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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]arena[/b][/color]
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[indent][indent][indent][indent][justify][color=808080]Zelia’s grin widened at Rae’s warning, bright and conspiratorial, as if they had just signed a sacred and utterly unserious contract. [color=EBCEED]“Deal,”[/color] she whispered, laughter threading through the word. She stepped onto the beam just behind Rae, shoes finding the wood with practiced ease, but she deliberately softened her pace to match the careful cadence ahead of her. She did not comment on the memory of Rae’s earlier stumble, did not even let her eyes drift to the spot where dust had once puffed up in defeat.

Instead, she watched Rae move.

Watched the way her arms extended, the way her weight shifted with intention rather than panic, the way each step was placed not with desperation but with quiet calculation. Zelia followed like a shadow made of light, close enough to steady if needed, far enough to let the triumph belong fully to Rae. The beam felt almost trivial beneath her own feet, but that wasn’t what mattered; what mattered was the rhythm between them, the shared, deliberate forward motion.

When Rae stepped off onto solid ground, Zelia followed a heartbeat later, landing lightly. She beamed at her, unable to contain the pride that bubbled up again, warm and effervescent. [color=EBCEED]“See?”[/color] she sang softly, practically glowing. [color=EBCEED]“Very yin of you.”[/color]

Before she could overthink it, she reached for Rae’s hand again, fingers curling around it with easy familiarity, and gave a playful tug toward the next obstacle. The pool waited ahead, its surface rippling faintly under the muted sky, reflecting the heavy grey clouds like a sheet of polished steel. For a moment, she forgot.

Her steps slowed. The brightness in her expression dimmed by degrees as they approached the water’s edge. The smell of fresh water, the quiet slap of movement against the sides, the open expanse of it, it pressed against her senses in a way that felt too large, too consuming. Her grip loosened without her quite meaning it to. She stopped.

The smile she tried to summon fractured instead, thin and brittle like cracked glass catching light at the wrong angle. She looked down at the water, then back at Rae, and something small and unguarded flickered behind her eyes. [color=EBCEED]“This is where I have to leave you to do it on your own,”[/color] she said gently, voice softer now, stripped of its playful lilt. Her hand slipped fully from Rae’s, retreating to fold loosely at her side. [color=EBCEED]“I can cheer you on, though.”[/color] She took a small step back from the edge, not dramatic, not panicked, just honest. The air around her felt thinner here. Still, she stayed. She didn’t turn away. Her chin lifted slightly, determined to be present even if she could not cross this one beside her. Her smile returned in a quieter form, no less sincere, only braver for the effort. 

Rae barely registered the shift at first. She was still riding the quiet satisfaction of the balance beam, the feeling of Zelia’s hand in hers, the easy tug forward, and the shared momentum carrying them toward the next obstacle without thought. For those few blissful seconds, everything had felt synchronized. Effortless.

Then the tug faded. 

Rae slowed, turning just as Zelia's hand slipped from hers like warmth receding from sunlight behind a passing cloud. She followed Zelia's gaze to the pool, watching the subtle but unmistakable change in her posture.

Oh. Right. This one was next. 

Something in how Zelia held herself made Rae want to argue that it was just a pool, that she was strong enough, that she could absolutely do this. The words clustered on her tongue, impatient and well-meaning. But she didn't let them out. Because that wouldn't be fair, would it? Zelia had been right when she said they both had their weaknesses, and with time and support, both could grow beyond them. To dismiss that now, to pretend Zelia's fear wasn't real just to make herself feel better about offering reassurance... that would be a different kind of failure.

[color=#3b9ae1]"Well,"[/color] she said after a beat, her voice gentle but threaded with the dry humour that seemed to be their default language, [color=#3b9ae1]"good news is... I have absolutely zero intention of making this look graceful. But it should be just as easy as the first time, so I'll be fine doing it alone. No worries."[/color]

She didn't wait for a response. Approaching the edge of the pool, Rae let the faint chemical scent of chlorinated water rise to meet her as the surface rippled under the muted sky. She crouched briefly, testing the temperature with her fingertips. Cool but manageable. Unlike the rope climb or the wall, this obstacle didn't feel like a negotiation with gravity or a test of nerve. It felt straightforward. Predictable. Something her body understood on a cellular level, without argument or hesitation.

She glanced back once at Zelia and offered a small, reassuring smile. 

Then she jumped. 

The water closed over her shoulders with a soft splash, coolness wrapping around her like the world's most abrupt reset button. Sound dulled instantly, the world narrowing to the rush of bubbles past her ears and the automatic motion of her arms cutting forward while her legs kicked in practiced coordination. For a few seconds, there was nothing but rhythm—stroke, breathe, stroke, breathe—the kind of mindless physical certainty that came from years of swim lessons as a kid, from summer afternoons spent more in the water than out of it.

She surfaced halfway across, gasping a quick breath and pushing damp hair from her face before continuing. Her strokes stayed smooth and efficient with no wasted energy. A few seconds later, her fingers found the opposite edge, and Rae hauled herself up with a grunt, water streaming from every surface of her clothing as she swung a leg over and stood dripping, bedraggled but triumphantly upright. She exhaled a breath that turned into a small, satisfied laugh.

Okay. That one she could do as many times as River wanted. 

She turned immediately, brushing wet strands from her eyes as she looked back across the pool. Zelia stood on the far side, and Rae felt something twist gently in her chest. She raised her arm in an enthusiastic thumbs-up, water droplets flinging from her sleeve.

[color=#3b9ae1]"Next time for sure we’ll do it together!"[/color] The words carried across the water, buoyant with certainty. Because she believed it—believed Zelia could conquer this fear somehow, the same way Rae had conquered the rope climb with her help. And when that moment came, she was going to be there every step of the way just as Zelia had been for her. That was the promise she made to herself. 

Zelia smiled as Rae stepped toward the water, chin lifted, shoulders squared in that quiet, stubborn way that made her chest swell with pride. She waved once, small and bright, as if this were nothing more than a friendly dive at a summer lake. When Rae jumped, the splash was clean and contained, and for a heartbeat, Zelia was fine— steady, breathing, watching the ripples spread outward in widening rings.

Then the surface stilled.

One second passed. Then another.

The space between those seconds stretched thin and sharp. Something tightened low in her chest, a wire pulled too taut. The water looked darker than it should have. Too still. Too endless. 

And suddenly she wasn’t at the edge of a training pool.

She was somewhere colder.

The air bit at her lungs. Sirens blurred into static. A bridge railing gnarled and broken like metal snapped in the hands of a God. Ice water swallowing sound. Hands pulling her out of the water, pulling her backward. Voices telling her to wait. The waiting, [i]Gods,[/i] the waiting, staring at the surface, willing it to break, willing something to rise from beneath it. The memory fractured before it could finish forming, splintered and incomplete, but the terror it carried was whole.

Then Rae broke the surface.

Zelia’s body reacted before her mind did. A shuddering gasp tore into her lungs as if she had been the one submerged. Her fingers curled into fists at her sides, knuckles pale, a tremor rippling through her shoulders like cold finally catching up to skin. For a few fragile seconds, she could only stand there, blinking hard against the blur, stitching the present back together from the edges inward.

Pool. Arena. Rae.

[i]Rae smiling.[/i]

Zelia forced air into her lungs in slow, deliberate pulls, feeling the world settle back into place. The water no longer looked bottomless. It was just water. Chlorinated. Contained. Manageable. When Rae lifted her arm in that exuberant thumbs-up, voice carrying bright and certain across the distance, Zelia answered on instinct. She raised her own hand, thumb extended high, smile curving onto her face.

It was bright. It was almost steady. But there was a faint tremor beneath it now, something brittle beneath the glow. Doubt laced through the edges of her expression like a hairline crack in glass, small enough that someone might miss it, large enough that she felt it. Still, she kept smiling. Still, she nodded. And though her voice didn’t carry across the water, her lips formed the shape of agreement. [color=EBCEED]“Next time.”[/color]

Rae grinned automatically, but the expression faltered just a fraction as she really looked at her friend. Of course Zelia seemed a little off. She'd stayed by the edge of something she openly hated just to support Rae through it. Anyone would look a bit drained after that. Rae herself probably looked like she'd gone three rounds with a climbing rope and lost every single one.

She wiped her hands on her damp pants and offered another exaggerated thumbs-up, adding an encouraging nod for good measure. Then she began circling the pool's edge to rejoin Zelia, her shoes squelching with each waterlogged step. The sound was ridiculous, and she filed it away to laugh about later, when she wasn't actively pretending she wasn't soaked through. If she needed any more motivation to finish this thing, the daughter of Hephaestus thought, this was definitely a good one.

Up close, the signs were more pronounced. A slight stiffness in Zelia's posture. The way her shoulders held just a fraction tighter than before, like someone bracing against a wind no one else could feel. Rae clocked it immediately—she'd always been good at noticing, if not always at knowing what to [i]do[/i] with what she noticed—but she didn't interrogate it. Socially, she understood enough to recognize when someone wasn't asking to be examined. Some discomfort wanted acknowledgement. Some wanted to be left alone. This felt like the latter.

So instead, she chose normal. 

[color=#3b9ae1]"Okay,"[/color] Rae said lightly as she reached Zelia, wringing a small cascade of water from her sleeve. The fabric made a sad, sodden sound. [color=#3b9ae1]"Ready for the next one?"[/color] She followed Zelia's gaze toward the remaining obstacles. Only two left now: the log ladder and the long jump.[color=#3b9ae1]"Thank the Gods."[/color]

Then she did something she would normally have analyzed into inaction: she reached forward and took Zelia's hands. Not to check for scratches this time, not with any practical purpose at all. Only for the sake of reaching out. The contact felt grounding, somehow. A reminder that they were in this together, even when “this” meant one of them standing uselessly by while the other splashed around like a damp Labrador.

[color=#3b9ae1]"C’mon"[/color]

Rae gave a small tug, gentle rather than insistent, and started toward the log ladder beside her instead of ahead. As they approached, she tilted her head up to study the ladder — thick logs suspended vertically, uneven spacing forcing careful placement rather than brute strength.

[color=#3b9ae1]"...Okay,"[/color] she said after a moment, squinting thoughtfully. [color=#3b9ae1]"I feel cautiously optimistic."[/color]

Although that optimism probably stemmed mainly from the fact that they were hurtling toward the end of this ordeal. One more obstacle after this. Then the long jump. Then [i]done[/i]. She could already feel the phantom relief of a hot shower, the satisfying click of turning off the water, and the bliss of dry, clean clothes against clean skin.

She really, really wanted to take another shower.

The tension in Zelia’s shoulders began to bleed away the moment Rae chose not to ask. There was something quietly profound about that restraint, the way Rae noticed, clearly noticed, and yet stepped around the fragile place rather than pressing on it. No probing questions. No careful, sympathetic tilt of the head that would force Zelia to confront the fracture she’d only just managed to seal. Just normalcy, offered like a lifeline disguised as routine.

Then Rae’s hands found hers.

Warm. Damp from the pool, roughened faintly from the rope, but steady. Zelia felt the contact travel up through her palms, through her wrists, into her chest where the tight coil of unease had been sitting since the water. It unwound slowly, like a knot finally loosening under patient fingers. Her smile returned in small fragments at first, an upward twitch, then a soft curve, then something brighter as the breath she hadn’t realized she was holding slipped free.

She squeezed Rae’s hands gently in return.

[color=EBCEED]“Okay,”[/color] she breathed, the word leaving her slowly, like air after a long dive. Her thumb brushed lightly across Rae’s knuckles as if reassuring herself that the moment was real. [color=EBCEED]“The ladder isn’t too bad. We’ll… go at your pace. And I’ll stick by you, just in case?”[/color]

The offer came out softly, careful not to sound like hovering or doubt. Just presence. For a brief second, she considered thanking Rae outright, for the quiet mercy of that unspoken understanding, for the simple grounding warmth of her hands. But the words tangled somewhere behind her teeth, too fragile to pull loose without breaking the moment open. So instead, she let the gratitude settle in the small squeeze of her fingers and the steadiness of her smile.

As they approached the log ladder, Zelia barely noticed the water dripping from Rae’s sleeves onto her hands. The dampness didn’t matter. In fact, oddly enough, the closeness seemed to smooth the last rough edges inside her chest. The lingering echo of cold water and broken memories receded further with every step they took together.

She tilted her head up toward the looming ladder, studying the uneven logs for a moment before glancing sideways at Rae again. Her grin widened, warmth returning fully now. [color=EBCEED]“Besides,”[/color] she added lightly, eyes glinting with playful reassurance, [color=EBCEED]“After everything you just did, this thing doesn’t stand a chance.”[/color]

Rae let out a short breath of a laugh at that. [color=#3b9ae1]"Don't jinx it,"[/color] she warned, but there was no real heat in the words. If anything, whether because of the quick swim or simply having Zelia beside her, she was kind of having a good time. Way better than the first run, at least.

She stepped up to the base of the ladder first, tipping her head back to map it properly. The logs were thick and uneven, a puzzle you solved with your body instead of your brain. Her hands found the first rung without hesitation, fingers curling around the rough bark as she tested its give. Solid. She could work with solid.

Then she climbed. 

The rhythm came easier than expected, each placement deliberate but not laboured, her body finally cooperating with her brain instead of staging a quiet revolt. The sting in her palms had dulled to something manageable, background noise rather than active complaint, and she was grateful for that small mercy. One log, then the next. Weight shifting, grip adjusting, the ground retreating beneath her in slow increments.

Unlike her first run, there was no one cheering her on. Not that she needed the vocal encouragement, not with Zelia right there. Her quiet attention was encouraging enough. So much so that when Rae reached the top and swung herself over, the landing was steady. Controlled. She straightened, pushed damp hair out of her face, and looked back down at Zelia with a grin that felt more genuine than triumphant.

[color=#3b9ae1]"Okay,"[/color] she said, a little breathless but unwilling to admit it. [color=#3b9ae1]"Maybe I didn't jinx it."[/color]


The descent was less poetic than the climb. 

Rae eyed the drop with renewed skepticism and swung her legs back over the edge, feeling around with her foot for the first rung below. Found it. Good. She worked her way down with considerably less grace than she'd gone up, her damp clothes catching on the bark in ways that were both annoying and entirely her own fault. At one point, her sleeve snagged on a particularly aggressive knot, and she had to pause mid-descent to yank it free, muttering something uncharitable about the structural integrity of trees.

Still, she made it to the bottom without incident, which at this point in the day felt like a personal victory worth filing away. Her shoes hit the ground with a soft thud. She let go, turned, and exhaled. 

One left. The long jump. And then she would be done [i]finally[/i], which reminded her…

[color=#3b9ae1]"Your things are still at my place, right?"[/color] she asked as her friend rejoined her, brushing bark from her palms. It came out casual, but the thought behind it wasn't. Zelia had stayed at the edge of a pool she was terrified of just to cheer Rae across it. The least she could do was walk her back.

[color=#3b9ae1]"I can come with you to grab them after this,"[/color] she added, nodding toward the long jump ahead. [color=#3b9ae1]"Walk you to your cabin and then…well. Probably head back to mine and take a shower that will last approximately the rest of the week."[/color].

Zelia followed Rae onto the ladder a moment later, her hands settling easily on the rough bark of the first rung. The wood was warm beneath her palms, textured and imperfect, and she climbed with the quiet steadiness of someone whose body understood this kind of movement instinctively. Still, she kept her pace measured, staying just below Rae rather than racing ahead, her voice drifting upward in soft encouragements that were more companionable than instructional. [color=EBCEED]“You’re doing great,”[/color] she murmured once, the words light but sincere as she watched Rae’s careful rhythm carry her higher.

When she crested the top, Zelia lingered for a moment longer than necessary. The wind was different up there, cooler, freer, brushing through her hair in restless strands that tickled against her cheeks. She tilted her head back, letting her eyes follow the slow churn of the grey clouds overhead, the sky stretching wide and open in a way that made the world feel briefly suspended. For those few seconds, she simply breathed, feeling the quiet rush of air against her skin and the steady pulse of life beneath it.

Then Rae began her descent, and Zelia followed.

She climbed down after her with the same unhurried care, boots finding the logs easily, one after the other, until the ground rose to meet her again. When her feet touched the sand, she gave a small nod to herself, brushing bark dust from her palms before stepping beside Rae again. The day had worn them both thin, but there was a quiet satisfaction humming beneath the fatigue now, something earned and steady.

At Rae’s offer, Zelia’s smile curved softly to one side. [color=EBCEED]“That would be nice,”[/color] she said lightly, almost to herself, the thought settling warmly in her chest. Her gaze drifted across the camp for a moment, thoughtful. [color=EBCEED]“I haven’t actually found my cabin yet. I imagine I need to pick one.”[/color]

[color=#3b9ae1]"Oh yeah, actually, I can help with that."[/color] Rae glanced over at her, something clicking into place. [color=#3b9ae1]"I have a map back at my cabin. Not a regular one."[/color] She paused, considering how to explain it without sounding crazy. [color=#3b9ae1]"It's... magic. But it lets you see all the cabins and pick whichever one you want."[/color] She tried not to make a big deal out of it as though the existence of a sentient enchanted map was a minor logistical detail rather than something she was still quietly marvelling at. [color=#3b9ae1]"So after this, we grab your stuff, you take a look at it, figure out where you want to bunk—"[/color]

Zelia shrugged, the motion loose and unbothered, as if the urgency simply wasn’t there for her. [color=EBCEED]“Magic map? Hm, that’s fun. You could shower first, if you want,”[/color] she added with an easy smile, glancing sideways at Rae. There was no impatience in her voice, no rush pulling her elsewhere. Truthfully, being near Rae felt… calm in a way the rest of the camp hadn’t yet managed. A quiet orbit she didn’t quite understand, but found herself content to remain within.

Rae blinked. The offer was so genuinely unbothered that it took her a second to process it. 

[color=#3b9ae1]"I…."[/color] she started, then stopped. [color=#3b9ae1]"Okay. Yeah. That works."[/color] She cleared her throat and looked back toward the long jump, mostly to have somewhere else to put her eyes.

[color=#3b9ae1]"...Thanks, Zee."[/color] 

Rae moved to the last obstacle, stopping at the edge to stare down the gap. Eight feet. Shallow water below, murky and uninviting. She knew exactly what it looked like this time, which was both helpful and utterly unhelpful because knowing hadn't saved her before. The difference now, though, was palpable. Her legs weren't trembling. No clock ran down in the back of her skull, counting seconds she didn't have. It was just the obstacle, and her, and a body that had actually been allowed to breathe between challenges. She rolled her shoulders, feeling the knots protest then release. Shook out her arms like she'd seen athletes do before events, though she felt deeply un-athletic performing the gesture. Then she gave herself a longer runway than last time.

Rae breathed in. Held it. Let it go.

Then she ran.

Three steps. Two. One. She pushed off hard, legs driving, arms swinging forward with the kind of conviction she usually reserved for academic arguments or late-night debates about fictional universes. For one genuinely promising second, suspended in air, she thought she had it. Thought her feet would find the opposite platform and stick there, triumphant, defying the memory of failure.

Her lead foot caught the far edge before her momentum betrayed her. The angle was wrong, just enough. Her weight carried forward instead of settling, and she tipped into that horrible moment of knowing you've lost something you almost had.

Rae splashed down into the shallows with an undignified lurch, one knee hitting the bottom with a dull thud that sent vibrations up her thigh. Water exploded outward in all directions, dousing everything within a three-foot radius, including, she noticed as she surfaced, Zelia's shoes.

[color=#3b9ae1]"...Sorry,"[/color] she managed, water streaming from every possible surface. Then, she stood there, dripping and ridiculous, knee throbbing faintly, the obstacle unconquered behind her. But despite everything, a laugh bubbled up from somewhere unexpected. It escaped before she could stop it, bright and slightly unhinged.

She was done. Finally. 

Zelia watched Rae step up to the final jump with a quiet intensity that surprised even herself. Her eyes followed every small motion, the shake of Rae’s arms, the way she rolled her shoulders, the steady breath that seemed to gather all her resolve into one moment. When Rae ran, Zelia’s heart gave an eager little flutter, a hopeful rhythm tapping against her ribs as if it already believed the leap would succeed.

For a second, one suspended, shining second, it looked like it might.

Then Rae’s foot caught the edge, and the moment stretched into something slow and inevitable. Zelia saw the shift of balance, the way momentum tipped forward just enough to betray the landing. The splash followed, water erupting in a bright arc that scattered across the shallows and dampened the edge of Zelia’s shoes.

Her apology barely registered, because by then Zelia was already moving.

She didn’t think about it, not about the water, not about the tightness that always waited behind the thought of it. Her feet carried her forward on instinct, crossing the short stretch of ground before she reached the jump. The leap she made was half-hearted on purpose, barely a hop, and a second later the cool water burst around her legs with a sharp, startling splash.

The chill climbed instantly through her shoes and into her bones. Her heart hammered hard against her ribs, a frantic drumbeat that tried to claw its way up into her throat. The anxiety came with it, quick and insistent, curling tight beneath her collarbones like a fist forming. For a fleeting moment, the water felt deeper than it was, colder than it should have been.

But she swallowed hard and forced herself to breathe. When she looked at Rae, she made her grin wide and bright. [color=EBCEED]“Oops,”[/color] she said, tone trying for casualness and landing somewhere slightly breathless instead. [color=EBCEED]“Guess I didn’t put enough strength into that last jump. Oh well.”[/color]

She gave a loose shrug as if it truly didn’t matter, as if splashing down beside her had been nothing more than a small miscalculation. Then she turned and took slow, deliberate steps through the shallow water until her feet found solid ground again. The moment her feet left the small pool of water, the tension eased just enough for her shoulders to drop a fraction.

When she turned back, Rae’s laughter was still echoing through the air. Zelia’s smile softened at the sound. She extended her hand toward the redhead, fingers wiggling invitingly as droplets of water slipped from her sleeves. [color=EBCEED]“You did great,”[/color] she said gently, warmth shining in her eyes. [color=EBCEED]“C’mon, let’s get away from the arena before River decides everyone remaining should run it again.”[/color] The grin she gave then was bright enough to rival Rae’s own laughter, hopeful and conspiratorial all at once.

[b]End of Part 4 of 6[/b][/color][/justify][/indent][/indent][/indent][/indent]

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