River did not have the wherewithal to schedule an alarm on his phone before he passed out. Unluckily for him, he woke up just as the sun dipped below the horizon and bathed his cabin in a warm orange light. Damn. There was a part of him that wished he’d ’accidentally’ sleep through the party. Oh darn, River wasn’t there? What a shame. The likelihood of him being able to hide away for the rest of the evening without Ocean seeking him out and dragging him along was slim. But if he was asleep? He could have pretended to be out cold… or dead? No. That would just cause a whole bunch of other problems. Plus he couldn’t hold his breath that long.
He turned his head face down into a throw pillow and groaned. It took another minute for him to find the motivation to move again. He pushed off the couch and adjusted so he sat on the edge of the cushions. He rested his elbows on his knees and sighed. There was a chill where a dampness clung to his cheek. He groaned as he used the back of his sleep to wipe the drool from his mouth. Gross. River let his head roll from side to side, stretching and popping any stiffness from his spine. Next time he should take the effort to go upstairs and sleep in bed, or at least pass out on his back. No amount of cracks or stretches was going to remove the crick in the right side of his neck.
After giving himself enough time to fully wake up, River hooked his index finger on the neck of his shirt and pulled it away from his chest. He leaned his head down and sniffed. He didn’t smell terrible but he didn’t smell good either. He was hoping he could skip the shower, but hiking several miles up a mountain in the snow gave him a bit of a funk. His right hand reached behind his shoulders, grabbed a fist full of fabric and pulled his shirt over his head. He stood up and grabbed his bag then headed upstairs.
The second floor of the A-frame cabin was narrow and small, not that he was someone who needed a lot of space. Although he had to hunch if he stood too close to the walls to avoid bumping his head. The bed was minimal, but looked like it was hanging from some sort or ropes or was a swing. He wasn’t entirely sure how practical it was. It was probably for some recreational purposes. All he saw was an opportunity to fall on his ass if he had to pee in the middle of the night, but the swaying might be soothing to fall asleep to. He set his things on the ground beside the bed, not particularly in the mood to worry about unpacking at the moment.
He started to strip off the rest of his clothes when he noticed that there wasn’t a separate bathroom. There was a huge square bathtub near the foot of the bed, but as far as he could see there wasn’t a shower anywhere. It took him far too long to notice that the thing hanging from the ceiling wasn’t a light but a shower head. No shower curtain or doors, which wasn’t totally unusual. River was used to outdoor showers after surfing, but you weren’t usually five feet from a bed and you were dressed. He laid a couple towels on the ground surrounding the tub to hopefully minimize any messes. And just as he went to pull his boxers off he noticed the giant window looking out over camp. A nice view while soaking in the bath sounded nice, but he had no desire to broadcast his junk. He closed the curtains then finished undressing and hopped in the shower… bath… thing.
River was someone who rarely took a shower that lasted more than five minutes. But considering he was in no rush, he allowed himself a little more time to enjoy the warmth before he wandered back out into a snowstorm. This was by far the coldest weather he had ever encountered. It was going to take awhile for him to get used to how the chill seemed to set into his bones and not let go. Not even a scalding shower seemed to warm him up entirely. When the water started to cool, he admitted defeat and got out before he lost what heat he managed to retain. He wrapped a towel around his waist and grabbed three aspirin from his bag. Between the crick in his neck and the likelihood of alcohol, he opted to be a bit proactive and try to avoid any additional reasons to be in a bad mood. It wasn’t a cure all, but at least he wouldn’t feel like shit while being forced to be moderately social.
It seemed all his motivation came to a halt as he found himself staring down at his bag without a clue on what to wear. It wasn’t like River packed for parties. Hell he had never even been to a party. All of his clothing was either casual or athletic and hardly appropriate for the horrible weather they were having. He was Hawaiian, not Alaskan. It was rare that he owned closed toed shoes, let alone a jacket. Halfway through dumping out his bag, the only resolution he came to was that he was going to freeze his ass off. He went back downstairs, looking around for a thermometer or something that would give him a clue about the weather since his phone was an expensive paperweight since he arrived at camp.
Fixed to the wall beside the front door was some kind of digital thermostat. Thankfully it not only displayed the indoor temperature but outside as well. Inside was 72°F and outside was 75°F. Not bad. He nodded his head and took a step back toward the stairs when what he read set in. "What the—" River did a double take. His eyes weren’t deceiving him, but there was no way. He leaned to the side, peering out the glass door to see snow falling just as heavily as it was earlier that day. He rapped his knuckle on the thermostat like it was malfunctioning but the numbers stayed the same.
He sighed, opening the door and stepping out onto the porch. The snow was cold under his feet and he could feel the chill of where it landed on his bare chest, but the air was… warm? River stood there in a stunned silence for the better part of a minute utterly confused. Rather than trying to rationalize it, he shrugged his shoulders and headed back inside. Who was he to look a gift horse in the mouth? At least now he knew he wouldn’t freeze his ass off while ringing in the New Year. Silver linings.
Back upstairs he was able to grab a decent shirt, one of his nicer button up shirts that didn’t look like the ridiculous tourist Hawaiian shirts. It was collared with short sleeves and a variety of thick blue stripes. He grabbed a pair of nearly white khakis and plain white sneakers to go with it. It wasn’t anything fancy, but it was the nicest clothes he owned. After putting back on his jewelry, a little bit of deodorant and some musky cologne, River was as presentable as he could be. He checked himself in the mirror once, making sure he looked decent. His fingers ran back through his damp hair, trying to tame any wild curls. Good enough. Unable to delay any further, he headed out.
Anissa drifted toward consciousness like a diver rising reluctantly from deep waters, each layer of wakefulness bringing more awareness than she wanted. She remained perfectly still for several slow breaths, eyes tracing the ceiling above her, clinging to the fading memory of that precious, dreamless void that had briefly sheltered her. It had been the first truly blank sleep she'd had in months - no visions, no whispers, just merciful nothingness.
But reality always won. Memories trickled back like icy water seeping into boots: first the lilac dress, then the journal entries, and finally that wrong presence at the camp gates. Her fingers twitched against the sheets, nails digging in briefly before she forced them to relax. Squeezing her eyes shut, she focused on breathing evenly, the way her therapist had taught her. In for four, hold for seven, out for eight. It didn't completely erase the tension coiling between her shoulders, but it made the panic manageable.
The sigh that escaped her as she finally pushed upright seemed to carry more than she'd intended, like she was exhaling every unanswered question from earlier. Evening light struggled through the curtains, painting the room in weak gold stripes that did little to dispel the shadows clinging to the corners. Her journal sat half-open on the nightstand, and for a wild moment, she considered crawling back under the covers with it, but instead swung her legs over the edge, wincing as her bare feet met the cold floorboards. A full-body shiver ran through her as she stretched, muscles protesting the hours spent curled in an awkward ball. Every movement felt mechanical as she crossed to the mirror, her gaze avoiding the lilac fabric still draped across the bed.
That problem could wait. Maybe indefinitely.
The girl in the mirror looked back at her with sleep-mussed hair and a complexion that had always held the warmth of sunlit stone, the kind of colour that never faded, no matter how long winter dragged on. Dark strands stuck up at odd angles, tangled from restless turning. She reached up automatically, fingers working through the knots, each stroke bringing a small sense of control. Combing her hair, applying makeup, these were rituals that always calmed her, and by the time she managed to bring on this relief, her reflection looked more put together, even if her eyes still held that familiar guarded tension.
Turning away, she moved toward the bathroom she'd barely glanced at. The space was small but immaculate: white subway tiles interrupted by warm wood accents, a shower stall with shiny glass, and a circular mirror that caught the soft evening light. The vanity held an assortment of toiletries, their presence raising unanswerable questions. Had the camp stocked these? Or had her absent father also arranged these small comforts? She pushed the thought away, turning the faucet with more force than necessary. Peeling off her gloves and breathing a sigh of relief when nothing appeared, icy water shocked her system as she splashed her face, the cold bite helping to dissolve the last cobwebs of sleep. Patting her skin dry with a towel, she studied the faint purple shadows beneath her eyes, permanent souvenirs from too many nights spent deciphering the undecipherable. She would deal with those after her shower.
The water hit her skin like a sudden rainstorm, scalding at first until she twisted the knob to a more bearable temperature. Steam rose in thick clouds as Anissa stood frozen under the spray, letting the near-painful heat work its way into muscles that always seemed to carry some deep, unshakable cold. Only when the tension between her shoulder blades finally eased did she reach for the shampoo bottle, its herbal scent filling the small space as she massaged the lather into her scalp. There was something almost meditative about the routine of the repetitive motions of washing her hair, scrubbing her skin, watching the day's grime and fear swirl down the drain. For these few minutes, the steam created a cocoon where nothing supernatural could reach her.
Stepping out onto the bathmat, she found the mirror completely obscured by condensation, its surface fogged into a featureless gray. Anissa took her time drying off, wrapping herself in one of the camp's surprisingly plush towels before finally facing the bedroom again. The real challenge waited for her there.
Choosing an outfit shouldn't have felt so daunting, but after the day’s bizarre events, even simple decisions felt harder than usual. She'd been too drained to care about clothes when she arrived, but now, with clearer thoughts and warmer skin, the task felt manageable. Her gaze landed immediately on the lilac dress still sprawled across the duvet and, before she could overthink it, Anissa marched over, grabbed the offending garment with two fingers, and stuffed it into the bottom drawer of the dresser, burying it beneath layers of knit sweaters as if that could erase its existence. Maybe if she ignored it hard enough, it would disappear entirely.
The wardrobe doors creaked slightly as she pulled them open, revealing the mix of practical and stylish clothing she'd packed. As her fingers brushed through the hanging items, each fabric made a soft shushing sound, like they were whispering suggestions as she moved past them. But the oversized hoodies to hide in wouldn’t do, nor would the dark jeans to blend in, clothes designed to make her invisible. Tonight called for something different. Tonight, in this strange new place surrounded by strangers, she needed stronger defence, not camouflage.
Then she spotted the perfect combination.
The white off-shoulder top went on first, its loose sleeves slipping just enough to reveal the curve of her collarbones without feeling exposed. Next came the black mini dress, its tailored waist hugging her frame in a way that felt powerful rather than vulnerable. She caught her own eye in the mirror as she adjusted the hem, watching her reflection shift from sleep-softened to sharply defined with each new layer. The thigh-high boots presented their usual challenge, as the left one was always stubbornly catching at her knee. But after some strategic wiggling, they slid into place, and immediately, she felt the transformation. The added height from the heels did more than make her taller; it changed her entire posture, the way she carried herself, and how the world would see her. No more shrinking into the background. She rolled her shoulders back, tilting her chin up just slightly. Better. Stronger.
Finally, she reached for her signature piece: the cream beret that had travelled with her through countless cities and crises. The wool felt familiar between her fingers, still perfectly shaped despite years of wear. She placed it on her head, angling it to that perfect, slight tilt to the right. This was the finishing touch, the piece that tied everything together.
Now the mirror showed someone who looked confident and collected. A young woman who had her life together. Someone who didn't wake gasping from nightmares or see things that shouldn't exist. Someone normal. Or at least, someone who could convincingly pretend to be normal for a few hours. That would have to be enough.
Anissa then padded over to her satchel and pulled out the small cosmetic pouch she'd tucked into it. She didn’t wear heavy makeup, but tonight she needed the illusion of composure. A mask to match the outfit. So, first came the concealer, its metal tube clicking as she twisted it open. She dabbed the creamy formula beneath her eyes with gentle patting motions, watching in the mirror as the purple shadows from too many sleepless nights gradually disappeared under the careful application. Next came the highlighter, its pearly sheen catching the lamplight as she swept it along her cheekbones. The effect was just enough glow to draw attention upward, away from any tension around her mouth or the bit of furrow between her brows that never quite went away.
The lip stain came out next, its berry tint neutral enough to look natural but pigmented enough to make her look alive. She applied it, pressing her lips together to even out the colour. Finally, she reached for the eyeliner, the dark brown pencil sharpened to the point. She leaned closer to the mirror, bracing one hand against the dresser as she traced along her lash line. The thin, even stroke made her eyes appear brighter, more alert, like someone who hadn't spent most of her nights scribbling frantic notes in a journal about supernatural encounters.
Her hair, still slightly damp from the shower, chose that moment to rebel. Dark strands curled in every direction, some sticking up stubbornly while others clung to her neck in damp tendrils. She grabbed a nearby towel and ran it through the mess one last time, scrunching the lengths gently to encourage the natural waves rather than fight them. The result was imperfect but interesting, the kind of artfully tousled look that fashion models spent hours trying to achieve. A few stubborn pieces still framed her face in unruly curls, but she knew the beret would tame the worst of it. As she settled the cream-colored hat into place, angling it just so once more, those rebellious strands became part of the look rather than flaws to fix. They softened the sharpness of her eyeliner, making the whole ensemble appear effortless rather than precisely constructed.
Before heading out of the room, Anissa opened the top drawer of her dresser and reached for a different pair of gloves—sleek black ones made of soft suede, elegant enough to pass as fashion. Not the ones she usually wore that were still on the bathroom countertop. Not the ones that reminded her of fear. These were more like… a statement. Ones that said that she was completely safe to be around. She slipped them on slowly, flexing her fingers inside the fitted material, before finally leaving the room.
Anissa descended the staircase and, at the bottom, she reached for the coat she’d slung over the coat stand, something stylish in dark wool, warm enough for cold nights. Her fingers paused on the sleeve just as her gaze caught the thermostat fixed to the wall near the door.
75°F.
She blinked. Looked again.
Outside, the snow still fell in lazy spirals, blanketing the world in white. But the number didn’t waver. Neither did the warmth pressing through the doorframe like summer trapped inside winter’s skin.
Anissa frowned, and for a moment, she considered that she might be hallucinating. Slowly, she released the coat and let it slide back into place. Strange. But she wasn't about to question a miracle. Instead, she reached for the door handle with a gloved hand, adjusted the angle of her beret once more, and stepped out into the falling snow.
Let the gods make sense of it. She had a party to get to.
River made it out of his cabin and down the narrow path that led to the main trail… Then froze. Right would have been the most direct route to the activities field. But to the left was the beach and the most detoured route to the party. After all, he was going to the party. So what did it matter if he arrived late? Wasn’t that supposed to be fashionable or something? He had no idea. But the idea of prolonging the inevitable did seem appealing.
Before his mind had made the decision, his feet were already carrying him toward the beach. As he looked out over the water, River could almost have been fooled to think the water would have been pleasantly cool. But then there was the snow. What was with the weird weather? Curiosity overcame him and he had to know if the lake was warm or not. He held out his right hand and a small trickle of water floated through the air toward him. When the water brushed the tips of his fingers it felt like he had submerged his hand into the deepest depths of the ocean. It was so cold he was surprised there was no ice on the surface of the lake. He shook his hand letting the water fall to the ground, making little dips in the snow. Gods camp was weird.
When he turned his attention back ahead, River noticed on the far side of the beach was a figure dressed in mostly black. The closer he got he realized it was a girl, but not one he had met yet. He couldn’t even recall if he saw her in the initial crowd of demigods that arrived around the same time he did. She could have been new or a seasoned camper. She had an olive complexion, similar to his own, with chocolate brown hair that looked nearly black contrasted by her white beret. Besides the small bits of white in her hat and shirt, everything about her was dark from her hair and eyes, to the black of her dress, gloves and… Thigh high boots. His eyes lingered there for what was probably considered an uncomfortable amount of time.
It was only when he was fixated on her legs that River noticed she was pacing back and forth. She would take a couple steps away from what he assumed was her cabin, pause, then turn back making it nearly to the door, then do it all over again. His own pace slowed as he approached. He stood silent, watching her for a long moment to see if she’d make a decision or continue going back and forth. Eventually he raised the side of his fist to his mouth and cleared his throat, hoping not to startle her. "Are you… ok?"
Anissa froze mid-step, one boot hovering inches above the snow as the voice abruptly broke into her thoughts. Her whole body tensed before she forced herself to turn toward the sound, her dark eyes widening beneath her beret. How had someone gotten so close without her noticing? Probably because she'd been too wrapped up in mentally rehearsing introductions and potential escape routes to pay attention to her surroundings, an amateur mistake that made her cheeks burn with self-reproach.
The figure before her demanded an immediate upward tilt of her chin, way up, even with her heeled boots adding precious inches to her height. (Damn genetics, Anissa thought bitterly, why did everyone have to be so tall?) Her quick assessment registered several details at once: his damp curls catching the fading light, warm brown eyes that mirrored curiosity back at her, the crisp lines of his button-up that somehow added a “chill” vibe to his entire look. However, the realization that he'd clearly put similar effort into his appearance tonight still hit and sent an unexpected wave of relief through her. At least she wasn't the only one over-preparing for this gathering.
But there was something else too, something that made her pulse stutter just a little: the way his sleeves were short enough to reveal strong forearms dusted with bits of dark hair, the hint of a collarbone peeking from the unbuttoned top button, the contrast between his slightly formal attire and the wild look of his damp hair. The observation struck her just a moment too long, stretching the silence into uncomfortable territory.
Which, thankfully, he fucked up first.
When the girl turned around to meet his gaze, River found himself hit with a similar wave of holy shit like when he first saw Evelyn. Although to be fair, he preferred brunettes. You know, with what little bit of time he got to enjoy looking at women, because it wasn’t like they were dating or interested in him. Or were they? He had no clue. There was rarely time for dating when he was always training. It took a second for him to find words to respond, but whatever answer he did have was replaced with something else entirely. "Is there some rule that every demigod is gorgeous?"
River paused, staring off slightly as he tucked his lips between his teeth in disbelief. Across the brain and out the mouth. One of these days his lack of a filter was going to get him slapped or into a fight. He needed to learn how to filter his thoughts or better yet, keep them to himself. He cleared his throat while rubbing the back of his neck. "Sorry… I—Yeah, just sorry."
Anissa fought valiantly to keep her expression neutral, but the corners of her mouth betrayed her, twitching dangerously close to a smile. The tension between them shattered so completely that she could practically hear it crash to the snow-covered ground, replaced by something lighter that made the strangely warm air feel suddenly easier to breathe. Her eyes, which had been guarded moments before, now sparkled with barely contained amusement as she deliberately drew out the pause this time, tilting her head in mock consideration of his apology.
The pretense lasted all of three seconds before her control completely cracked, revealing a slow, lopsided grin that did dangerous things to her carefully maintained air of indifference. That smile, the real one she so rarely let people see, transformed her entire face and softened the expression there into something warmer and far more genuine.
“Hmm. Interesting. I was just about to ask the same thing, actually,” Anissa replied smoothly, her voice casual but laced with just enough dry humour to indicate she knew exactly what he'd been caught doing. “Guess I'm not the only one who's been looking.”
He caught sight of her smile from the corner of his eyes. River wasn’t sure what he imagined, but it was much warmer and more genuine than he might have guessed… And contagious. His own small smile began tugging at the corner of his mouth when her words finally penetrated his thick skull. "I… ummm." He was proving to be very loquacious when put on the spot. The smile faded as quickly as it arrived, instead replaced with a growing flush along his cheeks and nose.
His tongue pressed against the inside of his cheek as he tried to force the wheels in his brain to find something better to say with more than two syllables. "It’s the damn thigh highs," River practically blurted out. That was not what he was going for. Smooth. Two for two. "They’re nice—You look nice." He nodded his head, laughing at his own awkwardness. This was why girls never talked to him, because he didn’t know how to talk to girls.
"I’m just going to pretend like I didn’t say any of that," he said as he slipped his left hand into the front pocket of his pants. River cleared his throat and ran his right hand back through his damp mane. "So, did you need help?" He motioned toward her in a general fashion. "I just noticed you pacing."
Anissa arched a brow at his flustered backtracking. She could practically see the internal panic radiating off him, and damn if it wasn't endearing as hell. Not that she was going to say anything like that. That would be far too easy.
“Mmm, right. The thigh highs,” Anissa echoed, drawing out each syllable like she was tasting them, watching with delight as his ears turned that delicious shade of red. Although she took an intentional step forward then, she kept just enough distance to maintain plausible deniability.
“I'll have to remember that for next time,” she continued, the words slipping out before she could stop them. "If there is a next time." The implication hung in the air between them, and suddenly it was her turn to panic. Her eyes widened slightly as realization dawned, a nervous laugh bubbling up as she quickly glanced back toward her cabin like it might offer an escape from her boldness.
River’s eyes widened ever so slightly as she took a singular step toward him. He cleared his throat while tugging at his shirt like everything got 20 degrees hotter. If it was possible for him to blush more, he did. The deep pink covered his skin like a sunburn. It danced from cheek to cheek, blossomed on the tips of his ears, trailed down his neck and along his collarbones. Was this flirting? Was she flirting with him? He didn’t have the faintest clue. Flirtation had to run over him like a train before he could have a clue.
Next time? Would there be a next time? Next time for what? Thigh high boots? The cogs in his brain worked overtime trying to understand what she meant or her intentions. If it was possible, steam might have trickled out his ears. While his face was a facade of confused stoicism.
"Gods," she groaned, pressing a gloved hand to her forehead. "I sound like I practiced that in the mirror, huh?" The admission tumbled out before she could think better of it. A heartbeat of silence passed before she added, quieter this time, "I didn't." Another pause, then the quietest confession: "...Not all of it." Heat flooded her cheeks, but to her own surprise, she didn't retreat. Instead, she lifted her chin as if daring him to call her out on the obvious lie.
His brows raised slightly as she started her own awkward rambling. River was not good at reading people, but he did notice her own cheeks slowly getting their own subtle hint of pink. "Fooled me," he replied in earnest. "But I’ve also been told I’m pretty dense. So, I don’t know if that helps." He shrugged his shoulders innocently.
The admission drew another laugh from her, less nervous than the last. It was reassuring, really, to realize that, in a way, his thickheadedness was helping.
"Well, at least we’ve established neither of us knows how to do this," she admitted, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "So yeah," she continued, steering the conversation toward safer ground. "I was pacing. Debating the whole 'just fake a cough and go home' move." She shot him a mock-accusing look. "You kind of ruined the moment, so thanks for that."
Her expression softened then, the playful edge giving way to something more vulnerable. "But... I'm a bit glad you did," she admitted, suddenly finding the snow at her boots fascinating. "Cus I sort of blew off the whole meet and greet phase for this thing and now..." Her voice trailed off as she nudged a small pile of snow with the toe of her boot. The movement was small, almost childlike in its nervous energy. "...I'm realizing I don't really know anyone here. Or how to start."
When she looked up again, the smile that curved her lips was different - less teasing with a little uncertainty around the edges. "Except now I've got the guy who complimented my shoes. So that's... something?"
River’s gaze met hers when she looked back up at him. His own faint and slightly awkward smile matched hers. "Well, more like the legs in the shoes—" He paused, mid-sentence. His outstretched hand that was moving as he spoke froze in the air then clenched. He grimaced, then closed his eyes, frustrated with himself. "I should learn when to shut up."
Anissa considered sparing him right then and there, giving him the dignity of letting it go unaddressed. But unfortunately for River, teasing was her default defence mechanism, and he’d just handed her premium-grade material on a silver platter.
“The legs in the shoes?” she repeated, her voice climbing an octave in perfectly feigned shock.“Wow. Okay. And here I thought we were building something completely wholesome.” Her lips twitched as she shook her head slowly, the picture of dramatic disappointment. A soft, breathy laugh escaped her as she finally let the act drop, conceding for now. “Guess I’ll take what I can get.”
"It was a compliment… I think," he tried to explain, starting his own turn at rambling. "Because the boots draw attention to your thighs, which are part of your legs—" River caught himself, and for a brief, once in a lifetime moment, he started catching on. The corner of his mouth curved into a knowing smirk as he wagged his index finger at her. "I see what you’re doing." He chuckled softly. Did he know what she was doing? No, no he didn’t. But he knew there was teasing involved, that was something.
He sighed, resting his hands on his hips while his gaze fixated on a tiny snowflake on top of his shoe. River was silent for a moment as he tried to actually take the time to think before he spoke again. "River," he finally said, breaking the silence as he glanced over at her. Realizing that meant absolutely nothing and would only leave her more confused, he quickly followed it up with further explanation. "I’m River," he corrected himself.
For a brief, bewildered moment, Anissa wondered if he was introducing himself or making some poetic statement about life's currents or going with the flow.
River.
There was something fitting about the name for him, she decided. Like how he seemed to measure each word carefully, as if afraid of overwhelming her with their flow, despite having already stumbled through several awkward moments. The irony wasn't lost on her - someone named River trying so hard not to flood the conversation. Yet there was an earnestness to his efforts that made her want to throw him a lifeline rather than tease him further here.
"That's... kind of a beautiful name, actually," she admitted, the compliment slipping out before she could second-guess it. Then, realizing she hadn't reciprocated, she added with a self-deprecating little smirk, "It's Anissa. My name. Because duh." The joke landed awkwardly, and she pressed her lips together to stop herself from rambling further, suddenly hyper-aware of how long she'd been talking and how she’d redirected the conversation back to herself. She did that too often….
"Thanks. My mom has a poetic sense of humor," he said with a shrug and halfhearted laugh. "River and Ocean. Might as well give us badges that say ’Poseidon’s kids.’" River always found his and his sister’s names to be a little ridiculous but at that point his name was part of who he was, for better or worse. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t poke a little fun at its corniness either. "I like your name too. It’s normal—In a good way." There it was again, the awkwardness rearing its ugly head to ruin an otherwise normal moment of conversation. Nice.
Luckily, he didn’t seem put off. If anything, River looked thoughtful again, like he was still chewing on her words or maybe just choosing his next ones a little more gingerly this time.
"I wanted to ditch," he admitted, addressing her earlier comment. "I don’t really know anyone either. But if I’m supposed to be the new leader I can’t really hide in my cabin all the time." River sighed and shrugged his shoulders. It was his burden to bear, whether he liked it or not. His father expected a lot out of him, especially after the failings of his half-siblings sent before him. He didn’t want to disappoint him. "But if you want to skip, I won’t tell anyone," he added with a small smile.
Anissa’s eyes widened slightly behind the veil of falling snowflakes, reassessing the man before her with new understanding. This wasn't just some awkwardly charming stranger who happened to cross her path. He was the chosen one, the golden boy handpicked to shepherd a bunch of demigod misfits through whatever divine bullshit this camp had in store for them. The revelation made something squeeze in her chest, though she couldn't quite name whether it was apprehension or reluctant admiration.
She studied River's face more attentively now, searching for signs of the burden he carried, and suddenly his earlier fumbling took on new meaning. It wasn't just nerves around a pretty girl; it was the pressure of leadership warring with very human insecurities. The realization thawed a little of her usual cageyness.
But…Anissa was still very much Anissa.
“Well fuck me, then, you couldn’t have said that before I said everything I did?” she finally murmured, the words slipping out before she could filter them. "That's a hell of a job description."
While even in his social ineptitude, River found himself growing a little more comfortable in Anissa’s presence. He was awkward and dangerously blunt, but it didn’t seem to throw her off or scare her away. That was until he mentioned being the new leader. Her comment took him a bit by surprise leaving him feeling like a deer in headlights. "I… I’m sorry?" he said unconvincingly. "I didn’t think it was that important. It’s not like I chose it. Dad just showed up one day and was like ‘Your half-siblings are dead. Don’t fail me.’ And now I’m here." He held out his hands, palms up like a mix between confusion and surrendering.
Her gaze drifted toward the frozen lake beyond them, its glassy surface reflecting the pale winter light. The view gave her a moment to collect her thoughts, to push down the urge to bolt from anything resembling responsibility or expectation. When she looked back at River, she squared her shoulders in a visible shake-off of whatever hesitation had gripped her.
“You know what?” she said. “If I’m going to fake a cough and disappear, I’d rather not ditch the camp’s golden boy and get cursed or struck by lightning or drown or something. That’s just bad luck.”
"What? No," he said, taking a step toward her. "I didn’t say that because I wanted special treatment or anything. I was just trying to relate… Badly, apparently." River muttered the last comment under his breath. All his life all he ever wanted was to be normal. Normal parents, normal friends, normal social skills. But since birth it seemed he was destined to be anything but. He wasn’t some golden boy nor did he want to be and he definitely did want some kind of entitled special treatment where people walked on eggshells around him.
"Don’t go because of me, or my father, or whatever else." River’s tone grew more serious as he tried desperately to revert the conversation, even if that meant he’d go back to verbal vomiting awkward comments he should have kept to himself. "Go because you want to." He looked down at her, searching her face to try and get a grasp on what she was thinking. Although he was terrible at reading people. He’d no sooner think someone who was flirting with him hated him.
Anissa held his gaze for a long moment, her expression unreadable now.
"You call him ‘Dad,’" she observed, her voice flat. She didn’t ask it like a question. There was even something almost detached in her tone, like she was examining a foreign concept she couldn't quite comprehend. How could someone say it so effortlessly? How did it not catch in his throat like broken glass the way it always did for her?
A chill seemed to settle over her despite the warm air radiating around them. The earlier warmth in her voice had drained away, not replaced by coldness exactly, but by a distance that had nothing to do with River and everything to do with the complex feelings that simple word had unearthed. Memories surfaced unbidden: childhood questions met with her mother's tight-lipped silence, birthdays without calls.
And that was back when she’d thought of him as a mere mortal. The day she’d discovered otherwise was the day she grew to understand and perhaps accept that she was someone’s project rather than a loved daughter.
River might not be the most astute man to ever live, but he noticed a change in her. From what little they had talked, she seemed to have a teasing nature to her, especially when it came to his own blunders. Yet she was silent. There was a forlorn vacancy in her eyes, not that he had the faintest idea what he did or said to cause it. He cleared his throat. "Well… Never to his face. It’s always sir." His head tilted from side to side as he listed the ways. "Yes, sir. No, sir. Sorry, sir." He shrugged his shoulders, mostly unbothered. Whether or not he liked it, he got used to it. "‘Dad’ is just quicker and less syllables than ‘sperm donor.’"
Anissa turned just slightly, letting her gaze drift past him toward the lake again, as if something out there might be easier to look at than him just now. And then, after a second—because she didn’t like being bitter—she forced herself to glance back toward him.
"Sorry," she murmured, the apology accompanied by a small shrug that tried and failed to make light of decades worth of divine parental neglect. "That came out weird." The corner of her mouth twitched in what might have been the ghost of a smile, but it didn't reach her eyes.
"It’s ok," he reassured her. "Sorry if I said something wrong. To be fair, I’m terrible at socializing." River didn’t know what could have caused the shift in her mood if it wasn’t because of him. He hoped he hadn’t done anything wrong. He was actually enjoying their conversation… Even the awkward parts where he looked like an idiot. It didn’t seem to annoy her. That was nice. He liked it better when she smiled and teased him… Which was strange to admit.
Then, because Anissa refused to be the tragic backstory girl, she continued, "But if it helps, I'm still going to this party. And no, it won't be because of you or your...father."
"Ok…" River’s voice trailed off as he tried to figure out what changed. There was the comment about ‘dad’ and then the way she just said ‘father.’ Was that it? "Do you have beef with Poseidon, or something? Because that’s ok. I get it. He pisses off a lot of people."
Anissa arched a brow at his question, a soft huff of laughter escaped her lips, not quite mocking but not entirely warm either. It was more of the sound of someone who'd long since made peace with certain disappointments.
“No, not really.” she replied, her tone musing, almost thoughtful.“I just wouldn’t know what it’s like to have a god show up and expect something from me. Or…to show up at all.” The words weren’t disgruntled, but they landed with quiet finality, like the kind of truth she rarely said aloud. Then, with a practiced ease that came from a lifetime of dodging vulnerability, she straightened and added with a casual shrug.
River’s brows furrowed. He could tell the topic of God-parents seemed to have an effect on her. Of course, he didn’t know details, but he also wasn’t the type of person to pry. He hated when people poked at him to share information he didn’t want to. He wasn’t going to be a hypocrite and do that to her. His right hand reached out, hesitantly resting on her shoulder in a reassuring manner. "The Gods are dicks." There was a faint rumble in the sky like thunder far off in the distance and the lake’s currents shifted causing small ripples to collide with one another.
Anissa's body reacted before her mind could catch up: a tiny jerk of her shoulders that she quickly masked by adjusting her beret. Her dark eyes snapped upward, scanning the heavy clouds that now swirled unnaturally above them, their movements too purposeful for ordinary weather. The odd, prickling warmth suddenly raised the fine hairs on the back of her neck, and from her peripheral vision, she caught the lake's frozen surface shuddering, not with the random patterns of wind but with an almost sentient ripple as if the water itself had turned to observe them.
Creepy.
A sliver of ice slid down her spine, settling low in her gut. The coincidence was too precise, the timing too perfect to dismiss entirely. Still, it was nothing, she told herself. Just weather. Just water. Just her overactive imagination seeing patterns where none existed.
Yet even as she tried to rationalize it, a small certainty took root. Thunder didn't typically respond to sarcastic remarks with such impeccable timing. The gods might be absent fathers and indifferent creators, but they were never truly gone. They watched. They listened. And sometimes, when the mood struck them, they answered, it seemed. They were walking through a world far older and stranger than either of them, where even casual words might be heard in realms beyond mortal understanding. And so they had to be…mindful. Of their words and their actions.
“Anyway. You should probably lead the way.” Anissa gestured vaguely toward the snowy path ahead. “I forgot the camp map in my cabin, but hey, you're the leader, right? Guess that makes you my GPS till I figure things out.”
"Right," River agreed and nodded his head. He slowly withdrew his hand with a lopsided and apologetic smile. "I don’t actually know my way around. I arrived this morning," he confessed with a nervous laugh. He motioned in the direction he was already heading in like a silent ‘ladies first.’ "Between the both of us I’m sure we can find it."
River let Anissa set the pace. She was the one in heels and a dress, also nearly a foot shorter than him. It took her two steps for one of his own. He had to focus to not accidentally out pace her. His natural stride was fairly casual but even so, long legs had a way of gaining speed unknowingly. The snow slowed him down some, but it would do the same to her as well. If he knew her better, he might have offered her a piggyback ride or something, but he had already surpassed his daily quota for awkwardness. You don’t just offer to carry some girl you just met, he had to remind himself.
The walk was quiet but not uncomfortable. River wasn’t someone often made uncomfortable with silences, unless they were caused by something he did or said. But unlike the earlier shift, this felt natural, like two people taking a winter stroll… minus the cold weather.
As they rounded a corner on the path, River found himself glancing over at her from the corner of his eyes. Even when she seemed at peace there was a darkness that hung in the air around her like she lived in the shadows just out of the sun’s reach. There was something mysterious about her, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. Perhaps it was the way she avoided anything personal about herself or why she wore gloves when it wasn’t cold. Or perhaps it was the way she shut down when he mentioned his father and that he was the new leader.
He didn’t like the burden of leadership any more than others liked figures of authority. He had been trained and molded for years by Poseidon. It wasn’t his choice. But even so, he knew once he stepped into that role, he’d become the outlier. He had adopted his father’s unyielding harshness. Maybe if Poseidon hadn’t forced him down this path he might have been softer and outgoing like his mother. It was hard to imagine what that River would have been like. There was a part of him that mourned the person he could have been. The human part of him.
But that wasn’t him. River was his father’s son, whether he liked it or not. Even if Anissa didn’t have a problem with him that night, it’d only be a matter of time before she did. There was a reason he was often a loner. Only Ocean seemed to tolerate him and even that was majorly sibling love and obligation.
Anissa adjusted her stride to match his, maintaining just enough distance that their arms wouldn't accidentally brush, but close enough that they didn't have to raise their voices over the crunch of snow beneath their shoes. Every few steps, her gaze would move sideways, studying the sharp angle of his jawline, the way his breath formed little clouds in the air despite the warm temperature. There was something almost comforting about walking like this, though. Two people moving in the same direction but trying not to touch. Or at least, she was.
As they walked, her mind wandered down paths she usually avoided. She wondered idly if all children of gods carried these same invisible scars. If, beneath his calm and leadership title, there were fractures not unlike her own. Maybe his version of abandonment came with responsibility instead of silence. Expectations instead of absence.
The thought was strangely comforting in its way. It suggested that even golden boys—especially golden boys—might understand what it meant to be used rather than loved. To be chosen, not because they were wanted, but because they were useful. Tools dressed up in glory. Pawns in a divine game they didn’t remember signing up for.
River's occasional nervous laughter and awkward charm couldn't disguise the confidence in his bearing, however, the unmistakable air of someone who belonged to something greater. His very position as camp leader proclaimed he'd been claimed, chosen, while she'd spent a lifetime as someone's forgotten experiment. Where she'd been left to unravel mysteries alone, he'd been given purpose, direction. The distinction shouldn't have stung; they were both casualties of celestial whims, just different varieties of collateral damage. Yet the injustice of it needled beneath her skin like splinters of divine glass.
Or perhaps it was something else entirely causing the sensation to stir.
Anissa flexed her gloved hands at her side, trying to ground herself. The last thing she needed was to let that creep in, even if he couldn’t see it. Not now. Not when she was finally starting to feel almost normal.
After a stretch of comfortable silence, she found her voice again, stripped of the defensive edge from before. "Earlier... you said your half-siblings are gone." The words emerged cautiously, as if testing uncertain ground. She fixed her gaze on the snow-dappled path ahead rather than risk meeting his eyes. "I wasn't sure if I should bring it up, but…" A brief hesitation, then the admission tumbled out regardless, "I'm sorry. Even if you didn't know them." Her voice dropped nearly to a whisper. "Loss doesn't care about that kind of thing."
River looked over at her, his head slowly turning to follow. While she seemed to be focused on looking anywhere else but him, his gaze didn’t waiver. "It’s ok," he said plainly, no hint of sadness, or really any other emotion, in his voice. "I had no idea they existed. I assumed Poseidon had other kids but when I saw him, it was never to talk." He hadn’t really thought much about it. He didn’t know Nick or Liv. They never met and it seemed like Poseidon liked to keep his kids separate. Maybe it was because he did the same shit he did with him and Ocean, keeping them as backups that he checked on once a year to make sure they’re training. Then if plan A dies, well, there’s always plan B.
"Thank you," he added with a small tug at the corner of his lips. River didn’t really mourn the siblings he never knew. But finding out about their deaths then being sent to follow in their footsteps made him anxious. He never had a reason to be scared of death before but now standing where his late brother once had made him very aware of his own mortality. He didn’t want to die, and he didn’t want to be the reason others died under his leadership either.
The arena slowly came into view, peeking out from behind some trees as they continued along the path. A sense of dread took hold in River’s stomach. He hated groups of people and the expectation of being social. One on one it wasn’t so bad. He might have made a fool of himself but it didn’t scare Anissa away, which let him get more comfortable. But knowing that he wasn’t far from dozens of drunk demigods turned his stomach to lead. His face blanched at the thought of all the mingling and small talk. A subconscious groan escaped his lips as he pinched the bridge of his nose. "Gods, I hate parties," he grumbled, more to himself than anything. Ok, so he’s never actually been to a party, but he knew himself well enough to know it wasn’t his scene. Plus the anxiety didn’t help.
Anissa didn’t interrupt. She let River speak. And when he thanked her, almost reflexively, she didn’t smile or nod and instead gave a small, invisible breath of acknowledgment. Because she understood that kind of grief, the kind that wasn’t really grief. Just... a hollow space where something could’ve been.
But it was his final admission, muttered more to himself than to her, that truly caught her off guard. Her eyes darted sideways just in time to catch the subtle grimace twisting his features and how his hand rose to rub at his nose like he could physically push back the discomfort. The moment was so unexpectedly human that a grin bloomed across her face before she could school her expression.
“You mean to tell me our fearless camp leader gets nervous around drunk teenagers freshly turned adults?” Her voice was light, teasing, but not cruel. If anything, it was gentle. The kind of joke you make when you’ve started to care, even a little.
"I never said I was fearless," he retorted, holding up his index finger in contradiction, even letting out his own soft chuckle. A group of drunk young adults was terrifying. River doubted he’d be left alone to stand on the sidelines, silently judging, or better yet slip away. He knew how sober teens acted in a group, alcohol could only make the entire situation worse. Much worse.
Nonetheless, as the arena's lights grew brighter in the distance, Anissa found her own steps slowing almost unconsciously. The closer they got, the more her nerves crackled to life beneath her skin as well, like tiny electric currents of anxiety.
“Well, at least you’re not alone in that,” she admitted after a while. “I’ve been psyching myself up for this for the last twenty minutes. Maybe longer.” A pause. She chanced another glance at him, this time really seeing the tension in his posture. “We could always... take the long way. Just for a little longer. And come back?”
She delivered the suggestion with masterful levels of nonchalance as if it were merely an afterthought. But the truth was, it mattered far more than she wanted to acknowledge. This easy back-and-forth between them, free from the usual prying questions about her gloves or the rumours that followed her, felt rare and precious. River hadn't treated her like a curiosity or a cautionary tale. He'd just talked to her, awkward and honest and entirely himself. And against all odds, he'd stayed.
And maybe he was enjoying the conversation too. She hoped he was. But for her, this felt like a kind of miracle. A rare patch of ordinary in a life that rarely allowed for it.
Before River could attempt to cater his emotions, his head tilted back with closed eyes and he sighed, relieved. "Yes. Please," he all but begged. All the tension that caused his muscles to clench in dread and anxiety left him like a wave. The little vein that liked to pulse in his forehead whenever he was emotional disappeared back under the skin and the subconscious furrow of his brow subsided. Taking the longer way sounded like a godsend, even if that only delayed the inevitable.
As he lifted his head back up, River looked over at Anissa fully realizing that she actually offered to spend more time with him. "Wait… You’re serious?" he half blurted out, a bit dumbfounded. Did hell freeze over? He couldn’t recall the last time someone elected to spend time with him that wasn’t family, and familial obligation counted for little. He was aware that he had been enjoying the conversation, but it was a pleasant surprise that she might be too. Anissa had stuck around this long without a single comment about how boring he was. And while there might have been some light teasing, he never felt like there was any malice behind it. But even so… He found himself struck with disbelief.
Anissa's eyes widened slightly as she studied River's reaction, caught off guard by the integrity radiating from him. The contrast between his physical presence - all broad shoulders and capable strength that suggested he could probably carry the weight of this entire camp without breaking a sweat - and the vulnerable way he responded to simple kindness created an odd flutter in her chest.
“Careful,” she warned, “you keep reacting like that and I’m going to start thinking I’m doing charity work.” But there was no venom in it. If anything, her voice had dipped closer to something resembling… fondness. Without thinking, her elbow bumped gently against his arm, a fleeting point of contact that felt strangely natural. “Yeah, I’m serious.”
Then, as if suddenly self-conscious of the unexpected sincerity colouring their exchange, Anissa arched one eyebrow in suspicion.
“Don’t make it weird.”
A small, but genuine smile crossed River’s lips when she nudged him with her arm. "No promises," he replied with a tinge of playfulness in his own voice. Had she been paying attention? Making things weird was the one thing he was good at.
End of collab pt. 1/2
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Nemaisare
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MarshalSolgriev
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