reach in an endless diversionary chase, bound to win with the infuriating laughter that brushed through the large trees on the border of the camp.
Always just beyond her reach.
The thought would make her bite her tongue in frustration till her tastebuds were poisoned with the taste of metal. She wouldn't be confined here forever, she didn't need to worry about that. She'd turn thirteen, maybe fourteen and pledge herself to be forever young—a spectre of eternity encased in the crisp coolness of moonlight, destined to wander forests hand-in-hand with other maidens of youth and chastity, armed by arrows of pearly silver.
