HEAVY IS THE HEAD ━ connor stoll

𝟬𝟭 power upon pain

Verona knows she's just as beautiful as the rest of her siblings — still in her own way. If she were to even similarly resemble one of her siblings, she guesses it would be Silena Beauregard. The girls seem to share the same liquorice black hair, long and fruitful, though that is where the similarities end. Verona's skin glows in the pale moonlight, shining against it's similar normality. Her lips are turned in a smile more often that frown (though not when she is around Connor Stoll, it seems), and her eyes scream with the winds of the past — the most beautiful shades of the trees and the leaves mixes in with the shadows of the wind and the tornadoes from the sky to create the most alluring orbs thy reflect in the moonlight above her.

Verona is falling through the pale moonlight sky.

It feels like her arms are somewhere between rushing to her sides and flailing at ninety degrees away from her. Her limbs fold and unfold as she travels to the bottom of the endless chasm and hits the floor, face first into the grassy field. She groans at the feeling of grass in her mouth as she pushes herself on to her knees and sits up a little.

"Not the most graceful fall I've seen, but certainly not the worst."

Verona turns around instantly upon recognition of the voice behind her. Though she has only heard it once before many years ago — she is eight and a dove swings it's wings around as it leads her at a fast pace away from an Empousa and up Half—Blood Hill, the voice sings into the wind as it tells her to hurry, before fading away. Verona has not forgotten that voice.

The woman that stands behind her only furthers her recognition. Annabeth had told her about when she had met her the year before at Olympus upon returning the lighting bolt to Zeus — Verona had asked every question possible about what the woman looked like (she had taken the form she seemed to endear most at the time) and how she spoke and whether she mentioned Verona.

The woman in front of Verona was the same height as her. Dressed in a beautiful white dress with the most golden of sandals, her curly brown hair was set to absolute perfection, and her melting green eyes reminded Verona of some concoction between her own and the eyes of her younger sister, Catarina. Her olive skin seemed to glow between the gleam of the moon and the red of the roses surrounding Verona in the field. She stood with grace and certainly, completely at ease as she stared down at Verona — who was still in her pyjama shorts and shirt, who's hair was still in the same mess it had been when she went to bed that night, and who's strands seemed to have a twig tangled in it.

Verona could only stare up at the woman with something between mild curiosity and disbelief.

"Now," The woman gave Verona a once over. "This just won't do, now will it?"

With a snap of the woman's fingers, Verona was falling again, her limbs flailing. Only this time, when she landed she did so gracefully on her feet by some magical force. Her limbs intact, her hair seemed to be elegantly braided down her back now, and a dress the colour of the sky seemed to adorn her body.

Verona wasn't sure whether or not the twig was still in her hair, but the woman still stood in front of her. She looked the same, but they were now in a field of daisies that seemed to go on for miles. The only other being around them seemed to be the beautiful doves that soared around, singing their tunes joyfully.

"Hi Mom," Verona seemed to have gotten over her shock enough to realize who she was standing in front of, and greeted the woman timidly for the first time meeting her. Aphrodite smiled at her — it was something between light and passive, and slightly warm, but it didn't provide the sense of motherly comfort that Verona hoped it would.