𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐄𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐄𝐒 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐄 ━━
❝ But gods are born of ichor and nectar, their excellences already bursting from their fingertips. So they find their fame by proving what they can mar: destroying cities, starting wars, breeding plagu...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
━━ MARISOL
Please Please Please.
No.
Mother wait we need you!
Please stop.
Don't leave us Mother please help us please please please —
"Shut up!"
Commotion. Shouting. Chaos. All of it comes to an abrupt stop at Marisol's sudden outburst. In the strawberry fields of Camp Half-Blood, a small group of Demeter kids have gathered around Mr. D — Dionysus — in a frenzy, raising their voices over one another until it's impossible to be heard. Unless, of course, you're like Marisol, and shout at nothing in particular.
To her horror, the camp director and her siblings all swivel in Marisol's direction. A flush of embarrassment sweeps across her face. She's tried hard to avoid responding as much as her siblings' apprehensive stares, but she couldn't escape it now. Her tongue feels thick and clumsy, and she knows whatever words that manage to come out won't do her justice.
"You're all giving me a headache," grumbles Marisol, and she prays her expression faithfully conveys the irritation she truly feels. "Can we all stop arguing for one second and just compare notes? No one's blaming anyone here."
"Speak for yourself," someone says. "Have you tried asking the strawberries yet, Marisol?"
A tide of crimson floods her cheeks. She'd done her best to keep the whispers and wails out of her head, but sometimes it was simply impossible to ignore them. As if reaffirming her brother's suspicions, a vine the color of moss begins to elongate at her feet, curling itself around her shoe.
Being a daughter of Demeter shouldn't have been such a drain on her as it was. Others asked things of nature, and if they beckoned sweetly enough, nature gave. In Marisol's case, nature was like an irritating sibling, or an addicted relative with not a penny to their name — always popping up to make unreasonable demands at the most inconvenient of times.
We don't like it Mother tell them
"They say stop stomping all over them," Marisol retorts indignantly. It's true, too, for people are never as careful among plants as they are around other living things. "And in case you haven't noticed, Cody, we're not helping. Standing around and arguing isn't going to make them bloom."
A raspy, jaded voice comes to her aid. "She's right," Mr. D agrees. A chorus of groans in reply, but he only crumbles his empty soda can in his fist. "No, for once, listen. I don't know which of you brats swapped this season's seed, or poured bleach in the fertilizer, or offended the strawberries' mother. We are not leaving this field until we figure out why they're wilting!"
