halfbloodhill | Entries tagged with c: tybalt stratford [october daye]

[ Look who's back! Unfortunately, Dean's not looking too excited about it, though he's got some announcements to make, and gets right down to business. ]

I've got some good news and some bad news. The bad news is that guy Markel from that fun little shindig down in Florida is still around, and no one's got a trace on him yet. Worse news? A little digging told me he and his pet mooks from the Red Room, along with a few of Gaea's favorite kids - and her ugliest ones, the giants - are what took out Camp Jupiter. Figured the Romans here might like to know that, since none of you can agree on what did it.

[ Taking a breath, he offers a faint smile. ]

The good news is that I found a paper trail for the Red Room while I was in Celebration. Unfortunately, I'm a little hard pressed to read 'em myself, so I made some copies [ he holds up a stack of papers so they could see it through the rainbow, and when he does, there's a little chirping sound. He's got no clue what language it is, so this is on you guys. ] to bring back, in case any of you [ know-it-alls ] guys can--jeez!

[ Dean's in the process of looking down and jerks suddenly, his mouth dropping and eyes narrowing. There's a meow from below. ]

First werewolves in camp, now skeleton cats? I leave for a few weeks and we've got a damn monsters infestation...

[ He grumbles under his breath, side-stepping from the cat, obviously irritated and a little disgusted. You should all be glad he's not pulling his gun right now. ]

Anyway, if any of you kids think you can translate this, give me a shout.

arracht

[ What a time to be coming back to the Greek camp. Derek can't believe that his mom's kicked him out of California right before his birthday, but then again he's not really that surprised. Maybe she thinks it's an appropriate birthday present, actually giving him something to do and trusting that he'll make it to Camp Halfblood in one piece. Hell if he knows, he's just glad to be done with traveling.

He arrives on the outskirts while still wolf-shaped, shifting his weight back and forth before howling, like he's calling out-- he sort of is, for anyone in his Cohort that would recognize the cry, as well as to let Lupa know that he's back, if the goddess is still around. But after that, he weasels the strap of his bag off from around his neck so he can shift back.

When he's fully dressed again and adjusting the bag's strap so he can carry it over his shoulder, Camp Jupiter purple standing out, he slowly steps through the gates to the camp, brows raised while he scans the area, as if scoping out whether anyone's around or not.

At least he has some idea of where to go, even if it's been months since he was here. ]

wokethedragon

[Daenerys often looks into the Iris Message with a serious expression on - she carries herself with a regal air. It's not out of conceit or anything like that - it's the way she was raised. She does often smile and laugh, but she tries to hold herself with poise as much as she can. Her green dragon Rhaegal's at her side, though he's out of frame at the moment.

Today, though, she looks into the rainbow with a positively somber face. Her voice is quieter than usual, her lips tight, as if she doesn't know how to begin. Her eyes aren't red, but they certainly were about a half-hour ago. She didn't let anyone see that.]

When someone close to you has died...

[She frowns, shaking her head, and starts over.]

I've found that when someone dies, whether it be from old age or - gods forbid - on a quest, those close to the person are usually told in some way, so arrangements can be made. They're told so those who have come to a loss can grieve and work through it.

[She stops herself - she's getting upset again, almost angry, and her eyebrows furrow.]

What do you think would be a reason to not let someone know that? Because I have searched myself over and over, and I cannot find an acceptable one.

annieisntokay

--backdated to 9/23--

[Annie's made it back to the beach, climbing out of the surf looking very much like a drowned rat as the sun sinks lower and lower in the horizon. Her clothes have been left on the small cliff out past the forest, but she'll get them later. For now, she's in her swim suit, hair tangled and matted more than usual after a swim in the ocean. Her eyes are bright red and glazed, and any scratches she'd inflicted on herself have already healed thanks to the water.

She's out of breath, an unusual thing for a girl who can breath underwater, and looks around, panicked.] Not real. [Her hands are playing with the ends of her hair again, unaware to anything around her.] Wasn't real. Gabe did it. His fault. Not real.

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Half-Blood Hill

Entries tagged with c: tybalt stratford [october daye]

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