Post by Max Darke on May 18, 2012 1:21:56 GMT -5
A silver river wove in and out between trees, running over rocks and through cattails that stood tall at the edge of the river. Jeanine Darke looked over at her young sister, unable to sleep. Jeanine looked nothing like Max, she had long blonde hair and tan skin, whereas Maxine had dark brown hair and lighter skin. Their faces were shaped differently, but both beautiful. The only trait they shared was their eyes -- green with a blue circle around them.
The sleeping Max shifted slightly as a creature rose from the dark shadows. A monster. Jeanine stood up, dragging along her sister who was just waking up from being pulled. Max soon came to her senses, trying to run on her injured leg she had gotten the other day. But the pain didn't matter -- leaving mattered.
Jeanine looked back at Maxine, about to say something when a crooked hand grabbed her throat. She let go of her brown-haired sister who was too startled to speak. The hand easily picked up Jeanine, throwing her against a rock. With a sickening crack, blood oozed from the hairline of Max's one hope. One dream.
Max ran over to her, a bloodlust splitting her vision. After a few moments of tears and words Maxine was to disoriented to recall, she pushed a locket into her hand right as her eyes flittered shut, tears still dripping onto her face from the screaming and crying Max.
Jeanine Darke was dead.
Max sat bolt upright, smacking her head against the hard wood above her. She hated that dream. Her sister dying once was painful to endure, but having dreams and having to endure it again? You would think it gets better, but actually, it gets worse every time. She realized that tears were forming in her eyes, and she wiped them away before anyone could see. On a quick desision, Max got up. She probably wouldn't be able to sleep tonight anyway.
Not bothering with shoes, Max just walked out. It was a cold night, the kind of cold that seemed to seep into your bones. But the daughter of Nike enjoyed being able to think of anything besides death. Little did she know that she would have a lot to think about in a few moments.
A small figure was stumbling towards her. One that she recognized. Max only knew her from protecting the small child against Dana Morgan and other bullies. Well, okay, eleven isn't small, persay, but lets just say that Max had thought her smaller because of how she was when she was that age. Being small is not about age or height, it's about maturity.
Nonetheless, she raced towards Winter. No one that small should be out in the cold. No matter how mature. When you're at camp, you're safe. Therefore no one should have to go out in the middle of the night (Although, Winter must have just come out from the Apollo cabin, considering that she was only ten feet away). Exception for Max, as if she were to say in bed she would end up throwing up from bordem.
''Winter? What are you doing out here? Are you okay?''