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[indent][indent][indent][color=#808080]Anissa hadn’t expected to recognize him. With her own run over, she was only half-attentive as the final group assembled, her mind softened by a buzzing fatigue. Her eyes drifted idly over the crowd until a single spoken name snapped her focus into sudden, razor-sharp clarity.[/color]

[color=#808080]Elias.[/color]

[color=#808080]Her eyes tracked his easy stride toward the starting line, and in the silent pause before the signal, a belated understanding dawned: he had never come back. After his awkward offer to fetch her a drink, there had been no reappearance. Not even an attempt at some mumbled apology or flimsy excuse. Not that the observation carried any particular weight, though. Perhaps, Anissa considered now, he’d been intercepted, or he’d simply seized an escape from an uncomfortable moment. She left the possibilities unexplored, letting them rest in the space between them. It was the easiest thing she could think of doing at this point. [/color]

[color=#808080]Her gaze stayed on him as River gave the signal to start, and Elias surged forward, his body slipping into motion with an ease that suggested he’d done this kind of thing long before today. [/color][i][color=#5a3e85]Of course,[/color][/i][color=#808080] she reflected, a wry note colouring her thoughts. She had misread so much during their first conversation, clearly. Not that he’d made it easy, as he’d seemed more interested in the buffet table than in her until Tapeesa had excused herself to dance. Only then had his attention turned fully to Anissa, leaving her with a mistaken sense of connection she now understood was never really there.[/color]

[color=#808080]Now, watching him navigate the course only confirmed the distance between them. Where other competitors had wrestled with obstacles, hesitating or over-correcting, Elias moved with an economical certainty that Anissa found herself envying somewhat. The rope climb, the narrow beams, the pool—none of it seemed to disrupt his rhythm. Even when he fell behind a swift blonde runner, he didn’t scramble to close the gap. He merely maintained his own self-contained pace.[/color]

[color=#808080]By the time River called out the final times, the whole show was pretty much over. Elias’s name landed near the top of the rankings, exactly where Anissa suspected it belonged. As for her own…[/color]

[color=#86a8ad]“Fourteen forty—Anissa Quinn and Heath Taylor.”[/color]

[color=#808080]She let out a slow, controlled breath, her lips pressing into a thin line of acceptance. She had felt every lost second during her run: the sear in her overtaxed shoulders and slightly injured but slowly healing knee, the costly fumble on the rope climb, the moment of paralysis at the pool’s edge. The time was no surprise. What [/color][color=#808080][i]was[/i][/color][color=#808080] unexpected was how little it stung. There was no hot rush of shame, no compulsion to compare her number with those above her. What was the point? It was only an assessment, after all. [/color]

[color=#808080]Besides, River himself had already told her she’d done well after watching her from start to finish. His approval hadn’t felt performative or conditional. It was a quiet acknowledgment that seemed to seal the effort itself, making the result feel complete. The work, the fatigue, and even her near-failures had been seen and validated in the only way that truly mattered. Perhaps that was why Elias’s own non-reaction now resonated with her. His detached indifference aligned, strangely, with her own sense of closure, despite the awkward way their first interaction had ended.[/color]

[color=#808080]That same sense of resolution, however, did not carry evenly through the stands.[/color]

[color=#808080]River’s next announcement sent a visible ripple through the crowd. [/color][color=#86a8ad]“Anyone who finished in under fifteen minutes is excused for the rest of the day.” [/color][color=#808080]A murmur of relief swept through one section of the demigods. [/color][color=#86a8ad]“For everyone that remains,” [/color][color=#808080]he continued, his voice rising above the chatter, [/color][color=#86a8ad]“you will run the course a second time.”[/color][color=#808080] He paused, letting the groan from a majority of the group subside.[/color][color=#86a8ad] “You won’t be timed, so you can complete it at your leisure. It isn’t about speed, but practice, learning, and muscle memory. Powers are still prohibited, but you’re welcome to help each other.”[/color]

[color=#808080]The moment River snapped his clipboard shut and tucked it under his arm, the arena seemed to split into two distinct atmospheres. Among the excused, there was a tangible release of tension—shoulders loosened, postures relaxed, and light conversation resumed as they began to disperse. Elsewhere, a heavy, resigned silence settled. Anissa didn't need to scan the seat next to her to know Blair would be among those still seated. This kind of mandate landed differently when the struggle wasn't abstract, when your own limitations had just been measured and found wanting, no matter how much grit you’d shown.[/color]

[color=#808080]She barely had time to turn before Blair vocalized her simmering frustration.[/color]

[color=#808080][color=c9bef3]"Nipple boy is [i]really[/i] starting to piss me off,"[/color] Blair snapped. Her anger wasn’t directed at Anissa but at the situation, their new leader, and her own shortcomings…which seemed to be a lot over the past day. She didn’t wait around for hollow sympathies or whatever sarcastic comment her brother would have about all the times she skipped P.E. to fool around in the locker rooms. [color=c9bef3]"Don’t bother waiting for me."[/color] [/color]

[color=#808080]She gave Anissa a half-assed reassuring smile with a pat to her knee before standing up. Blair knew it was unlikely for her second attempt to be anything short of half an hour, and the only thing that made her feel shittier than their pity was them sitting around watching and waiting for her to stumble through each obstacle a second time. It’d be easier for everyone—and her pride—if she suffered alone. [/color]

[color=#808080]Blair had already taken a few steps away when Anissa found her voice.[/color]

[color=#808080][color=5a3e85]“Hey—”[/color][/color]

[color=#808080]Blair paused, but didn’t turn around.[/color]

[color=#808080]Anissa didn’t chase after her. She understood that pride was a fragile, stubborn thing. The last thing Blair needed was to be coddled or to mistake kindness for pity. So, Anissa remained seated, bracing her arms against the bench and leaning forward just enough for her words to carry across the distance.[/color]

[color=#808080][color=5a3e85]“I’m grabbing breakfast,”[/color] she called, her tone leaving no room for debate. [color=5a3e85]“I’ll get you something. You can yell at me about it later if you want.”[/color][/color]

[color=#808080]Blair lifted a hand in a vague, dismissive wave—its meaning lost between [/color][color=#808080][i]don’t bother[/i][/color][color=#808080] and [/color][color=#808080][i]whatever[/i][/color][color=#808080]—and continued her grim march toward the course. Anissa watched her retreating back for a long moment before letting out a slow, measured breath. Turning back toward the stands, she caught Fiona’s eye, then Lochlan’s.[/color]

[color=#5a3e85]“It was really nice meeting you both,” [/color][color=#808080]she offered, summoning a small, weary smile and equally tired wave goodbye. Then, she adjusted her sweatshirt over her shoulder and began descending the stepped benches, already charting a mental path out of the arena and toward the promise of food. But before she reached the bottom, a sharp whistle cut through the residual noise.[/color]

[color=#86a8ad]“If you don’t wish to run the course a second time,” [/color][color=#808080]River’s voice carried clearly across the arena,[/color][color=#86a8ad] “I’ll also accept thirty push-ups.”[/color]

[color=#808080]Anissa stopped short, her head snapping up as the words registered. A flicker of fragile hope warmed her chest, and she turned instinctively, searching for Blair. Push-ups. That was far more manageable, wasn’t it? Brutal, yes, but contained—a private burn in the arms and shoulders instead of a public spectacle of scraped palms, choked breaths, and stalling out on a rope for everyone to see. Surely Blair would choose the simpler, quicker punishment.[/color]

[color=#808080]But when her eyes found her friend, that hope dimmed. Blair was already positioned near the first set of tires, hands planted on her hips, her chin lifted in defiant assessment of the obstacle course. She didn’t even glance toward Wes, who was already dropping to the dusty ground nearby to begin his reps. Her posture was rigid, resolved in that uniquely self-punishing way Anissa recognized all too well.[/color]

[i][color=#5a3e85]Ugh, stubborn bitch, [/color][/i][color=#808080]Anissa thought, rolling her eyes in a blend of irritation and understanding. She knew better than to interfere, though. Once someone had chosen that kind of solitary, self-imposed trial, trying to stop them usually backfired, turning concern into condescension. Anissa, perhaps more than anyone, knew the tangled logic behind such a choice.[/color]

[color=#808080]Shaking her head slightly, her gaze drifted from Blair back to the far end of the arena, where River stood. She meant to offer him a commiserating[/color][color=#808080][i] what-can-you-do?[/i][/color][color=#808080] shrug. Instead of meeting his eyes, however, she found her attention snagged by Maylisse, who now stood a short distance from him. The older girl’s posture was, as ever, immaculate, her presence subtle yet commanding—a quiet force that drew the eye without seeming to try. They weren’t speaking loudly; in fact, they barely seemed to be speaking at all. A few quiet words passed between them, followed by a slight incline of Maylisse’s head. All the while, River listened, his shoulders still tense from the morning’s pressures, one hand absently rubbing the back of his neck as if the mantle of leadership still weighed physically upon him.[/color]

[color=#808080]None of it, in truth, should have meant anything. It was just a quiet exchange between two siblings. And yet Anissa’s mind, that traitorous and self-condemning instrument, reached backward without permission, retrieving a recent, pointed warning.[/color]

[i][color=#a9c9eb]Omission, after all, is such an elegant weapon.[/color][/i]

[color=#808080]Her jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. She told herself—firmly—that she didn’t believe that. River hadn’t struck her as someone who curated silence with intent. If anything, he seemed like someone who carried his burdens openly, retreating only when he was uncertain of the expected boundaries. Still, Maylisse had uttered those words with such certainty, as if describing a fundamental law for children of Poseidon rather than offering a mere opinion. The memory cast an uneasy shadow over the scene before her, leaving Anissa to wonder what, exactly, was being left unsaid now.[/color]

[color=#808080]Anissa’s gaze drifted back to River, searching his expression for something—a tell, a flicker of detachment, anything that might hint at calculation as he spoke with his half-sister.[/color]

[color=#808080]She found none.[/color]

[color=#808080]Only fatigue, and a focus that seemed worn thin only after the first day as their leader. He looked like someone trying to do right by too many people at once, including those who clearly wanted nothing to do with his help. ([/color][color=#5a3e85][i]See, Blair? Maybe “Nipple Boy” isn’t so terrible after all.[/i][/color][color=#808080])[/color]

[color=#5a3e85][i]He isn’t obligated to tell me everything, [/i][/color][color=#808080]she reminded herself, the thought arriving with a steadying clarity rather than defensiveness.[/color][color=#5a3e85][i] And I’m not entitled to it. [/i][/color][color=#808080]While the reminder didn’t fully dissolve her unease, it gave the feeling a place to rest without curdling into something uglier.[/color]

[color=#808080]Finally releasing the held tension in her shoulders, Anissa let her attention drift away from the scene. She reached for the sweatshirt she’d tossed on her shoulder earlier—her only shield against the chill to come—and tugged it back over her head. The sloth printed across her chest reappeared, now streaked with grime and looking significantly less serene than it had that morning.[/color]

[color=#808080]She glanced down at it, lips twitching.[/color]

[color=#5a3e85]“Sorry, buddy,”[/color][color=#808080] Anissa murmured under her breath, brushing at a stubborn smear of dirt with her thumb as she started toward the arena exit. [/color][color=#5a3e85]“I’ll make him do my laundry at least.”[/color][/indent][/indent][/indent]
[hr][sub][color=9b9b9b][b][i]Location: Arena 
Interactions: Blair
Mentions: Elias, River, Tapeesa, Heath, Maylisse, Wes, Trinity [/i][/b][/color][/sub]
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