𝑰𝑵 𝑾𝑯𝑰𝑪𝑯; Loralai Fotia, an undetermined demigod with a cursed mother learns to tolerate Percy Jackson.
fotia, Φωτιά - fire
ⓒ eustelia, rick riordan
percy jackson x female oc
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THEY WERE THE first heroes to return alive to Half-Blood Hill since Luke, so of course everybody treated them like they'd won some reality TV contest. According to camp tradition, they wore laurel wreaths to a big feast prepared in their honor, then led a procession down to the bonfire, where they got to burn the burial shrouds their cabins had made for them.
Loralai's shroud was so beautiful– orange silk and various intricate paintings of all the camp activities– Percy told her it seemed a shame not to bury her in it. She punched him and told him to shut up.
Annabeth's was made out of silk, as well, but it was gray, with embroidered owls, which was also stunning.
Percy being the son of Poseidon, he didn't have any cabin mates, so the Ares cabin had volunteered to make his shroud. They'd taken an old bedsheet and painted smiley faces with X'ed out eyes around the border, then the word LOSER painted really big in the middle. Not very beautiful or stunning like his quest mates.
It was fun to burn.
As Apollo's led the sing-along and passed out toasted marshmallow, Loralai was surrounded by her old Hermes cabin mates, her new Hephaestus half-siblings (Oliver totally broke down when he found out he lost, by the way), Annabeth's half-siblings from Athena and Grover's satyr buddies, who were admiring the brand new searcher's license he'd received from the Council of Cloven Elders.
Caliz was grinning at Oliver, who was playing his guitar fairly angry whilst glaring at him.
"He's so mad, look," Caliz said with a laugh, pointing at him. Loralai followed her finger and cracked up. He looked like a bull, and the first in front of him really added to the irritated effect.
Caliz remarked, "Jeez, if I could paint, I'd do a portrait of that: The epitome of male rage."
Loralai laughed, then said, "Well, technically he was right about the Hades thing." The older girl looked offended at this. "Um, nooooo! We were guessing your dad, he's just a sore loser," she joked.
With a head tilt, Loralai agreed, "Fair enough."
The only ones not in a party mood were Clarisse and her cabinmates, whose poisonous looks told Loralai they'd never forgive Percy for disgracing their dad.
Even Dionysus' welcome home speech wasn't enough to dampen her high spirits. "Yes, yes, so the little brats didn't get themselves killed and now Peter will have an even bigger head. Well, huzzah for that. In another announcement, there will be no canoe races this Sunday..."
As the night grew deeper, Loralai grabbed her suitcase from Cabin Three. Before she left, she turned around and took a final look. It had been her home for five years, she might as well feel sad, even if there were people already sprawled on the ground snoring.
The others were all scattered across camp, either still partying or hanging out with friends. Loralai was glad the cabin was partially empty, otherwise she'd get convinced to stay there forever by her friends.
