rain, it reminds me of tears (helen)

[van hayne]

Rain trickled down the dried bark of an oak tree, eventually making it's way into a silent stream, being carried along until it met with a river. The river would then carry it's full to a lake, where the rain water would sit for days upon days until finally the weather grew warmer and the rain evaporated, going right back into the clouds. Then when the clouds got too full, they would release their rain back to the earth, back to that tree with the bark, and the cycle would repeat until either the tree was cut down, the stream got filled, the river dammed...

Rain drops were like many tears, falling from the skies as though pitying those who had no more time to cry. As if the gods were crying over something, or maybe if the gods were too proud to cry, and forced Zeus to make the skies cry for them. 

Van traced his fingers over the slightly wet side of a old and dead tree, trying to make out the initials carved into the bark and surrounded by a heart. He could barely make them out because the wound had healed enough to hide the two lovers as though it were a secret.

Tears could be shed over things easily, nowadays. Sad movies, forbidden romance novels, two-day breakups, or even faked tears. Sometimes people just needed to cry to get things off their shoulders, while at other times, people cried over stupid and humiliating things. Meanwhile, some people refused to cry. Some people were still too proud, believing that they were too manly to cry. Just about everyone had to cry, though, for stupid reasons or not.

Today, in class, a girl broke down because of the algebra finals they were taking. No one could calm her down, not even the teacher, and so she had to be escorted to the office so that she could calm down without disrupting the rest of the class.

While walking home from high school, Van had seen a woman crying on a bench, in her late twenties, perhaps. Just one glance showed him that her major weakness was the man who sat beside her, looking awfully awkward and distressed. It only took the sixteen year old a couple minutes of staring to realize that the woman was crying over a breakup with the man, even after she had given him her heart.

It was cheesy, but it was true.

These eyes observed everything. And sometimes, Van Hayne did not want to see everything. He did not like this society. He wanted to belong to the olden days, when people did not have to go out on affairs to find love, and when people nearly did not cry over the unneeded drama that they themselves caused. 

A sigh escaped his lips as he felt the carving some more, realizing that this heart had been crossed out. Tears were probably shed over that, as well. Perhaps it was a breakup that made this tree deserved to be cut into. Did the love-struck person realize that this tree probably felt the pain? Would the person do that to someone else's body? People seriously had to think before they went and...

Van did not realize he was crying until he remembered that it was not raining, anymore.

He most definitely wasn't crying over a breakup. Nor was he crying to get attention. He was certain that no one around; he did not feel another aura near him. All he knew was that he was crying, for some ridiculous reason, and now that he started, he couldn't stop.

Black eyes opened and gazed at the tree he felt, wondering if the dryad who belonged to this tree could see him. He didn't care if it did. Who were dryads to campers, anyways? Merely nothings; no one usually cared about the well-being of these creatures. He wasn't crying over them, though, because he could admit freely that he truly didn't care about them. They could all drop dead, and he most likely wouldn't notice.

Maybe some people cried because they weren't noticed.

Or maybe because they didn't want to be noticed.

Reasons were beyond belief; he could start with the simplest of things, and he did not want to think about whether they were reasons he himself was crying or not. Because he just had to? Stress was easy to cry over, but him? Van Hayne, coolest boy in class? Coolest, mysterious boy in class? Boys like him didn't cry.

...Boys can cry. He was just glad that no one else was here to see it - because he was probably not one of those actors on television who could cry and look beautiful while doing so. 

[Helen Ronan]

Helen always loved the rain. After it was gone, it made the earth stand out more. Everything smelled more natural-and rarely did anyone ever try to steal from the fields when it was raining because the children of Demeter and, occasionally, Dionysus would be out there, helping the plants grow even better. Her siblings were there, actually. They were taking shifts working it-that way the strawberries wouldn’t get too overwhelmed with all the attention that was given to them. She knew that they acted somewhat like lunatics most of the time-acting as if the plants actually had emotions. It was true that some of them did-especially the trees that had spirits to remind them that they were alive. But, the strawberries didn’t have that. They weren’t actually alive. It just didn’t stop them from acting as if they did. Sometimes, if you were lucky, you’d find a child of Demeter out there, lying in a random row talking to the plants like they understood them.

She was often guilty of that. Sure, she had friends in her cabin, and she had friends that weren’t in her cabin. Helen Junia Ronan-getting her two first names from both Greek and Roman history-was not a hard person to get along with. And, as far as she knew, she also happened to be one of a kind. There weren’t many people who would willingly be a priest-or, in her case, a priestess-for a god that many people generally didn’t like. Having already been a demigod, they didn’t want to take on the responsibility of making sure that the other god was looked after. But, Helen was different. She was fair and wanted everyone to have someone to look after them; even the children of Zeus, whom her patron wasn’t particularly fond of. She had a mind of her own, however. One of her better friends was a daughter of Zeus who constantly tried to get her in trouble.

She told the plants her secrets because she couldn’t bear to keep them inside of her. But, she also didn’t particularly enjoy spilling her guts out to her friends. She trusted them with her life, sure, but not with her secrets. Likewise, the young priestess also never tried to get them to spill their guts to her unless they wanted to. She would keep them like a loyal friend, too. When she wasn’t praying, giving sacrifices, or even simply honoring her goddesses, then she was off talking to her friends-regardless of they were human, demigod, or nymph. If she was feeling particularly risky, she would send an Iris-message to her brother, Christian, and her father to inquire as to how they were doing and, possibly, make plans to go and visit them. Helen rarely did that, however, due to the fact that she figured her step-mom probably didn’t want to see her freak step-daughter anywhere near her normal, precious ‘son.’ She frowned, thinking about her family. She’d be lying if she said that, sometimes, she just wished Demeter hadn’t been a goddess or that she had chosen to stay with her dad. Then, she wouldn’t have to deal with Emily.

Sighing, she pulled her jacket on and excited Hera’s cabin. She still had about…two hours or so until she went on duty at the fields. Currently, she was wearing jeans that looked worn but weren’t. They were comfortable, and she wouldn’t mind getting them dirty later. She also had on a grey spaghetti strap that went underneath her white t-shirt. If she wanted it to, the design on it could have been covered by the long, black vest that she slid over it. She also had plaid rain boots that went over her jeans and a matching umbrella. She had a black bag that she slung over her head, on her shoulder so that she could later access her gloves and other small gardening tools. The umbrella, for the moment, was also in the bag. It wasn’t raining too hard-just enough to dampen her curly hair and make it seem as if she were crying.

But, the demigoddess wasn’t crying. When she was younger, before she had reached the camp, she would hold everything that ever happened to her inside of her until a day where it was raining. Then, she would go outside and find a nice place by some trees where she could curl up to ‘look at the rain as it fell’. In reality, she would cry. She would wait until the perfect moment where she could freely cry and not be afraid to be judged my Emily or her father, who probably wouldn’t help much if he ever saw her. Perhaps it wasn’t really healthy, but it was what she did to make herself feel better. Helen shook her head to draw herself from her thoughts as she headed into the forest. She was going to see if she couldn’t find any of her nymph friends that didn’t belong in the water. They were probably hiding inside of their trees because of the water, but she was hopeful that she would find one that was outside.

What she found, however, was not a dryad or a nymph. It wasn’t even one of her friends. It was a son of Hades that she had seen around camp but had never really spoken to. He was older than she was-and, considering he belonged to the cabin that was all about death, she hadn’t really made much of an effort to talk to him. But, he was out there alone. He looked like something was bothering him, but she didn’t want to pry. She was about to walk away, in a different direction, when she noticed that what she had seen falling down his cheeks weren’t excess water that had fallen from the trees. They were tears.

“Uhm…are you…okay?” She asked, almost hesitantly remaining a couple of trees away from him in case he proved to be hostile. “I don’t mean to pry-really. You just kind of...Hi, I don’t think we’ve talked much before. I’m Helen.”

---

Here's the outfit~

[/blockquote]

[van hayne]

Stress and drama. He finally picked that.

Being a demigod did not cause any excess stress. In fact, it should have caused less. As while regular teens usually were at school and either fighting over something or someone, demigods stayed here in camp most of the time, not really having academics to study for. Unless some went to school, but many did not.

If he did not care about his future resume for when - if, he meant, if - he had a life, he would also not go. In fact, he wouldn't leave from camp unless it were for personal needs.

Relationship drama would follow everyone everywhere, unless, of course, they decided to declare themselves outcasts, and keep their self distanced. Arguments between couples, break ups, and especially with the Aphrodite children who could force someone to fall in love with another by one of their love potions or something, relationships were bound to cause their stress. Love was a picky subject to fool around with, and maybe that was why he was crying as well.

He didn't like anyone. He didn't love anyone. Homophobics outnumbered people like him, so he did not want to get close enough to anyone and fall in love with them, only to be crushed when...

“Uhm…are you…okay?” the voice broke his train of thought, causing Van to tense and close his eyes, willing the tears to stop immediately. He knew why he was crying. He hated people. “I don’t mean to pry-really. You just kind of...Hi, I don’t think we’ve talked much before. I’m Helen.” Especially people who tried to care.

The brunette took in a shuddering breath, opening his eyes and throwing a quick glance over his shoulder, wondering why she was not behind him. Then he looked to the side and saw her. Brown hair that looked to be in curls, dark eyes, a small build and quite fashionable - maybe. She looked nice, but cautious, and she seemed slightly fearful of him, that explaining why she stood behind a tree a couple feet away. He could pick out features about her that he did not want to know, tiny things that gave her imperfections and yet made her all the more human, and telling from her aura and just her looks, she was - no, she had to be - a child of Demeter. Children of Demeter ventured out into the woods, even when there were still a mist coming from up above.

He wiped away his tears and gave a swift nod of the head, telling her he was okay. "It's okay. I'm Van." he introduced, absent-mindedly tracing his other hand over the carving again. Meanwhile, his thoughts were on other things; like this girl.

He had seen her around camp a couple times, though every time she did not pay the slightest mind to him. He did not care - he never cared, because he did not need to be noticed -, so he never usually paid attention to her. He liked to pay attention to his newest center of attention; children of Ares. He wondered how they could possibly be so dull, and like only violence and each other.

...Well, except one that he had been keeping his eye on.

Helen whatever-her-last-name-was looked interesting from afar, with a careful look on her face and shining eyes. Even if he didn't want to, he could tell she disliked it when people annoyed her. It was one of her weaknesses; annoyances? The same for Van; except everyone was an annoyance, especially his classmates who somehow found him so hot and cool.

Maybe being the most popular boy in class, and feeling the need to keep that reputation made him stressed, and that was why he had been crying.

Where was Raven? She always managed to find cover when it rained, though one would think that now the rain is over, she would come look for her master. Whatever. Van refocused on the girl until he found that he was tired of staring at the design on her shirt, or tired of trying to read those eyes, and looked back at the tree.

"You're a child of Demeter," he stated, shifting to lean on his left foot, for he was tired of putting most of his weight on his right. "you're good with nature; can you read the carving in this tree?"

[Helen Ronan]

She didn’t even know if he wanted her to be around. He certainly wasn’t meeting her gaze, yet. That part, at least, was good enough news, wasn’t it? It meant that she wasn’t being attacked. So, she didn’t have to worry about him jumping at her with whatever weapon he wielded. If he did that, it would cause her some problems. She wasn’t allowed to fight-not like she hadn’t ever even attempted to fight. Because, she had fought once. When she was younger and she would get picked on at school, she often got into brawls with other little girls-pulling their hair and scratching at them. She never was good at it. She always got beat and ended up looking horrible.

She would return home with scratches that were bleeding because she was always too proud to go to the nurse to make her feel better. Her nanny-Hera, she had to keep reminding herself that it was Hera and not just some random nanny-would always sit her down and take care of them for her. She would give her special juice-only a little, because too much of it made her stomach hurt-and Helen would wake up the next day without a single mark on her body. But, Hera wouldn’t just leave her there. She would also reprimand her for fighting and insist that she not try to do it again because, not only was it not ladylike, but she wasn’t good at it. Sometimes, when she was feeling particularly lonely in either cabin, she would wonder what her life would be like if she hadn’t ever come in any contact with Hera, too. She’d probably be as tough as a fighter as the Ares kids, with also being able to manipulate some of the plants around her into doing her bidding.

Of course, she was too nice for that. Sometimes, she didn’t give off that kind of impression, but she was. She always asked the plants for favor, she never demanded it from them-even though some of them couldn’t even talk back to her. She was always careful with them, too. If they died, she would have that sense of loss and wouldn’t know what to do. She took care of them-made sure they had enough water, made sure they had the best soil she could provide, made sure they had the perfect amount of sun. Sometimes, her umbrella would be seen over her patch of strawberries in the field so that they wouldn’t get too much sun-that would ruin them. Helen slid her hand over the tree beside her, her hands grazing against the cool, dark bark. The specific tree didn’t have a dryad or a nymph of any kind living inside of it. She had checked all of them. The ones that were closer to the camp had three of them living there, but the farther in you got, the more nymphs lived. They liked visiting the camp-visiting the children who took such grey care of them and their trees-but they didn’t like having to really be near the camp.

She dropped her hand and her attention shifted once more towards the boy, an easy, almost-invisible, little smile appearing on her face. He was lying; he wasn’t okay. Helen may not have been able to read people as well as certain campers, but she knew the difference between rain and tears. But, she let it go. She wasn’t going to force him to tell her anything-and she expected the same courtesy. “I guess this is the part where I’m supposed to say that it’s nice to meet you…so, it’s nice to meet you.” Of course, that little revelation left her slightly disappointed in herself. She had been at the camp a long time-well, a long time for a demi-god. She generally didn’t try to leave and would only do so when asked to spend time with her family. She supposed she should have tried to spend more time with the children of Hades, but they scared her. She didn’t like dead things-and that’s exactly what they made her think of.

When he stated that she was a child of Demeter, she raised an eyebrow but ushered a small, “Yeah.” Then, she slowly made her way towards him and towards the tree. She disliked it when campers carved into the trees-the other ones because children of Demeter would never even come close to daring to do things like that. She stood next to him, but didn’t pay him much of an attention. Her eyes were scanning over the carved words, but then she placed her hands on actual words and traced them with her fingers almost delicately. “I’m going to guess that you weren’t the one to do this, right?” She asked in a harsh tone-a tone that didn't really belong with her. Her head turning to meet his eyes without a single fear in her eyes. “Whoever did is lucky no one lives in the tree-they would have a permanent enemy within, then. And, the dryads and nymphs aren’t easy to forgive.”

“I can’t read the second name.” She told him, shifting her hand back up towards the first name. It saddened her somewhat that the heart was crossed out. If there were going to be words carved in a tree, she would have hoped that they had at least had the decency to stay together, but she didn’t know them-didn’t know their lives. “One of the names is Louis, though.”

[van hayne]

He could literally count the moments of silence that filled the air after he had introduced himself and asked that question. Silence was something he enjoyed, something he enjoyed much more than the loudness of crowds and whatnot, but he was curious who this tree had carved into it's side. He wanted to know if the people were still here, in camp, or not.

But the people most likely would not be here, because the tree had been trying to heal itself, and, in fact, still was healing itself. It was just taking some extra time, was all. Trees did not heal as fast as humans could heal, and humans could most definitely not heal as fast as demigods could heal... and no one could get started on the gods and how quickly they healed.

It was impossible to even start.

“I guess this is the part where I’m supposed to say that it’s nice to meet you…" Was it a question for him to answer? Van thought this for a second until she continued, "so, it’s nice to meet you.” She was 'supposed' to say it? What if it was not nice for her to meet him? In fact, she could hate him, and out of good will she would say that it was 'nice' to meet him anyways, perhaps to maybe make him feel welcomed in this camp, or to make him feel as though he had a friend, or perhaps to gain his trust? Maybe she was showing sympathy towards him.

All these questions were annoyances, deeply disturbing him in ways he had not led anything disturbed him in a long time. This was what he got for talking to people; annoyances in the head.

Not like he could not tolerate talking. This girl seemed level-headed in many more ways than he would imagine a girl as pretty as her to be. Girls who knew about their beauty were sometimes cocky, and that made him simply want to punch them in the face. Many of the girls in his classes knew they were pretty, were 'hot', and flirted with him, despite knowing of his rather cold personality. Sometimes, he swore, he could open his mouth and things would come out without him even realizing it - which was exactly why he did not open his mouth in the first place. He did not want to be the main problem as to why a girl was crying... though it would be a stupid reason to cry. He usually ignored them anyways, so wouldn't they learn better than to try and resolve with him?

When the daughter of Demeter - Helen, to be precise - came up next to him, he let his one hand fall back to his side. He truly did not want to touch the tree while she was touching it as well. Not like he had a thing against girls - he never truly believed in 'cooties', unlike some of the boys he had once known -, he just did not like to be close to people, is all. He trusted that Helen was a good person, just by her herself and the way she seemed... rather awkward with conversations and 'prying' and whatnot... he could trust her.

...But he would not go giving her all of his trust. She was merely another camper to him. Another camper for now.

He averted his attention to the girl next to him without turning his head away from the new hand that had replaced his on the tree. “I’m going to guess that you weren’t the one to do this, right?” he almost laughed at what she said, but he did not. Sure, like he would risk having one of those blasted dryads coming after him... and like he would ask a child of Demeter about the carving in the tree if he had been the one to do it. But everyone had their questions of doubt... her's just happened to be particularly... already answered.

"I thought every tree had...." he started quietly, racking his brain for any more knowledge that he might of rendered useless and pushed to the back of his mind about dryads and their trees and the tree spirits in general. He thought that every tree had a spirit in it... which was why he had felt bad for this tree in the first place. But he could still feel bad over it; the tree couldn't cry, and so this was why he had cried. For the tree.

...Stop making up excuses.

He noticed how her hand moved when she acknowledged him on how she could not read the first name. Well, that had been the name he had had most trouble on. The other name either began with an 'I' or an 'L', one of the two, but he could not make it out either way. He had nearly perfect vision, still always bound to have flaws when it came to looking at things up close, but the tree... he had a reason to not be able to read the name. “One of the names is Louis, though.”

Van allowed a smirk to play at his lips. "Because my name is Louis," he whispered quietly, sarcasm dripping from his voice. Louis could be a woman's name, though, couldn't it? He had not the slightest clue, though he did know that that woman in some show was named Louis. Louis... Louis Lane...? "...Oh," he started, looking over at her, black eyes sparkling with a new sort of interest. This girl was much more interesting now that she brought up the name Louis.

...Why, though? He pondered this in the back of his head, digging a hand into his black pea-coat pocket, taking a step backwards so that he could take in her features better than he would up close. "it is nice to meet you too, Helen."

notess;; the whole post itself is nine hundred and ninety nine words. xD

[Helen Ronan]

Helen dropped her hand and stared at the tree, tilting her head and frowning. She would come later-when she was better prepared and when there wasn’t anyone around to watch her-so sit by the tree and talk to it. It probably didn’t do much-considering no one was really inhabiting the tree, but now that she had seen the markings, she felt bad. Even if, once she got talking to the tree, nymphs, dryads, and just about anything else came out and asked her why she was talking to it, she wouldn’t let it distract her. She was going to be a teen on a mission to make it feel better. Besides, it only meant that she had to stop talking to the strawberries for a while. Eventually, she’d probably have to go in, but she often wandered into the woods on her own before. She was also sure that she wouldn’t make much of a difference, but even the smallest part helped.

She snapped her thoughts away from the tree when he started talking to her again, and she had to try to keep the sheepish expression off of her face while she did it. The attempt wasn’t too great, and even she was aware of how embarrassed she was. Thankfully for her, the topic turned back to something she knew about. And, it wasn’t even something that she casually knew-something that she only had to talk about for about five minutes before she nonchalantly changed the topic. “No, not all of them. Only some trees have nymphs living in them-and dryads-actual, dryads and not the coined name for all of them-only live in oak trees.” Her eyes brightened, considerably. “They are the Meliai-who are technically nymphs of ash trees. There are also Hamadryads-those are dryads that are actually the tree. Can you believe that? If a tree died, the hamadryad that lived there would die too.” She glanced at the tree and laid her hand on it again. “Not a lot of the trees actually have hamadryads-or, I don’t believe so. Maybe my siblings, my mother, and some others would disagree…If this tree had a Hamadryad, then it died a long time ago. Poor thing.” She frowned and felt an almost suffocating feeling in her chest. She brushed her fingers alongside the bark before taking a deep breath and looking back at Van, a small smile on her face. "If the forest were bigger, I’m sure the Napaeae would live here, too. The Pleiades are the companions of Artemis. And, oh Hades! Ah, sorry. Sorry for everything.” She bit her lip. “I tend to get carried away with things I actually know. I also didn’t mean to say your dad’s name, either.” She laughed, almost embarrassingly.

She normally didn’t talk nearly so much around people she had just met. And, while Van wasn’t exactly a new face to her, she hadn’t really ever talked to him. It wasn’t like he ever made the effort to talk to her-either. It was just that, before know, a child of Demeter and a child of Hades never had much of a reason to talk to one another. Even know, the only reason he was putting for the effort to talk to her was because he couldn’t read what the tree had said. For all he knew, she might not have been able to read it, either. He had just assumed, because of her parentage that she could tell. Though she tried not to be, Helen was the same way. She assumed that, because he was a child of Hades, he was associated with death. “Why did you want to know, anyway?” She asked, suddenly. While her attention has shifted off from apologizing, it had moved towards being extremely interested in her shoe once more. She didn’t even know why she was…so embarrassed around him. It probably had something to do with the fact that he made her nervous. He was, for lack of a better term coming to mind, scary-and not even in the same way the children of Ares were. They were frightening in the way that, if someone were to catch them on the wrong day, they would probably get punched to smithereens. He was just…intimidating in the way he refused to show any emotion.

He had whispered it. Because of that, she had almost missed what he had said completely. Her face went from one that was embarrassed, to confused, to blank. She gave him a look then returned her attention on the names carved into the tree. She pretended to read over it again-which, actually, wasn’t really pretend considering her eyes did scan over the tree once more. Then, she basically forced the color to return to her cheeks. Only, that time she wanted it to be tenfold. She wanted it to be as if she hadn’t noticed a small detail before, and that, at the moment, she was too embarrassed to tell him what it was. Helen opened her mouth, like she was going to tell him. Then, she gave it a couple of seconds before closing it once more and looking at him a bit shyly. “Well, your name might not be Louis but…” She trailed off, ducking her head so that her curls covered most of her face. She had a hard time acting-she wasn’t a born actress and thanked her mother and her deity that she wasn’t.

“What I don’t understand is why they would carve my-someone who belonged under the nonexistent flag of Demeter’s name into a tree.” She looked up, feigning that she hadn’t had the slightest idea of why. Anger flashed in her head once more. If someone really had done that-if someone actually had the nerve to carve one of her half-sibling’s name into the tree, then they probably had hell loosened on them for doing it. “I’m really just kidding.” She added, slightly tired of the joke. “My name isn’t Louis, either. It’s Junia-after Hera’s Roman counterpart.” She smiled when he took back-glad that they weren’t really in each other’s personal space. “I’m kind of glad that you said that. I really thought I was getting on your last nerve for a moment there…”

---

Note: XD Oops! It's 1,035...I got carried away rambling.

[van hayne]

The information she spoke was very interesting, but Van could not help drifting off again, looking at the tree. There was no spirit for this living thing? Not like he truly cared whether it had a spirit or not... but he was sort of glad. The spirit would not only be angered, but would be hurting because of the harsh wound it received in it's battle of giving. Trees gave everything, nowadays. Soon there would be none left, and then there would be complete and utter chaos.

...With the Demeter children, that is.

"The Pleiades are the companions of Artemis. And, oh Hades! Ah, sorry. Sorry for everything.” Was that supposed to be offensive to the brunette? Because it wasn't. Van didn't really know his father - and it would be after hell froze over that he went to visit him. He would love to actually see his father for a day, get to know the man he never met, but he feared the dead more than he feared anything. He would rather die before he went to the underworld... "I also didn’t mean to say your dad’s name, either." Had she said something before that? He didn't catch it.

He had to hold back from smiling. She seemed interesting, very interesting. If only he didn't feel the need to space out on her. Then he would ask her to repeat herself again, and then he would inquire on why she was not writing a book about all this knowledge she held. Of course, she would probably look at him as though he were nuts.

"Why did you want to know, anyway?" asked Helen, and he focused all of his attention on her, noting how she did not do the same thing.

Why did he want to know? He was curious, yes. Perhaps he just needed to change the subject from her asking if he were okay to something else. It has most definitely worked. But there was a deeper reason. He just wanted to know. He knew a lot about this camp, but relationships he kept his business away from. So if there was a Louis and their partner in this camp, Van wanted to know about them - from their simple activities to what they did when away from each other. He wanted to know why they broke up, because he was curious, because he wanted to know everything about this camp, starting with the campers in it itself.

He just barely knew anything about Helen.

"I--" he went to start, stopping himself before he could. Was he truly going to say that? ...No. "...I like nature, a lot." he stated, and it was true. He loved nature and every little bit of it. He was compatible with the forest, the animals, for gods' sake, even land. So that could be a good reason.

Unlike some people, who did not particularly like nature.

“What I don’t understand is why they would carve my-someone who belonged under the nonexistent flag of Demeter’s name into a tree.” she said simply, a look of anger flashing across her face for a second.

Van arched an eyebrow, confusion overwhelming him. He wanted to know what she meant by that. Her-someone? Perhaps she didn't mean to add the 'my' part and simply corrected herself. But the non-existant flag? That just topped everything else off. The sixteen year old had not a clue what she was trying to get through to him.

"I'm really just kidding." she then said, and Van clicked his tongue in amusement. He had no clue what she was kidding about, but he could at least pretend he found it funny. She then stated our her name was Louis, but... “I’m kind of glad that you said that. I really thought I was getting on your last nerve for a moment there…”

Van shrugged. She wasn't really, she was just very chatty. And he didn't mind that - making up for his lack of speaking back, she could instead talk. "Interesting," he commented on her middle name being the counterpart of Hera's. "I like your middle name."

Because what kind of middle name was Myles? What name was Van, even?

[Helen Ronan]

Oh, why couldn’t she shut up? She was social enough, sure, but she tended to lean more towards being introverted than she did never talking. And, even when she was apologizing, it was like she couldn’t shut up. She could chalk it up to being nervous, but them she would really just being giving an excuse. And, that wasn’t in her nature to do, either. Besides, why should she apologize when he was the child of Hades, not her? Oh, but that was a prejudice way of thinking that she should push out of her head, but she couldn’t. The things he could do…it scared her to think about it.

When he answered her question, Helen stared at him. It wasn’t that she didn’t believe him-because, she could kind of see that he did. But, it just didn’t feel like that was what he wanted to tell her at first. “You don’t like to talk a lot, do you?” She asked, trying to make sound polite and not like she just wanted him to talk so she wouldn’t feel uncomfortable. Because, even though that was a reason that she was trying to make him talk, it certainly wasn’t the only reason. “You’re also not like your siblings. One of them enjoys killing our strawberries…we just can’t figure out which one it is…” But, she grinned and returned her eyes to him since they had trailed off and focused on the tree again. “I know it’s not you, though, and that’s a relief.”

She flushed, smiling. Most people tended to tell her, though they didn’t mean to offend, that they didn’t like her name. They didn’t like it because they didn’t like the goddess. It wasn’t a secret that she was everyone’s least favorite-at least, after Eris. Helen, too, had a similar feeling. “Really? I don’t. Sometimes I wonder just why my deity picked me.” She shrugged. “And, if she didn’t do it, strategically, from the beginning.” She looked down, wondering just why she had told him that. She didn’t know him; couldn’t say that she honestly trusted him with anything, but something about his quiet demeanor just drew it out of her. “Do you ever wonder that? Why everything happened to you and not someone else?”

If he didn’t, then she would feel incredibly stupid, but she had already said it and it wasn’t as if she could take it back. If she could, then she would have taken it out already. “It’s so weird to think about us from their point of view. I know we don’t count our divine heritage, but imagine if we did. All of us here, technically, are related.” Helen, really, just wanted to get away from their previous topic. “We’d be cousins.”

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