𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐍 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐒𝐄; percy jackson

x. night at the opera

CAMILLE BLAKE, THE ILLUSIVE HALF-SIREN, HALF-GOD PAINTED BELLADONNA'S NAILS IN A COLOR SO RED IT RESEMBLED THE BLOOD OF THOSE POOR SAILORS THAT HAPPENED ACROSS SIRENUM SCOPELI. The color made her brown skin look aureate. In fact, Belladonna couldn't look away from her hands. The blue veins that would irritate her until she was clawing at her own skin seemed to blend into a normal hue.

Belladonna looked up at Camille and asked, "So, who's your godly parent?" She had a steady hand while painting her left.

Camille gestured to the banners around her, "Hermes, obviously." She blew at her hand. "I'm not going to bore you with my conception. You know how the gods can get around. Especially my father, herald of the gods."

Belladonna tucked her legs into her a fetal position. "I bet." It was hard to look at Camille, her skin was luminous and bright, in comparison she felt like a lump of coal. "How long have you been at camp?"

Camille's smile didn't reach her eyes. "A couple of weeks now, but I've known about my parentage since I spoke my first word."

Belladonna hummed. That was the extent of her ability to be kind during conversations with another. Honestly, she had probably broke a record for the longest she had gone without snapping.

"What about you?"

She felt that resolve breaking. "What about me?"

"Who's your godly parent?"

"Persephone. Hence why I am in this cabin currently." Belladonna felt blossoms bloom in her chest when she spoke her mothers name.

After closing the nail polish cap, Camille swept her hair off her shoulders. "It's a shame. Gods like your mother deserve recognition too."

Silence crept up her throat and Belladonna gave into it. Staring at the being that looked almost too perfect to be real, she dissected her words. Yes. Yes, her mother deserved better than Camp Half-Blood. In fact, she deserved her own camp, one where her name wouldn't be besmirched with the likes of the gods and their offspring.

The silence grew. Camille made no attempt to mend it. it was refreshing and annoying to have someone to talk to that wasn't a ghost, and/or someone who didn't curl into themselves due to being uncomfortable.

Georgiana, Camille, and Percy.

Percy took her frigidness into the palm of his hand and watched as it melted into water, manipulating it as he pleased.

There was a sinister feeling creeping in through the walls before Travis and Connor Stoll, the new Hermes cabin leaders bumbled in.

"Dinner time, y'all."

Good, Belladonna had some food she wished to burn.

       Belladonna was on edge. From where she was sitting she could see Percy talking to the Camp Director and god of eclectic, drunk-thespians, Dionysus, and a malnourished man in an orange prisoner's jumpsuit sitting at the head table.

     Camille sat next to her, stunning in the hideous Camp Half-blood t-shirts they were all forced to wear. Belladonna shifted in her seat, both wanting to get away from the mystifying aura that came from the hybrid but also found herself feeding off it.

       The fork in her hand pushed around the broccoli on her plate before Belladonna let it clatter back onto the bone china and reached for her pomegranate, peeling it with her fingers until it looked like she committed bloody murder.