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[color=808080][color=ebceed][b]#ebceed[/b][/color] [color=2e2c2c]....[/color]|[color=2e2c2c].....[/color] [url=https://i.pinimg.com/1200x/46/4c/02/464c02c82934d8335c997bdc08116636.jpg][color=808080][b]outfit[/b][/color][/url] [color=2e2c2c].....[/color]|[color=2e2c2c].....[/color] [color=3b9ae1][b]#3b9ae1[/b][/color] [color=2e2c2c]....[/color]|[color=2e2c2c].....[/color] [url=https://i.pinimg.com/736x/5a/1d/80/5a1d80dbf50b72e4e820733d59cdce06.jpg][color=808080][b]outfit[/b][/color][/url] [color=2e2c2c].....[/color]|[color=2e2c2c].....[/color] [b]near rae's cabin>main hall>arena[/b][/color]
[img]https://i.imgur.com/9qIY4OK.jpeg[/img][/sup][/center]

[indent][indent][indent][indent][justify][color=808080]Zelia’s lips quirked into a soft, amused smile as Rae's stomach grumbled, a slight tilt of her head betraying the warmth of her amusement. It was such a [I]real[/i] thing to happen, so completely human and mundane, that it caught her off guard. The soft chuckle that escaped her lips, shaking her head, sounded more like a hum than full laughter. There was something about Rae, about the way she wore her awkwardness without embarrassment, that made Zee feel a little less self-conscious about her own oddities. It was like a permission slip to be [i]herself,[/i] or at least, a little bit closer to it.

[color=EBCEED]"I’m the same way,"[/color] her voice was light but genuine. [color=EBCEED]"I lose track of time quite often when I’m lost in something. Poetry, books, running, lightning..."[/color] Zee paused, letting the words hang between them for a second. [color=EBCEED]"I suppose it’s not really a surprise, though. You don’t have to eat when you’re  lost in something that consumes and challenges your mind."[/color]

The playful smile lingered as she glanced down at the letter in her hands, almost subconsciously rubbing it between her fingers. It wasn’t that she was trying to avoid the conversation, quite the opposite, really, but Zelia was careful with how much of herself she revealed. She hadn’t shared things like this with anyone in a long time, certainly not in a casual way, and certainly not with someone like Rae, who seemed to [i]get[/i] it, and not judge her openly for her oddities.

At the mention of food, though, her stomach gave a small, somewhat embarrassing reminder of its own needs. Zee’s eyes flicked to the side, feeling the cool air press against her cheeks [color=EBCEED]"Yeah, I’d be down,"[/color] Zelia said, her tone warming as she tucked the letter into her jacket pocket. She took a small step to the side, her boots crunching against the snow beneath her. [color=EBCEED]"I should probably eat, too."[/color] Her attention shifted towards the path leading to the cabins, her fingers tapping lightly against the letter now safely hidden from view. [color=EBCEED]"You’ve been here longer, right? Do you know where to go?”[/color]

Rae lifted a confident finger like a human compass.[color=#3b9ae1]"This way–"[/color]
 
The certainty vanished from her posture in an instant. 

Her gaze darted uncertainly between the two forks in the path, each one a mirror image of the other beneath its blanket of snow. Her raised finger wilted in a slow descent. [color=#3b9ae1]"Okay. Not this way…I think. That’s away from the entrance so…"[/color] She squinted at the treeline as if the pines might cough up a neon sign. It was more than likely the case that the place they were meant to go was one of the buildings near the entrance. It just made the most sense.

And then it hit her. [color=#3b9ae1]"Oh! Wait, I have a map."[/color] Her face brightened with the realization. [color=#3b9ae1]"I grabbed one when I got here yesterday and put it in my pants pocket."[/color] The thrill faded half a notch. [color=#3b9ae1]"Which are, naturally…still in my cabin."[/color]  She gestured over her shoulder toward said cabin with a look of chagrin. [color=#3b9ae1]"I’ll be two minutes tops. Promise."[/color] 

Without waiting for acknowledgment, she set off at a determined pace that quickly devolved into an awkward, skidding trot across the slightly icy terrain. After a dozen steps or so, her breathing grew audible, pluming in the cold air. A few more steps and a distinct protest began to emanate from her leg muscles, which clearly felt this was an unreasonable demand before breakfast. 

Still, once Rae got to her cabin door, she shoved it open and vanished inside, reappearing moments later ( a bit more than the two minutes promised), waving the map like a conquering hero. [color=#3b9ae1]"Behold,"[/color] she announced, slightly breathless as she returned to Zelia’s side, [color=#3b9ae1]"my dignity reclaimed via paper."[/color] 

She pressed the pamphlet flat against her forearm, her eyes scanning the layout. [color=#3b9ae1]" According to this, the main hall is over here,"[/color] she explained, tracing a direct route with her fingertip. [color=#3b9ae1]"And we are over here, near my cabin. So, if we follow this path and circle past the main office, we should be there."[/color] 

Zelia’s lips twitched upward at Rae’s triumphant return, the corners of her eyes softening with a fondness she didn’t bother to hide. There was something infectious about Rae’s energy, all quicksilver motion and self-deprecating humor, that pulled warmth into the hollow spaces the cold morning tried to claim.

[color=EBCEED]"Dignity looks good on you,"[/color] Zelia murmured, voice quiet but touched with amusement. Her breath fogged in the air between them, a pale wisp that drifted away like a spirit unsure of where to linger. She tucked her hands deeper into her sleeves, the paper in her jacket pocket crinkling faintly as she did. [color=EBCEED]"Lead the way, navigator. I trust your map-reading skills… slightly more than your sense of direction."[/color]The jest came out soft, like snowfall settling on pine needles, and she let it linger between them with a shy curve of her mouth.

Rae responded to the praise with a flourish, dipping into an exaggerated bow that was both playful and self-deprecating before doing just as she’d been asked and leading the rest of the way. 

They started walking, boots crunching rhythmically through the powder. The forest loomed close on either side, heavy with the hush that came only after a storm. The world still felt half-dreamt, snow glazed the branches like glass, and light spilled weakly through the fog, turning the air to silver and pearl. Every exhale felt like it might dissolve into the dawn.

Zelia glanced at Rae from the corner of her eye, watching the way the morning haloed her hair and caught in the frost on her lashes. There was something grounding about her presence— solid, human, and warm in a place that felt like it had been carved out of myth.

[color=EBCEED]"It’s strange, isn’t it?"[/color] she said after a moment, tone thoughtful. [color=EBCEED]"How quiet everything is here. Like the world’s holding its breath."[/color] Her gaze trailed over the snow-laden trees, the faint suggestion of cabins further ahead through the mist. [color=EBCEED]"Almost feels like the forest is…listening."[/color] A small smile tugged at her lips as she added, almost sheepish, [color=EBCEED]"Or maybe that’s just me being weird again. I just never imagined a place quite like this, I suppose"[/color]

A breathy chuckle escaped Rae, crystallizing into a tiny cloud in the frigid air.  [color=#3b9ae1]"Yeah, quiet’s definitely new. When I showed up last night, it was the total opposite, with all the people and music and fireworks and stuff. It was a lot."[/color] 

Her slight smile lingered for a moment before fading as her gaze drifted away, settling on the heavy, snow-laden branches of the nearby pines. Rae’s expression grew more contemplative. [color=#3b9ae1]"It’s a little eerie now, though,"[/color] she continued. [color=#3b9ae1]"It feels like the world just… stopped. Like someone hit pause on everything."[/color] She shook her head slightly, as if trying to dislodge the feeling.[color=#3b9ae1]"Back home in Cali, the night was never really silent. There was always some sound I could hear, like sirens, traffic, or some dog having a barking fit at two in the morning, so it was the kind of place where you could almost [i]never[/i] hear yourself think."[/color]

Zelia smiled faintly at that, the sound of Rae’s voice threading easily through the stillness around them. There was something soothing in it, a rhythm that fit perfectly against the quiet pulse of the woods. [color=EBCEED]"I think I’d like that,"[/color] she said after a moment of contemplation, [color=EBCEED]"A city that never sleeps. Noise means life, doesn’t it? Motion, warmth, people going places. I grew up somewhere small, too small, maybe. When it got quiet there, it wasn’t like this. It wasn’t peaceful. It was…empty."[/color]

[color=#3b9ae1]"Where did you grow up?"[/color] Rae asked at that. 

[color=EBCEED]” Springdale, Utah. It’s a small town, but it’s near Zion National Park. I liked to go for hikes around there.”[/color] Her boots sank into the snow with a slow, careful crunch. She hesitated, eyes drawn upward to the frost-glazed canopy where pale light filtered through in trembling ribbons. A beat passed. Snow fell from a nearby branch with a soft [i]whump[/i], scattering into tiny crystals that caught the dawn light. Zelia’s eyes followed it down, and she let out a breath that looked almost like a sigh. 

Then she glanced back at Rae. [color=EBCEED]"I think I like this sort of quiet better,"[/color] she said, voice steady and honest. [color=EBCEED]"It lets you hear things you’d miss otherwise."[/color] She tilted her head slightly, the corners of her mouth lifting in quiet amusement. Nodding toward the branch as they passed it, and the steadily growing pile of snow beneath it. [color=EBCEED]"Like how snow sounds when it falls,"[/color] she added softly, [color=EBCEED]" Or, how someone’s voice carries in the cold."[/color] Her gaze lingered on Rae for just a heartbeat longer than she meant it to, then she looked away again, letting the rhythm of their footsteps fill the hush.

Rae blinked when the girl added that last line, and for a beat too long, she couldn’t look away from her gaze, which was why she was grateful when Zelia managed to.  Something in the other girl’s voice—quiet, certain, unembarrassed—struck a chord she wasn’t expecting. The snowfall around them even seemed to ease into a slower descent, as if the world itself was tilting its head, waiting to see what Rae would do with a moment that felt strangely suspended.

It was both strange and understandable. 

It was strange because people simply didn’t voice those kinds of observations aloud. They didn’t articulate how the texture of a voice could change the very air, or how a pause could feel heavier than any sound. Those were the kinds of perceptions you were supposed to keep to yourself, the kind of raw noticing that often got dismissed as being overly sensitive or just plain odd.

Yet, it was understandable because Rae knew exactly what she meant. For Rae, those tiny shifts were the closest thing people had to schematics, which was something she was more than comfortable with. 

Growing up, she’d learned to listen like that out of necessity. Like with her mom, one wrong read on how exhausted she was after a double shift could mean Rae pushing too hard, asking too much, or accidentally tipping her from “holding it together” into “overwhelmed.”Then, at Lockwood Prep, it was self-defence. She was the poor scholarship girl surrounded by kids whose families owned half the city. No one said what they meant directly; it was all tone and implication. So, learning to hear the difference between a joking, “Nice shoes,” and a cutting, “Nice…shoes,” was the only way to know when she was being laughed with and when she was being laughed at.

Letting out a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding, Rae finally found her voice.
[color=#3b9ae1]"Yea...,"[/color] she said, the word soft but sure. [color=#3b9ae1]"You’re not wrong about that."[/color]

Zelia hadn’t expected the warmth. Not from the winter sun, which barely made it through the fog, or from the cabins with their thin threads of chimney smoke. And not even from Rae, not at first. Warm people made her wary; they cracked things open without meaning to. But somewhere between the crunch of their footsteps and Rae’s slightly breathless return with the map, something inside Zelia had begun to thaw, soft and unexpected as frost melting along a windowpane. She walked half a step behind Rae now, letting the other girl’s bright presence cut a path through the cold. Rae’s energy moved like warm wind does, quick, restless, humming with a kind of optimism that felt almost mythical in a place like this. It left Zelia drifting in its wake, lighter than she meant to be.

The dining hall waited somewhere ahead, tucked into the white hush of the forest. She should have been focused on that. On warmth, on food, on the letter tucked tightly into her pocket. But her mind, a traitorous thing, stayed circling the moments just behind them. How Rae had bowed like a court jester accepting a royal decree. How her voice had softened, just slightly, like a page turned gently instead of folded. How she’d listened. Really listened. Zelia wasn’t used to being listened to. Her thoughts drifted like snowflakes, slow and suspended. Each one fragile, glittering, half-embarrassing.

She tucked her hands deeper into her pockets, fingertips brushing the edge of the letter hidden there. The paper was still cold, its weight familiar, reminding her of why she’d come, of everything she was supposed to be doing here at this camp for people like them. People who weren’t quite human but weren’t anything else entirely. People stitched with thunder or shadow or flame. The path began to curve, leading them around a stand of birch trees where the fog thinned. Ahead, faint shapes emerged, the angular rooflines of the main office, the distant shimmer of light from the main hall windows. The scent of something warm and spiced drifted faintly toward them, a promise of comfort in the form of warm food and drink on such a chilly morning. 

Zelia tilted her head toward Rae, eyes softening again. [color=EBCEED]"Guess your map was right after all, I may need one of those."[/color] She said, the teasing gentle as the falling snow. [color=EBCEED]"Breakfast awaits, conqueror of cartography."[/color]

Rae grinned, lifting the map like a banner of victory. [color=#3b9ae1]"What can I say? I have my moments."[/color] She tucked it under one arm, rubbing her hands together as the faint scent of cinnamon and something buttery drifted through the cold, causing her stomach to grumble once more in anticipation. 

[color=#3b9ae1]"And you have to admit,"[/color] she added, falling into step beside Zelia,  [color=#3b9ae1]"my sense of direction is marginally more reliable than my endurance, if you couldn’t tell. So, I’ll take that as a personal victory."[/color]
 
With every step toward the cozy-looking lodge, the enticing smells of the food grew richer and more distinct. The scent of coffee mingled with the comforting fragrance of freshly baked bread and something sweet —like caramelized sugar —that Rae couldn't quite identify but just knew she had to taste. A bit of a sweet tooth she definitely was. 

Heaving the solid wooden door open, Rae was met with a blast of welcoming heat that instantly fanned her face, turning the world into a soft, blurry glow at the edges of her vision. A deep, relieved sigh escaped her. Without wasting another second, she made a direct path toward the source of the smells. The buffet was a glorious sight with its towers of golden pancakes, a steaming pan of fluffy scrambled eggs, herb-roasted potatoes, vibrant fruit bowls, and, most importantly, a large urn of coffee.
 
[color=#3b9ae1]"Now [i]this[/i],"[/color] Rae announced, snatching a plate and eagerly motioning for Zelia to join her, [color=#3b9ae1]"is what you call a divine intervention."[/color] As she began piling her plate with a little of everything, she cast a glance toward her companion. [color=#3b9ae1]"So, what’s the deal? Do demigods with a knack for lightning have a favourite breakfast, or are you fueled solely by storm clouds and dramatic soliloquies?"[/color]
 
Rae grabbed a heavy mug and filled it to the brim with the dark, aromatic coffee, lifting it to her face and breathing in the revitalizing steam as if it were the very essence of life. [color=#3b9ae1]"As for me, all I need is some good caffeine and delicious carbs."[/color] 

Zelia laughed under her breath, the sound low and warm, blending easily with the softer noises echoing through the main hall. The air here was rich with scents— butter and maple syrup thick enough to taste, roasted coffee sharp and grounding beneath it, cinnamon and nutmeg threading through the warmth like a quiet hymn. It was intoxicating after the sharp chill of outside, and for a moment she just stood there, breathing it in, feeling her body thaw from the inside out. She hadn’t realized how cold she’d become in her hike, but now pins and needles seemed to be rushing across her entire body, bringing an odd sort of ache to her bones that was just intriguing enough for her to not be upset with.

[color=EBCEED]"Divine intervention, indeed."[/color] She said with a faint grin. Her gaze swept the buffet, lingering on the stacks of pancakes glistening with butter and the trays of crisped bacon that still hissed faintly with heat. [color=EBCEED]"A good dramatic soliloquy could be enough to keep me satiated, I will admit, but I’m probably worse than most when it comes to food. My metabolism’s something of a nightmare."[/color] She gave a rueful shake of her head, picking up a plate and beginning to pile it high with practiced efficiency, bright wedges of melon and strawberries first, then several slices of crispy bacon, some scrambled eggs, and finally a heap of roasted potatoes, golden, buttery, and flecked with herbs. 

[color=EBCEED]"I swear I could eat my body weight in this stuff and still be hungry an hour later,"[/color] she continued, grabbing two pancakes and drizzling syrup over them, the amber liquid catching the light like molten glass. [color=EBCEED]"It’s like there’s a storm burning under my skin half the time. Guess that kind of energy needs a lot of fuel."[/color]

Her eyes flicked to Rae’s, a teasing glint there as she added, [color=EBCEED]"So don’t be surprised if I come back for seconds. Or thirds. You might have to wrestle me for the last of the bacon."[/color] She offered a playful smile before turning toward the coffee, the dark brew sending up curls of steam that caught in the light— a small, earthly kind of magic in the morning haze.

[color=#3b9ae1]"Point taken,"[/color] Rae said, lifting her own plate like a visual counterargument. Compared to Zelia’s storm-powered breakfast, Rae’s was… modest. A couple of pancakes, a cinnamon roll that absolutely did not need to be there but was, some scrambled eggs, and a smaller scoop of potatoes that suggested she was at least trying to be responsible. She stepped along the buffet with her, adding one more strip of bacon almost on principle after Zelia’s little “threat”.

She nodded toward an open table near the windows, where the light outside was still soft and pale, filtering in through the frosted glass. [color=#3b9ae1]"C’mon, before I drop this and live my new life as ‘that girl who face-planted into the pancakes on her first day.’ Not the legacy I’m going for."[/color]

After a careful journey across the room, she deposited her meal onto the wooden surface with a sense of ceremony and settled into her chair, a soft sound of contentment escaping her. For a moment, she simply cradled the warm ceramic of her coffee mug, allowing the heat to seep into her palms and chase the last of what little chill there was from her bones. Finally, she took a deep, appreciative drink.

[color=#3b9ae1]"So, purely in the interest of scientific inquiry…."[/color] Rae gestured at Zelia’s loaded plate with her fork. [color=#3b9ae1]" Is this your normal amount, or are we witnessing a special, ‘first-day-of-camp’ edition of your appetite?"[/color] She then carved into a fluffy piece of her pancake, savouring the first taste as she waited for an answer.

Zelia slid into the chair across from Rae, the wooden legs whispering against the floorboards. For a moment, she just let herself absorb the warmth of the room, the coffee cupped between her palms, and the soft quiet of early morning settling around them like a blanket. Her plate steamed faintly in the amber light, a small mountain of color and heat, and she felt oddly comforted by the sight of it. Safe, almost. When Rae asked her question, teasing glimmer and all, Zelia couldn’t help the small, helpless smile that tugged at her mouth.

She lifted her fork, turning it slowly between her fingertips as though considering how honest to be. Honesty still felt like a fragile thing, thin ice she wasn’t sure she should trust with her weight. But Rae’s eyes were bright and open and patient across the table, and something in that made it easier. [color=EBCEED]"This?"[/color] Zelia gestured lightly to her plate. [color=EBCEED]"This is pretty normal for me."[/color] A quiet laugh drifted from her, warm and a touch self-conscious.

[color=EBCEED]"I’m almost always hungry. It’s like my body burns through whatever I give it the second it gets it. If I go for a run or train even a little, it gets worse, like throwing wood on a fire that’s already starving for more."[/color] She speared a roasted potato and took a thoughtful bite, the crisp edges giving way to butter-soft warmth before she continued.

[color=EBCEED]"Nothing really… stops it. Not for long. I eat, I feel full for maybe thirty minutes, and then the whole cycle starts again."[/color] Her tone softened, almost sheepish. She’d had to explain it to her family, teachers, and her track coaches over the years. They’d all learned to keep a protein bar or ten on hand for her. [color=EBCEED]"If I don’t keep up with it, I get tired. Really tired. Like… falling asleep standing up tired."[/color] A tiny grimace pulled at her lips. [color=EBCEED]"It’s embarrassing. I once passed out during a school assembly. Right in front of the superintendent. And another time, during a track meet, right before I cleared the finish line. Not my greatest moment."[/color] She took a sip of her coffee, letting the rich bitterness chase away the memory’s sting.

Then she glanced at Rae again, eyes glinting with gentle humor. [color=EBCEED]"So yes,"[/color] she added, [color=EBCEED]"Consider this a standard Zelia portion. A little excessive-looking, maybe, but trust me, if I don’t eat like this, I will turn useless in record time."[/color]

Rae paused mid-chew, fork hovering halfway to her mouth as she listened. By the time Zelia got to “passed out in front of the superintendent,” Rae’s eyes had gone wide in something between sympathy and horrified secondhand embarrassment.

She managed to swallow her food, carefully setting her fork down on the edge of her plate before releasing a low, impressed breath.

[color=#3b9ae1]"Okay, first of all?"[/color] she said, leaning in a little over the table. [color=#3b9ae1]"That’s not embarrassing, that’s… like, medically concerning. There’s a difference."[/color] Her gaze swept from Zelia’s substantial breakfast to the steaming mug of coffee, then back to Zelia herself. [color=#3b9ae1]" Honestly, it just sounds like your body’s running on ‘permanent lightning mode’ and needs enough fuel to keep up. You’re basically a space heater with legs. If you didn’t eat like that, I’d kinda be more worried."[/color]

She took another bite of pancake, chewing thoughtfully as she considered it. The idea of eating that much regularly made her stomach ache differently, as hers was more used to weird schedules and skipped meals than constant intake. It wasn’t even something she’d consciously chosen, really. It was just… how her life had been wired. Growing up, meals had been more about timing and math than appetite. Her mom’s shifts rarely lined up with normal dinner hours, so Rae learned early that you ate when there was food, not when you were hungry. Leftovers reheated at odd hours, cereal for dinner, cold pizza for breakfast if they’d gotten lucky the night before. Add in the unwritten rule of poor households—stretch what you have, don’t complain, don’t waste—and she’d gotten used to ignoring hunger until it was convenient or efficient to deal with.

College hadn’t improved that habit. If anything, it made it worse with all those late nights in the machine shop. Food was just another task on the list when in the headspace that environment put her in, and one that felt negotiable compared to a looming deadline or a glitching prototype. Half the time, she’d look up, realize it was 3 a.m., and realize her “dinner” had been three sips of coffee and a stale granola bar from the bottom of her backpack. She could go hours without eating and barely notice it, right up until her stomach rebelled like it just had moments ago, complaining loud enough for her company to hear.

Rae speared a portion of scrambled egg with her fork, a self-aware smile touching her lips as she pushed her own thoughts aside and returned her full attention to Zelia.

[color=#3b9ae1]"All I’m trying to say is that it all sounds incredibly demanding,"[/color] she concluded, her tone softening. [color=#3b9ae1]"Though I suppose it makes me more grateful that my own… spark doesn’t have the same kind of energy requirements."[/color]

Zelia forced herself to take her next bite slowly, deliberately, letting the flavors settle on her tongue instead of devouring them with the ravenous instinct gnawing at her ribs. It was always like this on the first real meal after a workout or a cold morning, her stomach twisting tight, a hot, insistent ache curling low and sharp, urging her to hurry, hurry, [i]eat.[/i]

But she’d learned long ago how to cage that impulse. Her mom and grandma had trained her in “table manners,” as she’d called them, with the same seriousness other parents reserved for religion. [i]Small bites, Zelia,[/i] she’d say, smiling soft and fond. [i]Chew. Be polite. It’s not going anywhere.[/i] She missed her mom.  She cut her pancakes into tidy pieces, paced her forkfuls, and breathed around the hunger. Rae didn’t need to see the intensity thrumming under her skin. Still, she couldn’t stop the low shiver of relief that ran through her when the first real wave of warmth settled in her stomach. Not full, not even close, but steadier.

[color=EBCEED]"It can be demanding,"[/color] she admitted softly, brushing a crumb from the corner of her mouth with her thumb. [color=EBCEED]"Always having to think about food. Planning around it. Making sure I don’t… crash."[/color] Her fork paused above her plate, hovering for a heartbeat before she resumed her slow rhythm.

[color=EBCEED]"But I don’t really mind,"[/color] she continued, voice mellow, reflective. [color=EBCEED]"It’s just the way I’ve always been. I grew up like this, so it’s normal to me. Predictable. Like breathing a little faster than everyone else."[/color]

She lifted her mug, letting the steam soften the tension in her face. [color=EBCEED]"Sometimes I still forget,"[/color] she said with a small, rueful smile. [color=EBCEED]"Especially if I’m cooking for myself. I get distracted, or I misjudge how much I’ll need, and then suddenly I’m shaky and lightheaded and remembering, oh—right. Feed the storm."[/color]

A soft chuckle escaped her. [color=EBCEED]"It helps that there’s free food here,"[/color] she added. [color=EBCEED]"A lot of it. I think camp kitchens were designed by someone who understood the phrase ‘bottomless pit. I got free meals at my college too, but not nearly as much as this.’"[/color] She took another bite, slow again, despite the way her stomach clawed for more, and let her gaze lift toward Rae with a glimmer of curiosity.

[color=EBCEED]"You mentioned your own spark,"[/color] she said lightly, tilting her head, curiosity sparkling in her eyes. [color=EBCEED]"What did you mean by that?"[/color]

[color=#3b9ae1]"Oh, I can make fire, and control it if it’s already there,"[/color] Rae replied, the words coming out with an offhand ease that she instantly seemed to regret. She raised her palm in a calming gesture, as if to physically temper her own statement. [color=#3b9ae1]"Which sounds way more dramatic out loud than it does in my head, to be clear."[/color]

She turned her hand over, examining her fingers with a hint of analytical curiosity as if they were tools she was still learning the full capabilities of.

[color=#3b9ae1]"It’s not… big lightning-in-the-sky dramatic like yours,"[/color] Rae continued, her voice adopting a more explanatory tone.  [color=#3b9ae1]"It’s smaller. Focused. I can generate a flame in my hand if I want to. Or turn up the heat on something that’s already warm. If there’s fire nearby, I can… nudge it. Shape it. Tell it how hot to burn, how far to spread or not spread at all."[/color]
Rae paused to take another sip of coffee, buying herself a second of thinking.

[color=#3b9ae1]"The fun part,"[/color] she added dryly, [color=#3b9ae1]"is that I don’t burn. At all. Fire doesn’t hurt me, and heat just… doesn’t register the way it should. I can stick my hand in an open flame and not even blister."[/color]

Her gaze lifted to meet Zelia's, both straightforward and slightly apologetic.

[color=#3b9ae1]"The less fun part is that I sometimes forget that fire does hurt other people."[/color] A wry smile tugged at her mouth. [color=#3b9ae1]"So I have to be extra careful not to treat it like a toy just because it listens to me. That, and I have to watch my temper in workshops. I used to think I was just ‘really bad with tools’ until I realized I was literally overheating them when I got frustrated. Melted a wrench once. That was… a day."[/color]

Zelia’s fork stilled again, but not from caution this time. Curiosity lit her face, warm and surprised, as Rae spoke. The more Rae explained, the more Zelia seemed to lean in without quite physically moving, as though her attention itself tilted toward the flame-user. Her eyes brightened, that soft, dark brown hue sharpening with interest. [color=EBCEED]“Fire that listens,”[/color] she echoed, almost wonderingly. A small spark of delight crossed her features. [color=EBCEED]“That’s… actually really incredible. I’ve only ever met people who put out flames or avoid them. But shaping it? Not burning?”[/color] Her smile widened, genuine and quietly impressed. She sat back slightly, fingers tapping once against her mug as if gathering her own words.

[color=EBCEED]“I’m kind of the opposite,”[/color] she said lightly. [color=EBCEED]“Less warmth, more… voltage.”[/color] Her tone was joking, but there was a truth beneath it, steady and matter-of-fact. [color=EBCEED]“I’m basically a walking, talking taser. Or a battery pack. Depends on the day.”[/color]
The humor faltered for just a heartbeat.

[color=EBCEED]“I didn’t use it much growing up,”[/color] she admitted, eyes flicking down to her plate. [color=EBCEED]“Didn’t really explore it. It only showed up when I was angry or scared, and I—”[/color]

Her voice caught. Just a thread. A tiny crack in her even tone. Her expression flickered— pain, regret, something old and uninvited, but she shut it down with the practiced ease of someone used to swallowing memories like bitter pills. She speared a bite of pancakes, chewed slowly, deliberately, letting the moment dissolve under maple syrup and motion. When she swallowed, the brightness returned, lighter, steadier.

[color=EBCEED]“It’s different now,”[/color] she added, softer but clearer. [color=EBCEED]“Controlled. Focused. I can use the charge to move faster—kind of like giving my muscles a jump-start.”[/color] A subtle, almost mischievous smile curved her mouth. [color=EBCEED]“Helps when I’m running late. Or racing someone.”[/color] Her gaze lifted to Rae’s again, warm and open despite the brief shadow. color=EBCEED]“I guess your spark and mine aren’t so different, then.”[/color]

[color=808080]Rae’s fork slowed halfway to her mouth, the warmth of the dining hall seeming to thin for a moment as something in Zelia’s voice registered. There were certain kinds of silence she had learned to respect and live in, and this seemed to be the kind that forms around an old wound which someone may not want to explain. She knew better than to try to force that door open with a clumsy or intrusive question. Instead, she fell back on her default strategy: attempting to deflect with her own particular brand of awkward humour.

[color=#3b9ae1]“A walking taser, huh?”[/color] Rae set her fork down and leaned back just enough to give Zelia a very serious, very mock-considering look. [color=#3b9ae1]“Remind me not to hug you impulsively. Or if I do, at least let me…[i]ground[/i] myself first.”[/color]

The pun left her before she could stop it, a small, undignified snort escaping with it. Rae immediately clapped a hand over her mouth, eyes widening.

[color=#3b9ae1]“Wow. Nope. Too late. I heard it. You heard it. The entire universe heard it. And I am [i]so[/i] sorry about that.”[/color] Rae kept her hand glued over her mouth as if she could physically shove the pun back inside her lungs and pretend it had never been released upon the mortal world. [color=#3b9ae1]“I swear I’m not usually this—”[/color]

Which was a lie.
Whatever she’d been about to say was a bold, shameless lie.

Zelia grinned at the pun, but she didn’t tease; she didn’t even laugh at Rae’s frantic attempt to swallow her own joke. Instead, her expression softened, gently, unmistakably, and something warm unfurled across her face. A fondness that hadn’t been there a moment ago, subtle but undeniably real. She set her fork down, leaning her elbow lightly against the table as she watched Rae with open amusement that was not cruel, only gentle and honest.

[color=EBCEED]“I like how you are,”[/color] she said simply. No teasing. No irony. No hesitation. A quiet truth dropped between them like something fragile and precious, delivered in that way that seemed unique to Zelia, as if she didn’t care to hide the softer parts of herself like other people. [color=EBCEED]“Snorts, bad puns, the whole package.”[/color] A small, warm smile rose at the corners of her mouth. [color=EBCEED]“You’re kind of… refreshing.”[/color]

[color=#3b9ae1]“Refreshing?”[/color] Rae echoed, blinking once, twice, as if making sure she’d heard correctly. Her hand dropped from her mouth, fingers drumming nervously against the side of her coffee mug. [color=#3b9ae1]“Like… lemon-water refreshing, or more like those weird mint-lotion samples they give you at fancy stores?”[/color] The joke was automatic, instinctual, but the next part wasn’t. [color=#3b9ae1]“Because either way, that’s… really nice to hear.”[/color]

Zelia’s smile deepened, not bright but warm, soft at the edges, unguarded in a way that made her eyes glow faintly, like embers under snowfall. She shook her head at Rae’s examples, amused, but it was the kind of amusement that carried no distance. Only closeness. [color=EBCEED]“Not lemon water,”[/color] she murmured, [color=EBCEED]“And definitely not mint lotion.”[/color] Her voice dipped lower, thoughtful, as if she wanted to choose the words carefully.

[color=EBCEED]“It’s more like… when you’ve been out in the cold too long, and then you finally step inside somewhere warm.”[/color] She lifted her shoulders in a small, gentle shrug, eyes never leaving Rae’s. [color=EBCEED]“Or when you crawl into bed after a long day, and the blankets settle around you just right.”[/color] A breath. Soft. Honest. Gods, the things she would do to be able to crawl into a soft and warm bed right now…well, there was nothing to do for it. Training first, everything else second. [color=EBCEED]“That kind of refreshing.”[/color] Her fingers toyed with the edge of her plate, a subtle fidget she didn’t seem aware of.

[color=EBCEED]“Like peace for the soul,”[/color] Zee added, quieter now, almost shy in the sincerity of it. Then she laughed under her breath, small and warm, as if realizing she’d said something too earnest and was choosing to stand by it anyway.

Rae went still.

For a second, the clatter and murmur of the hall faded into something distant and muffled, like sound underwater. [i]Peace for the soul.[/i] No one had ever used words like that about her before. At best, she got [i]smart[/i] or [i]intense[/i] or the occasional [i]you talk a lot when you’re nervous, huh?[/i] So, the idea that her whole snort-laughing, pun-dropping existence could be… comforting to someone else landed somewhere deep and unfamiliar in her chest.

A jolt of feeling, sharp and warm, travelled up her spine. Her grip on the coffee mug instinctively tightened, her knuckles standing out white against her skin before she consciously forced her hand to relax. A flush of heat, entirely separate from the steam rising from her drink, crept up her neck and warmed her cheeks. This wasn't a compliment she could easily deflect or laugh off; it was a gesture of genuine kindness that slipped past all her usual defences, leaving her strangely exposed.

[color=#3b9ae1]“Oh,”[/color] she managed, the word soft and airy. [color=#3b9ae1]“That’s… really good to know.”[/color]

At that moment, a static crackle split the comfortable hum of the dining hall, the sound of a microphone being activated. It was followed by a voice which was clipped, clear, and left no room for debate.

[color=#86a8ad]"Good morning, campers. This is your new leader, River, speaking. It is currently 7:30 a.m. on January 1st. Your first training will begin in 1 hour, at 8:30 a.m., in the arena. Please arrive promptly and dress accordingly."[/color]

Zelia’s posture lifted instinctively at the sharp crackle of the intercom, her attention snapping toward the ceiling as a man’s voice swept across the hall, clean, clipped, authoritative. The shift in her was immediate; the strange and quiet softness of their moment folding itself away to be revisited later, replaced by something alert and sharpened at the edges. By the time the announcement clicked off, she had already paused mid-motion, fork hovering over her plate. 

She blinked once, the lingering echo of River’s words settling into the space between them, then let out a low breath, half surprise, half gathering focus. [color=EBCEED]“Training already,”[/color] she murmured, sounding equal parts startled and energized by the prospect. [color=EBCEED]“Guess they don’t believe in easing us in.”[/color] 

Her gaze shifted back to Rae, a flicker of curiosity and anticipation brightening her expression as she straightened fully in her chair. [color=EBCEED]“What kind of training do you think they mean?”[/color] Her voice dropped to a thoughtful murmur before she lifted her fork back up to eat more, allowing some of her hidden eagerness to slip through now that Zelia knew they were on a time crunch. [color=EBCEED]“Combat? Power control? Team drills?”[/color] 

A pause. Her eyes met Rae’s again, bright and searching. [color=EBCEED]“Or… all of the above? How exciting.”[/color]

[color=#3b9ae1]“Well, based on what little I’ve seen and heard so far, I’m guessing it might include how we use our powers and stuff. Although…River did mention to dress accordingly. So, I guess there’s something physical involved, too.”[/color]

The word [i]physical[/i] sat in Rae's head like a weight.

Her mind flicked back, unhelpfully, to about ten minutes earlier when she’d declared she’d be back in two and then promptly nearly died speed-shuffling through the snow to her cabin. Ten steps in, her lungs had started filing complaint forms. By the time she’d hit the stairs, her calves were burning like she’d tried to sprint uphill through wet cement. If this place wanted endurance, they had, at best, acquired a very determined toaster.

Gym class in high school hadn’t been much better. At Lockwood Prep, PE felt less like “physical education” and more like a weekly public shaming ritual dressed up in branded shorts. There’d always been That One Kid who finished their mile looking like they could go run another just for fun. Rae, on the other hand, had finished hers feeling like she’d unlocked a new, horrible angle of existence. Wes had been one of the annoying people who could jog backwards and still beat half the class. She remembered hating that just a little more than was reasonable.

Compared to Zelia’s barely-contained excitement, the idea of more running made Rae’s stomach tighten in a very non-breakfast-related way. Powers? Fine. Fire she could handle. Cardio? That was where her enthusiasm politely got off the bus. Still…Rae wasn’t the type to throw in the towel right from the start, either. So, she would do her best and accept whatever outcome that would bring. 

Zelia’s excitement dimmed just a shade, not from disappointment, but from noticing Rae’s shift. The subtle tension in her shoulders, the way her gaze dipped for half a second. Zelia didn’t comment on it, didn’t press. She just let her smile soften into something gentler as she took another bite of food. Then, with the same quiet confidence as before, she set down her fork and lifted her coffee mug up to take a long drink from it.

[color=EBCEED]“Hey,”[/color] she said lightly, tilting her head. [color=EBCEED]“Before we go…can I change in your cabin?”[/color] Her tone was casual, almost matter-of-fact, but there was a touch of sheepishness around the edges. [color=EBCEED]“I, um… still haven’t actually found mine yet, and I figure I can just do it after, so we don’t run late or anything.”[/color] A faint laugh slipped out, self-deprecating but warm. She didn’t really care if she was late, but first impressions ought to matter. [color=EBCEED]“I promise I won’t take up much space, or steal your socks. Mostly, I just want to not show up to training in the same clothes I’ve been traveling in.”[/color]

Of all the things Rae had expected—questions about training, more talk about powers, a comment about her tragic relationship with cardio—[i]that[/i] hadn’t been on the list. 

Change…in her cabin? 

There was something quietly weighty about that. It wasn’t just logistics; it was trust. Zelia didn’t even know where her own cabin was yet, and somehow Rae had made the short list of people safe enough to ask. Which, if Rae thought about it too hard, would absolutely short-circuit her brain.
 
[color=#3b9ae1]“Sure. Yeah, absolutely,”[/color] she replied without hesitation, offering an encouraging smile to reinforce her words. [color=#3b9ae1]“Just be warned, my definition of ‘organized’ leans heavily toward ‘controlled chaos.’ I wouldn’t say I’m fully unpacked yet.”[/color] This was a generous description of the situation. The current state of her room resembled a disaster zone, where sweaters and tangled cables coexisted in a precarious, semi-sentient pile. Still, it wasn’t [i]dirty[/i]. Just…very Rae-coded. 

She took a final swallow from her mug before glancing toward the wall, searching for a clock. Her eyes then returned to Zelia. 

[color=#3b9ae1]“So, we’ll leave here in a few, stop by my place, and head to the arena together, if that's okay with you.”[/color] 

Zelia’s smile, while still warm, was steadier, quieter, as if she were tucking the softer parts of her reaction away before they showed too much. [color=EBCEED]“Good,”[/color] she said simply. [color=EBCEED]“Thank you.”[/color] She nudged her mug with her thumb, eyes dipping briefly before returning to Rae with an easier, lighter expression.

[color=EBCEED]“And for the record?”[/color] A small grin tugged at one corner of her mouth. [color=EBCEED]“Chaos doesn’t bother me.”[/color] She lifted one shoulder in a casual half-shrug. [color=EBCEED]“Honestly, it’s kind of familiar. Makes things feel… less stiff.”[/color] Her gaze lingered a moment, thoughtful but not pushy. [color=EBCEED]“So you’re fine. Really.”[/color] 

Zelia quickened her eating, though there wasn’t much left to conquer. She’d been working through her breakfast with the same steady discipline she gave everything, bite after measured bite, even as her hunger urged her to devour instead of dine. Now only a few scattered remnants remained on her plate, a smear of syrup catching the light, a lone potato crisp at the edge, the last soft bite of pancake waiting like a small reward. She considered going back. Her body certainly wanted her to, her stomach a quiet, persistent ache, the storm under her skin stretching awake, already hungry again. She could’ve piled a second plate just as high, maybe a third if she didn’t mind the stares. But with training looming and the clock nudging them forward, she made a rare, practical choice… leave it. For now. 

Besides… there would be more later.

She let the thought bloom in her mind like warmth spreading through cold fingers, returning after training to a hall refilled with trays and steam and spices. Maybe an early lunch, eggs again, or pasta, or whatever they rotated through in this place. Or brunch, because she could absolutely justify brunch if she’d burned enough energy. And then actual lunch, because why not? If food here were truly endless, if the camp lived up to its buffet promises like this morning, she could build a schedule around meals like beads on a string. 

A small, hopeful flutter tugged at her expression. Maybe this place understood people like her, people with hungers that didn’t quiet, bodies that never quite stopped asking for more fuel. Maybe she wouldn’t have to ration her appetite here. Maybe there would always be a plate waiting. Always warmth. Always enough. The idea alone was enough to brighten her as she finished the last bite, sweet and soft on her tongue.

Rae watched Zelia polish off the last bite, something loosening in her chest at how genuinely content the other girl looked. There was a sort of satisfaction in it, like watching a machine finally whirr properly after you’d been listening to it strain for hours. She snorted softly to herself. [color=#3b9ae1][i]Great. I’ve started comparing people to appliances. Totally normal, Rae. Very well-adjusted behaviour.[/i][/color]

Still, she couldn’t ignore the way Zelia’s shoulders had unknotted bit by bit or how her expression had gone from tentative to… settled. Like the idea of [i]enough[/i] was finally starting to feel real to her. Rae knew what that was like in a different way, growing up counting the number of times she went back for seconds in a week, not because of rules but because you just… didn’t. Because you didn’t want your mom to pretend she wasn’t hungry.

This place, however, operated on a different principle. The serving platters were abundant, the coffee urns were bottomless, and there was no anxious calculation behind anyone’s eyes. She slid her own nearly-empty dish away and lifted her coffee mug, draining the last of the lukewarm liquid before placing it back on the table with a sense of closure.

[color=#3b9ae1]"I’m ready whenever you are,"[/color] Rae said, pushing her chair back with a soft scrape. She rose to her feet, collecting her tray and steadying it in her hands before turning to her companion with a patient, expectant look.

Zelia pushed her chair back, the legs scraping lightly against the floor, and gathered her tray with a quiet efficiency born of habit, plate, fork, empty mug, everything stacked just so. The last warmth of the coffee cup lingered briefly in her fingers before it faded, leaving only the steady hum of her hunger and the brighter, lighter anticipation of whatever meal she’d earn next.

She fell into step beside Rae, matching her pace easily, her expression softening into something wry and good-natured as she watched the other girl’s theatrical grimace about showers and athletic wear. A grin curled across Zelia’s mouth, small at first, then uncontained.

[color=EBCEED]“Honestly?”[/color] she said as they reached the bin, setting her tray down with a soft clatter. [color=EBCEED]“I think I’m as ready as I’m ever gonna be to march right back into the freezing cold and pretend this is just normal… camp stuff.”[/color] She gestured vaguely toward the door, as if the cold itself were waiting there with crossed arms. [color=EBCEED]“You know— mandatory morning frostbite, scenic hypothermia, and whatever River’s about to throw at us. Real classic bootcamp vibes, super normal for a camp.”[/color]

Her breath puffed out in a faint laugh as she nudged her mug into place on the tray’s edge. [color=EBCEED]“But hey,”[/color] she added, tilting her head with a mock-earnest brightness, [color=EBCEED]“If we survive the ‘agility assessment,’ I’m pretty sure we earn brunch. Maybe even dessert brunch. Which feels like the only reason anyone has ever willingly run outside in winter.”[/color]

The corner of Rae's mouth tugged up as she dumped her tray beside Zelia's. Somehow, it didn't surprise her that the other girl could make frostbite sound like just an ordinary part of a regular summer camp. She straightened her jacket and slung her empty mug into the stack. 

[color=#3b9ae1]“Food [i]would[/i] be a good motivator,”[/color] she conceded as they moved toward the exit together. [color=#3b9ae1]“I still don't think I'd move very quickly, but there would for sure be some forward motion there.”[/color] A gust of frigid air immediately greeted them as she leaned her shoulder into the heavy door. She gestured with her chin toward the snow-dusted path that led to the cabins. [color=#3b9ae1]“This way.”[/color]

The walk back to her cabin was shorter now that Rae knew exactly where they needed to go. Along the way, she did her best not to psych herself out about the upcoming training and focused on the more immediate quest of not slipping on the icy patch she knew was coming up near the bend. After warning Zelia about it and stepping over the slick stretch herself, they rounded the last row of cabins, an odd little stab of relief stinging her as her own cabin came into view. She bounded up the two wooden steps of the porch and reached for the door. 

[color=#3b9ae1]“Welcome to Casa Controlled Chaos,”[/color] Rae announced as she swung the door open, [color=#3b9ae1]“and your very last chance to back out right now.”[/color]

Zelia followed Rae up the snowy path, boots crunching through the thin crust of ice, breath curling like pale ribbons in the air. She kept close but not crowding, eyes flicking briefly over Rae’s shoulder when she pointed out the slick patch ahead. Zee stepped over it neatly, a small, appreciative hum slipping out of her. Good to know Rae was the type to notice things like that. Good to know she shared them. By the time they reached the cabin steps, Zelia felt the cold digging its faithful teeth into her cheeks and fingers, but the sight of the porch, and Rae bounding up it like a half-frozen but determined cat, brought an easy smile to her face.

Rae’s grand declaration had Zelia snorting in amusement, warm and genuine.

[color=EBCEED]“Back out?”[/color] she echoed, stepping up behind her, carefully placing each foot, testing the wood before shifting her weight, just in case thin ice had settled where the overhang didn’t quite reach. Satisfied, she took the last step onto the porch without incident. She leaned in just a little, grin bright and unbothered. [color=EBCEED]“Rae, I only back out of things that involve swimming.”[/color] A pause. A shrug. [color=EBCEED]“Or, like… deep water in general. And anything that might require me to wear goggles.”[/color] She lifted a hand, palm open in mock surrender. [color=EBCEED]“Cold? Bootcamp? Agility tests designed by someone named after a geographic feature? Absolutely fine. Swimming? Nope.”[/color] She popped the [i]p[/i] in nope. 

And with that, she stepped inside, the warmth hitting her in a gentle wave as she toed off a bit of snow on the threshold. A small, pleased breath slipped out of her.

Rae stepped in after her, nudging the door shut with her heel and immediately kicking her boots off onto the mat. Heat wrapped around her like a blanket fresh from the dryer, fogging the cold-stung edges of her awareness for a second.

She still wasn’t quite over this place. 

Even with the evidence of her existence scattered everywhere, the cabin looked like something out of a catalogue: high beams, warm light pooling over wood and fabric, the kitchen opening into a living space big enough that her old apartment could’ve fit in it twice. Her mess only dented it with some blueprints and half-folded clothes draped over the back of the nearest couch, a coil of extension cord on the coffee table beside a mug with a scorched ring on the rim, and her suitcase yawning open near the stairs like it had exploded in the night.

[color=#3b9ae1]"So uh,"[/color] she began, gesturing with a wide sweep of her arm at the disarray [color=#3b9ae1]" as you can see, Martha Stewart has tragically passed away and left me nothing but shame and poor organizational skills."[/color]

She bent down to discreetly nudge a stray wrench farther beneath the table with her foot, ensuring it wasn’t a tripping hazard, then straightened up with a short sigh, planting her hands on her hips. The longer she stood there, the more acutely she felt the juxtaposition—the inviting plushness of the furniture, the warm glow from the kitchen fixtures, and the almost overwhelming volume of space. The main living area alone seemed to contain more square footage than her mother’s entire apartment.

An internal voice still whispered that someone was going to walk in and accuse her of being somewhere she didn't belong. Rae did her best to ignore it.

[color=#3b9ae1]"Living area, kitchen, all that boring functional stuff down here,"[/color] she rattled off, falling back on explanation the way she always did when she felt weirdly exposed. She jerked a thumb toward the staircase. [color=#3b9ae1]"Bedroom and bathroom are upstairs. You can change in my room."[/color]She took a few steps toward the stairs, then paused, glancing back over her shoulder. [color=#3b9ae1]"You can also grab the bathroom first if you need it. I’ll take the quickest shower I can afterwards."[/color]

Zelia let out a bright, uncontained laugh at Rae’s Martha Stewart eulogy, the sound bouncing easily off the beams overhead. The clutter didn’t bother her; in fact, something about it made the cabin feel [i]lived in,[/i] like it had a pulse instead of existing as a showroom for people who never touched their own furniture. The blueprints spread over the couch, the spilled-open suitcase, the coil of an extension cord tangled like a sleeping snake on the floor, each one felt like a faint echo of the person who actually [i]used[/i] this place. Like fingerprints in motion, and that made her smile.

Her eyes swept the room once, warming despite herself. [i]If mine is even half this nice…[/i] The thought landed soft and tentative. The idea of a space this big, this warm, being hers to come back to felt almost dangerous, like wishing for too much. Rae’s explanations drifted around her, familiar in the way people filled silence when they were a little unsure, and Zelia found herself smiling with something small and quiet beneath her ribs. She nodded at the offer of the bathroom without hesitation. 

[color=EBCEED]“Five minutes,”[/color] she promised, lifting a hand as though giving a solemn oath. [color=EBCEED]“Scout’s honor. Or, uh—whatever the demi-god equivalent is.”[/color] It felt strange, for just a moment, to say that aloud. Putting it out into the open, giving what they were the air to live and become more tangible, it felt too surreal. 

She climbed the stairs two at a time, the wooden steps creaking softly under her socks, since she’d had the presence of mind to take her boots off by the door before scurrying up. The warmth of the cabin rose with her, clinging to her chilled skin like a grateful second layer. Rae’s room was neat only in the sense that someone had tried to make it neat at some point; her boots, bag, and clothes found a patch of open floor without effort. Zelia dropped her own bag beside them, fishing out the leggings, tank top, and hoodie she’d packed at the top of her bag before slipping into the bathroom.

The shower was quick— barely longer than the time it took for the steam to settle on the mirror. Hot water beat over her shoulders, scouring the cold from places she hadn’t realized were aching. Five minutes exactly. Maybe a breath over, but she doubted Rae would drag her to bootcamp court over it. She dressed with the same efficiency she’d eaten breakfast, tugging her leggings up and pulling the tank top on before the grey hoodie was settled over her still-damp curls. The fabric soaked up the moisture in a darkening patch between her shoulder blades, a blooming shadow of steam and the faint scent of mint and eucalyptus shampoo she’d used. Zelia ran a hand through her hair once, wincing when her fingers caught in knots. It was completely useless, curls already frizzing from the humidity, so she shrugged at her reflection. Good enough.

Then she bounded down the stairs, feet landing lightly, her energy renewed and coiled like a warm spring. [color=EBCEED]“Your turn!”[/color] she announced as she reached the bottom, framing the declaration with both hands like she was presenting a trophy. [color=EBCEED]“Bathroom’s all yours, go forth and achieve hygiene greatness.”[/color] Her grin widened as she nudged a stray blueprint with her foot—not moving it, just acknowledging it. [color=EBCEED]“I’ll, uh… try not to touch anything that looks like it might explode.”[/color]

Rae was mentally cataloguing her necessities—[color=#3b9ae1][i]towel, clean shirt, where on earth did I stash my sports bra[/i][/color]—when the sound of footsteps on the stairs interrupted her. Zelia reappeared, announcing her successful and surprisingly speedy completion of her shower with the air of someone who had just unlocked a major life goal.

[color=#3b9ae1]“Wow, that was fast,”[/color] she said, standing and dusting imaginary lint off her pants as if that might make her look less rumpled. She took a step backward toward the stairs, walking herself out of the room before she could start fussing over the mess again.

[color=#3b9ae1]“Help yourself to the couch, by the way,”[/color] Rae called as she hit the first step. [color=#3b9ae1]“Or the books. Or the kitchen. Nothing explosive in here.”[/color] At least, not at that very moment. With that, she turned and took the stairs two at a time, a burst of energy that her protesting leg muscles immediately registered as a very bad idea, given the physical ordeal that awaited them. The bathroom was still warm and humid when she got inside, the mirror streaked with condensation from Zelia’s recent use. Rae closed the door and proceeded to take the most efficient shower possible, one that balanced speed with the basic requirement of emerging feeling like a functional person. The hot water beat down on her shoulders, working to dissolve the deep-seated cold and the low-grade anxiety that had become her constant companion since arriving at this strange, new place.

After rinsing off, she turned the water off and dried herself with a series of brisk movements. The air carried a clean scent of mint and eucalyptus from Zelia’s shampoo, a detail that, for some reason, made the whole cabin feel more anchored and real. She quickly pulled on the clothes she had prepared: comfortable black joggers, a simple white tank top, and a lightweight hoodie. The fabrics were chosen for mobility and breathability, crucial for both managing her abilities and surviving whatever physical challenges River had planned.

She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror as she zipped the hoodie halfway. Damp hair fell in loose waves around her shoulders, a few rebellious strands already drying into frizz at her temples. The outfit hugged her in a way that felt…competent. Simple. Like she might actually pass for someone who knew what they were doing here.
 
[color=#3b9ae1][i]Fake it ‘til you make it, Kowalewski. Preferably without tripping over your own feet in front of the entire camp.[/i][/color]

She slipped into her white sneakers, double-knotted the laces, and grabbed a hair tie from the counter, twisting her hair into a quick, low ponytail. Clean, dressed, marginally put together. Good enough.
Rae descended the stairs, her hand gliding along the banister. As she entered the main living area, she spread her arms in a playful, presenting gesture. [color=#3b9ae1]“Ta-da!”[/color] She glanced down at herself, then back at Zelia with a crooked grin. [color=#3b9ae1]“You good to go? ‘Cus if we head out now, we can still get there on time.”[/color] Although it would definitely be a close call.

Zelia hadn’t meant to hover, but she did— half-rooted near the edge of the living room, fingers curled loosely at her sides, gaze flicking over the cabin as if waiting for someone to tell her where she was supposed to stand. The space felt too warm, too generous, too deliberately made for living to be something she could just…step into without permission. Places like this usually belonged to other people, people who didn’t feel like temporary guests in their own lives.

But Rae had offered the couch. So Zelia moved toward it slowly, each step measured, almost tentative. She lowered herself onto the cushion like someone expecting it to push her back out, spine straight for a moment before the softness coaxed her into a slight, reluctant sink. Her hands settled on her knees, unsure. She didn’t quite sprawl or relax. She simply existed there, perched on the edge of comfort, as if waiting for the couch to decide whether she belonged.

Her gaze drifted to the nearest object, a book lying open-faced on the coffee table, half draped over a schematic page. The title wavered between technical and poetic in its own right, something about structural load and reinforced joints. Nothing she understood, not really, but the worn spine suggested Rae did. Zelia reached for it, fingertips grazing the cover before she lifted it into her lap. The pages smelled faintly of paper, graphite, and the metallic tang of workshop hands.

She flipped through slowly, eyes skimming diagrams of beams and brackets, equations she couldn’t name, sketches of angles and supports. It all looked like a language she’d never learned, numbers that formed logic, logic that formed stability, stability that built something permanent. She wondered, briefly, what it was like to think in shapes and structures instead of impulses and instincts. To build instead of bolt. To fix instead of flee.

Her eyes moved, but her mind slipped elsewhere.

To the fox den tucked deep in the woods, snow-cradled and secret, the memory of fur and breath and the quiet pulse of something alive watching her from the dark. To her dorm room, small, loud, already cluttered by the second week. Posters curling at the corners. Running shoes piled beneath her bed. That one mug she never washed properly. The place she’d assumed she’d return to without question. To the echo of track meets, the rhythmic smack of feet against chalked lanes, lungs burning in that sharp, dizzying way that almost felt like freedom. The certainty of the finish line. The certainty of hunger afterward. To pancakes—silver-dollar stacks glistening in maple syrup, soft enough to tear apart with a fork. The fleeting promise of fullness. The warmth that lingered longer than the taste.

Her thumb paused against the edge of a page. The room around her hummed with heat and quiet, broken only by the faint settling creak of the cabin frame. For a moment, she let herself be still. Let herself imagine that this warmth was something she might return to. That she wouldn’t be asked to give it back.
Rae’s footsteps returned, light, familiar, and Zelia blinked, grounding herself back in the present as Rae appeared, arms spread, triumphant. Zelia’s lips curled into a slow, genuine smile. She closed the book gently, setting it back in its place with surprising care, as though it deserved respect for simply existing here. She stood, hoodie clinging damply to her back, curls still leaving tiny droplets at her collar. [color=EBCEED]“Yeah,”[/color] she said, voice soft but steady, a small breath threading through the word. Then, with a spark of dry humor flickering beneath it, [color=EBCEED]“Before River decides lateness counts as a mortal sin.”[/color]

She tugged her sleeves down over her wrists, squared her shoulders, and nodded toward the door— toward the cold, the training, the unknown. At least she wouldn’t have to face it all alone.

Their pace was brisk from the moment they stepped outside, boots crunching through a thin crust of frost that glittered like crushed glass under the pale morning sun. Their breath puffed in white clouds, drifting behind them like fleeting ghosts as they hurried down the winding path. Questions rose between them in little bursts, half-curious, half-teasing, and each answer only seemed to spark another. The cold nipped at their ears, but the conversation warmed the space between their shoulders, a gentle thread keeping them tethered as they moved.

A laugh, hers, broke first, quick and bright, scattering into the trees as if the branches themselves carried it onward. Rae’s followed, softer, but just as bright. Between their jokes and clipped observations, there were small silences too, not awkward, just comfortable, where the world seemed to listen in, letting them breathe and share the quiet as if it belonged to both of them. By the time the towering curve of the arena came into view, rising from the frost like some ancient colossus, their cheeks were flushed and hair frosting. The massive iron doors loomed ahead, promising noise and challenge and whatever awaited them beyond. They slid to a stop at the threshold, hearts racing. Three minutes to spare. Just enough to catch their breath. [/color][/justify][/indent][/indent][/indent][/indent]

[center][sup][img]https://i.imgur.com/9qIY4OK.jpeg[/img]
[color=808080][b]interactions[/b] [color=2e2c2c]....[/color]|[color=2e2c2c]....[/color] none [color=2e2c2c]...............[/color] [b]mentions[/b] [color=2e2c2c]....[/color]|[color=2e2c2c]....[/color] wes, river [color=2e2c2c]...............[/color] [b]collabs[/b] [color=2e2c2c]....[/color]|[color=2e2c2c]....[/color] [@Sleepy Tani][/color]
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