Kaleidoscope Eyes [Clarisse la Rue]

vii. Promises of Protection and Fast Fish-Ponies

"You shouldn't have done that," Aurora scolded, marching Clarisse back to the Hermes cabin. The two had been dismissed from combat training, for obvious reasons/ They had been sent under the guise of needing to pack Clarisse's belongings and move her into Cabin 5 with the rest of Ares' children, but everyone knew that Iain had just wanted to remove Clarisse before someone else got hurt.

Clarisse growled lowly under her breath and rolled her eyes dismissively. "He was going to hurt you," she defended, not seeming too bothered with Aurora's scolding. "I mean, did you see the way he was swinging that sword?! He could've easily cut you."

Clarisse's face softened, and it was clear to Aurora that she was imagining the daughter of Iris getting hurt during training. Clarisse bit her lip gently and sighed.

Aurora wanted to crumble and comfort Clarisse once she saw the clear sign of worry, but she forced herself to keep going. Of course, she wanted to soothe Clarisse's anxiety and reassure her that Aurora could take care of herself, but Aurora thought a small amount of the silent message would be more effective in communicating with Clarisse, no matter how much she hated having to ignore the daughter of Ares.

Aurora simply huffed loudly and walked a bit faster, creating a small distance between the two girls. She sent a small look back towards Clarisse and continuing her march towards her new home. She didn't even know why she was so angry - or well, she did - but she felt conflicted. On the one hand, she secretly loved that Clarisse protected her so fiercely. It made her feel safe, like she always had someone looking out for her. But, it worried her. She worried it would be Clarisse's demise, like it almost had been several times. Clarisse was so worried about Aurora's safety that she often jeopardized her own.

"It's what we do, Rory," Clarisse said softly, reaching forward and softly grabbing Aurora's wrist. Aurora looked back, her kaleidoscopic eyes softening slightly at the look on Clarisse's face; the urge to crumble and comfort Clarisse came back even stronger. "We protect each other. It's you and me, Rory. Always."

A blush settled on Aurora's face. She looked forward once more, not quite letting Clarisse off the hook but allowed Clarisse to grab her hand as comfort, as if to solidify the promise they had made - to protect each other, to always have each other's backs. Clarisse made a hum of satisfaction when their hands intertwined and allowed Aurora to lead her.

Once the two reached the Hermes cabin, Clarisse forced Aurora to sit down, pushing gently on her shoulders despite the girl's protests. Aurora landed on her sleeping bag with a dramatic flourish, grunting and pouting. She crossed her arms over her chest childishly and stuck out her bottom lip, looking pointedly at the wall next to her.

Clarisse ignored Aurora's antics, but the soft smile that tugged at her lips told Aurora that she had noticed. Clarisse dug around her bag, pulling out a small box of Disney princess bandaids that the girls had stolen in Pennsylvania.

"Clarisse, I don't nee—" Clarisse cut the girl off with a stern glare and Aurora quieted immediately, almost reflexively knowing her friend wouldn't take no for an answer. As Clarisse inspected Aurora, keeping an eye out for any scrapes, cuts or bruises, Aurora could hear her muttering threats under her breath, and she felt bad for Matthew, who would soon feel the wrath of Clarisse.

"Y'know," Aurora said as Clarisse unwrapped the bandaid, peeling it up and smoothing it over the small cut on Aurora's wrist with the pads of her thumbs. "I don't think you're a real doctor."

Clarisse rolled her eyes, but she chuckled lightly, and gave Aurora a small smile. "For you, though? I'll be anything."

The campers, quite wisely, avoided Aurora like the plague that morning. The instant the brunette girl exited the Hermes cabin, looking quite a bit more rough than she usually did, the campers took one look at her and gave her a wide berth. Her tie-dye Camp Half-Blood t-shirt was wrinkled, and one of her shoelaces was untied. The daughter of Iris typically looked impeccable; she enjoyed taking care of her appearance and presenting the best version of herself she could. But that morning, her long, dark hair was still in the messy French braid she had slept in, and the bags under her eyes were more than apparent.