[hider=Anissa "Ani" Quinn][color=#2e2c2c].
.[/color]
[indent][indent][table][row][sup][h1][color=181818][b]▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅[/b][right][b]▅▅▅▅▅[/b][/right][/color][right][color=5a3e85]Anissa Quinn[/color][color=181818]...[/color][/right][/h1][/sup][/row][row]
[cell][color=2e2c2c]....................................................[/color][img]https://i.postimg.cc/0yRVRshS/s-l1600.webp[/img]

[img]https://i.postimg.cc/7L4t7kV4/the-last-of-us-tlou.gif[/img]
[center][color=807B84][sup]__________________________________________[/sup][/color] 
[sub][color=5a3e85][b]D A U G H T E R[/b][/color] [color=2e2c2c].[/color] [color=5a3e85][b]O F[/b][/color] [color=2e2c2c].[/color] [color=5a3e85][b]H A D E S[/b][/color]
[color=807B84][sup]________________________________________________________[/sup][/color] 
[color=5a3e85]21     [color=807B84][b]|[/b][/color]     female     [color=807B84][b]|[/b][/color]     bisexual[/color]
[color=807B84][sup]__________________________________________[/sup][/color]
[color=5a3e85][b]▹ hair color  [/b][/color] [color=807B84][b]|[/b][/color] [color=9b9b9b]  dark brown[/color]
[color=5a3e85][b]▹ eye color  [/b][/color] [color=807B84][b]|[/b][/color] [color=9b9b9b]  brown[/color]
[color=5a3e85][b]▹ height  [/b][/color] [color=807B84][b]|[/b][/color] [color=9b9b9b]  5' 3"[/color]
[color=5a3e85][b]▹ build  [/b][/color] [color=807B84][b]|[/b][/color] [color=9b9b9b]  petite / athletic[/color]
[/sub][/center]
[/cell][cell][justify][sup][color=2e2c2c].[/color]
[color=5a3e85][b]A B I L I T I E S[/b][/color]
[color=9b9b9b][b]speak with the dead[/b][/color] - 
[i]Mechanics: Anissa opens a dialogue with spirits by focusing on an object tied to the deceased or standing where their life ended. The spirits manifest as faint, shimmering apparitions or disembodied voices, their tones tinged with the emotions they carried in life (e.g., sorrow, regret, or unresolved fury). Responses are often cryptic, filtered through metaphors or fragmented memories, requiring interpretation.

Limitations: Spirits may refuse to aid her if she cannot offer something symbolic (e.g., fulfilling an unfinished task, answering a riddle). Older spirits grow fainter, their memories eroded by time.

Impact: Anissa often seems distracted. Prolonged communion also leaves her emotionally drained, haunted by the dead’s sorrow or rage. Others might view her as eerie or cursed, while desperate souls seek her to contact lost loved ones.
[/i]

[color=9b9b9b][b]death touch[/b][/color] - 
[i]Mechanics: Anissa’s fingertips briefly glow with a sickly violet-black aura as she channels necrotic energy. Targets feel a searing coldness spreading from the point of contact, their veins darkening visibly as their strength wanes. The touch can be modulated—from a numbing ache that slows foes to an agonizing surge that completely crumples them.

Limitations: Requires skin-to-skin contact; armoured or shielded foes are harder to affect. Overuse leaves her hand temporarily skeletal and frostbitten. Cannot harm constructs or undead.

Impact: Anissa often wears gloves to avoid accidental harm.
[/i]

[color=9b9b9b][b]death sense[/b][/color] - 
[i]Mechanics: Anissa’s power manifests as poetic omens: fleeting, surreal visions that enter her mind like fragments of a half-remembered dream. These glimpses are not warnings but elegies, capturing the essence of a death rather than its facts:

[color=2c2c2c][b]▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅[/b][/color] ☠︎︎Metaphorical Portents: A child’s balloon slipping into storm clouds might foreshadow a drowning. A cracked hourglass spilling black sand could hint at a terminal illness. The visions are visceral but indirect, forcing Anissa to interpret symbolism (e.g., “a house with windows blown out” = loss of safety, not a literal explosion).

[color=2c2c2c][b]▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅[/b][/color] ☠︎︎Sensory Overlap: Each vision is accompanied by a sensation tied to the death’s emotional core: the sting of a wasp’s kiss (betrayal), the weight of an anchor on her chest (suicide), or the taste of copper pennies (violent ends). These linger longer than the images themselves.

[color=2c2c2c][b]▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅[/b][/color] ☠︎︎Fated Encounters: The visions trigger when she touches someone doomed or when they touch her. 

Limitations: She cannot summon or silence the visions. They strike unpredictably, even mid-conversation, leaving her disoriented. Unless the vision occurs during direct contact, she won’t know who is fated to die either. So, a vision of “wilted sunflowers” could apply to a stranger… or her closest friend. Attempting to divert death often backfires as well. Time bends to protect its design.

Impact: She compulsively writes about her visions in a leather-bound notebook, searching for patterns. Some pages are filled with frantic questions. 
[/i]

[color=9b9b9b][b]geokinesis[/b][/color] - 
[i]Mechanics: Anissa can summon and weaponize raw earth, but only through direct contact with solid ground. So, no floating rocks, no fancy tricks midair. Her power doesn’t bend mountains; it cracks pressure points.

Limitations: Each shockwave costs her dearly, three bursts being her limit so far. After three consecutive bursts, her ribs bruise as if crushed by an invisible hand, and her joints stiffen like rigor mortis is setting in. It also doesn't work on metal or water. 

Impact: She avoids grassy or forested areas when upset and not wearing her usual gloves, afraid she’ll accidentally fracture the ground beneath her.
[/i]

[color=9b9b9b][b]umbrakinesis[/b][/color] - 
[i]Mechanics: Anissa’s umbrakinesis is less a power and more a pact with the unseen. She doesn’t command shadows; she aligns with them, becoming a fleeting blur in the corner of the world’s eye. Shadows curl around her like cobwebs, dampening sound and light. Observers’ minds instinctively categorize her as “unimportant”—a trick of the brain, not true invisibility. Security cameras may capture her as a smudge, while mirrors show only a silhouette. Where she walks, shadows remain. For instance, flowers may wilt in her path, and candles relight themselves moments after she passes.

Limitations: Prolonged use erodes her memory. She might forget why she entered a room, for instance. Those who truly know her (close childhood friends, siblings, lovers) may resist the veil’s effects. Their recognition, in a way, acts as a tether, forcing the shadows to retreat. 

Impact: Anissa may, without meaning to, exhibit a chilling presence when using this power. For instance, a room she is in may get cold if she's too anxious. Breath may even mist in hot summer air. 
[/i]

[color=5a3e85][b]S T R E N G T H S[/b][/color]
[color=9b9b9b][b]resilient[/b][/color] - [i]Faces adversity with determination and strength, rarely letting setbacks deter her.[/i]
[color=9b9b9b][b]enigmatic[/b][/color] - [i]Maintains an aura of mystery that unsettles or intrigues others. She can command attention without effort, often leaving people guessing her true intentions.[/i]

[color=5a3e85][b]W E A K N E S S E S[/b][/color]
[color=9b9b9b][b]emotionally vulnerable[/b][/color] - [i]Her deep connection with spirits and death often leaves her emotionally drained and susceptible to overwhelming grief.[/i]
[color=9b9b9b][b]impulsive[/b][/color] - [i]Tends to act on instinct without fully considering consequences, often placing herself or others at risk.[/i]

[center][color=807B84][sup]__________________________________________________________________________________[/sup][/color][/center]
[color=5a3e85][b]P E R S O N A L I T Y[/b][/color]
[b]vain [color=2e2c2c]....[/color] [color=807B84][b]|[/b][/color] [color=2e2c2c]....[/color] intuitive [color=2e2c2c]....[/color] [color=807B84][b]|[/b][/color] [color=2e2c2c]....[/color] quietly brave [color=2e2c2c]....[/color] [color=807B84][b]|[/b][/color] [color=2e2c2c]....[/color] enigmatic[/b]

[color=5a3e85][b]H I S T O R Y[/b][/color]
Anissa Quinn grew up in a vibrant coastal city, raised by her mother, who ran an upscale boutique known for its mysterious and alluring aesthetic. From a young age, Ani's beauty and charm drew others toward her, but her quiet vanity often isolated her from genuine connection. Still, she’d mastered the art of tilting her chin to catch the light, of laughing in a way that made boys trip over their shoelaces. But classmates mocked her for checking her reflection in cafeteria knives, for the way she’d freeze mid-sentence, startled by something in the periphery. Sleepovers ended when she screamed at a friend’s mirror, insisting the girl staring back wasn’t her. “Drama queen,” they hissed. She stopped inviting them over.

The voices began at fourteen. They coiled through her thoughts during geometry class, hissed from rain puddles on her walk home. “Turn left,” they’d urge, steering her to a drowned sparrow in a storm drain. “She’s buried under the magnolia,” they muttered as she passed a neighbour’s garden. She blamed sleep deprivation, then hormones, then the boutique’s absinthe-green wallpaper. But the night a wet handprint bloomed on her bedroom window, she took to wearing her mother’s satin gloves—palm-side scorched from ironing accidents—to bed, as if they could mute the pulse in her wrists that called to the unseen.

The breaking point came sophomore year. A woman in a waterlogged wedding dress began trailing her, dripping seawater through the halls. For three weeks, Ani endured the reek of brine, the woman’s gurgled pleas drowned out by Ani’s headphones. Then, during a calculus exam, the spirit slammed Ani’s palm onto her desk. The pencil snapped, embedding graphite beneath her skin. Through tears, Ani hissed, “You’re dead, okay? Leave me alone!” The woman dissolved, leaving a puddle that seeped into the tiled floors. That night, Ani scrubbed her hands raw and slept with every lamp blazing.

Then, the letter came a few years later. 

Summoned to Camp Athens by a dream she could neither forget nor explain, Anissa left the only world she knew, stepping into one she never asked for. Her reasons are complicated: part curiosity, part resentment, part defiance. She isn’t here to save anyone. She just wants answers, and maybe, if she’s honest, to stop feeling so haunted.

[center][color=807B84][sup]__________________________________________________________________________________[/sup][/color][/center]

[center][color=5a3e85][b]hexcode[/b][/color] [color=2e2c2c].[/color] [color=807B84]|[/color] [color=2e2c2c].[/color] [color=9b9b9b]#5a3e85[/color] [color=2e2c2c]........[/color] [color=5a3e85][b]faceclaim[/b][/color] [color=2e2c2c].[/color] [color=807B84]|[/color] [color=2e2c2c].[/color] [color=9b9b9b]Isabela Merced[/color] [color=2e2c2c]........[/color] [color=5a3e85][b]creator[/b][/color] [color=2e2c2c].[/color] [color=807B84]|[/color] [color=2e2c2c].[/color] [color=9b9b9b]Qia[/color][/center][/sup][/justify][/cell]
[/row]
[/table][/indent][/indent][/hider]

[hider=Anissa's Cabin][img]https://media.vrbo.com/lodging/37000000/36760000/36758700/36758687/d799ccfe.jpg?impolicy=resizecrop&rw=1200&ra=fit[/img][img]https://e0b6ddc6.delivery.rocketcdn.me/wp-content/uploads/2024/09/Dark-and-Cozy-Woodland-Escape-683x1024.jpeg[/img][img]https://media.vrbo.com/lodging/37000000/36760000/36758700/36758687/c4a64fd5.jpg?impolicy=resizecrop&rw=1200&ra=fit[/img][img]https://i.pinimg.com/736x/88/65/3d/88653d6b9293cc19c7d5145bbe7b44bf.jpg[/img][/hider]
[hr]
[hider=Elias Trueno][color=#2e2c2c].
.[/color]
[indent][indent][table][row][sup][h1][color=181818][b]▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅[/b][right][b]▅▅▅▅▅[/b][/right][/color][right][color=d4af37]Elias Trueno[/color][color=181818]...[/color][/right][/h1][/sup][/row][row]
[cell][color=2e2c2c]....................................................[/color][img]https://64.media.tumblr.com/107f9731c075c30e440c2fe89e6b30c6/ab14199d62204170-a2/s1280x1920/476a931d9d03713e525901b3ab604c2fbb9e0323.jpg[/img]

[img]https://64.media.tumblr.com/d57e3bec8c90410571d7a8adade27f95/cf2d0c006ea4f12e-ed/s400x600/3edeb1b73747b0e7c353e9700c92693398ad2fa1.gifv[/img]

[center][color=807B84][sup]__________________________________________[/sup][/color] 
[sub][color=d4af37][b]S O N[/b][/color] [color=2e2c2c].[/color] [color=d4af37][b]O F[/b][/color] [color=2e2c2c].[/color] [color=d4af37][b]Z E U S[/b][/color]
[color=807B84][sup]________________________________________________________[/sup][/color] 
[color=d4af37]21     [color=807B84][b]|[/b][/color]     male     [color=807B84][b]|[/b][/color]     pansexual[/color]
[color=807B84][sup]__________________________________________[/sup][/color]
[color=d4af37][b]▹ hair color  [/b][/color] [color=807B84][b]|[/b][/color] [color=9b9b9b]  black[/color]
[color=d4af37][b]▹ eye color  [/b][/color] [color=807B84][b]|[/b][/color] [color=9b9b9b]  brown[/color]
[color=d4af37][b]▹ height  [/b][/color] [color=807B84][b]|[/b][/color] [color=9b9b9b]  5' 10"[/color]
[color=d4af37][b]▹ build  [/b][/color] [color=807B84][b]|[/b][/color] [color=9b9b9b]  athletic[/color]
[/sub][/center]
[/cell][cell][justify][sup][color=2e2c2c].[/color]
[color=d4af37][b]A B I L I T I E S[/b][/color]
[color=9b9b9b][b]atmokinesis[/b][/color] - 
[i]Elias can manipulate weather patterns by channelling storm clouds, winds, and atmospheric pressure. His power reflects and responds to his emotional state, creating a dynamic interplay between his inner world and the external environment.

Mechanics: 
[b]Storm Clouds-[/b] 
⚡ He can summon dense, electrified cumulonimbus clouds to unleash lightning strikes or torrential downpours. 
⚡ In calmer moments, he might disperse clouds to reveal sunlight or craft delicate fog banks.

[b]Winds-[/b] 
⚡ His command over air ranges from subtle breezes to gale-force gusts. 
⚡ With focus, he can direct wind currents to levitate objects or create protective barriers, but emotional turmoil may spiral winds into destructive tornadoes.

[b]Atmospheric Pressure- [/b]
⚡ By manipulating pressure systems, he can induce rapid weather shifts, such as sinking air for clear skies or triggering storms via colliding fronts. 
⚡ This also allows localized pressure walls to repel threats or suffocate flames.

Limitations: Severe weather amplifies his emotions (e.g., a storm’s fury heightens his anger), risking uncontrollable feedback. Prolonged use also drains him, causing fatigue, migraines, or sensory overload from atmospheric sensitivity. Unplanned outbursts can devastate landscapes, endanger others, or draw unwanted attention. 
[/i]

[color=9b9b9b][b]electrokinesis[/b][/color] - 
[i]Elias can generate, absorb, and manipulate electrical energy, primarily channelled through his hands. This ability bridges offensive combat, defensive tactics, and utilitarian functions, though its efficacy is deeply tied to his emotional state and environmental conditions.

Mechanics: 
[b]Generation-[/b] 
⚡ Elias can produce electricity ranging from subtle static shocks to violent lightning-like arcs. Precision allows taser-level stuns, while raw bursts can overload systems or ignite materials.
⚡ His body naturally generates charge, but prolonged use drains his stamina, risking muscle fatigue or temporary paralysis.

[b]Absorption-[/b] 
⚡ He can siphon energy from batteries, power grids, or atmospheric lightning. However, absorbing high-voltage sources risks sensory overload or cardiac stress.
⚡ Excess energy manifests as visible currents coursing his skin; unmanaged storage causes involuntary discharges.

[b]Redirection- [/b]
⚡ He can channel absorbed electricity into protective barriers.
⚡ He can power electronics temporarily, jump-start engines, or interface with tech via touch, though complex devices require intense focus.

Limitations: Humid air enhances conductivity but risks self-electrocution; insulated materials (rubber, glass) nullify his attacks. Remote areas that lack ambient sources will force reliance on his finite bio-electricity. Overuse causes nerve damage, tremors, or temporary blindness from retinal flashes. Absorbing extreme voltages (e.g., lightning) may burn his pathways, requiring days to heal.[/i]

[color=9b9b9b][b]flight[/b][/color] - 
[i]Elias achieves flight through a hybridized manipulation of wind currents and electrical propulsion, merging his atmokinetic and electrokinetic talents. While functional in most conditions, his flight thrives in stormy environments, where turbulent air and ambient electricity synergize to enhance his speed, endurance, and control.

Mechanics: 
[b]Wind Currents-[/b] 
⚡ Elias rides air currents to ascend or glide effortlessly, shaping updrafts to sustain altitude. In calm weather, he must generate his own gusts, which drain stamina.
⚡ Subtle shifts in wind direction allow sharp turns, hovering, or rapid deceleration.

[b]Electrical Propulsion-[/b] 
⚡ Charged particles expelled from his hands or feet act as thrusters, enabling sudden bursts of speed or vertical launches. Overuse can cause muscle spasms or burns.
⚡ Lightning-rich environments passively recharge his thrust, letting him "surf" electromagnetic fields for near-effortless movement.

Limitations: Stormy weather (high winds, thunderstorms) boosts his speed and endurance, but calm, dry conditions limit him to short, laborious flights. Extreme cold also numbs his electrical output; heavy rain risks waterlogging his thrusters, causing short circuits. Sustained flight strains his legs and core muscles. Altitude sickness also occurs above 10,000 feet without acclimatization. Lastly, there's a trade-off in energy where using electricity for flight drains his electrokinetic reserves, leaving him unable to summon defensive shocks or power devices mid-air.[/i]

[color=9b9b9b][b]peak human condition[/b][/color] - 
[i]His physical capabilities—strength, reflexes, stamina—are at the upper end of human potential due to his divine lineage. He performs optimally in combat and endurance-based tasks.

Mechanics: 
[b]Strength-[/b] 
⚡  Elias can lift up to 650 lbs (near the world record), deliver strikes with bone-crushing force, and shatter materials like concrete with focused effort. His muscle efficiency minimizes fatigue, enabling sustained exertion.

[b]Reflexes-[/b] 
⚡ His reaction time (0.1 seconds) rivals top martial artists and Formula 1 drivers, allowing him to dodge bullets at close range or counterattack mid-combo.

[b]Stamina-[/b] 
⚡  He can operate at peak performance for 48 hours without rest, which demands significant caloric intake (5,000+ calories daily). Recovery is accelerated, and muscle repair takes hours, not days.

[b]Resilience-[/b]
⚡ High pain tolerance and dense bone structure reduce injury risk. He can withstand extreme temperatures (-50°F to 130°F) briefly, and his immune system neutralizes most toxins.

Limitations: He requires a high-protein diet and at least 4 hours of daily sleep; neglect leads to rapid deterioration (e.g., hallucinations, organ strain). Constant pressure to embody "perfection" also breeds a lot of anxiety. His failures haunt him, as his margin for error is narrower than that of any one else he knows.[/i]

[color=d4af37][b]S T R E N G T H S[/b][/color]
[color=9b9b9b][b]combat-ready[/b][/color] - [i]Experienced in street fighting and close-quarters combat. Physically imposing and well-coordinated.[/i]
[color=9b9b9b][b]charismatic[/b][/color] - [i]Possesses a natural charm and sarcasm that disarms or manipulates others effectively.[/i]
[color=9b9b9b][b]quick-witted[/b][/color] - [i]Adapts rapidly in conversations and fights; uses humor and fast thinking as a strategic tool.[/i]
[color=9b9b9b][b]magnetic presence[/b][/color] - [i]Draws attention effortlessly, either through confidence or volatility.[/i]

[color=d4af37][b]W E A K N E S S E S[/b][/color]
[color=9b9b9b][b]short fuse[/b][/color] - [i]Struggles with anger management; emotional volatility can cause unintended destruction.[/i]
[color=9b9b9b][b]emotional repression[/b][/color] - [i]Does not process vulnerability well; deflects with arrogance or indifference.[/i]
[color=9b9b9b][b]competitive[/b][/color] - [i]Overexerts or endangers himself in attempts to prove superiority, especially around peers with comparable power.[/i]
[color=9b9b9b][b]weather-reliant[/b][/color] - [i]Power is diminished during clear or calm weather; storm conditions greatly enhance his output.[/i]

[center][color=807B84][sup]__________________________________________________________________________________[/sup][/color][/center]
[color=d4af37][b]P E R S O N A L I T Y[/b][/color]
[b]confident [color=2e2c2c]....[/color] [color=807B84][b]|[/b][/color] [color=2e2c2c]....[/color] sarcastic [color=2e2c2c]....[/color] [color=807B84][b]|[/b][/color] [color=2e2c2c]....[/color] proud [color=2e2c2c]....[/color] [color=807B84][b]|[/b][/color] [color=2e2c2c]....[/color] brooding[/b]

[color=d4af37][b]H I S T O R Y[/b][/color]
Birth: The First Lightning
Elias Trueno entered the world on a day so still it felt like the earth had stopped breathing with a record-breaking heatwave in Albuquerque, New Mexico. The air conditioning in Presbyterian Hospital had failed. Nurses fanned themselves with clipboards; mothers-to-be groaned through contractions in soupy, stagnant air. All the while, Marisol Trueno, 23 years old and alone, didn’t make a sound. Not when her water broke. Not when the doctors urged her to push. Not even when the lights died.

The blackout lasted seven minutes.
A single lightning bolt, gold-veined and silent, pierced the hospital’s backup generator. When power returned, the delivery room reeked of scorched metal. Elias lay swaddled in Marisol’s arms, his cries sharp and static-charged. The nurses joked about bad wiring. Marisol, however, stared at the ceiling, where a hairline crack split the plaster like a dried riverbed.

She named him Elias that day—“Yahweh is my God”—because irony felt safer than the truth, safer than that legacy of abandonment and violence. 

Childhood: [i]lengua materna[/i]
Marisol’s body had grown to be a fragile thing. Arthritis curled her fingers by 30; migraines pinned her to bed for days. She rarely left their sun-bleached adobe house, its walls thick against the desert heat. Elias learned to move quietly, to boil chamomile tea, to knead the tension from her shoulders during monsoons. 

He also learned this: Storms were his first language.

Age 3: A tantrum over a broken toy became his first full sentence, a shriek that summoned a downpour. Marisol waded into the flooded yard, her nightgown clinging to her knees, and cupped rainwater in her palms. “[i]Mira[/i],” she said, holding it toward him. “[i]Es solo agua.[/i]”
Just water.
Her smile was a psalm, a soft and holy translation of his rage.

Age 7: The kids at the library called him “Witch boy”.
Elias shouted back in a dialect he didn’t quite understand yet: a gust of wind that shattered every window in the room. The principal demanded an exorcism. Marisol withdrew him the next day. At home, she taught him fractions and forgiveness, new vocabulary to quiet the thunder in his hands.
Anger isn’t a fist. It’s a question with no answer, she insisted. 

Age 14: His first kiss—Luz, behind the 7-Eleven, her mouth sweet with tamarind candy—ended in a thunderclap that set off car alarms. Luz giggled, giddy and nervous, as rain slicked the asphalt. She labelled him as some kind of superhero. 
Yet when the next storm flooded her garage, she stopped answering his texts. Elias lay awake that night, tracing the charred grammar of lightning scars on his ceiling.

Marisol never scolded him. Never prayed, despite her upbringing. She simply sat beside him, her silence a second tongue, one he was still learning to speak and navigate. 

The Confrontation: Cracks in the Sky
The fight started over nothing. A burnt casserole, maybe. Either way, it had led to a streetlamp outside exploding in a shower of sparks.

“What am I?” Elias demanded, pacing their living room while Marisol continued to fold a dishcloth. Smoothed its creases. Her hands trembled, but her voice didn’t when she answered. 

“You already know.”

“No. I don’t.” He gestured wildly; a gust rattled the patio furniture. “Why would a god pick you? You can’t even—”

“Can’t even what?” She looked up. “Walk up the stairs without resting? Love you anyway?”

Elias froze. Thunder growled, but no rain fell.

“Maybe he chose me because I wouldn’t try to change you,” she said. “Or use you. Or pretend you’re not a miracle.”

She pressed a hand to his chest. His heartbeat shook them both.

“I don’t need to be strong,” she whispered. “I just need to be here.”

The Breaking Point: Too Much to Hold
By 17, Elias was all edges with a temper that left scorch marks on doorframes. He cycled through phases:

The Recluse: Locked himself in his room for weeks, playing guitar until calluses split his fingertips. Power surges fried three amplifiers.

The Charmer: Smirked his way into parties, dazzling strangers with sleight-of-hand tricks (palming lightning bugs, “magically” chilling beers). Left when the sky darkened.

The Brawler: Punched a hole through a brick wall after some guy catcalled Marisol. The wall healed faster than his knuckles.

Through it all, Marisol held on. She left aspirin and honeyed milk outside his door. Pretended not to notice the burn scars on his bedsheets. Let him scream into her shoulder when the static in his veins got too loud.

But even she had limits.

One night, after he’d shorted the neighbourhood grid (again), she gripped his wrist, her touch feather-light, her eyes red-rimmed. “You’re going to break this house. Break me. And I won’t survive it.”

He dreamed of lightning that night. Not the wild, hungry kind, but the sort that splits oaks clean down the middle. 

The Letter: A Spark Uncontained
It arrived in August, after a drought that cracked the Rio Grande’s banks.

No envelope. No postmark. Just a slip of parchment on their porch, warm as a living thing. The ink shimmered gold when Elias touched it.

[b]YOU ARE SUMMONED TO CAMP ATHENS
YOU ARE THE SON OF ZEUS
YOU ARE NOT MEANT TO REMAIN HIDDEN[/b]

Thunder rolled, a low, insistent hum. Marisol appeared in the doorway, a duffel bag at her feet. She’d packed his leather jacket. His guitar picks. A framed photo of them at White Sands, squinting against the sun.

“How long have you known?” he asked.

She pressed a pendant into his palm: a tiny bronze thunderbolt, cold against his skin. “Since the lights went out,” she said. “And came back on.”

He left at midnight. The storm followed him to the bus station, rain hissing against the asphalt. Marisol watched from the porch, her silhouette small and straight-backed, until lightning swallowed the horizon.

[center][color=807B84][sup]__________________________________________________________________________________[/sup][/color][/center]

[center][color=d4af37][b]hexcode[/b][/color] [color=2e2c2c].[/color] [color=807B84]|[/color] [color=2e2c2c].[/color] [color=9b9b9b]#d4af37[/color] [color=2e2c2c]........[/color] [color=d4af37][b]faceclaim[/b][/color] [color=2e2c2c].[/color] [color=807B84]|[/color] [color=2e2c2c].[/color] [color=9b9b9b]Diego Tinoco[/color] [color=2e2c2c]........[/color] [color=d4af37][b]creator[/b][/color] [color=2e2c2c].[/color] [color=807B84]|[/color] [color=2e2c2c].[/color] [color=9b9b9b]Qia[/color][/center][/sup][/justify][/cell]
[/row]
[/table][/indent][/indent][/hider]

[hider=Elias's Cabin][img]https://assets.architecturaldesigns.com/plan_assets/337028736/original/623081DJ_rendering_001_1650643187.jpg[/img]
[img]https://i.redd.it/n4cn9dxphw061.jpg[/img]
[img]https://i.pinimg.com/originals/19/78/9d/19789d4196e5b01b867e25e6c1251903.jpg[/img][/hider] 
[hr]
[hider=Rae Kowalewski][color=#2e2c2c].[/color]
[indent][indent][table][row][sup][h1][color=181818][b]▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅[/b][right][b]▅▅▅▅▅[/b][/right][/color][right][color=3b9ae1]Rae Kowalewski[/color][color=181818]...[/color][/right][/h1][/sup][/row][row]
[cell][color=2e2c2c]....................................................[/color][img]https://i.pinimg.com/736x/98/62/82/98628267a6a1f8c060d967ebedd991d8.jpg[/img]

[img]https://media1.tenor.com/m/o136QQw66iAAAAAd/sadie-sink-serious.gif[/img]
[center][color=807B84][sup]______________________________________[/sup][/color]
[sub][color=3b9ae1][b]D A U G H T E R[/b][/color] [color=2e2c2c].[/color] [color=3b9ae1][b]O F[/b][/color] [color=2e2c2c].[/color] [color=3b9ae1][b]H E P H A E S T U S[/b][/color]
[color=807B84][sup]__________________________________________________[/sup][/color]
[color=3b9ae1]21     [color=807B84][b]|[/b][/color]     female     [color=807B84][b]|[/b][/color]     demisexual[/color]
[color=807B84][sup]________________________________________[/sup][/color]
[color=3b9ae1][b]▹ hair color  [/b][/color] [color=807B84][b]|[/b][/color] [color=9b9b9b]  ginger-red[/color]
[color=3b9ae1][b]▹ eye color  [/b][/color] [color=807B84][b]|[/b][/color] [color=9b9b9b]  blue-grey[/color]
[color=3b9ae1][b]▹ height  [/b][/color] [color=807B84][b]|[/b][/color] [color=9b9b9b]  5' 5"[/color]
[color=3b9ae1][b]▹ build  [/b][/color] [color=807B84][b]|[/b][/color] [color=9b9b9b]  lean / wiry[/color]
[/sub][/center]
[/cell][cell][justify][sup][color=2e2c2c].[/color]
[color=3b9ae1][b]A B I L I T I E S[/b][/color]
[color=9b9b9b][b]pyrokinesis[/b][/color] - [i]She can generate and control fire, but not without effort. Her power scales with her focus.[/i]
[color=9b9b9b][b]calokinesis[/b][/color] - [i]Control over heat. This includes internal temperature regulation, melting metal, and heat-based propulsion of small gadgets. A small quirk with this ability is that she unconsciously radiates warmth when relaxed, so her hands are always slightly hotter than normal, and her coffee never goes cold.[/i]
[color=9b9b9b][b]fire & heat immunity[/b][/color] - [i]She’s fireproof, obviously. Burned herself testing this as a kid. Repeatedly.[/i]
[color=9b9b9b][b]master inventor & engineer[/b][/color] - [i]Gifted in all things mechanical. Builds things in her sleep. Literally. Also, she’s the kind of person who salvages everything. Growing up poor taught her that nothing is truly useless. That toaster? Now a robot arm. Those busted headphones? Rewired into a comms device.[/i]
[color=9b9b9b][b]high intelligence[/b][/color] - [i]Sharp memory, faster processing, and the ability to adapt under pressure. The one downside to this is that she overthinks. Constantly. Her mind races ahead, playing out every possible failure, which sometimes paralyzes her in the moment.[/i]

[color=3b9ae1][b]S T R E N G T H S[/b][/color]
[color=9b9b9b][b]tinkering[/b][/color] - [i]If it’s broken, she’ll make it better. If it’s not broken, she’ll upgrade it anyway.[/i]
[color=9b9b9b][b]persistence[/b][/color] - [i]Rae doesn’t quit. Ever. She'll reroute a circuit or her entire life plan if she has to. The one downside to this trait, however, is that this relentless drive means she often pushes herself past reasonable limits, ignoring pain, exhaustion, or even friends telling her to stop.[/i]
[color=9b9b9b][b]combat improvisation[/b][/color] - [i]Improvises on the fly, often turning found objects into weapons or distractions. She doesn't fight fair. She fights smart, despite not being the physically strongest.[/i]

[color=3b9ae1][b]W E A K N E S S E S[/b][/color]
[color=9b9b9b][b]social cues[/b][/color] - [i]Misses them completely. She’s great with blueprints, not people.[/i]
[color=9b9b9b][b]stubborn[/b][/color] - [i]Rae doesn’t just hold grudges: she engineers them. If she decides someone’s wrong, good luck changing her mind. If she believes in a plan, she’ll follow it into a disaster before admitting defeat.[/i]
[color=9b9b9b][b]overload[/b][/color] - [i]Overclocking her fire powers or brain leads to migraines and burnout (literal and emotional).[/i]

[center][color=807B84][sup]__________________________________________________________________________________[/sup][/color][/center]
[color=3b9ae1][b]P E R S O N A L I T Y[/b][/color]
[b]hardworking [color=2e2c2c]....[/color] [color=807B84][b]|[/b][/color] determined [color=2e2c2c]....[/color] [color=807B84][b]|[/b][/color] ambitious [color=2e2c2c]....[/color] [color=807B84][b]|[/b][/color] awkward[/b]

[color=3b9ae1][b]H I S T O R Y[/b][/color]
Rae Kowalewski was raised in a small, lower-income neighbourhood just outside a wealthy California suburb, close enough to see the gleaming roofs of gated communities from her bedroom window but far enough that she knew she’d never step inside one unless she suddenly got fortunate. Her mom worked two jobs to support them both: one in a factory and the other as a cleaner for those same houses Rae stared at all the time. Her dad, however, was out of the picture before she could even form a full sentence. But there was never any self-pity about it. Her mother had a rule: [i]“If you want something, you don’t wait for it. You make it yourself.”[/i]

And so Rae did. Literally. 

Her first real invention came at age nine: a mechanical pencil sharpener cobbled together from parts of a broken toaster and an old RC car she’d salvaged from a thrift store dumpster. It wasn’t pretty, but it worked, and when she brought it to school, her teachers didn’t just praise her. They watched her. By middle school, she was the kid who fixed the broken lab equipment during lunch. By high school, scholarship programs had taken notice, and she landed a full ride to Lockwood Prep, a private school where half the students had their last names engraved on the buildings.

It was there she first met Wesley Preston.

Wes was the kind of rich that didn’t bother hiding itself; the son of a celebrity attorney, with a smirk that made teachers sigh and a reputation for reckless charm. Rae had expected him to be insufferable. Worse, she’d expected him to ignore her entirely. But Wes had a way of noticing people most others overlooked.

They shared a couple of classes. Partnered for a science fair once (though partnered was a generous way of putting it. He mostly leaned over her shoulder, making jokes while she did the actual wiring). Still, he made her laugh in a way that was enjoyable at times. And though she’d never admit it, there was a tiny, traitorous flutter in her chest whenever he’d grin at her in the hallway or call her [i]“Lewski, you terrifying genius”[/i] after she aced an incredibly hard test.

It wasn’t a crush. At least, that’s what she told herself. More like an itch she couldn’t scratch. A curiosity about the boy who had everything but still seemed bored by it all at times if she paid too much attention. 

By senior year, Wes had spiralled further into rebellion, and Rae, meanwhile, had buried herself in college prep, robotics club, and the kind of relentless focus that left no room for distractions. She graduated with a near-perfect GPA and a full engineering scholarship. He didn’t.

She hadn’t thought about him in years. 

Until Camp Athens.

Her powers came in fragments at first, like with spontaneous sparks when she tightened a screw too hard, bursts of heat that warped her tools before she could pull her hands away. She blamed stress. Overwork. Sleep deprivation. But the excuses ran out the night she accidentally melted a steel wrench into a puddle on the workshop floor.

And then her father came knocking. 

It happened during a late-night shift in the campus machine shop. Everyone else had cleared out, but Rae stayed, jaw clenched, wrestling with a housing unit that refused to hold its shape. Her frustration was a live wire when the lights suddenly cut out, and the air went still.

She turned and saw him. Or, more accurately, she noticed his hands first. Scars webbed across his knuckles, the skin rough and darkened like old leather.

[color=#1f4788]“You're wasting good metal with all that hesitation,”[/color] he said, like he’d been watching for a while. On top of that, his voice was blunt steel in a gruff, heavy, and final way. 

Rae stared. 

[color=#3b9ae1]“Who the hell are you?”[/color]

He didn’t answer. Just picked up her warped housing unit, examined it, and placed one hand over the seam. With a hiss of heat and a crackle of molten light, the metal reshaped. Seamless. Flawless. [i]Impossible[/i].

[color=#1f4788]“I’m the one who gave you hands like that,”[/color] he said, tossing the piece back to her. [color=#1f4788]“You didn’t think that kind of fire came from nowhere, did you?”[/color]

Before she could respond, he slid a folded piece of parchment across the workbench–-a map, instructions, warnings scrawled in urgent script. A place called Camp Athens. 

Then he nodded once and left the way he came: quietly, like a man used to being overlooked.

Rae didn’t sleep that night.

But by morning, she had made her decision.

[center][color=807B84][sup]__________________________________________________________________________________[/sup][/color][/center]

[center][color=3b9ae1][b]hexcode[/b][/color] [color=2e2c2c].[/color] [color=807B84]|[/color] [color=2e2c2c].[/color] [color=9b9b9b]#3b9ae1[/color] [color=2e2c2c]........[/color] [color=3b9ae1][b]faceclaim[/b][/color] [color=2e2c2c].[/color] [color=807B84]|[/color] [color=2e2c2c].[/color] [color=9b9b9b]Sadie Sink[/color] [color=2e2c2c]........[/color] [color=3b9ae1][b]creator[/b][/color] [color=2e2c2c].[/color] [color=807B84]|[/color] [color=2e2c2c].[/color] [color=9b9b9b]Qia[/color][/center][/sup][/justify][/cell]
[/row]
[/table][/indent][/indent][/hider]

[hider=Rae's Cabin] [img]https://i.pinimg.com/1200x/b1/81/2f/b1812fc27094b348e8dba93c168619a9.jpg[/img]

[img]https://i.pinimg.com/1200x/94/f8/7d/94f87d87fd31103e1236ae7dfc471e82.jpg[/img]

[img]https://i.pinimg.com/1200x/e0/98/31/e09831488826e2d108870b77b9675be2.jpg[/img]

[img]https://i.pinimg.com/736x/a1/c9/17/a1c91756ef7d491043ffd0443305f889.jpg[/img][/hider]

[hider=Rae's Workshop][img]https://cumbriagardenbuildings.co.uk/wp-content/uploads/2021/01/Hardwick-4.jpg[/img][img]https://i.pinimg.com/736x/91/5c/30/915c306e90d8889867d963e65dab2750.jpg[/img][/hider]
[hr]
[hider=Maylisse Beaumont][color=#2e2c2c].
.[/color]
[indent][indent][table][row][sup][h1][color=181818][b]▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅[/b][right][b]▅▅▅▅▅[/b][/right][/color][right][color=#A9C9EB]Maylisse Beaumont[/color][color=181818]...[/color][/right][/h1][/sup][/row][row]
[cell][color=2e2c2c]....................................................[/color][img]https://64.media.tumblr.com/f04cf083346fb69cf29156173e72d3f7/d9104b8d8987ce91-51/s540x810/919b609e8d3c42861cc3baf77a239d66251f46a6.pnj[/img]

[img]https://i.ibb.co/GFD7ND9/29.gif[/img]
[center][color=807B84][sup]__________________________________________[/sup][/color] 
[sub][color=#A9C9EB][b]D A U G H T E R[/b][/color] [color=2e2c2c].[/color] [color=#A9C9EB][b]O F[/b][/color] [color=2e2c2c].[/color] [color=#A9C9EB][b]P O S E I D O N[/b][/color]
[color=807B84][sup]________________________________________________________[/sup][/color] 
[color=#A9C9EB]23     [color=807B84][b]|[/b][/color]     female     [color=807B84][b]|[/b][/color]     heterosexual[/color]
[color=807B84][sup]__________________________________________[/sup][/color]
[color=#A9C9EB][b]▹ hair color  [/b][/color] [color=807B84][b]|[/b][/color] [color=9b9b9b]  dark brown[/color]
[color=#A9C9EB][b]▹ eye color  [/b][/color] [color=807B84][b]|[/b][/color] [color=9b9b9b]  hazel[/color]
[color=#A9C9EB][b]▹ height  [/b][/color] [color=807B84][b]|[/b][/color] [color=9b9b9b]  5' 6"[/color]
[color=#A9C9EB][b]▹ build  [/b][/color] [color=807B84][b]|[/b][/color] [color=9b9b9b]  slender, toned[/color]
[/sub][/center]
[/cell][cell][justify][sup][color=2e2c2c].[/color]
[color=#A9C9EB][b]A B I L I T I E S[/b][/color]
[color=9b9b9b][b]hydrokinesis[/b][/color] - [i]Maylisse wields water like a weapon; her control is evident yet terrifyingly aggressive. Precision takes a backseat to domination for her, so she is less a sculptor and more a hurricane overwhelming her opponents with merciless force. In the depths of storms or oceans, her power crescendos into something catastrophic. Most unsettling of all, she has learned to agitate the water inside or around living bodies, causing conditions such as nausea, ringing ears, or muscle cramps. [/i]
[color=9b9b9b][b]water breathing[/b][/color] - [i]Passive, like second nature. The shift from air to water is as unconscious and effortless as blinking for her. She uses it with smug superiority, often remaining underwater just a moment too long during a conversation to watch her land-bound companions grow uneasy, a silent reminder of the fundamental gulf between their natures and her own.[/i]  
[color=9b9b9b][b]seismic manipulation[/b][/color] - [i] Maylisse thrives on chaos. She enjoys knocking people off their feet or rattling the earth to make her entrance felt. Reckless but effective is the motto; this blunt instrument in her arsenal is less about finesse and more about causing immediate, disorienting havoc.[/i]  
[color=9b9b9b][b]speak with fish & equine[/b][/color] - [i]Unlike her half-brother, Maylisse embraces this gift fully. To outsiders, she seems commanding and merciless, but with these creatures, she reveals a rare softness. She speaks to fish and equine with a strange fondness, treating them as companions even when she calls them to service. Sharks patrol at her word, horses bow their heads when she passes, not out of fear alone but out of a bond she secretly cherishes. If there is warmth in her, it is saved for the sea’s beasts and Poseidon’s steeds, never her fellow demigods.[/i]
[color=9b9b9b][b]underwater healing[/b][/color] - [i]Passive, though she flaunts it. She doesn’t mind taking hits in sparring; the water always washes away her wounds eventually. Submerged, her body knits itself back together with visible, almost unsettling speed. Severed flesh reconnects, bruises bloom and fade in seconds, and broken bones snap into alignment with an audible crack. She uses this to her psychological advantage, emerging from a deep wave utterly unscathed after a devastating blow, a taunting smile on her lips as her opponents' morale completely shatters.[/i]  

[color=#A9C9EB][b]S T R E N G T H S[/b][/color]  
[color=9b9b9b][b]fearless[/b][/color] - [i]Unflinching and unapologetic. She doesn’t hesitate to speak or strike first. This isn't a learned bravery but an innate, deep-seated certainty of her own power. Fear is an emotion for those with something to lose; Maylisse believes herself to be inevitable. This makes her a terrifying opponent, as she charges into any fray, confronts any foe, and voices any brutal truth without a trace of doubt or self-preservation. It is a weaponized trait that often allows her to dominate situations before they even begin.[/i]  
[color=9b9b9b][b]uncompromising[/b][/color] - [i] Weakness disgusts her, and Maylisse refuses to tolerate it. Her will is absolute, and her resolve never wavers. In a crisis, this single-mindedness can be a powerful asset, as she will pursue victory or domination with a focus that others cannot match. She operates on a tyrant's logic: there is her way, and there is failure[/i]  
[color=9b9b9b][b]protective[/b][/color] - [i]Though cold to most, Maylisse is fiercely protective of what she considers hers, especially the creatures she commands, and at times even her half-brother (simply based on the fact that he’s her brother).[/i]

[color=#A9C9EB][b]W E A K N E S S E S[/b][/color]  
[color=9b9b9b][b]reckless[/b][/color] - [i]Collateral damage and overexertion mean little to her in the moment. The fallout always comes later. She is a force of nature without a governor, prioritizing immediate, overwhelming impact over long-term stability. [/i]  
[color=9b9b9b][b]arrogant[/b][/color] - [i]She underestimates rivals constantly, assuming Poseidon’s blood makes her superior. This is her most critical blind spot. She cannot conceive of a mortal, or even another demigod, outmatching her. This arrogance leads to careless mistakes, a refusal to strategize deeply, and a tendency to prolong fights rather than resolve them quickly. She will often leave openings for a weaker opponent, viewing their struggle as entertainment, only to be genuinely shocked when a well-planned strike gets past her defences.[/i]  
[color=9b9b9b][b]cold[/b][/color] - [i]Her lack of compassion isolates her, even if she refuses to admit it.[/i]  
[center][color=807B84][sup]__________________________________________________________________________________[/sup][/color][/center]  
[color=#A9C9EB][b]P E R S O N A L I T Y[/b][/color]  
[b]icy [color=2e2c2c]....[/color] [color=807B84][b]|[/b][/color] [color=2e2c2c]....[/color] uncompromising [color=2e2c2c]....[/color] [color=807B84][b]|[/b][/color] [color=2e2c2c]....[/color] ambitious [color=2e2c2c]....[/color] [color=807B84][b]|[/b][/color] [color=2e2c2c]....[/color] ruthless[/b] [color=2e2c2c]....[/color][color=807B84][b]|[/b][/color][color=2e2c2c]....[/color][b] protective [/b]

[color=#A9C9EB][b]H I S T O R Y[/b][/color]  
Her mother was a calculating London financier who never mistook the god's attention for romance, but rather, saw it as a formidable investment opportunity. She raised Maylisse in a world of privilege and refinement, teaching her to value strength over sentiment, leverage over love, and to see every relationship as a transaction of power. Thus, Poseidon appeared in her life not as a father but as an intermittent, overwhelming force of nature. A lesson made manifest. His visits were never gentle; they were crashing waves against the shore, storms that uprooted trees, and quiet, terrifying depths. His “affection” was shaping, and it was harsh. Where her half-sibling River might have found discipline and perhaps family bonds unlinked to the divine, Maylisse received only brutal tutorials in dominance and the intoxicating thrill of unchecked power. 

She grew up hearing whispers of her half-sibling across the sea but dismissed him as an irrelevant, lesser version of the glory she believed she alone was forged to inherit. Only when Poseidon himself summoned her in the heart of a hurricane over the Thames did she truly take notice. His message was as blunt and cold as ever: River had been named leader, but his softness and distracting surface-world attachments would inevitably lead to compromise. Poseidon's will was absolute, and it could not be threatened by sentiment. 

So, Maylisse was not asked; she was deployed. Her purpose was clear: to go to the camp and serve as the embodiment of her father's ruthless dominion, to crush any weakness she found, and to make certain no one, not even a well-meaning brother or sentimental ally, could ever dilute Poseidon's legacy. For her, the camp is not about finding friendship or belonging; it is a proving ground, even if she has to shatter the current occupant to do it. She arrives not as a sister, but as an inquisitor. 

[center][color=807B84][sup]__________________________________________________________________________________[/sup][/color][/center]  
[center][color=#A9C9EB][b]hexcode[/b][/color] [color=2e2c2c].[/color] [color=807B84]|[/color] [color=2e2c2c].[/color] [color=9b9b9b]#A9C9EB[/color] [color=2e2c2c]........[/color] [color=#A9C9EB][b]faceclaim[/b][/color] [color=2e2c2c].[/color] [color=807B84]|[/color] [color=2e2c2c].[/color] [color=9b9b9b]Minnie Mills[/color] [color=2e2c2c]........[/color] [color=#A9C9EB][b]creator[/b][/color] [color=2e2c2c].[/color] [color=807B84]|[/color] [color=2e2c2c].[/color] [color=9b9b9b]Qia[/color][/center][/sup][/justify][/cell]
[/row]
[/table][/indent][/indent][/hider]

[hider=May's Cabin][img]https://i.pinimg.com/1200x/8c/de/bd/8cdebdacddc076d9de93c88eddb58d13.jpg[/img][img]https://i.pinimg.com/736x/67/72/26/6772263143b91d2f8673286ad3e82f8d.jpg[/img][img]https://i.pinimg.com/1200x/76/ec/2f/76ec2f3565219d97125861681795500f.jpg[/img][img]https://i.pinimg.com/736x/a2/22/75/a22275ee44d0beb4ccce51b25aee4baf.jpg[/img][img]https://i.pinimg.com/1200x/ae/90/f9/ae90f96455993a58ad6862f944ed0eed.jpg[/img][img]https://i.pinimg.com/1200x/7a/1f/36/7a1f36bd00bce1169720a3c02e7d632b.jpg[/img][img]https://i.pinimg.com/736x/b6/b8/e7/b6b8e7cb303d3de216ccc98598116fed.jpg[/img][/hider]