in the moonlight (TAL)

[Anabelle Clarence]

reality is a lovely place but i wouldn't want to live there ,

Moonlight shined, illuminating the Long Island Sound, bouncing with the rain. The sight was captivating, inspiring. It was about 2 AM and Camp Half-Blood was quiet except for the patter of rain on the ground. It was still, it was calm. It was perfect. Anabelle snapped the decent picture of the moonbeams bouncing off the rain, shining through the drops of water. It was mesmerizing, the sound of each raindrop hitting the cold January ground. Anabelle smiled and took in a soft breath. Her bare feet were cold against the sand, ballet flats in the sand next to each other. She wove her toes into the sand, popping them in and out. It was damp and clumpy. Waves crashed against the shores with the same rhythm each time, the same motion. Hypnotic. Beautiful. Anabelle flicked her head to the side, sweeping her white bangs away from her face. She was just a silhouette in the sand, brightened by full moon beams.

Anabelle couldn't really explain why she was out in the cool, breezy night on the deserted beach in the middle of January. She had just woken up, and wanted to get out a little. Usually she would go to the strawberry fields, but she had decided to change it up a little today. Photograph her life someplace else. She smiled as her sensitive ears could detect the chatter of dolphins, swimming along the ocean somewhat closer to the coast. Anabelle had super enhanced senses. The night was pretty, the stars twinkling in the sky between the wispy clouds that were shedding drizzles of rain, on and off all night long.

She thought about things. Anabelle always loved to ponder. It helped her understand things, to think about them. She never voiced her opinions. She was afraid that people would think of her as odd. Anabelle thought about the sickness ... and its inscrutable cure, apparantly. Clearly the cure wasn't being found because a girl - fifteen-year-old daughter of Hecate - Pandora Relenta had just died almost two weeks ago. Her death marked something, something bigger than just a common cold. If demigods were dying because of this, it was serious. Actions needed to be taken.

Anabelle sat down on the sand, crossing her skinny jean-clad legs and watching the ocean. Just sitting there. It was so peaceful, so calm. It was so nice for a change. She could just let herself go, be lost in the waves. Meditate. She was a normal girl again, who had friends. When was the last time she was a mortal girl? A normal girl? It was her last day of sixth grade when she had been walking home with her boyfriend ... and her normality poofed into thin air, never to be seen again.

Sometimes Anabelle didn't mind being alone. Her life wasn't hectic, it wasn't frantic. She was emotionally closed out. She had learned how to be. She didn't need sorrow or heartbreak. She didn't anger. She was whole, she was at peace. At least, her head was. Her heart was telling her to live on the edge. She refused. She had to be smart about herself, about her curse. If she didn't, someone was going to get hurt. She had to be smart, she always had been. Maybe she could make a friend or two ... what was she thinking? She needed to be alone. Other people only brought in emotions, inflicted feelings. She didn't need to feel. She believed that. She was destined to never be social, to never marry, or feel love. Her was stoic. She hid everything. Her eyes were glossy, as if her head wasn't there. Her lips never smiled, never frowned. She was expressionless. She was nothing. She was barely Anabelle Star Clarence anymore.

outfit ,

[Talia Winchell]

He loves me... he loves me not...

Spring was fast approaching, and with the season of rebirth came the sprouting of pastel-hued flowers. They seemed to be sprouting up in every possible location, from cracks in between cement tiles to gardens to trails of Camp Halfblood. Up until tonight, the daughter of Hermes named Talysus had never paid much attention to these flowers. They were just part of the scenery, a minor component of the backdrop of camp that nobody usually paid a decent amount of attention to. But tonight, after several hours of tossing and turning and holding her breath and counting sheep and nevertheless failing to sleep, she had crept out of bed and exited the Hermes cabin to the dusty night air that came with winter exiting and making way for the sunnier version of New York. For several minutes she had stood there on the doorstep, stiller than a statue carved of ice, and did nothing but gaze upon the stars. Fragments awaiting perfection, twinkling. They seemed to be winking at her, whispering reassuringly with soothing voices that it all would be alright. And yet, it all... due to it all, Talysus was only what could be described as numb. Morphing into a monster. What was she? She herself wasn't sure of the answer anymore.

After those several minutes of musing and stargazing, she sat down at the steps of her home cabin; that was where her eyes set on the flower. It was nothing special, honestly; light purple that could maybe be described as a muted lavender, with small green leaves that ended in points. The petals were soft to her touch, reminiscent of the silk that her mother always bought whenever she was feeling a bit extravagant.

Her mother - at the thought of Nicolette d'Auvergne Winchell, a lump formed in Tal's throat that had to be swallowed and yet hurt even more when she did so. When December had returned, she'd come bearing the heavy information that she had passed away. Admittedly, Talysus had never spent much time with her mother, never told her she loved her or complimented something so minor as her choice of flowers for a table centerpiece or taste in lipcolor for a party. And Nicolette had never done those things for her, either. She hadn't been a mother to Tal, she had been Nicolette, and said woman had left her with a sitter day after day while she was off doing who knew what. They had never known each other on the level that most mother-daughter pairs did. And yet, Tal missed her so - more than she ever had when she was first brought to Camp Halfblood. But she couldn't cry. She had wasted so many tears on her late boyfriend and best friend, there seemed to be none that were left. Those sobs that would have come wound up in the form of dry gasps.

One by one, the daughter of Hermes began to tear off the petals of the flower that she had plucked from its home rooted in the soil. And then her subconscious began chanting that well-known mantra. He loves me. A petal fluttered to the ground. He loves me not. Another torn off of the flower until there was nothing but the sunshine-colored pollen center left. He loves me not was the final cry her mind made. But who was she talking about? Nobody loved her; the one person who had had been gone for awhile now. He loves me not was the answer, of course, because there was nobody. That thought should have brought the gasps that were her form of crying, but now that agony had been replaced by numbness.

And then she was walking. She got up and dusted off her shorts, then began to stroll toward the beach as casually as possibly. It could have been midday and she could have been anybody, when in reality she was nobody. It most likely did not occur to her that somebody else would be there, and for good reason. How many people would be there, ordinarily? But when she reached her destination, Tal realized there was indeed a girl there that seemed to also have had trouble sleeping. A beautiful girl, with delicate features and loose yet clean white hair that flowed free in the slight breeze that had swept the early morning. "Oh," she breathed, pushing back her own plain brown hair that had fallen into her face. "Uh..." She was at a loss for words - she shouldn't have said anything. "Good morning." The statement was ridiculous, as it was still mostly dark outside.

Heaving a sigh, Tal turned to face the waves.