Member
CabbageAngel
Antlers
Eddie Brock
AuthorialTheory
AmongHeroes
Kefka Palazzo
Exit
Mjolnir
Lunamaria Hawke
Altered Tundra
In the end, she had ended up lying back, reclining on the bench with one arm banded across her torso, supporting the blow she had taken to her midsection by the log, and another draped unceremoniously across her brow, the crease of her elbow heavily balanced on the bridge of her nose. The weight pressed inward on her eyes, inspiring and creating queerly undulating shapes behind shades of black; those whorling globs reminded her curiously of lava lamps and then another thought of splotches of wine in the dark, crude splashes of burgundy and crimson edges. Callista inhaled so sharply and deeply that her ribs expanded, pushing against waxen skin, paper-thin betwixt aching bones; the pain that followed cemented her reality, convincing her to peek beyond the edge of her tensed arm. Muscles worn and swelled, cording through her entire body as the dregs of adrenaline eddied out and left her exhausted. She couldnβt be bothered to watch the other groups finish, not entirely, but her dark, intense gaze peered through her peripheral vision, unable to ignore those enigmatic pulls. All that conspiring doubt and inadequacies and struggles, all those well-endowed bodies and glistening strength that perspired and pooled saliva against her teeth. Her hands burned, scoured and slivered, testaments to her efforts as River began calling their names, times punctuating, titling, she had finished just above the marker, which she supposed something akin to pride or happiness should have flitted there, but it was just shallow relief that settled into the appetence stewing there in the hollow pit.
The assessment concludes β
Callista rolled into a sitting position, individuals filed out, collected into groups and pairs, muttering amongst each other or speaking fluently in the bonds of friendship, and more, it all pinpricks towards the edges of her muddied, collective thoughts and lingers there as unwanted tendrils of companionships, latent desires, and wants and needs for her own sense of belonging to be flung in between. She could attach herself easily amongst the demigods; sheβs done it before, time and time again. Callista has wedged and webbed her impression through crowds of people and pumped euphoric bliss into their lingering desires, took inhibitions, and breathed into them as a lover to flourish and bloom. It filtered down to a simplistic inquiry of whether she could, whether she wanted to, when faced with the similarities of impending godhood bisected by mortal frailties, meddling in the lives of the mundane was one circumstance, for she came and went as tides of a sea, but entrapped (for that is what it could only be known as) within this Camp meant forging connections, nurturing them, tending to them, the prospect of implications lingered there as Callista took her sweater and shook it out, whipping it into corrective order before she fitted her head through the collar and arms through the sleeves, tugging its thick hem down till it settled around her waist.
Excused for the rest of the day.
Sheβd be content to happily fuck off if she knewβ¦ where. Back to her cabin? Explore the camp? Scout and browse the cabins. What other lingering magics remained here? What made it all tick? Her mahogany eyes rolled up, contemplative, she remembered pieces of the map: infirmary, perhaps? The main hall. Thatβs where they had to have food, right? Where was the god-damned welcoming committee, where was the brochure, where was that maddening, inkling voice to spin through her head that also laid the path traveled? To here, to where, to somewhere.
Callista supposed, in this crippling hindsight, that it was a muted blessing in the literal sense, she might miss the varied conversations otherwise, not that she could hear their particular details, but there was a certain appeal in being whisper-close, skirting those edges, passing behind River and another who appeared vaguely like him, yet not, leagues of unease and power as an abyss that churned bitter and famished. She crossed her arms, head canted to one side, and exited the arena with only the tiniest sense of direction to lead her, but she crossed the field, eyes lingering over the structures of the stables and practice range. The chill resettled onto her skin, but a peculiar heat softened the frigid bite, allowing Callista to observeβ¦ admire, perhaps, without the seedlings of doubt veining across her heart. Planting doubt. Fear. Uncertainty. It was the circumstances of wallsβ¦ That may not have been able to be seen, but she could feel them, nonetheless, pressing inward where memories collided, flickering blackened snow into swaths of green hills and vines coiling across the ground, as if snakes with ill intent, hissing her name over, and overβ¦
There were more tests, werenβt there?
The assessment concludes β
Callista hissed; her midsection burned, the forging of a bruise imminent. She climbed up the steps to the assumed main building, where others had filed and entered just before her, scattering into their pairs and hushed in conversation, but it was the allure of food that drew her in immediately, the buffet tantalizing in the aromas it proffered, curling their temptation into the void of her belly. Callista realizes she hasnβt truly eaten in such a long time, the excursions of the mountain climb, combined with that obstacle course, had spurred the sudden ravenous inclination that saw to her grabbing a plate, two to be exact, balanced atop her palms (she ignored the stinging sensations in her hands for now, she needed food and by gods she was going to fucking eat, pain be damned), piled high with copious amounts of deli meats and cheeses, another stacked entirely with pastries oozing with clotted creams and jams swirled through the richness of each morsel. An accompaniment of honey delicately poured into a carafe that stood in the center of the breakfast desserts, with berries poised precariously on the edge of her plate.
With her gluttonous nature in mind, Callista scanned through the area of varied seats. One man sat alone, left there by a decidedly beautiful redhead that she followed with a slow passing of her eye, though immediately they snagged onto where someone else equally delved into their food with an unmatchable gusto, her attention captured by what lured her there next. A feverish sort of hunger drew an appreciative smile from Callista, who immediately took the seat across from her, sliding into the chair as if greeting a friend, making herself quite welcome and at home with an exaggerated sigh pulled from deep within her chest. She was pretty, with an understated glance towards a curvaceous figure, apple cheeks, dark eyes, and dark hair. Callista noted mutely as she hummed and immediately began tossing berries into her mouth, smiling around the immediate tang of blueberries before they sweetened under the fruit of strawberries gnashed against her teeth. She sort of recognized her, barely, as one of those who had to rerun the course.
βHi, donβt mind me.β She began, βOr, do. You know, whatever works, I just didnβt want to sit alone like the weird kid on the first day of school. Some day, huh? Iβve just arrived, and on the first day we got put into that. Intense. Crazy.β Callista took the carafe of honey, let it ooze out to coat a pastry in golden puddles, the sticky sweetness carving a deep grin across her cheeks.
βGods, I am starving. Hiking up that mountain took it out of me. I met a dog, though, well, heβs not really a dog. Heβs like us, I guess. Heβs new, too.β She bit near viciously into the sweet.
βIβm Callista, by the way.β She fell immediately into introductions, unable to quell the curious nature of what she felt, briefly, beneath the layers of hunger.
The assessment concludes β
Callista rolled into a sitting position, individuals filed out, collected into groups and pairs, muttering amongst each other or speaking fluently in the bonds of friendship, and more, it all pinpricks towards the edges of her muddied, collective thoughts and lingers there as unwanted tendrils of companionships, latent desires, and wants and needs for her own sense of belonging to be flung in between. She could attach herself easily amongst the demigods; sheβs done it before, time and time again. Callista has wedged and webbed her impression through crowds of people and pumped euphoric bliss into their lingering desires, took inhibitions, and breathed into them as a lover to flourish and bloom. It filtered down to a simplistic inquiry of whether she could, whether she wanted to, when faced with the similarities of impending godhood bisected by mortal frailties, meddling in the lives of the mundane was one circumstance, for she came and went as tides of a sea, but entrapped (for that is what it could only be known as) within this Camp meant forging connections, nurturing them, tending to them, the prospect of implications lingered there as Callista took her sweater and shook it out, whipping it into corrective order before she fitted her head through the collar and arms through the sleeves, tugging its thick hem down till it settled around her waist.
Excused for the rest of the day.
Sheβd be content to happily fuck off if she knewβ¦ where. Back to her cabin? Explore the camp? Scout and browse the cabins. What other lingering magics remained here? What made it all tick? Her mahogany eyes rolled up, contemplative, she remembered pieces of the map: infirmary, perhaps? The main hall. Thatβs where they had to have food, right? Where was the god-damned welcoming committee, where was the brochure, where was that maddening, inkling voice to spin through her head that also laid the path traveled? To here, to where, to somewhere.
Callista supposed, in this crippling hindsight, that it was a muted blessing in the literal sense, she might miss the varied conversations otherwise, not that she could hear their particular details, but there was a certain appeal in being whisper-close, skirting those edges, passing behind River and another who appeared vaguely like him, yet not, leagues of unease and power as an abyss that churned bitter and famished. She crossed her arms, head canted to one side, and exited the arena with only the tiniest sense of direction to lead her, but she crossed the field, eyes lingering over the structures of the stables and practice range. The chill resettled onto her skin, but a peculiar heat softened the frigid bite, allowing Callista to observeβ¦ admire, perhaps, without the seedlings of doubt veining across her heart. Planting doubt. Fear. Uncertainty. It was the circumstances of wallsβ¦ That may not have been able to be seen, but she could feel them, nonetheless, pressing inward where memories collided, flickering blackened snow into swaths of green hills and vines coiling across the ground, as if snakes with ill intent, hissing her name over, and overβ¦
There were more tests, werenβt there?
The assessment concludes β
Callista hissed; her midsection burned, the forging of a bruise imminent. She climbed up the steps to the assumed main building, where others had filed and entered just before her, scattering into their pairs and hushed in conversation, but it was the allure of food that drew her in immediately, the buffet tantalizing in the aromas it proffered, curling their temptation into the void of her belly. Callista realizes she hasnβt truly eaten in such a long time, the excursions of the mountain climb, combined with that obstacle course, had spurred the sudden ravenous inclination that saw to her grabbing a plate, two to be exact, balanced atop her palms (she ignored the stinging sensations in her hands for now, she needed food and by gods she was going to fucking eat, pain be damned), piled high with copious amounts of deli meats and cheeses, another stacked entirely with pastries oozing with clotted creams and jams swirled through the richness of each morsel. An accompaniment of honey delicately poured into a carafe that stood in the center of the breakfast desserts, with berries poised precariously on the edge of her plate.
With her gluttonous nature in mind, Callista scanned through the area of varied seats. One man sat alone, left there by a decidedly beautiful redhead that she followed with a slow passing of her eye, though immediately they snagged onto where someone else equally delved into their food with an unmatchable gusto, her attention captured by what lured her there next. A feverish sort of hunger drew an appreciative smile from Callista, who immediately took the seat across from her, sliding into the chair as if greeting a friend, making herself quite welcome and at home with an exaggerated sigh pulled from deep within her chest. She was pretty, with an understated glance towards a curvaceous figure, apple cheeks, dark eyes, and dark hair. Callista noted mutely as she hummed and immediately began tossing berries into her mouth, smiling around the immediate tang of blueberries before they sweetened under the fruit of strawberries gnashed against her teeth. She sort of recognized her, barely, as one of those who had to rerun the course.
βHi, donβt mind me.β She began, βOr, do. You know, whatever works, I just didnβt want to sit alone like the weird kid on the first day of school. Some day, huh? Iβve just arrived, and on the first day we got put into that. Intense. Crazy.β Callista took the carafe of honey, let it ooze out to coat a pastry in golden puddles, the sticky sweetness carving a deep grin across her cheeks.
βGods, I am starving. Hiking up that mountain took it out of me. I met a dog, though, well, heβs not really a dog. Heβs like us, I guess. Heβs new, too.β She bit near viciously into the sweet.
βIβm Callista, by the way.β She fell immediately into introductions, unable to quell the curious nature of what she felt, briefly, beneath the layers of hunger.
interactions ....|.... tapeesa ............... mentions ....|.... river, maylisse, daniel, evelyn, theron. ............... collabs ....|.... none
