Post by kat greyson on Nov 6, 2011 21:27:56 GMT -5
| [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 400px;] katrina faith greyson kat, kitty, katie . fifteen . female . straight . demigod child of urania, goddess of astronomy appearance: Most describe Miss Kat Greyson as a very pretty young lady. Clocking in at five feet and six inches, she’s average height but leaning towards the taller side. It is estimated that she won’t grow much taller than what she is now, since she is long past puberty and her growth has already spurted towards it’s last inch. Lacking the typical string-bean physique of most ‘pretty’ girls, Kat weighs about one hundred and twenty-three pounds, none of which is fat except a touch on her thighs. The reason she is a bit heavier than the stereotype of a beautiful girl is her lean but very much there muscles. Her stomach is gloriously flat and her hips full and swing-y as she walks. Long, thickly muscled legs are what usually people find ungainly about her, since she swims quite a bit appear a bit uneven. But if one so much as touches her calves, they’ll feel that Kat is not so much of an overweight girl, after all. Alright, enough with our little Urania girl’s body type. I think we all get it- she’s curvy. Now let’s move on to the most noticeable trait about a woman; her hair. Kat doesn’t have the usual ‘flowing flaxen ringlets’ or ‘raven black tresses’ associated with beauty, but red hair. And not that ugly, orange-y color that looks like cat puke. Oh no, it’s crimson. Like blood, but not as morbid looking. Of coarse it’s not a natural shade, but a flattering one all the same. It sits on her shoulders most of the time, falling a bit wavy and fashionably unkempt, but little strands reach to her armpits when she straightens it. She keeps her left bangs held back by a bobby pin, since a while ago she had a haircut that made only that side flop over her eyes and dislikes it now. Then we have her also unique-to-any-mortal eyes. Flawlessly passed on from generations, Kat’s eyes are perfect copies of her mother’s and perhaps her aunts’, which draws quite a bit of attention from mortals. Her eyes appear a very light green in most lights, but whenever it gets just a touch dim, the irises take on an ocher tint. In all situations, those windows to the soul are animated and expressive, portraying any and every emotion clearly with just a fleeting glance from another person. Oh goodness, we mustn’t forget the most important part of this whole entire passage about appearances! The face! Kat’s face is an adult-like one, failing to harbor any hint of her age, not even a pimple. She is very precise about make-up and keeping her face just as fresh and pretty as it was when she was a little girl. The only thing showing that she’s only an adolescent is the slight sprinkling of freckles dashed across her cheeks and nose. And even that doesn’t ruin her appearance: it only makes her seem endearing and innocent, which the latter she can be but is usually not. Whenever she speaks, her full lips move alluringly slow along with her light, breathy and mildly raspy voice. Her smiles are often and rather timid, portraying her as all the more doll-like. Fair, pure white skin coats her entire body, not a very noticeable feature but one lovely enough to inspire her father to name her Katrina, meaning ‘pure’. face claim: susan coffey personality: Kat could be described as studious. She was enrolled in honors and gifted classes in school, which someone must be quite bright to be able to do. Most often she is seen hunched over a reading book, truly attempting to improve her literary skills but usually coming to no avail. She doesn’t read much, simply because the books she is able to understand are bland and unappealing. So, usually, she refers to science and history books instead. Science has and always will be her strongest subject, but astronomy rules over every subject and sub-subject that there is for her to learn about. She has memorized the moons of all the planets, what they are composed of, their exact distance from Earth and/or the Sun, all the constellations and their names, and can easily drone on and on about her mother’s domain, boring anyone who takes it upon themselves to ask for a lecture. Kat has always struggled to fit in. She has never been much of a social butterfly, and doesn’t want to start being one now. You could say she has social issues. Whenever she speaks, she sounds uneasy and spooked, as if she’s worried if you’ll take offense to her any statement. She talks to herself and seems to laugh nervously a lot. In school she hung around the popular kids, but was never very close to any of them. Her only friend, Sofia, was not at all very known or loved at school, and unfortunately, was not the brightest bulb in the world, so had no classes with Kat. But there is also a hidden part of Kat’s personality that only comes out when she’s around boys she likes. Her coquettish side. It’s definitely not something you see everybody, but when Kat flirts, she will get anything. She has become quite an expert at it, her small smirks, soft touch, and her long lashes making it rather easy to lure any male in. There has been quite an array of boyfriends for the past two years, all declined after a maximum time of a month and a minimum of an hour of being together. When it comes to boys, Miss Greyson can be rather uncaring and impassive when it comes to their feelings. Another thing most would not suspect with Kat’s exterior temperament- she is quite a silly and cheerful soul. She’s playful and mischievous, a dark little smile frequently gracing her features. As everyone has their way of getting their anger out, she does it by teasing. Poking fun at silly answers on test questions, stealing other kids’ cookies at lunch and nibbling on them before giving them back, squirting her hands with that foamy soap and then clapping so it spatters all over everyone else, little pranks like that just to playfully irk others. She teases everyone, careful not to take it too far of offending someone. But occasionally she does, and particularly enjoy the sensation. Obviously everyone would wonder ‘wow, look at Kat. Is she always this bitchy?’ and that doesn’t bode well in this young lady’s case. She hates being looked down upon, always wants people to adore her. And when that doesn’t happen, Kat is not a happy camper. The needs of keeping her living space clean aren’t too high on her priorities list. In other words, Katrina Greyson is a slob. Her writing desk, which she enjoys sketching on, is cluttered with crumpled up pieces of paper, mini-cereal boxes, cups, spoons, paint, yogurt cups. The drawers are stuffed with things that would ever be near each other in an organized individual’s room. A Gatorade bottle still with blue liquid in it, and right next to it half of a plastic Easter egg, a full sketchpad, a green hairclip, and a money purse. Since she has a top bunk, she likes to hang stuff on the ladder and the bars above her mattress. There is a dreamcatcher stapled to the ceiling above her, glow-in-the-dark stars also glued to the upper wall, and a huge multitude of photos and drawings on the wall by her bed. She’s sort of made her sleeping area like a little bedroom in itself. Coarse, Kat isn’t all fun and games. When it comes to food and money, when she takes it, oh its fine, but when others take hers, it should be a crime! Most things she’s not selfish about, but with those two things, don’t touch them or she’ll hurt you. Simple as that. Sure, she buys brand new shoes and gives them to charities when she has enough money, passes her nice clothes that didn’t fit her to the Salvation Army. But she never, ever gives up just plain money. You could call her a money hoarder; her parents emphasized saving so much she rakes in cash and currently has nearly fourteen hundred dollars in a safe hidden under her bed, and refrains from using it until she really needs it. In short, Kat can be a very nice person to have around, and she can also be exactly the opposite. All depends on who you are. likes: --drawing --star-gazing --getting money --studying --laughing --turtles and pandas dislikes: --thunder --green peppers --ugly people --metal music --the elderly (they make her nervous) --any canines or bears strengths: --artistic --a great liar --good-natured weaknesses: --a sour temper --holds grudges --way too emotional sometimes fears: --anyone dying in front of her --tornadoes --vacuums fatal flaw: Kat’s fatal flaw is her view on the world. She sees everyone as a fine, lovely person, until her ideas are abruptly shattered, and it’s too late to put them back together, and too late to save her own self. weapons: Kat has a three-foot-long celestial bronze sword, the light of which is so great is could quite possibly blind someone who doesn’t witness visions of the future from the stars. It has three sections and can fold inside itself so it fits inside the lovely silver hilt carved with a diagram of the constellation Pisces that always hangs on her belt. magical items: At first glance, this device looks like an iPod touch. But it only has one purpose- to let her edit and create constellations. She only uses it at night, because it is very sensitive to light, and if turned on during the day, will malfunction. It works a bit like this- Kat draws a line sketch on the little canvas, then taps each little point for one star. She double taps in the center of the design, and bam. There’s a new little pattern in the sky. These constellations are only visible to gods and demigods, and to some mortals who see through the mist. Kat has begun calling it Exemplum, for it’s meaning in Latin. hometown: New Rochelle, New York. parent: Travis Greyson sibling(s): None other: Aunt- Sadie Greyson. Niece- Hayleigh Greyson. Nephew- Samuel Greyson. Grandparents- Rebecca and Charles Greyson. Step-Mother- Eleanor ‘Ella’ (Monroe) Greyson pet(s): A red, white, and brown hamster. Named Oswald, or Ozzie. Often gets loose from his cage, and spooks the female members of the minor gods cabin quite a bit. Like popping up from underneath the covers of one girl, landing on the head and chewing on the hair of another. He always seems to find himself in mischief. history: The diner was empty except for five visitors, all of their gazes trained on the young man standing at the phone booth, chewing on his nails nervously. They all knew his story, as the lady at the counter had asked him what was wrong when he sulked into the restaurant looking gloomy. Travis Greyson was his name, and he had missed a date with his girlfriend solely because his twelve year old sister Sadie has a chorus concert. Most of the townies already knew Travis as the young man fresh out of college, born in raised in Rochester by his well-known parents. Everyone knew Rebecca and Charles Greyson as the teacher and the carpenter, very church-y people and bringing any new neighbor a huge tin of cookies. Sadie was the sweet daughter, and Travis was the successful photographer son. “Liz, please, she’s nagged me about it for months…” “Do I sound like I give a shit? I thought you cared about me more than that little brat of a sister you have.” An angry female voice snarled at Travis from the other line. “She’s not a brat! She just wanted me to hear her sing!” He defended his sister incessantly, as always. “Whatever. If you put a little kid ahead of me, than we’re done. Don’t call me again, and I mean it, or I’ll call the cops.” The line went dead, probably from Liz hanging up. Travis sadly put down the phone, silently paid the wide-eyed cashier, and shuffled outside with his head held low. Later, Travis felt extremely lucky he didn’t cry once he reached the meadow. The meadow behind his house, belonging to his neighbor but usually only used by Travis and Sadie, could have been a sacred spot. They played in it when they were children, and now often just sat there and talked about school and other things going on in their lives. Travis now could have lived there, the times he took his ex-girlfriend Liz there and all his other girlfriends. But tonight was different. He was utterly alone, and was sketching stars in his notebook to keep his mind off of Liz. A shadow moved from the tree above him, and he glanced up at the feminine figure of a woman crouched in the branches. A giggle echoed from above, as the lady hopped down beside him. “Uh…y-you know this is private property, don’t you?” Travis managed to stammer. A stray moonbeam jumped out of line to descend upon the girl’s face, illuminating her beautiful features and the mischievous smile playing at her lips. “If it’s private property, then why are you on it? I can tell by your clothes you’re not rich enough to own this land.” “I’m Victoria, by the way. Victoria Stellar. It’s a mouthful, I know, but you can call me Vicki.” Another stunning smile, and Travis was awestruck once again. “Travis Greyson.” Vicki tilted her head. “Greyson? I’ve heard that name before. Everyone says your parents are really nice. Rebecca and Charles, I presume?” He nodded dumbly, scratching his head. Vicki giggled and leaned over his drawing. “Ooh, constellations! I love- hold on a sec, Kochab should be directly parallel to Polaris. The handle of the dipper is too curved. Straighten it out a bit.” “Uh…what’s Kochab?” The young man asked. “Right there.” Vicki pointed to the back end of the bowl of Ursa Minor. “You can always tell it because straight across from Pherkad. People call them the guardians of the Pole, because it looks like they’re guarding Polaris, plus they themselves used to be pole stars.” Travis gazed dumbfounded at the woman. “How do you know this much about stars?” Vicki shrugged. “I just do, I guess.” Every night after that, whenever Travis was in the meadow, so was Vicki. After about two weeks, they were best friends and they both knew almost everything about each other. Vicki told him about her eight older sisters and how they always teased her, and how her mother abandoned them when they were young to run off and be a criminal. Travis gushed out all his long-held in feelings about his reputation, angrily telling her he wanted to be a bad boy sometimes, just to see what his parents would think. Another week passed of these secret meetings, and they had begun a playful little relationship. Vicki pecked Travis playfully on the cheek, ending up a little close and tempting the man to kiss her full-on. Slowly they fell in love, and after a flirty little conversation, the two lovers would make out and fall asleep in each other’s arms. One night they took it a little too far, with ten bottles of beer scattered around the sleeping couple by morning. Vicki woke up first, horrified, and slipped back into her clothes, before dashing off into the woods just before the dawn. Travis regained consciousness two hours later, with a splitting headache and a longing for his partner. That night he returned, sitting in the tree Vicki had first surprised him by jumping down from, and waited patiently for his lover. She came late, nervous with a bruised face. Travis leaped down and caressed her cheeks in his hands. “Vicki, what’s wrong?” “I have to say goodbye.” Vicki blurted, shrinking away from his touch. Travis’s face fell. “What?” Vicki chewed on her lip, brushing her thick red hair from her eyes. “I can’t be with you anymore. It’s too complicated…I can’t put you in danger. My life is dangerous.” “Please, Victoria, it can’t be too dangerous.” “Yes it is. I have to leave now.” With that, Vicki kissed him passionately one last time, before dashing off. She never returned. For months it seems Travis was doing well, getting a nice job as a professional photographer and moving into his own apartment. But he only moved away to get away from his cheery family that had no idea about his quick but meaningful affair, or that Victoria Stellar even existed. He sulked in his apartment, spending loads of money on alcohol, and lots of it. Late one night, he heard his doorbell buzz obnoxiously on one of the rare occasions he wasn’t drunk as a lumberjack. “Damn kids…” He mumbled under his breath, heading towards the door and expecting to see one of the troublesome children that wrecked havoc on the older inhabitants of the complex, including the twenty-one year old Travis. He slung open the door, only to see…the back of Vicki’s head turning away from him. Travis leaped from his perch on the step, taking off down the hall towards her. “VICKI!” He yelled. He caught up with her, grabbing her wrists and swinging her around to face him. “Why did you not come back? Why did you run away? Talk to me, Vicki!” Travis shook her shoulders, desperately trying to pry answers out. Vicki chewed on her lip. “My name’s not Vicki. My name is Urania, and I am an immortal Muse of Astronomy. There. Happy?” Travis shook her again. “I’m not kidding!” “Neither am I. Now let me go before I scream and tell everyone you’re assaulting me.” Travis’s hands dropped. “You wouldn’t.” “I would.” “Why?” “Why is a meaningless question. All that will bring you is pain. And make you arrogant because you know things others don’t.” With those words, Victoria Stellar, or Urania, sprinted down the hallway and out of sight. Travis found her on his doorstep as he trudged back to his apartment. She was small, a little too small, with pale skin and freckles splattered across her cheeks. Travis picked her up, and immediately knew this child was his former lover’s. Her messy red hair matted around her neck and a slight fuzz atop her head, and those lovely, topaz eyes. The girl looked nearly just like her mother, except for the round nose her father had. That nose gave her away. Upon seeing it, Travis was also positive this was his child too. Travis kept his daughter, whom he named Katrina for her pure white skin he was so stunned by, mainly away from his parents. Sadie was a large part in the first two years of fatherhood, when he was pretty much alone. She did pretty much everything, which is one of the reasons the two are so close now. At first Katrina was a giggly, silly, and noisy little baby, the hit of the party at any date or celebration Travis attended. He had to let her tag along, since there was no-body else but Sadie who would volunteer to babysit, and his sister was still a little young to be home alone with a baby at night. Until he saw Ellen Monroe’s ad in the paper. It advertised cheap, but quality service at any hour of any day. Travis called her up and asked her to be the nanny to his daughter. He received a chatty reply, and then the lady hung up. A sharp rat-ta-tat-tat on the door was sounded, the young man opened the door, expecting to see an old woman. Loose blond curls, baby blue eyes, and smooth, voluptuous curves. Almost as pretty as V-Urania. Almost. She grinned at Travis cheerfully. “Hi! I’m Ella Monroe, and I’m here to take care of your kid!” This girl was probably younger than him. How would she know how to take care of a child? Little Kat had made her way over, sucking her thumb and holding a plush Aflac duck. Her big, light hazel eyes stretched wide as she gripped her father’s boot. “Hey there, little girl!” Ella greeted cheerfully, dropping down to Kat’s height. The small girl shrank away. “Who’re you?” Her voice was high and her words slushed together, as was the voice of a two-year-old should have been. Travis picked up his child and took a few steps backwards. Ella looked confused. “Sorry lady, you’re not touching my daughter.” Kat took a glance up at her father’s face, before nodding three times in agreement. Ella sighed. “I promise I won’t hurt her. Ask anyone in New York, they say I’m a total sweetheart and I’m great with kids.” Travis looked her up and down skeptically. A floral dress reaching to her mid-thigh and dark leggings, accompanied by shiny black flats with a bow on the end. Sure, she looked like a sweetheart, but did that mean she acted like one? “W-Well…I don’t want you around her unless I know you.” Travis decided. Ella shrugged impassively. “Fine by me!” She said with a grin. A couple dates followed, mostly in the coffee shop near Travis’s apartment. Travis felt…drawn to her, not because she was pretty, but because she was just so cheerful all the time. So, after three months of dating, they were married. Thank the gods Ella was a keeper. Travis barely knew her, so they really got to know each other living together in that cramped little apartment. Kat grew to adore her step-mother, going from ‘Ella’ to ‘Mama Ella’ to ‘Mommy’ in a matter of weeks. Every morning when Katrina woke up, Ella would be right beside her, brushing her thick red hair and kissing her head. Kat entered kindergarten at five years old, and adored it. She came home on the first day and dragged all the chairs she could find into the living room and sat her dolls down on them, afterwards pretending to teach them all. Ella peered at her step-daughter from a crack in the door, Travis standing behind her. “What’s she doing?” He asked, trying to see around her. “Oh, it’s so cute! She’s got all her dolls in the living room, and she’s teaching them how to read…” Ella smiled, before straightening and turning round, accidentally brushing her lips against Travis’s cheek. Both of them froze and stood still for a long moment. Carefully, so she knew exactly what he was doing, Kat’s father took Ella’s chin in one hand, and gently pulled her closer to him. He smirked softly, and leaned in for the kiss. When Kat was six, a once in a lifetime encounter changed her destiny, to whether or not she would truly be involved with her demigod roots or if she would live as a mortal. What started as a simple trip to the supermarket had a stunning effect on the daughter of Urania’s future. Letting go of Ella’s hand, six-year-old Katrina scampered away from her guardian and towards the free samples of Lindt chocolate. After very nearly stuffing her face with the treats, she found herself lost. Ella’s blond braid was nowhere to be found. “Mommy!” Young Kat cried, shoving past one of the men standing near the sample counter and running through the crowd. As she weaved in and out between the uneven clumps of people, she failed to notice the menacing man in a trench coat lurking behind her. He had found her. At last, he had found his very own demigod. He would take pride in killing this one, as it was his very first. The child’s scent wasn’t too strong, but strong enough to call to him as he walked by the meats section in search for a lost little godling. Just as he was about to grab the little one by her coat, the girl was pulled upwards and into someone’s arms. The Cyclops stared at the woman holding her, thick red hair curling loosely around her shoulders, golden-green eyes steely and fierce. The little demigod stared up at her, bewildered by this woman suddenly snatching her up as if protecting her from something. A low growl reverberated through the throat of the creature, as he slowly stalked away from the imposing young woman. Kat glared at the woman skeptically. “You have my eyes. Why do you have my eyes?” The woman chuckled. “I believe it’s, since I’m older than you, that you have my eyes.” How her daughter had changed from infancy to childhood! That matted mess of crimson on her head had developed into deep red ringlets hanging to her shoulders. Her eyes, the trademark of the Muses and their mother, were almost exact copies. Vickie Stellar grinned down at her child, gently stroking her curls in a motherly manner. Slipping a note into Kat’s jacket without her noticing, she set her down, kissed her hand, and sent her off with a wistful look in her eye. Ella had swept the little girl into her arms and toted her straight out of the store, forgetting her groceries and simply being glad she had found her step-daughter. After buckling her into her carseat and handing her some candy, Kat’s sudden disappearance was all but forgotten. That night, as Katrina fell asleep in her father’s arms, he saw the note left in the coat she had forgotten to take off. Travis gently took it out and read it, though it was an awkward position since Kat’s head was on his chest and her entire body was curled on its side and snuggled against him. The note explained who and what ‘Vickie’ was, and that she hadn’t been lying when she told him she was Urania, the Muse of Astronomy. It told where Kat should go when she was older, a place in Long Island called Camp Half-Blood, and why she needed to go. Travis slipped the note back into the envelope, and crammed it between the mattress and the wire bottom of the bed, before falling asleep himself. By morning, he had forgotten all about the whereabouts of the letter, only remembering the context. Kat hadn’t. She found it sticking out below her mattress, and at that time only knew how to read huge, print letters, so this tiny cursive scrawl was completely foreign to her. So she stashed it behind her bookcase for a later day when she could read it. Unfortunately, she too forgot about it. As Kat grew older, it became clear that she was not normal. She expressed a deep connection to the heavens and the constellations, often falling asleep on their balcony with a pencil in her hand and a notebook on her lap. Energetic and easily distracted, it was clear she was ADHD. Her dyslexia was harder to diagnose. Most children with dyslexia hate reading; Kat loved it. She struggled and managed to pull through with Ella’s help, but she hated the books that were on her level. They were all so bland and dull, and she yearned to be able to read better so she could advance to more interesting storylines. She tried glasses, she tried sitting alone without any help from her step-mother, and she tried leaning heavily on others to help her with the tricky words. Most of her language arts teachers knew Kat was trying very hard, so they allowed her extra credit to pull her up to passing. Throughout her elementary school years, Kat often broke down in tears because of her futile attempts at reading fluently. At lasted Travis was told that his daughter had dyslexia. When he told Kat, she stood up and marched into her bedroom furiously, slamming the door so hard it rattled the walls. He heard sobbing and the sound of a boot hitting walls and furniture. After she had fallen asleep, Travis peeked inside. His nine year old’s face was tear-streaked and pinched in anxiety, and the room was scattered with books thrown on the floor. Two of her favorites, a book about Greek Mythology and another about The Little Snowflake, lay in the waste basket with pages torn out. Curled up at her chest was their Sphinx cat, Jarvis, with his head underneath her hand and a knowing look in his eye. Her peers took little notice of her. She was studious and often called out for her high marks and good temperament by her teachers. However, the other students thought she was stuck-up. Kat disliked socializing and wasn’t a member of any cliques, instead staying on the outskirts of the nerdy group for a long while. Her only friend was a girl named Sofia, an overweight child who was always picked on. Sofia had a skinny older sister, Talia, who loved to torment Kat. “Look at you, smart girl. You know no boy’s gonna like a freckle-faced carrot top. Put on some makeup and dye your hair, maybe then some might think you’re mildly attractive. But I doubt it; you’ve got braces and you’re not thin enough.” In the summer after fifth grade, Kat decided she wanted to be not just pretty, but stunning. She persuaded Ella to apply burgundy highlights to give her hair intensity it hadn’t possessed before. Travis was intrigued by this new girl his daughter had become, who applied make-up daily and texted like he had never seen anyone before. For a short while, mainly in her fifth and sixth grade year, she was a total teenage stereotype, except the disrespecting her parents part. Kat wore skinny jeans nearly every day, always had on thick eyeliner and eyeshadow, had plenty of zits and pimples, developed stretch marks and cellulite, and ‘became a woman’ when she was ten years old. Puberty for Kat was a bit early, but it has left her, at this age, rather fully developed and wise to younger girls about womanly things. When Kat was nine, her Aunt Sadie, her father’s sister, gave birth to two little blonde twins, a boy and a girl, named Hayleigh and Samuel. These little infants became like Kat’s baby siblings- the twins’ father had abandoned Sadie and her children as soon as they were born, and was then killed in a car accident that very night. Travis became like their father, and Kat served as a babysitter and a loving older sister. Ella obsessed over the two cherubs, always buying toys and clothes as she had for her step-daughter. These small children have eaten their way into their cousin’s heart, softening her up to children and giving her a very maternal instinct over anyone younger than her. But before she had time to fully mature, they moved into a little cottage off in the outskirts of New York City. Kat was twelve by this time, and read cursive and smaller words nearly perfectly. She found the note behind her bookcase where she put it years before, covered in dust and cobwebs. After brushing it off, she read it. She stormed downstairs, yanked her father off into another room, shut the door, and held the note out to him. Travis’s eyes widened visibly. “How did you find that?” Kat rolled her own intense green-gold orbs. “How do you think? You left it in my room, a loooooong time ago.” She smirked, before turning serious once again. “Is it true? Is that my real mother, instead of the skanky hooker you made her out to be?” “I never talked about her that way!” “Well, you need to make it clear you didn’t think about her that way. I thought she was a slut who made her living sleeping around. You never told me she was nice. You never told me that she saved my life. I just thought that lady was some weirdo with eyes like mine who liked kids. Not my mother.” Travis didn’t speak for a long time. His daughter tapped her foot impatiently. “Do I have to go to that camp she talked about?” She questioned, sighing. The older man standing across from her chewed on his lip and nodded tightly. “When I got that letter, Kat, you were a tiny little girl, barely older than a toddler. I didn’t think I would need it anytime soon, or maybe not at all. I don’t know if you read this part, but you’re not a very powerful demigod. You could live a happy life, oblivious to your heritage. But I think it’s best that you learn about who your mother really is and help your fellow demigods out. I think you’ll be a good addition to Camp Half-Blood.” Later that month, Kat entered the camp for the first time. She was timid and frightened by it, choosing to stay away from her cabinmates and train on her own. Her sword-fighting skills were superb and her archery could use a bit of improvement but not much. However, with aerial techniques and dagger fighting, she was ungainly and clumsy. From the beginning, Kat knew she had some sort of divine ability. This power began to show up a month after she came to camp. She noticed she saw things in the stars, though only glimpses at that time, that happened later. One night she saw a volleyball hurtling towards her, and low and behold the next day she was hit in the face by one. She heard her dad’s voice saying, ‘Jarvis is sitting on my head.’, and he called later that day, saying just that. It sort of creeped her out at first, but she got used to it later on and decided to go out every night, trying to influence what she sees and elongate the running time of the moving images racing through her mind. She succeeded, to an extent, and is now able to see clear images with only a goldish haze over them, hear words straight from people’s mouths, and feel things, though touching is reduced to a milder effect. For her sixth-eighth years in school, Kat was only at camp for the summer. But, earlier this year, she started high school and abhorred it with a passion. She was flirted incessantly with by the male seniors and juniors, and criticized and gossiped about 27/7 by most of the girls. The moment she got home she punched a huge hole in the wall, and hastily scribbled down a short letter on a post-it note; I have no tolerance for this crap I’m getting at school. I’m going to Camp Half-Blood, and I’m not coming back except for big holidays and you guys’ birthdays. Which is where she is now, little known at camp and frightened. ( D: that was longer than I anticipated…) rp sample: Ruthie felt...important. Like being an eighth grader in middle school, conversing with the little sixth graders. Her grip on the fish tightened at the addition of yet another set of newcomers, most of them shy little females. She smirked and blew her wet hair out of her eyes, dreading the time when they dried. Salt-water was not good for hair, she was positive about that. She tossed the fish in the shade so they wouldn't bake in the sun, in the process ripping the string from her shorts and leaving the edges frayed. Not that she cared. They were just shorts; patching them up with spare scraps was alright by her. She knew how to sew, though not very well. Just well enough to attach patches and hem up ripped parts. Personally, Ruthie didn't like the newbies very much. She hadn't been all awkward when she came nearly ten months ago. The low-down on it was basically that she had fallen, landed in a tree, hopped down straight into the camp, scared all the inhabitants out of their britches, and then after an hour or two caught the tricks of the trade and was just as at home as the others. But, this Noelle girl, decided to be a silver lining on this whole dark cloud and earn Ruthie's adoration by picking up a fish and beginning to gut it. She lifted her arms in the air and shook her head around. "Hallelujah! You are now my favorite person in the world. She too grabbed a fish, picked up the old rusty razor blade she usually used cutting fish, and sliced into the belly, right through the scales. Sure, it looked vile, but it made for good eatin'. Ruthie didn't bother reminiscing on how she got there, judging by the some others' expressions they were. She didn't like thinking of it, nobody else cared a whit about her petty problems with her past. What was the point of thinking about it? Not worth reliving a bad experience, she was sure about that. It could be said Ruthie had a cold heart. She lacked a load of compassion, wasn't very friendly to people she wasn't fond of, and never really expressed her affection for anyone. Well, she didn't have any affection for her. All the people there were comrades, nothing more. Some not even that. Ruthie was sort of a 'get 'er done!' type of person, rushing people until the job was finished and then resting afterwards. Breaks were foreign to her. No slack for slackers, she used to say, but everybody already there had heard it way too many times to count, so she quit. "Well children, some of your average Joe's decided upon the fine idea of stabbing some kids with needles and throwing them out of planes, just for the fun of it." A sing-song, teacher voice was the tone, before she showed a bitter smile. "Oh, and guess what? Looks like they forgot to pick them back up. Oopsies! Don't worry, they'll be back in the next five hundred years. Maybe." She laid the fish down and violently brought the blade on its neck, beheading it in one swoop, expressing her irritation at her prior statement. Tossing the head over her shoulder and into the ocean, she smirked at the pink, raw meat inside the dead creature. If they were desperate, would they have to eat that raw meat? kat . none, but charlie’s coming . three years . bianca di angelo |
