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[sup][color=808080][color=#cb6583][b]#cb6583[/b][/color] [color=2e2c2c]....[/color]|[color=2e2c2c].....[/color] [url=https://imgur.com/30HT4bt][color=808080][b]outfit[/b][/color][/url] [color=2e2c2c].....[/color]|[color=2e2c2c].....[/color][b]arena[/b][/color]
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[indent][indent][indent][indent][justify][color=808080][color=#808080]Pretty words. Pretty boys and pretty girls. Tragedies and a history eluded to and worn under the shadows of speeches meant to be reassuring. It all eddies out and unspools betwixt her ears amongst all the other voices that churn and sluice through her mind as Callista settles down further on the bench, elbows on her knees, knuckles nestled underneath her jaw. They begin digging into the curve of her chin when rapid jolts of energy quiver through her limbs, nurtured by the feathering emotions that flutter to and fro, like bird wings and insects that buzz and glide with secrets laid bare as twittering sensations that she can taste with every breath she takes. She tries to listen, she does, but her concentration ebbs and flows as waves of a tumultuous sea, and Callista is helpless against the tide that conspires to pull her under.[/color]

[color=#808080]Assessment. Training. [/color][i][color=#808080]Assessments[/color][/i][color=#808080]. Tests.[/color]

[color=000000][i]We ran tests on your mother[/i]
[i]The assessment concludes –[/i][/color]

[i][color=#808080]They don’t know that Callista, nobody does.[/color][/i]

First the mountain... And now this. 
What was it all for, she inquires within. 

[color=#808080]What follows is an appreciative distraction as the course is demonstrated with such aptitude that she perks up, albeit briefly. It appears to be easily done, but in hindsight, she has to acknowledge that the theory behind the execution pales in comparison to the experiment. [/color][i][color=#808080]He just makes it look easy[/color][/i][color=#808080]. The [/color][i][color=#808080]assessment[/color][/i][color=#808080], she rather reminds herself and braces chilled palms on the bench beneath her, shoulders drawn up and in, spine locked in observations as names are drilled into groups, none she recognizes, but what she does glean is that everyone here is intertwined in gatherings, cliches, and familiarity that courses into camaraderie. Friends, lovers… enemies. She can taste it rolling over her tongue and slithering through her teeth like ribbons, perched then over her pouted lip that she smooths the pad of her thumb over as hunger burns, a different sort to be satiated at another time that could no longer be placated by mere food. Perhaps she should’ve endeavored to eat earlier that day… [/color][i][color=#808080]More. [/color][/i][color=#808080]She thinks. [/color]

[color=#808080]Callista is grateful not to be in the first group, as she was a visual learner, after all, and watching others go before her continuously served her best (aside from the obvious appetizers, which were bunched muscles and glistening skin). Still, it’s not long before she hears her name, accompanied by a minute jolt that skitters her hands across to interlink on her lap. She had arrived only just, but perhaps it was similar magic that had dubbed the cabin as hers that threaded across the list within River’s grasp. Either way, the group she found herself in was such an interesting mixture of varying… temperaments. She observed each of them with a curious eye, such a medley of differing palettes that she had little time to decipher completely. Adrenaline coats the back of her throat, beading sweat down the planes of her back. Anxiety pumps and pushes out through her pores, needling against her sensitive skin; it’s enough that she crosses her arms, pinches the hem of her sweater, and lifts it up and over to reveal spandex and mesh support beneath with a twitching abdomen. Callista rolls her shoulders, inked vines undulating atop her petite frame, the skeletal work branded against her paleness a stark contrast against a frigid landscape heated by eternal enchantments. The initial chill nips, near playful, smoothing against her ribs and hips, as she reworks the threads of her hair, shaking them out over her shoulders before looping them back into a clip where the longest pieces twirl on her index finger. The signal is brief but they each launch into the course respectively, Callista herself ahead for just a small, fleeting moment that pathetically lasts long enough for her to witness the others moving ahead of her with such finesse and ease that her earlier hunger pain distracts her, dark eyes roving through each moving limb that she has to force her intense gaze away, throws it somewhere carelessly across the gathered demigods before back down where more sweat beads and trails down, collecting at the hollow of her throat and glimmering over sharp collarbones. [/color]

[color=#808080]Callista knew what to expect with the tires, knees pulled up, feet pointed to bounce off the balls of her feet; however, her gracefulness felt lacking, her feet worn and weighted with weariness. Each time they came down, it was with literal stomps of her laced sneakers, proving more difficult to move fluidly than she initially intended. She thought to attempt the logs similarly to how those in the first two groups had: jumping on them to leap from one to the other, her balance surprisingly intact, a smile bloomed across her cheeks on the third one, arms out, feet braced, the fourth one almost too easy, by the final one though, Callista could feel the burn working into her thighs, her hike up the mountain trail catching up to her with the yawning abyss that cleaved through her middle with a festering emptiness. She misjudged it entirely, caught the brunt of her log against her stomach, air whooshing out with a gagging cough that had her plummeting to the other side with a painful fall that she captured on her hands and knees. Air sawed out from her parted lips before she moved onto the next portion of the course, the low crawl. Callista giggled breathlessly from the grittiness of the sand that gave way under her slight weight, elbows digging out furrows, streaks lined her arms and belly as she crawled out, dusted off what she could, and felt taunted by the rope suspended high before her. She doesn’t hesitate until the last second, where pain blooms and unfurls throughout her palms, her fall earlier scuffing the heels where now they burn with grit and thick, woven rope. Callista hauls herself up, mimicking the use of her sneakers to trap the rope as she had seen others do, but she misses the pinch and feels her weight plummet, burning angry, thick lines into her palms. She ran among the vineyards, climbed up posts, and ran betwixt the shaded browse and thick plants; she climbed the fences, shimmied underneath them, and rolled down the hills. She could do this.[/color]

[color=#808080]An assessment, as they did on her mother. Like they did to her. [/color]
[color=000000][i]The results are -[/i][/color]

[color=#808080]Callista, with arms caught in an inferno of burning muscles, manages to finish the climb and braces her angrily pulsating palms on her hips as she studies the bridge of thick rope interlocked in a webbed pitch. Her balance reforges itself, and Callista surpasses it with ease, though at a slower pace than she would like, but it allows her a moment for her breath to ease out, working into measured breaths that punch through her nose and lips, abdomen caving inward and revealing the delicacy of her ribs. Though her hands immediately flare up in pain as another rope sways tauntingly before her, Callista hauls it back, bunches her weight into her feet and legs, feels that sweetness of a burn coil through her limbs as every muscle goes taut before she launches into a sprint, and swings forward, releasing the rope and landing with a triumphant call that twitters into a laugh. The balance beams are where she regains precious time, scaling the first, quickly crossing the second, and descending the third with arms out at her sides. She’s behind, but can catch up quickly enough to pose a threat if she tries hard enough. She’s not the competitive type, but Callista is determined to leave something of an impression, despite her injuries and the ache in her abdomen where she caught the log, the hunger that churns beneath it, forgotten momentarily as she dives into the pool. It’s like swimming in the ponds on the vineyard, the small, encapsulated pools that dotted the verdant hillscape. Her joggers, however, pull and drag; the thick cotton immediately becomes a hindrance. She’s no Olympic swimmer, but neither is she floundering in the waters; in that moment, she realizes her mistake, too focused on trying to make up for lost time. She cuts through with overarching swipes of her arms, miming the propelling stroke she’s seen on television once before, kicking out despite the heaviness of her clothing.[/color]

[color=#cb6583][i]Fuck.[/i][/color]
[color=000000][i]The Assessment concludes –[/i][/color]

[color=#808080]If she were to stop now, she’d lose even more time. As it was, pure stubbornness led her to the end where she climbed out of the pool, palms flat and wailing, arms rigid and shaking, water sluicing over her skin, the slight muscles in her slender back bunched and pounding. She hauls herself through the churning waves on hands and knees to launch forward with a sputtering laugh, utterly drenched, her sneakers squelching against the compacted earth, mud splotched instantly onto her skin as if a painting, her pale skin a canvas. It’s at the ladder where she pauses again, her chest rising and falling, lips parted around the swift pants that fluttered from her throat, every inhale prompts tantalizing sensations to whisper against her tongue and ping against the ridge of her teeth now carved into a vicious slash, a grin that shifts up as the final dregs of adrenaline coax a breathless laugh from her chest. [/color]

[color=#808080]Callista slaps her palms against the first rung and pulls herself up, the logs damp, the spaces appearing even more of a challenge every time she reaches up, fingers splayed, palms aflame, and thighs burning to hold herself as half her body grinds against the logs, inching herself up bit by bit, abdomen twitching where an intense flame of red begins to spread. Every time Callista balances her midsection on a log to gather her weight before moving on to the next, it grows entirely more sensitive, itching across her pale skin. She feathers her fingers along her ribs at the top of the ladder, wincing against the sure-to-form bruise, the discoloration already irritated by the wood beneath her before she begins the descent, her slender frame propelling down with fingers trembling and arms exhausted and utterly spent. The finish line looms before her; the others crossing already or having finished, she’s not the last, though and Callista can’t help but glance over her shoulder to glimpse the last in their group struggle through the course, assistance wasn’t allowed, but for just a moment she entertained that thought as she dropped from the final rung and grunted with the fall, almost losing herself to the pain in her midsection.  [/color]

[color=000000][i]The assessment concludes –[/i]
[i]The results are –[/i][/color]

[color=#808080]… And the long jump now, where Callista has to double back, she’s near breathless before she sputters, [/color][color=#cb6583]“Shit. Okay, c’mon Cal.”[/color][color=#808080] and leans back, summons what strength she has remaining in her weary legs, and forces herself into a sprint, barely does she touch the beam long enough before her body flies through the air, just above the water, spin bowed, arms out. She lands with a thud, her weight pitching forward instantly to where Callista captures most of the impact suddenly on her knees, just missing the shallow pool by centimeters, the heels of her palms shred against the earth to where she can feel the slivers crack and peel through her skin, but she made it. She finished. All of the adrenaline eddies out from her pores in weeping tendrils, amalgamating with the sweat of her body and the drying patches of water until it is all suddenly whisked away, even the weight of her trousers suddenly gone, as if she had never swam through the pool clothed. It’s a mild surprise, but Callista rises, glances towards River with a dark eye that flits down his body and then back, a soft muttering of thanks fell from her pouted lip, attempting to ease the need to draw in great gulps of air. [/color]

[color=#808080]It’s only when she begins to walk away that she lifts her arms high and interlocks her fingers upon the crown of her head, their pulsating gestures eased momentarily. Her spine extends, her ribs ease, and Callista draws breath through her nose and out her mouth, the tattoo on her back curiously shifting as if a serpent upon her skin, bracketing around her bones as if preparing to coil. With her body stretched so, she felt the immediate pain flare in her midsection and tempered it with a banded arm against her ribs, hoping to assuage the ache as she returned to grab her cropped sweater and use the fabric to ease the rawness of her hands next. The bench she had occupied before is a welcoming sight as she sits down, attempting not to appear so worn out as she felt, to breathe more evenly, even as she wanted nothing more than to lie back and collect herself. [/color]

[color=000000][i]The assessment concludes –[/i][/color]
[/color][/justify][/indent][/indent][/indent][/indent]

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[color=808080][b]interactions[/b] [color=2e2c2c]....[/color]|[color=2e2c2c]....[/color] river (sort of) [color=2e2c2c]...............[/color] [b]mentions[/b] [color=2e2c2c]....[/color]|[color=2e2c2c]....[/color] river, sofia, nelly, mason, rae. [color=2e2c2c]...............[/color] [b]collabs[/b] [color=2e2c2c]....[/color]|[color=2e2c2c]....[/color] none[/color]
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