Post by Talia Winchell on Apr 21, 2013 11:01:49 GMT -5
The slightly clouded, ombré sky of New York at sunrise provided a perfect backdrop for the inky black silhouettes of the conifers that were abundant along the edges of Camp Halfblood, and Tal Winchell stared out of the dirty window of the Hermes cabin, considering. She sat on her unmade bed in blue polka-dotted pajama pants and a black camisole with her knees hugged to her chest. Her dark blond hair had been carelessly thrown into a loose side-braid, and now that she had had it in for about an hour, strands were beginning to make their ways out and give her an intentionally messy look, though it was, in truth, anything but intentional.
Finally tearing her eyes away from the window, Tal stretched out on her bed and let her eyes flutter shut. It was one of those days that she had unintentionally risen early; it was barely half past six, and yet it felt much later, at least to her. After several hours of sleep, with one leg under the covers and the other over, she had woken with a start. After about fifteen minutes of lying in one place, trying and failing to fall back asleep, the daughter of Hermes finally rolled her eyes and swung both legs over the edge of her bed. The neon red letters of the cabin's digital clock glowed 6:06. Her cabin companions, all fast asleep, made her feel suffocated instead of part of a group. She was overcome by the inexplicable need to get away.
Slipping on the first pair of shoes that she could feel with her bare toes, which she later learned were an old pair of her black flats that had a hole in the toe, Tal opened the door of the cabin in the hope that it wouldn't creak as loudly as it always did before slipping out. The fountains still bubbled, and the Greek statues stayed perfectly still as always, though she had sort of expected them to move. Everything seemed to be magnified and things as small as the plants that bordered the Demeter cabin seemed a little different, though the daughter of Hermes couldn't quite explain why. Rolling her eyes at herself, she sat down on a bench with a salt-and-pepper notebook and began to draw; soft lines that soon turned into dark ones. She wasn't quite sure why she had felt as though she needed to get out, but outside, the air was less stifling than in the Hermes cabin. Melting into her drawing, it was all too easy to forget her surroundings and the fact that she shouldn't have been there. Soon enough, she was startled by footsteps.