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[indent][indent][indent][color=#808080]Rae hadn’t realized she was holding her breath until Zelia touched her.[/color]

[color=#808080]The contact startled a sharp, stinging ache loose in her chest, one that seized her throat in an instant. Head bowed, she stared at the damp sand between her feet as though it might hold instructions for how to exist normally again while water dripped from the ends of her hair in a steady rhythm. All the while, her arms trembled from exhaustion, from humiliation, or more likely, from the bitter cocktail of both after what she’d just been made to do.[/color]

[color=#3b9ae1]“I—”[/color]
[color=#808080]The sound caught, embarrassingly fragile, and broke off. Rae shut her mouth, swallowed hard, and tried again.[/color][color=#3b9ae1] “I’m… sorry. I know I was really bad.” [/color][color=#808080]The apology spilled out before she could stop it, reflexive and automatic, as if she’d been rehearsing the words since the moment she’d slipped in the tires. She hated how small her voice sounded. Hated, too, that Zelia could probably feel the fine, constant shake running through her.[/color]

[color=#808080]But Zelia didn’t pull away. In fact, when she said [/color][color=#808080][i]winter fire[/i][/color][color=#808080], something inside Rae seemed to respond. Something confused, startled, and painfully warm. It didn’t feel like a joke. It didn’t feel like pity. It felt…like she’d been chosen regardless of it all, something she hadn’t felt since miraculously becoming friends with Wesley all those years back in high school.[/color]

[color=#808080]Slowly, Rae lifted her head just enough to glance sideways. Her eyes were glassy and unfocused, and she didn’t quite meet Zelia’s gaze, but she managed a short, jerky motion that sent droplets flying from her wet hair.[/color]

[color=#3b9ae1]“I didn’t quit,” [/color][color=#808080]she echoed quietly, like she was testing the truth of those words. Her chest hitched. [/color][color=#3b9ae1]“I[/color][color=#3b9ae1][i] really[/i][/color][color=#3b9ae1] wanted to.” [/color]

[color=#808080]Her mind scrambled for something solid to cling to, cycling through memories like a broken film reel: other campers stumbling on the obstacle course, slipping from holds, missing their grip; the girl in the earlier group who’d gone down hard by the end of her run; the ones who’d had to stop, hands on knees, gasping for air just as she had. River had said it himself: this was an assessment, not a judgment. A baseline. A first day. No powers, no expectations beyond trying.[/color]
[color=#808080]She repeated it to herself silently, the words stacking up like sandbags against the swell of shame in her chest. It wasn’t a ranking. It wasn’t a sentence. It was just information. Just data. Just… a starting point.[/color]

[color=#808080]Pressing her lips together, Rae breathed through the lingering tremor in her hands, willing the logic to stick. Others had struggled. Some had done better. Some had done worse. This didn’t mean she didn’t belong here. It didn’t mean she’d failed at being a demigod. It just meant she was tired. Sore. And very, very done for the day, even though the sun hadn’t yet reached its peak.[/color]

[color=#808080]When Zelia tugged her closer, Rae went without resistance, leaning into the solid warmth of her before she could second-guess the impulse. The heat of Zelia’s body cut through the deep chill that had settled into Rae’s soaked clothes—a chill that seemed reluctant to leave, even after River had drawn the water from her. For the first time since stumbling across the finish line, Rae let herself sag, just a little.[/color]

[color=#ebceed]“C’mon,” [/color][color=#808080]Zelia said.[/color][color=#ebceed] “Let’s go sit down so you can rest up some.”[/color]

[color=#3b9ae1]“Okay,” [/color][color=#808080]Rae murmured.[/color][color=#3b9ae1] “Yeah. Sitting sounds… really good.” [/color][color=#808080]She hesitated, then added, barely above a whisper, [/color][color=#3b9ae1]“Thanks for… coming over.”[/color]

[color=#808080]Rae allowed Zelia to steer her away from the arena floor, each step leaden but steady. The violent trembling in her limbs was gradually subsiding, leaving behind a dull, all-over ache as the immediacy of her failure began to recede. She sank onto the sun-warmed bench with a soft, spent exhale, her shoulders slumping forward as if her body had finally received permission to cease its performance. The heat that River had summoned for them, which had felt like a mercy before, now pressed against her damp clothes, creating a stifling, sticky warmth. Though if she was honest, Rae lacked the energy to even mind it. [/color]

[color=#808080]She sat there, elbows braced on her knees, fingers loosely curled, staring at nothing in particular. The course replayed in disjointed flashes behind her eyes, each memory already being filed away under things she would undoubtedly think about later against her own will. [/color]

[color=#808080]Across the arena, River’s voice cut through the humid air, calling the next group forward. Rae registered the sound only dimly, as if from a great distance. Names were announced and floated past her awareness without sticking, just more noise in the backdrop of her exhaustion. Someone jogged out onto the course. A nervous laugh echoed from the stands. The assessment rolled on, utterly indifferent to her small, personal catastrophe.[/color]

[color=#808080]She let out another slow breath, her eyes drifting shut. She tried to convince her nervous system that it was over, that she was safe, that nothing more would be demanded of her right now. The silent mantra was almost soothing: [/color][i][color=#3b9ae1]You could walk away. Right now. And no one would blame you.[/color][/i]

[color=#808080]Then River spoke again.[/color]

[color=#86a8ad]“…Wesley.”[/color]

[color=#808080]The name landed with jarring force, shattering her fog like a dropped crystal. Rae’s head lifted a fraction, her spine straightening of its own accord. Her gaze drifted back toward the starting line, her focus sharpening for the first time since she’d stumbled across her own finish.[/color]

[color=#808080]She found him immediately, a reflex she didn’t bother to examine. He looked… perfectly at ease. More than fine, actually. His dark hair was already damp with sweat, and his shoulders gleamed under the arena lights as he casually tugged his shirt off. The sight triggered an old, inconvenient hitch in her attention, a purely physical awareness she hadn’t quite outgrown. [/color][color=#3b9ae1][i]High school muscle memory[/i][/color][color=#808080], she thought dismissively. Or perhaps just the ambient, beguiling pull that seemed to emanate from any child of Aphrodite, a charm that slipped past defences before you could think to raise them. Rae blinked, forcing her eyes away.[/color]

[color=#808080]But then she noticed what wasn’t there.[/color]

[color=#808080]Her attention snagged on the clean, pronounced line of shoulder, the absence more potent than any allure. Whatever faint warmth had sparked in her chest evaporated, doused by a wave of cold, sobering clarity.[/color]

[color=#3b9ae1][i]Oh,[/i][/color][color=#808080] Rae thought, stupidly. [/color][color=#3b9ae1][i]Right[/i][/color][color=#808080].[/color]

[color=#808080]Her stomach tightened as she followed him with her eyes, the earlier distraction dissolving into something heavier. Concern, maybe. Or guilt. Or the uncomfortable realization that though she’d performed badly, she’d at least had the advantage of having both her arms to help her. How was Wes going to handle the crawl? The rope? The ladder? She had no idea. [/color]

[color=#808080]Rae swallowed, leaning forward until her elbows pressed into her knees, as if getting closer could somehow will him safety. She tried to reason it away. [/color][i][color=#3b9ae1]He’s been here longer. He lost an arm, yes, but he survived whatever took it. He knows his own limits. They wouldn’t let him out there if he couldn’t handle it.[/color][/i]

[color=#808080]Still, the thought lingered, agonizingly insistent: [/color][i][color=#3b9ae1]Please don’t get hurt, Wes. [/color][/i]

[color=#808080]She didn’t glance at Zelia. She didn’t speak. Her entire world narrowed to the figure on the arena floor as River gave the signal. Her own humiliation was suddenly distant, eclipsed by a more anxious focus as Wes took off.[/color]

[color=#808080]The first three obstacles ranged from easy to decent for him, but when he got to the rope climb….[/color]

[color=#808080]Rae’s breath caught in her throat when he fell.[/color]

[color=#808080]She leaned forward without realizing it, fingers digging into the edge of the bench as Wes hit the ground hard, face-first, and didn’t move for a heartbeat too long.[/color]

[color=#3b9ae1][i]No. No, no—[/i][/color]

[color=#808080]When he finally pushed himself up, spitting a dark streak of blood into the dirt like it was an everyday nuisance, relief and dread crashed together inside her. He was hurt. That was obvious. But he was still moving. [/color][color=#3b9ae1][i]At least he’s still going, [/i][/color][color=#808080]she thought, the mantra doing little to calm the knot in her stomach.[/color]

[color=#808080]What followed was a brutal study in adaptation. Rae watched, muscles tense, as Wes dragged himself across obstacles that had never been designed for a body like his. Every slip made her flinch. Every hard-won recovery was a punch she felt in her own ribs. By the time he launched himself for the final jump, Rae hadn’t blinked in what felt like minutes. Only when he stumbled across the finish line—shaking, mouth bloody, but miraculously upright—did she release the air burning in her lungs.[/color]

[i][color=#3b9ae1]He didn’t quit either,[/color][/i][color=#808080] she thought. [/color]

[color=#808080]And somehow, that truth settled over her with a far greater weight than her own failure ever had.[/color]

[color=#808080]The assessment ground forward after that, but Rae witnessed it from a distance, as if someone had turned down the volume on the world. She watched the next group run, registering only a blur of motion—figures scrambling, obstacles conquered, muffled cheers rising and falling. None of the details stuck. Her attention wavered, snagging on a brief flash of someone’s struggle before drifting away again, numb and disconnected. She just wanted it to be over.[/color]

[color=#808080]Her focus sharpened momentarily when Trinity stepped up in the final group. What struck Rae most was the immediate, stark contrast. Trinity moved through the course like it was a familiar dance, her body speaking a language of effortless command. The tires barely slowed her; the logs were cleared with fluid grace; the rope climb was dispatched with ruthless, efficient confidence. Where Rae had faltered, and Wes had endured, Trinity simply executed. Every motion was clean, fast, and utterly controlled.[/color]

[color=#808080]Rae watched her clear the final obstacle with time to spare, the gulf between their performances impossible to ignore. She felt no bitterness, only a quiet, sinking comprehension of the vast spectrum of skill that existed here.[/color]

[color=#808080]Still….finally, blessedly, it was over. The collective tension in the air loosened, and Rae looked forward to nothing more than River’s dismissal.[/color]

[color=#808080]She was still adrift in that thought when a flicker of movement caught her eye. She glanced up as the redhead from her group, the one who had cheered for her, approached their bench. It took Rae a second longer than usual to orient herself before she managed a small, tired smile.[/color]

[color=#f1724b]"Hi there,” [/color][color=#808080]the girl said, her voice warm.[/color][color=#f1724b] “I hope I am not interrupting.  I just got tired of sitting in one place and was hoping I could join you two since I want to meet all of the new campers here.  My name is Penelope, but call me Nelly, please.” [/color][color=#808080]She didn't wait for an invitation before settling onto the bench near them, her movements easy and open.[/color]

[color=#3b9ae1]“Oh, hey,”[/color][color=#808080] Rae said, shifting slightly on the bench to make room. [/color][color=#3b9ae1]“You’re not interrupting. I think we’re all just kind of… waiting for permission to go at this point.”[/color]

[color=#f1724b]“How are you both feeling by the way?” [/color][color=#808080]Nelly asked, her eyes crinkling with genuine concern.[/color]

[color=#3b9ae1]“I’m… okay,”[/color][color=#808080] Rae said after a brief pause.[/color][color=#3b9ae1] “Sore. Very aware of muscles I didn’t know I had. But alive, which feels like a win today.” [/color][color=#808080]She offered a quick, polite nod. [/color][color=#3b9ae1]“I’m Rae. And new. Obviously.”[/color]

[color=#808080]Her gaze flickered past Nelly toward the course, where River was now studying his clipboard with a frown, then back. [/color][color=#3b9ae1]“How’d you make out? I have to admit, I was… a little too in my own head to notice much else.” [/color][color=#808080]The unspoken truth hung between them: [/color][i][color=#3b9ae1]other than being the one to finish last.[/color][/i]

[color=#808080]After Nelly answered her question, Rae felt her shoulders tense. River was walking toward the stands, clipboard in hand. He cleared his throat, and the scattered conversations around them died instantly.[/color]

[color=#808080]He began with the results, and Trinity’s name at the top drew no surprise. As he continued down the list, names and times blurred into a monotonous hum for Rae. She braced herself as the timestamps grew slower, the gaps between them shrinking. What had been abstract data began to feel intensely, painfully personal.[/color]

[color=#808080]When her name finally cut through the noise, it landed exactly where she had known it would.[/color]

[color=#86a8ad]“Sixteen minutes, thirty-three seconds — Rae Kowalewski.”[/color]

[color=#808080]The announcement felt like a formal stamp on a truth she already knew. Last place. Or so close to it that the difference was meaningless.[/color]

[color=#808080]A familiar sting of wounded pride flared up, immediate and hot, but beneath it, something steadier took root. She had finished. She had remained standing. She had gotten an official time. That had to count for something. Rae clung to that thought, forcing herself to believe it.[/color]

[color=#808080]Until River spoke again. [/color]

[color=#86a8ad]"Anyone who finished in under fifteen minutes is excused for the rest of the day," [/color][color=#808080]he called out. A wave of immediate relief and low chatter swept through a large portion of the demigods, followed by the sound of benches scraping as they seized their chance to leave. River waited for the exodus to subside before continuing, his voice carrying over the diminished group. [/color][color=#86a8ad]"For everyone that remains, you will run the course a second time." [/color]

[color=#808080]Her stomach plummeted, a wave of pure resignation washing through her, followed by a tired, bone-deep acceptance. Rae was done with this course in the way only a curmudgeon could be: thoroughly, irrevocably, and without a single ounce of remaining goodwill. But clearly, it wasn’t done with her. And for what? [/color][color=#808080][i]Practice,[/i][/color][color=#808080] River had said. What good was more practice when her body already felt like a hostile, malfunctioning entity? And learning—wasn't it enough to have learned, not just years ago but again today, that this type of brutal physicality simply wasn't where she belonged? If she had any real muscle memory, it was for that specific, humbling understanding. Her mind was her best and most reliable tool, the one that had always carried her through.[/color]

[color=#808080]Rae exhaled a long, slow breath through her nose and buried her face in her hands. Every muscle throbbed in dull, unified protest. Scrapes stung, and bruises ached now that the adrenaline had fully drained away, leaving behind only raw fatigue. For one wild moment, she considered standing up, flagging River down, and demanding answers. [/color][i][color=#808080]What should I do differently? Where am I losing the most time? How is a body like mine supposed to conquer that without just breaking down?[/color][/i][color=#808080] He’d said they could help each other. He’d even said he wanted to.[/color]

[color=#808080]But then she lowered her hands and looked across the arena. River had settled on the far bleachers, rubbing the back of his neck as he surveyed the remaining campers. Leader. Coach. Referee. The guy who had flawlessly run the course himself and now had to manage a camp full of demigods who ranged from effortlessly elite to barely holding themselves together.[/color]

[color=#808080]Rae swallowed hard and gave a single, subtle shake of her head.[/color]

[i][color=#3b9ae1]Some other time, [/color][/i][color=#808080]she told herself.[/color][i][color=#3b9ae1] If I’m still standing by then.[/color][/i]

[color=#808080]She straightened up slowly, wincing as her protesting muscles tightened. Her eyes lifted to the obstacle course looming before them, and another quiet sigh escaped her lips.[/color]

[color=#3b9ae1]“Well,” [/color][color=#808080]she murmured, mostly to herself.[/color][color=#3b9ae1] “Guess I’ll just… get this over with.”[/color][/indent][/indent][/indent]
[hr][sub][color=9b9b9b][b][i]Location: Arena 
Interactions: Zelia, Nelly
Mentions: Wes, Blair, River, Trinity [/i][/b][/color][/sub]
[right][sup][color=#3b9ae1][b]#3b9ae1[/b][/color][color=2e2c2c]...[/color]|[color=2e2c2c]...[/color][url=https://i.pinimg.com/736x/5a/1d/80/5a1d80dbf50b72e4e820733d59cdce06.jpg][color=9b9b9b][b]outfit[/b][/color][/url][/sup][/right]