between the branches [open]

[kat greyson]

[atrb=border, 0, true][atrb=style, line-height:120%;][atrb=style, width:350px; padding:20px; background:#f8f8f8; border-left: 40px solid #E0B1B1;] katrina faith greyson regrets collect like old friends here to relive your darkest moments   plink. plink. plink. That was the only sound those complex ears heard. With all their anvils, stirrups, hammers and what-not hiding deep inside the cavity drilled inside any human being’s skull, that noise was the only hint of sound that they picked up. Perhaps it was because one of them was pressed into a pillow and the other covered by hair, but Kat had heard enough of the annoying dripping sound that came from a faucet someone had failed to turn off completely. She groaned and sat up, rubbing the sleep from her eyes and glancing around the room with her eyelids at a half-mast. Not a single soul lingered in the corridor of the minor gods cabin that she resided in, only the ever-present drippy faucet. She wondered how much damage that would do to the camp’s water bill, but didn’t bother getting up and shutting it off. Underneath her she heard the tell-tale crunch of crumpled paper, and reached under the blankets, fishing one out. A scrapped drawing of a spoon. It looked nearly perfect, even she shadows flawless, but Kat spotted the tiny deformity immediately and re-crumpled it. The reason? The ink overcoat was a bit wavy. There was a wet little nose against her hand, and Kat pushed the blanket away to reveal a small, chubby little hamster, beady black eyes big and innocent. From his mouth hung a piece of chewed off bra strap. “Ozz…” She sighed, taking the fabric from his mouth and throwing it across the room on another bed. A squeak came from her pet as he scampered into her lap and gently nipped at her hand. A smirk crept it’s way to the corners of her lips, as she climbed down from her bunk and opened the blue cage her hamster resided in. Kat refilled his water bottle, dumped some pellets into his bowl, and gave him one last rub on his tiny head before setting him into the wood-shaving floor of his humble abode, consisting of the latter items and a wheel. A quick glance out the window revealed it was well-past her usual time of getting up. It was probably around eleven, a very late hour for Kat, who usually awoke around six or seven. A hand lifted tentatively to her head, patting the wild array of tangles down into something manageable. She picked a comb and began yanking it through the intricate knots and twists scattered in the shoulder-length mess of crimson strands. After almost five minutes of tireless combing and brushing and patting, at last it was free of tangles. She patted it down and pressed the shaft that released a stream of hairspray upon her scarlet tresses. Once her rather attention-seeking hairstyle received it’s fair share of gussying and primping, Kat yanked off her wrinkled Camp Half-Blood t-shirt and replaced it with a black tank top, and pulled on a white hoodie striped in black by horizontal slashes. Afterwards a pair of gray stone-washed jeans made their debut on her muscled legs, the lower parts clinging to her calves flatteringly. She slipped on some purple tennis shoes over her Hello Kitty socks, looking rather smug about her fashion choices. For a moment she lingered on the doorway, deciding on which scenery to portray on paper next. Her decision came to rest on the charmingly quaint Big House, with it’s huge front porch wound around it’s shape and many windows nestled into the nooks and crannies in the design. With her sketch pad and box of charcoal/colored pencils in hand, she exited her cozy little cabin and breathed in the crisp air. The first letter she had received from her step-mother nearly a month ago requested that her ‘daughter’ draw pictures of every single interesting scene that occurred at camp. Though, since Ella was still oblivious that Greek mythology, most of them she left out to mail to her father at his photography studio that she remembered playing at so many times when she was young. The daughter of Urania approached the large baby blue home of Chiron and Mr. D and began walking backwards like a photographer, crouching down and squinting at it as if attempting to decide just the right angle for the portrait. She settled on a side-view, swinging herself onto a low-hanging branch on a nearby tree and gently resting her back against the other twigs and protrusions from the trunk. After a moment of wriggling around to make herself more comfortable, she settled down in a nice little niche in the rude fingers in the branches. And so Katrina Greyson began her portrait, pencil swiping across the thick paper in long strokes, fingers reaching up and measuring the length of one particular area to place accurately upon her sketch. This talent had been so improved in the last three years it was almost astonishing. She had gone from ugly line drawings and stick people to detailed, realistic portraits with every pore and wrinkle placed perfectly in a matter of years, improved solely by the pleasant amount of free time that she had endeavored to drawing. Kat glanced up at the cyan sky beaming through the branches, before sighing and looking back down at her masterpiece and redrew a wooden beam that looked crooked. The daytime was always a trial to Kat, and a sort of precarious time of day- she couldn’t see the stars, and therefore was unable to predict the future, which had become a major security issue. Every night, she absolutely had to go outside, even if just for a heartbeat, to make sure nothing would happen to her on the following day. Nothing fatal or horrible, that is. She wasn’t interested in pleasantries, and hadn’t been for quite a while.   Coded by Juliet of RCR, ATF, SP, & Caution.

[finley young]

Finn's eyelids flickered open and his ocean blue eyes scanned his surroundings. He felt groggy and although he didn't really fancy getting up he forced himself to. He could already tell that the weather was nice that day, just by the sounds of the calm, flowing sea nearby. It meant that there was no wind and no wind meant sunlight, well most of the time anyway. Finn didn't like the sky much though, it rooted from the history between Zeus and Poseidon's cabin. He didn't really care to do anything with his hair other than an attempt to flatten it with his hand. It did little, but he wasn't fond of being well groomed, it's what made the difference between him and Aphrodite's children. It annoyed him how vain they were, even though they were pretty hot.

He checked the time on his watch and he quickly realized that he was up pretty late. It was eleven, which even for Finn was rather odd. He wore a bright orange Camp Half-Blood T-Shirt alongside a pair of Chinos and some old Vans. He looked like some form of skateboarder which was pretty cool. Before leaving cabin three, he decided he would wear his magical jacket; it was a gift from his father and it would appear whenever he wanted it, as well as it turning into a weapon-proof Greek tunic. He was fond of it as it was crafted in the form of a leather jacket, which he'd wanted for ages anyway.

Finn turned around to his sheets and saw them all creased so he did some last minute clean up. After all, he didn't want to anger Lin, did he? Finn was really close with her, seeing as she was just like him. After cleaning up, Finn bounded out of cabin three and decided to go jogging. He made his way around the strawberry fields, the climbing wall and he even cut through the forest. It gave him more of a chance to clear his mind and think about his mother; she found it hard to come to terms with the fact that Finn had magical abilities and that the man she had fallen for was actually Poseidon. Finn found it frustrating but he hoped that he would be able to prove to her that he was a good son.

Finn soon found himself in front of the domain of Dionysus, or Mr D, as he preferred to be called. He hoped to spot Chiron and ask about an archery lesson sometime but the balcony of the Big House was empty. He carried on jogging until he spotted a familiar figure up in a tree with what looked like some paper. It was a female, with crimson red hair and pale skin. He could see she had a curvy figure and bright eyes. Yeah, she was pretty cute. Finn jogged over and looked up at the figure in he tree, "Hey." His lips curled into a casual smile. He wasn't exactly sure why he'd bothered to approach the girl, but he was intrigued. "May I?" he gestured his hand to a spot on the branch next to her. He didn't want to come across like he was intruding or something.

ooc; hope this post's alright. xD

[kat greyson]

[atrb=border, 0, true][atrb=style, line-height:120%;][atrb=style, width:350px; padding:20px; background:#f8f8f8; border-left: 40px solid #E0B1B1;] katrina faith greyson regrets collect like old friends here to relive your darkest moments   As quiet settled in, Kat tapped her charcoal pencil on the paper, carefuly to use only the unsharpened side so not the smudge the paper. She flipped the page, and found a drawing of one of the pictures that hung beside her bunk, below the glow-in-the-dark stars that always twinkled merrily at her as her eyelids drooped and she fell asleep. The background was a plainly furnsihed dining room, a line drawing of a middle-aged who Kat recognized as her grandmother Rebecca, poised over the stove, staring down at a plate full of some edible dish that she remembered being roast beef. A plump but comely young teenager, looking about the age Kat was presently, fifteen, was the cneter of the drawing. The girl's thick brown hair hung over her eyes, a chunk brushed out of her left eye so she could see. Garbed in light blue pajamas sprinkled with small white snowflakes and a long-sleeved turtleneck the same base color as the pants, the mischevious smile on her face seemed appropriate. Between her criss-cross-applesauce'd legs perched a small child, the older girl's arms flung across her neck and her face buried in her short, scraggly ginger hair. The younger child was short and plump by the looks of it, her fat little fist balled up above her face and her thumb stuck in her mouth. Big yellow eyes stared innocently at Kat, the red and white checkered nightgown covering her little body giving the impression of a sweet little Southern Belle. Though Kat looked nothing like that now, she could see the smirk in the little girl's eyes that was hidden by her hand and thumb down by her mouth. The teenager who held her so snugly close to her was her Aunt Sadie, nearly thirty at the present time and the mother of twin sweethearts, christened with the names of Hayleigh and Samuel. Kat grinned with the memory of her sweet aunt, and flipped the page once again. A near-perfect sketch of the archery range, a young lady that was not the daughter of Urania poised for shooting an arrow and her eyrbows pulled down in concentration. Another was a portrait of the person who slept below her in her cabin, and then one of a cloudy day about a month before. The young lady turned back to her Big House picture, and set back to work on it. That darned wooden beam just did not want to look real. It stuck stubbornly to a curved appearance, something that Kat was nearly certain that wood could not do. She grimaced as she erased it gingerly, trying to keep the perfectly drawn texture from being smudged. In her frustration she ended up ruining it anyway, and simply redrew it yet again. The cheeky and detailed heart on the back of her hand winked seductively, as Kat regretted drawing it. The marker she had used smelled like vinegar and was hard to get off. Plus it had gotten rather annoying to look at with it's ugly smile and horrid eyebrows. She made a face at it, before getting back to work on the stubborn wood beam. Having ADHD had it's perks, and it also had it's lows. For istance, if she had been a determined and focused person, she would be stabbing her pencil into the drawing and crying in frustration. But with her easily distracted trait thaat went hand-in-hand with hyperactivity, instead she cooled her anger at the beam with a refreshing little thought about a stupid-looking heart drawn on her hand. Useful? To some. At first, when the boy approached, Kat didn't even look at him. Her lightly-colored eyes lingered on her sketch, before flickering down to him, and staring quizzically. Her head tilted instinctively, hair swinging slightly at the movement. For a m'oment, she seemed uneasy and awkward, but her pursed lips soon formed a welcoming smile. "Hey." Kat's delicate eyebrows quirked down. For the love of all that was holy, that word had been used so many times around her! She head begun to despise it, preferring a bubbly 'Hiiii!' or a stately 'Hello.', but definately not the plain and overused 'Hey.' How about a 'Good morning madam. I trust your day has been going well?' and old-fashioned Kat would grin and say 'You are correct sir, and you?' But no. The normal area of her brain nagged her about being paranoid, so she resumed a smile as he went on. She glanced down at the spot, for a heartbeat looking suspicious, but soon reverting back to a hospitalable pat on the spot next to her and resisting saying 'Come on up and sit a spell.' That would have been a bit over the top. "Sure. Not like I'd, heh, shove you off. Pssssh, woudln't that be rude?" A laid-back flip of her hand accompanied her statement. She thought for a moment, before stucking her feet out and hopping down from her perch. Tucking her pencil behind her ear, her smile increased. "You know, it's not very comfortable up there. With the twigs and branches poking you and what-not. Personally I like it better on the ground. Not as, you know, unsteady." Kat managed a secretive grin, whilst placing the hand with her sketch pad in it behind her back and flipping it closed.   Coded by Juliet of RCR, ATF, SP, & Caution. -horrible, horrible, horrible post.