[1] reflections ; annabeth chase

1o.

chapter ten

     LORELAI FERRARS has been at Camp Half-Blood since the ripe old age of five years. Up to this date, she's never seen a mass funeral, and it's something that she never wants to see again.

     Too many campers had died, too many. Each loss feels like a blow to the heart, a reminder of the ever-present growing threat that they're facing as demigods, and Lorelai's very own fight with Typhon. Lorelai had grown up with these faces, shared laughter and stories with them, and now they're gone. Just like that.

     Lorelai stares at the shroud for her brother, one that she's going to burn. Nobody from the Apollo cabin had been able to decorate a shroud for Lee, especially not Lorelai; they'd all sat around his body, shocked, in despair, unable to cry or utter a word.

     "Um," she says hesitantly, not sure what to say. "Lee was, in a lot of ways — the greatest person I knew." Good start. "He was always c-compassionate, kind —" her voice catches — "and — he was — I'll always — fuck —" Lorelai's voice is barely audible as tears begin to stream down her face. "I can't do this. I'm sorry."

     Without another word, Lorelai lights the shroud, overcome by the weight of her emotions. The tears now flow freely down her cheeks, her body trembling with the intensity of her grief. As the flames engulf the shroud, a flickering light on the faces of the assembled campers, a hushed silence settles over the scene. The crackling of the fire becomes the only sound.

     With gentle gestures, Annabeth comes forward, holding Lorelai's trembling hands between hers, another one on her back, as she steers the both of them away from the shroud and onto a log. Lorelai takes a seat on the log, her shoulders hunched and her hands clutching tightly to Annabeth's.

     Time stretches on as Lorelai collects herself, her breaths ragged and uneven. Slowly, she raises her tear-streaked face, meeting Annabeth's gaze. "I-I'm sorry. I wanted to say more, to honour Lee properly — but the words didn't come out."

     "It's okay," Annabeth says. Her own eyes are streaked with sadness. "We understand how much he meant to you. Lee was amazing."

     There's nothing else more to be said. Lorelai simply lays her head on Annabeth's shoulder, and Annabeth lays her head on Lorelai's, their breaths synchronizing. She looks out at the burning shroud, the flames dancing and consuming the fabric, and she closes her eyes, waiting for this horror to be over.