Sadie

♆ Harbor Crest High | High-Casual ♆

Sadie Rose Graves; Harbor Crest Senior

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___________________________________ 𝙵𝚊𝚌𝚎𝚌𝚕𝚊𝚒𝚖: 𝒮𝒶𝒹𝒾𝑒 𝒮𝒾𝓃𝓀 | #𝟿𝙵𝙴𝟸𝙱𝙵 •• ━━━━━━━━━ •• ☽◯☾ •• ━━━━━━━━━ •• 𝚂𝚊𝚍𝚒𝚎 𝚁𝚘𝚜𝚎 𝙶𝚛𝚊𝚟𝚎𝚜 𝚂𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚜 | 𝚁𝚎𝚍 | 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚙𝚎𝚛 •• ━━━━━━━━━ •• ☽◯☾ •• ━━━━━━━━━ •• 𝟸𝟸𝚗𝚍 𝚘𝚏 𝙰𝚙𝚛𝚒𝚕 𝚂𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚎𝚗 | 𝚃𝚊𝚞𝚛𝚞𝚜 •• ━━━━━━━━━ •• ☽◯☾ •• ━━━━━━━━━ •• 𝙰 𝙼 𝙴 𝚁 𝙸 𝙲 𝙰 𝙽 𝙸𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚑 | 𝙸𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚊𝚗 •• ━━━━━━━━━ •• ☽◯☾ •• ━━━━━━━━━ •• 𝙱𝚒𝚡𝚋𝚢 𝙷𝚒𝚕𝚕 • 𝙲𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚊 • Room | • House •• ━━━━━━━━━ •• ☽◯☾ •• ━━━━━━━━━ •• 𝙲𝚘𝚖𝚙𝚎𝚝𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚟𝚎 ☼ 𝙸𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚝 ☼ 𝙻𝚘𝚢𝚊𝚕 𝙿𝚎𝚛𝚌𝚎𝚙𝚝𝚒𝚟𝚎 ☼ 𝚁𝚎𝚜𝚒𝚕𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚝 ☼ 𝚆𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚢 𝙲𝚢𝚗𝚒𝚌𝚊𝚕 ☁ 𝙶𝚞𝚊𝚛𝚍𝚎𝚍 ☁ 𝙹𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚘𝚞𝚜 𝙿𝚛𝚘𝚟𝚘𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚟𝚎 ☁ 𝚂𝚊𝚛𝚌𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚌 ☁ 𝚂𝚝𝚞𝚋𝚋𝚘𝚛𝚗 •• ━━━━━━━━━ •• ☽◯☾ •• ━━━━━━━━━ •• ​𝙷𝚎𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝: 𝟻' 𝟾" 𝚆𝚎𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝​: 𝟷𝟻𝟶𝚕𝚋𝚜 ​𝙷𝚊𝚒𝚛: 𝚁𝚎𝚍 𝙴𝚢𝚎𝚜​​: 𝙷𝚊𝚣𝚎𝚕 𝙱𝚘𝚍𝚢 𝚃𝚢𝚙𝚎​​​: 𝙰𝚝𝚑𝚕𝚎𝚝𝚒𝚌, 𝚝𝚘𝚗𝚎𝚍, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚍𝚎𝚌𝚎𝚙𝚝𝚒𝚟𝚎𝚕𝚢 𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚘𝚗𝚐. •• ━━━━━━━━━ •• ☽◯☾ •• ━━━━━━━━━ •• • 𝙳𝚒𝚖𝚙𝚕𝚎 𝚘𝚗 𝚋𝚘𝚝𝚑 𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚎𝚔𝚜 • 𝚂𝚖𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚜𝚌𝚊𝚛 𝚘𝚗 𝚕𝚎𝚏𝚝 𝚔𝚗𝚎𝚎 • 𝙱𝚕𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚗𝚊𝚒𝚕 𝚙𝚘𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚑, 𝚊𝚕𝚠𝚊𝚢𝚜 𝚌𝚑𝚒𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚍 • 𝙰𝚕𝚠𝚊𝚢𝚜 𝚜𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚊 𝚋𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚑𝚎𝚛 #𝟹𝟹 𝚟𝚊𝚛𝚜𝚒𝚝𝚢 𝚓𝚊𝚌𝚔𝚎𝚝 • 𝙼𝚊𝚝𝚌𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚜𝚞𝚗 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚖𝚘𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚘𝚘 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝙺𝚒𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚗 𝙼𝚞𝚛𝚙𝚑𝚢 (𝚕𝚎𝚏𝚝 𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚖) • 𝚃𝚑𝚒𝚗 𝚜𝚒𝚕𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚒𝚗 𝚊𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚗𝚎𝚌𝚔 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚐𝚎𝚝𝚜 𝚏𝚒𝚍𝚍𝚕𝚎𝚍 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚜𝚑𝚎'𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚡𝚒𝚘𝚞𝚜 ___________________________________

•• ━━━━━━━━━━━ •• ☽◯☾ •• ━━━━━━━━━━━ •• "𝙱𝚎𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊 𝚑𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚛𝚎𝚎, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙸'𝚖 𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢 𝚙𝚊𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚖𝚞𝚗𝚒𝚝𝚢 𝚜𝚎𝚛𝚟𝚒𝚌𝚎." ____________________________________________________________________________ 𝚁 𝙴 𝙻 𝙰 𝚃 𝙸 𝙾 𝙽 𝚂 𝙷 𝙸 𝙿 𝙸 𝙽 𝙵 𝙾 𝚁 𝙼 𝙰 𝚃 𝙸 𝙾 𝙽​ ​𝚂𝚎𝚡𝚞𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚢​: 𝙿𝚊𝚗𝚜𝚎𝚡𝚞𝚊𝚕 •​ 𝙲𝚕𝚘𝚜𝚎𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚁𝚎𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚙 𝚂𝚝𝚊𝚝𝚞𝚜​: ​𝚂𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚕𝚎 •​ 𝙲𝚛𝚞𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝙾𝚙𝚎𝚗 𝙲𝚛𝚞𝚜𝚑𝚎𝚜: ​𝙺𝚒𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚗 𝙼𝚞𝚛𝚙𝚑𝚢 (𝚂𝚎𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚝𝚕𝚢 • 𝙱𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚛𝚒𝚌𝚎 𝙱𝚎𝚊𝚞𝚛𝚎𝚐𝚊𝚛𝚍 (𝚄𝚗𝚋𝚎𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠𝚗𝚜𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚂𝚎𝚕𝚏) 𝙴𝚡-𝙿𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚗𝚎𝚛: ​𝙽𝚊𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚒𝚎𝚕 𝚂𝚒𝚗𝚌𝚕𝚊𝚒𝚛 𝙵𝚊𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛: ​​• 𝙱𝚛𝚢𝚊𝚗 𝙲𝚘𝚗𝚗𝚎𝚛 (𝚂𝚝𝚎𝚙) • 𝚃𝚘𝚋𝚒𝚊𝚜 𝙶𝚛𝚊𝚟𝚎𝚜 (𝙱𝚒𝚘𝚕𝚘𝚐𝚒𝚌𝚊𝚕) 𝙼𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛: • 𝙱𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝙲𝚘𝚗𝚗𝚎𝚛 𝚂𝚒𝚋𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐: ​𝙼𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚎 𝙲𝚘𝚗𝚗𝚎𝚛 (𝙷𝚊𝚕𝚏-𝚂𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛) 𝙴𝚡𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚍: ​• 𝚃𝚑𝚘𝚖𝚊𝚜 𝙼𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚛 (𝙼𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚗𝚊𝚕 𝚄𝚗𝚌𝚕𝚎) 𝙿𝚎𝚝𝚜: ​• 𝙼𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚢 | 𝙰 𝚖𝚊𝚕𝚎 𝚊𝚡𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚌 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚙𝚑 𝚋𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚙𝚢𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚖𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝. 𝙵𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚜​: 𝙺𝚒𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚗 𝙼𝚞𝚛𝚙𝚑𝚢 (𝙱𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝙶𝚞𝚢 𝙵𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍) • 𝚆𝚎𝚜𝚕𝚎𝚢 𝙶𝚊𝚖𝚋𝚕𝚎 (𝙶𝚘𝚘𝚍 𝙵𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍) • 𝙼𝚊𝚛𝚜 𝙼𝚒𝚝𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚕 (𝙶𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝 𝙵𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍) •• ━━━━━━━━━ •• ☽◯☾ •• ━━━━━━━━━ •• 𝚁 𝙴 𝙻 𝙴 𝚅 𝙴 𝙽 𝚃 𝙸 𝙽 𝙵 𝙾 𝚁 𝙼 𝙰 𝚃 𝙸 𝙾 𝙽​​ 𝙶𝚛𝚊𝚍𝚎 𝙻𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚕​: 𝚃𝚠𝚎𝚕𝚏𝚝𝚑 •​ 𝚂𝚎𝚗𝚒𝚘𝚛​​​ 𝙶𝙿𝙰​ • ​ 𝙰𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚐𝚎​: 𝟹.𝟿 •​ 𝙰+ / 𝙰 𝙵𝚊𝚟𝚘𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚎 𝚂𝚞𝚋𝚓𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚜​: 𝙴𝚗𝚐𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚑 •​​ 𝙷𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚢 •​ 𝚂𝚙𝚘𝚛𝚝𝚜 𝙴𝚕𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝙲𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚜𝚎𝚜: 𝚃𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝙴𝚡𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚞𝚛𝚛𝚒𝚌𝚞𝚕𝚊𝚛 ​ • ​𝙲𝚕𝚞𝚋𝚜: ​​𝚃𝚑𝚎𝚜𝚙𝚒𝚊𝚗 𝚂𝚘𝚌𝚒𝚎𝚝𝚢 •​ 𝚂𝚒𝚍𝚎 𝚀𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚂𝚘𝚌𝚒𝚎𝚝𝚢 𝙴𝚡𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚞𝚛𝚛𝚒𝚌𝚞𝚕𝚊𝚛 ​ • ​𝚂𝚙𝚘𝚛𝚝𝚜: 𝚅𝚊𝚛𝚜𝚒𝚝𝚢 𝙱𝚊𝚜𝚔𝚎𝚝𝚋𝚊𝚕𝚕 (𝚂𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚂𝚑𝚘𝚘𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝙶𝚞𝚊𝚛𝚍; #𝟹𝟹) •• ━━━━━━━━━ •• ☽◯☾ •• ━━━━━━━━━ •• 𝙿 𝙻 𝙰 𝙽 𝚂 𝙰 𝙵 𝚃 𝙴 𝚁 𝙶 𝚁 𝙰 𝙳 𝚄 𝙰 𝚃 𝙸 𝙾 𝙽​ 𝚆𝚑𝚒𝚕𝚎 𝚙𝚞𝚛𝚜𝚞𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊 𝚋𝚊𝚜𝚔𝚎𝚝𝚋𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚜𝚌𝚑𝚘𝚕𝚊𝚛𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚙, 𝚜𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚘𝚎𝚜𝚗'𝚝 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚜𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚗𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚖𝚊𝚓𝚘𝚛 𝚒𝚗 𝚍𝚞𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚌𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚐𝚎. 𝚆𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚜𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚘𝚎𝚜 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚜𝚑𝚎'𝚕𝚕 𝚋𝚎 𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚌𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚜𝚎𝚜 𝚊𝚜 𝚠𝚎𝚕𝚕. 𝙱𝚎𝚜𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝? 𝚂𝚑𝚎 𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝚗𝚘 𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚊. •• ━━━━━━━━━ •• ☽◯☾ •• ━━━━━━━━━ •• 𝙰 𝙵 𝚃 𝙴 𝚁 𝚂 𝙲 𝙷 𝙾 𝙾 𝙻 𝙰 𝙲 𝚃 𝙸 𝚅 𝙸 𝚃 𝙸 𝙴 𝚂​ ​𝙴𝚖𝚙𝚕𝚘𝚢𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝: 𝙼𝚊𝚛𝚛𝚒’𝚜 𝙿𝚒𝚣𝚣𝚊 & 𝙿𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚊 𝚁𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚞𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚝 | 𝚂𝚎𝚛𝚟𝚎𝚛 / 𝚆𝚊𝚒𝚝𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚜 ​𝚁𝚎𝚜𝚙𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚒𝚋𝚒𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚎𝚜: 𝙶𝚛𝚎𝚎𝚝 𝚐𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚜, 𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚘𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚍𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚔 𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚜, 𝚍𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚖𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚜, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚟𝚒𝚍𝚎 𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚌𝚞𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚛 𝚜𝚎𝚛𝚟𝚒𝚌𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚎𝚡𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎. 𝙰𝚕𝚜𝚘 𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚕𝚎𝚜 𝚙𝚊𝚢𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚜 (𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑 𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚘𝚛𝚜 𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚗'𝚝 𝚜𝚞𝚙𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘), 𝚖𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚜 𝚊 𝚌𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚗 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚔 𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚊, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚎𝚗𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚎𝚜 𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚌𝚌𝚞𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎𝚕𝚢. •• ━━━━━━━━━ •• ☽◯☾ •• ━━━━━━━━━ •• 𝙵 𝙰 𝚅 𝙾 𝚁 𝙸 𝚃 𝙴 𝙿 𝙻 𝙰 𝙲 𝙴 𝚂​​ 𝙷𝚎𝚛 𝚁𝚘𝚘𝚖 | 𝙺𝚒𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚗'𝚜 𝚁𝚘𝚘𝚖 ​​​𝙼𝚊𝚒𝚗 𝙶𝚢𝚖 | 𝙻𝚒𝚋𝚛𝚊𝚛𝚢 (𝙿𝚞𝚋𝚕𝚒𝚌 & 𝚂𝚌𝚑𝚘𝚘𝚕) | 𝙳𝚛𝚊𝚖𝚊 𝚁𝚘𝚘𝚖 𝙰𝚚𝚞𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚞𝚖 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝙿𝚊𝚌𝚒𝚏𝚒𝚌 | 𝙴𝚕 𝙳𝚘𝚛𝚊𝚍𝚘 𝙽𝚊𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝙲𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚃𝚑𝚎𝚖𝚎 𝙿𝚊𝚛𝚔𝚜 𝙳𝚒𝚜𝚗𝚎𝚢𝚕𝚊𝚗𝚍 | 𝙲𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚊 𝙰𝚍𝚟𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝙺𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚝'𝚜 𝙱𝚎𝚛𝚛𝚢/𝚂𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚢 𝙵𝚊𝚛𝚖 | 𝚄𝚗𝚒𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚊𝚕 •• ━━━━━━━━━ •• ☽◯☾ •• ━━━━━━━━━ •• 𝙻 𝙰 𝙽 𝙶 𝚄 𝙰 𝙶 𝙴 𝚂 𝙺 𝙽 𝙾 𝚆 𝙽​​ ​𝙴𝚗𝚐𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚑 (𝙿𝚛𝚒𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢; 𝙴𝚡𝚌𝚎𝚙𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚊𝚕) | 𝙸𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚊𝚗 (𝙲𝚘𝚗𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚊𝚕) | 𝚂𝚙𝚊𝚗𝚒𝚜𝚑 (𝙲𝚘𝚗𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚊𝚕) •• ━━━━━━━━━ •• ☽◯☾ •• ━━━━━━━━━ •• 𝚃 𝚁 𝙰 𝙽 𝚂 𝙿 𝙾 𝚁 𝚃 𝙰 𝚃 𝙸 𝙾 𝙽​ 𝚅𝚎𝚑𝚒𝚌𝚕𝚎: • 𝙱𝚕𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝟸𝟶𝟶𝟾 𝙷𝚘𝚗𝚍𝚊 𝙲𝚒𝚟𝚒𝚌 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚠𝚊𝚢 𝚝𝚘𝚘 𝚖𝚊𝚗𝚢 𝚖𝚒𝚕𝚎𝚜, 𝚊 𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚖𝚊𝚗𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚌𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚘𝚏 𝚋𝚘𝚘𝚔𝚜 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚊𝚜𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛 𝚜𝚎𝚊𝚝, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚎𝚗𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑 𝚋𝚊𝚜𝚔𝚎𝚝𝚋𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚐𝚎𝚊𝚛 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚛𝚞𝚗𝚔 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚟𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚊𝚗 𝚊𝚙𝚘𝚌𝚊𝚕𝚢𝚙𝚜𝚎. •• ━━━━━━━━━ •• ☽◯☾ •• ━━━━━━━━━ •• 𝙾 𝚃 𝙷 𝙴 𝚁 𝙸 𝙽 𝙵 𝙾 𝚁 𝙼 𝙰 𝚃 𝙸 𝙾 𝙽​​ ​• 𝙻𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚖𝚜 ​• 𝙲𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚜 𝚋𝚘𝚘𝚔𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚔𝚜 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑 𝚜𝚑𝚎 𝚞𝚜𝚎𝚜 𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚘𝚖 𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚎𝚒𝚙𝚝𝚜 𝚒𝚗𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚊𝚍 ​• 𝙲𝚊𝚗 𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚒𝚝𝚎 𝚕𝚢𝚛𝚒𝚌𝚜, 𝚍𝚒𝚊𝚕𝚘𝚐𝚞𝚎, 𝚋𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝚙𝚊𝚜𝚜𝚊𝚐𝚎𝚜 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚖𝚎𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚢...𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚌𝚊𝚗'𝚝 𝚛𝚎𝚖𝚎𝚖𝚋𝚎𝚛 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚜𝚑𝚎 𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚋𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚔𝚏𝚊𝚜𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐. ​• 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚛𝚒𝚏𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚟𝚊𝚛𝚜𝚒𝚝𝚢 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚘𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚐𝚞𝚊𝚛𝚍 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚒𝚝𝚎 𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚛𝚎 𝚖𝚞𝚜𝚒𝚌𝚊𝚕 𝚜𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚔𝚜 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚖𝚎𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚢, 𝚌𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚜 𝚊𝚝 𝚌𝚎𝚛𝚝𝚊𝚒𝚗 𝚋𝚘𝚘𝚔𝚜, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚜𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚔𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚋𝚘𝚍𝚢 𝚒𝚜 𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐. 𝚃𝚑𝚎𝚖𝚎 𝚂𝚘𝚗𝚐𝚜: 𝙷𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚜 𝙳𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚋𝚢 𝙳𝚊𝚜𝚑𝚋𝚘𝚊𝚛𝚍 𝙲𝚘𝚗𝚏𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚊𝚕 & ​𝙻𝚎𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝙾𝚞𝚝 𝙰𝚕𝚕 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚁𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚋𝚢 𝙻𝚒𝚗𝚔𝚒𝚗 𝙿𝚊𝚛𝚔

RP Inspired by Disney's Atlantis, Pandora Avatar, and some random Mangas.

Throwing in my interest.

Olympus Rising

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_{S T A T E N I S L A N D ◆ N E W Y O R K}

Now what..?

Giovanni took another slow drag of his cigarette as he stared down at the black bident in his hand. A faint hum seemed to reverb off of the bident in his hand, a sound he could barely hear over the ever-constant noise pollution that is known as New York. Part of him wanted to go back upstairs to his apartment and simply slip into a deep slumber, hoping that this was all some sort of crazy pipe dream.

Speaking of pipe dream...

Giovanni pulled the cigarette from his mouth and looked it over suspiciously, suddenly questioning the possibility that maybe they'd been laced with something. With a dismissive shake of his head, the young man stomped out the glowing cherry on the curb and turned to head back inside to his flat.

One thing was for certain. Someone was near. How close? Were they watching him? If all of what had just been said to him was true, and he truly was the successor to the Underworld...

The unsettling feeling only continued to gnaw at the back of his mind with each step he took. With a quick glance over his shoulder down the hall, Giovanni let himself into his flat, a burdened sigh escaped him that seemed to drain the tension from his body. Only it didn't last for very long.

Just as he'd grasped some sense of safety within his own space, he realized he wasn't alone. Sprawled out across the length of his couch as if she'd outright owned the furniture was a young woman, clothes as dark as her hair and the type of confidence of someone who never asked permission to be comfortable. An expression that seemed to read equal parts boredom and amusement spread across her face as she looked over a glass in her hand. Which wasn't just any glass... it was hers.

Not only was this woman intruding, she just so happened to be grasping one of the few items Giovanni kept of his fiancé's that he could stand to keep in the empty shell of their once shared home. Without so much as a second thought, the young man raised the head of the bident to point it balefully at her.. a certain fire burning behind his dark eyes.

"I'm going to give you exactly one chance.." The bident in his hand lowered just enough to make the threat feel more deliberate and less impulsive. Where Giovanni would hold a very composed demeanor normally, all bets were off when it came to his Lauren.

"Put. It. Down." Each word sharper than the next. "Now."

She'd expected security. She hadn't expected...grief. It lingered in the rooms like dust that never settled: photographs left in place, a jacket draped over the back of a chair. It was a home that look occupied by someone who hadn't quite figured out how to live in it anymore. That was why the glass had caught her attention- it wasn't expensive. Hell, compared to everything else in the apartment, it was almost painfully ordinary. Which meant it mattered.

Sloane had been turning it slowly between her fingers, studying the faint fingertips left in the old crystal, when the front door opened. His footsteps were heavier than she expected. They weren't careless; a heavy burden seemed to weigh them down. The click of the lock echoed through the apartment, soon followed by silence. She looked up just in time to find herself staring down the wicked black points of a bident.

"...Well." A slow smiled pulled at the corner of her mouth. "I was wondering how long it'd take." The smile lingered on her face until she looked at his eyes. They weren't angry- not entirely. She instantly recognized the hurt. When his gaze flicked to the glass in her hand, everything clicked into place. Idiot. It wasn't the apartment nor the trespassing- it was the very object in her hand.

Without another word, she leaned forward and placed it gently onto the coffee table. Then she leaned back into the couch, raising both hands shoulder-high in an exaggerated display of surrender. "There. Happy?" Her brown eyes drifted from the bident back to his face. "...Didn't know." For someone else, the apology might have been longer. For Sloane, those two words carried more weight than a speech ever could.

She studied him openly now: the expensive clothes, the exhaustion sitting beneath his eyes. The bident. The way he held it like someone who wasn't entirely sure whether it belonged in his hand. Yeah. That checks out.

"So..." she said, breaking the silence with the same casual tone she'd use discussing tomorrow's weather. "You see a dead guy with a helmet recently?" The corner of her mouth twitched. "I'm trying to figure out if we're having the same psychotic break...or if the Greek gods collectively decided to ruin both of our lives." She tipped her head towards the weapon. "I'm guessing option two."

Her gaze dropped briefly to the black bident before returning to him. "Name's Sloane. Most people call me Blink. I'd offer to shake your hand..." Her eyes flickered deliberately toward the sharpened points aimed squarely at her chest. "...but you seem busy."

Despite the joke, she never once reached for the Caduceus hidden beneath her jacket. She never shifted her posture, never made a move towards the exits she'd already catalogued the second she had walked in. She simply watched him- waiting, curious for his next move. Trying to decide whether the successor of Hades was going to lower the weapon...or prove she had been right about rich kids all along.

Giovanni stood there quietly holding his ground while she offered up an explanation, his demeanor immediately relaxing as soon as the cup was out of her hand. She seemed apologetic enough, for what it was worth. And not that he owed her the courtesy of allowing her the time to explain herself, but something seemed familiar about her. Eerily so..

Then it hit him. She'd been the pick-pocketer who'd caught him slacking on the subway on his way home from a long day at the office. She'd made off with his watch and the few stray dollar bills from his wallet, though he'd noted back then she never stole the wallet itself. Somehow she'd managed to thieve the wallet and store it back in its rightful place in his jacket pocket that had been hanging from his hand, while the other had held his phone tightly pressed to his ear for a very serious phone call with his father about a case the firm had just lost.

It had been his father's loss, but somehow it always came back to Giovanni as some sort of lesson, though the stern talking to always felt less like a lesson and more like a reprimanding as if Gio had made the offense himself.

The young man brought his eyes up to meet hers once more, the fire behind his own had since died down, looking her over.

"I know you. We've met before..." It was then that he'd taken a deep breath, letting out with a hefty sigh as he raised the bident back up to use as a post to lean on while he stood there facing off with the young woman before him.

Personally, I'm still betting on a psychotic break. Or rather, praying for it.

A crooked grin spread across Sloane's face the moment recognition dawned on his. "There it is." She pointed at him with an accusatory finger, as though he'd finally solved a puzzle she'd been waiting on. "I was starting to think that subway ride didn't leave much of an impression." She leaned back into the couch again, one arm draped lazily across the back as if they weren't discussing divine awakenings and breaking-and-entering in the same conversation. "You had your phone glued to your ear. Expensive watch. Designer jacket." She shrugged. "Honestly, you were practically asking for it."

A moment passed as she continued to study him before she made her next statement. "...I left the wallet." It didn't hold pride nor regret, was just simply a fact. "I needed cash. You needed your ID more than I did."

Biting the inside of her cheek, she took in his posture against the bident. It wasn't necessarily surrender, but it was progress. She'd take it. Though, even through his stance, she could tell he wasn't all too familiar with the weapon. Sloane took a breath. "I tried disproving it." Her voice softened- not vulnerable, just honest. "Sleep deprivation. Hallucinations. Stress. Hell, I even stole a psychology textbook from the library." A faint smirk returned to her mouth. "Turns out mental illness doesn't usually come with complimentary magical artifacts."

She pushed herself off the couch, stretching as though she'd merely stopped in to borrow a cup of sugar instead of trespassing into the home of one of New York's wealthiest families. "So. I've got one god telling me I'm," she paused to make air quotes, "supposed to find the others. As if I've spent my life looking after anyone besides myself." Her expression flattened into one of mild annoyance. "I don't do teams. I don't mentor people. I don't even like people. No offense."

Sighing, she shook her head. "Yet somehow..." Sloane gestured vaguely between them with one hand. "...here I am. Standing in your apartment. Talking to the successor of Hades instead of minding my own business like a perfectly rational person." She shrugged her shoulders before giving a dramatic sigh. "I blame Hermes."

Her brown eyes met Giovanni's again, this time without the joking edge. "I don't know what we're supposed to do next. I just know that if a god went through the trouble of finding both of us, it's probably because something bigger than either of us is coming." Then, just as quickly as the seriousness appeared, it vanished beneath another crooked smile. "But if it makes you feel any better, I'm still fifty bucks richer from the last time we met." Her grin widened. "And honestly? I'd call that fate."

Fate, hm?

Giovanni stood there, moments of silence passing between them while he digested everything she said. What had happened earlier.. meeting Hades, being chosen as his successor... And why? Why her? HOW was this... thie- well. She had mentioned Hermes.. Hermes was the "god of thieves", wasn't he? He couldn't help the literal eyeroll that came from the thought alone. Good lord.

Once again, Giovanni gave a hesitating glance over to his dining room table with the case file still sitting in wait for him, bringing his eyes back to meet with hers. There was a heavy divide forming within him over the duties he had to uphold with his job.. his family... while there was a new pull, deep within his chest that he hadn't been able to shake since the bident had been thrust into his hands.

He wasn't sure if he trusted this girl, this Sloane character. Knowing she was another chosen successor didn't much help her case. He still didn't trust her. Not by a long shot... he knew he had no other choice, at least not right now. Hades had told him he needed to 'find the others'. One down.. however many more to go.

Giovanni shook his head as he headed off towards his bedroom to change out of his suit, leaving her standing in his living room as he grumbled under his breath.

"I'm gonna need another cigarette before we bounce outta here."

Olympus Rising

_{N E W Y O R K C I T Y ↱ S T A T E N I S L A N D ꧁ N E W Y O R K}

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The first thing Hermes stole from Sloane Mercer wasn’t her normal life- it was her certainty. For twenty-two years, the world had made sense. Not fair, not good- just sense. People with money had easier lives. People without it learned how to survive. Trust was a liability, kindness came with strings attached. If you wanted something, you took it. If you wanted to keep something, you held on tight and hoped the world didn’t pry your fingers loose. Life was simple. Predicatable. Then a Greek god froze time in the middle of Manhattan and ruined everything. Sloane sat on the edge of a rooftop overlooking the harbor, one boot hanging over open air as she watched the city below. New York stretched endlessly around her, alive with movement and noise. Headlights streamed through the streets like rivers of light. The distant sound of sirens blended with ferry horns and the constant hum of millions of lives intersecting below. Where most people looked at New York and saw opportunity, the girl saw survival. Every alleyway, subway station, rooftop- she knew them better than most people knew their own neighborhoods. The city had raised her; the city had nearly killed her. And somehow, despite everything, she’d grown to love it. A silver coin rolled across her knuckles. Back and forth. Back and forth. The motion was automatic, a habit she had picked up years ago. One of many. The coin disappeared between her fingers before once more reappearing, then vanishing within the blink of an eye. A small smile tugged at her lips at the realization that some things still made sense. Her gaze drifted toward the dark silhouette of Staten Island in the distance. It was the home of the nearest lead, her first lead. Her first headache. A month ago, if someone had told her she’d be hunting Titans- or whatever the hell they were calling themselves these days- she would’ve assumed they were either drunk or trying to sell her something. Now? Now she carried a divine staff and could outrun traffic. The awakening replayed itself in fragments whenever she let her mind wander: rain suspended in midair, the city frozen between heartbeats, the sensation of moving faster than reality could process. And then Hermes. God of thieves, messengers...Looking at her like she’d finally arrived somewhere she’d been heading her entire life. ”You’ve been borrowing my rhythm for years... Now it’s time to put your new skills to some good use. Find the others.” The memory still made her uncomfortable. Not because it scared her, but because it explained too much: the stealing, the running. The inability to stay still. The way she’d spent years drifting from place to place without ever feeling anchored anywhere. The way movement itself felt natural, almost like breathing. For the first time in her life, she had an explanation. And somehow that was more unsettling than not having one. The coin disappeared into her pocket, a folded piece of paper replacing it. On the paper was a name, one of the wealthiest in New York. It was the kind of name newspapers wrote about. The kind of people Sloane had spent years taking wallets from. Her snort echoed softly into the night. Of all the successors Hermes could’ve pointed her towards first, it had to be someone like that. Someone who never had to count every dollar in their pocket, never having to sleep on a rooftop because there wasn’t anywhere else to go. A wealthy heir carrying the mantle of Hades. She was sure there was a joke in there somewhere- she just hadn’t found it yet. She didn’t even know why she was doing this; Hermes hadn’t exactly left her a detailed instruction manual. Before he had disappeared entirely, he had left her with suggestions and one infuriating sentence- ”You won’t be alone.” At first she had taken that a reassurance. Then, she realized it was probably an assignment, because apparently being chosen by a god wasn’t enough. Now she had responsibilities. The word alone felt ridiculous. Sloane had spent her entire life looking out for exactly one person: herself. It wasn’t selfishness, it was practicality. Nobody else had been there, nobody else had made sure she ate. Nobody else had made sure she survived. So, she’d done it herself. She’d gotten pretty good at it. And now suddenly, there were others. Other people waking up to impossible abilities and impossible truths. People who might be scared, confused, lost...The thought made her grimace. She understood their feelings all too well. For a moment, sh wondered what would have happened if she’d met someone like herself after the awakening. Would she have listened? Probably not. Trusted them? Definitely not. Stollen their wallet? Almost certainly. The laugh that escaped her this time was genuine. ”Yeah,” she muttered to herself. “This is going to go great.” The wind pulled at her jacket. Below, the Staten Island Ferry continued its journey across dark water. The Caduceus hummed softly against the concrete beside her, almost amused. Sloane stood. The skyline glittered behind her, the harbor stretched before her. And somewhere on Staten Island was a successor carrying the weight of a dead god’s legacy. Lucky him. The city was always moving, always changing, around her. Maybe that was why Hermes had chosen her: not because she was brave, noble, or wanted to help people. She moved. She kept going. No matter how many times life knocked her down, she found another road. Another shortcut. A thief in the middle of a crossroads, now a messenger. The realization made her roll her eyes. ”Still hate that.” Stepping onto the ledge, she balanced there between the sky and city for a heartbeat. Between the life she’d known and whatever came next. Then, a grin tugged at the corners of her lips as she stared out into the night. ”Hope you’re less annoying than your reputation.” She jumped. Gravity reached for her and missed. Blink vanished into the New York night, leaving only the wind behind.

Olympus Rising

@MintRolls

It all of our characters are in different parts of the country, should we include in our intros the location of them?

Olympus Rising

@MintRolls

Heyyyy- question. What is the setting for this?

Olympus Rising

“Be water, my friend.” — Bruce Lee

Sloane Mercer, Hermes' Successor

_______________________________________________ Face Claim: Eliza Dushku | #9FE2BF Name: Sloane 'Blink' Mercer Age: 23-years-old Gender: Female Sexuality: Pansexual Role: Hermes' Successor Power: Super speed & Levitation Weapon: Caduceus Identifying Features: Sloane has no single defining feature that makes her easy to recognize. Instead, she is known for a pattern: restless posture, watchful eyes, and a movement style so efficient it feels like she’s always in transit. Those who’ve seen her up close describe the same impression——she never fully “arrives,” and she never fully stays. Clothing Style: Layered, practical clothing such as hoodies, jackets, things with pockets, etc. She is always dressed for movement, not comfort or style, tending to favor neutral or muted tones so she blends into crowds. Her shoes are always the most cared-for item she owns. _______________________________________________

Personality: She is sharp, fast-thinking, and observant—someone who processes the world in motion rather than stillness. She rarely lingers emotionally in one place for long, preferring action, distraction, or humor over vulnerability. Trust does not come easily to her. She expects betrayal more often than loyalty and has learned to rely on herself above all else. However, she is not cruel—her morality is shaped by survival, not malice. She will steal to live, lie to escape, and run before she fights. Her humor is dry, quick, and often used as deflection. She speaks in short bursts when focused, but can become animated and fast-talking under stress or excitement—almost as if her thoughts move too quickly for her mouth to keep up. Despite her guarded exterior, she has a strong internal sense of fairness shaped by lived experience. She tends to protect those she sees as vulnerable or overlooked, even if she pretends not to care. At her core, she is someone who has always existed in motion—never given a place to belong, only paths to follow. Bio: Sloane Mercer’s early life never had much stability to begin with. Born in a working-class environment that quickly collapsed under financial strain, she grew up learning that permanence was a luxury other people could afford. Her childhood was marked less by milestones and more by transitions—temporary housing, strained relatives, foster placements that never lasted long, and environments where she was always “the extra responsibility.” By the time she was old enough to understand consistency, she had already learned not to expect it. Her early education was inconsistent, often interrupted by instability at home. Teachers described her as intelligent but detached—someone who paid attention to everything without ever seeming anchored to anything. She developed an early habit of observation: watching people instead of participating, studying systems instead of trusting them. When she was still young, circumstances pushed her fully into instability. Whether through neglect, abandonment, or simply being left behind in the system, she eventually ended up on the streets. Survival replaced structure. Hunger replaced schedule. The city became her classroom. It was during this period that Sloane learned what she would later unknowingly refine into skill: reading crowds, timing movement, anticipating attention. She started small—taking food, supplies, anything she could slip away unnoticed. Theft was never about thrill; it was about necessity and adaptation. Over time, necessity turned into expertise. Sloane became exceptionally skilled at pickpocketing and stealth-based theft, using misdirection, crowd density, and timing to her advantage. She learned how to move through urban environments like a system she could exploit—subway platforms, alleyways, markets, festivals, anywhere motion masked intent. She rarely stayed in one place long enough to be noticed twice. Despite her circumstances, she avoided unnecessary violence and never stole out of malice. Her morality developed as something practical rather than ideological: take what is needed, avoid what escalates risk, disappear before consequences arrive. In underground circles, rumors began to circulate about a “ghost” in the city—someone who was never caught on camera clearly, never stayed in one place long enough to track, and always seemed to vanish at the edge of awareness. The name “Blink” eventually attached itself to her, first as slang, then as myth. She did not choose the name——it chose her. What she did not know was that her life had already been quietly aligning with something far older than the streets she survived. Moments of uncanny timing, impossible escapes, and instincts that felt too precise were not coincidences—they were echoes of something she had yet to understand. Everything changes the night reality begins to misalign around her. Time falters in small, unsettling ways. Movement becomes distorted. The world feels briefly “out of sync,” as though she is no longer moving at the same rhythm as everyone else. During a moment of pursuit and heightened stress, the distortion intensifies until it fractures entirely. She experiences an awakening vision of Hermes, appearing not as a distant deity, but as a familiar presence confirming what she already is. In that moment, her dormant divine inheritance activates. Sloane gains impossible speed, brief levitation, and heightened spatial awareness that allows her to instinctively read movement and intent. A Caduceus staff manifests in her hands, marking her connection to Hermes’ domain. What she once understood as survival is revealed to have been preparation. The streets did not break her, but rather trained her for her future inheritance.

Olympus Rising

“Be water, my friend.” — Bruce Lee

Sloane Mercer, Hermes' Successor

_______________________________________________ Face Claim: Eliza Dushku | #9FE2BF Name: Sloane 'Blink' Mercer Age: 23-years-old Gender: Female Sexuality: Pansexual Role: Hermes' Successor Power: Super speed & Levitation Weapon: Caduceus Identifying Features: Sloane has no single defining feature that makes her easy to recognize. Instead, she is known for a pattern: restless posture, watchful eyes, and a movement style so efficient it feels like she’s always in transit. Those who’ve seen her up close describe the same impression——she never fully “arrives,” and she never fully stays. Clothing Style: Layered, practical clothing such as hoodies, jackets, things with pockets, etc. She is always dressed for movement, not comfort or style, tending to favor neutral or muted tones so she blends into crowds. Her shoes are always the most cared-for item she owns. _______________________________________________

Personality: She is sharp, fast-thinking, and observant—someone who processes the world in motion rather than stillness. She rarely lingers emotionally in one place for long, preferring action, distraction, or humor over vulnerability. Trust does not come easily to her. She expects betrayal more often than loyalty and has learned to rely on herself above all else. However, she is not cruel—her morality is shaped by survival, not malice. She will steal to live, lie to escape, and run before she fights. Her humor is dry, quick, and often used as deflection. She speaks in short bursts when focused, but can become animated and fast-talking under stress or excitement—almost as if her thoughts move too quickly for her mouth to keep up. Despite her guarded exterior, she has a strong internal sense of fairness shaped by lived experience. She tends to protect those she sees as vulnerable or overlooked, even if she pretends not to care. At her core, she is someone who has always existed in motion—never given a place to belong, only paths to follow. Bio: Sloane Mercer’s early life never had much stability to begin with. Born in a working-class environment that quickly collapsed under financial strain, she grew up learning that permanence was a luxury other people could afford. Her childhood was marked less by milestones and more by transitions—temporary housing, strained relatives, foster placements that never lasted long, and environments where she was always “the extra responsibility.” By the time she was old enough to understand consistency, she had already learned not to expect it. Her early education was inconsistent, often interrupted by instability at home. Teachers described her as intelligent but detached—someone who paid attention to everything without ever seeming anchored to anything. She developed an early habit of observation: watching people instead of participating, studying systems instead of trusting them. When she was still young, circumstances pushed her fully into instability. Whether through neglect, abandonment, or simply being left behind in the system, she eventually ended up on the streets. Survival replaced structure. Hunger replaced schedule. The city became her classroom. It was during this period that Sloane learned what she would later unknowingly refine into skill: reading crowds, timing movement, anticipating attention. She started small—taking food, supplies, anything she could slip away unnoticed. Theft was never about thrill; it was about necessity and adaptation. Over time, necessity turned into expertise. Sloane became exceptionally skilled at pickpocketing and stealth-based theft, using misdirection, crowd density, and timing to her advantage. She learned how to move through urban environments like a system she could exploit—subway platforms, alleyways, markets, festivals, anywhere motion masked intent. She rarely stayed in one place long enough to be noticed twice. Despite her circumstances, she avoided unnecessary violence and never stole out of malice. Her morality developed as something practical rather than ideological: take what is needed, avoid what escalates risk, disappear before consequences arrive. In underground circles, rumors began to circulate about a “ghost” in the city—someone who was never caught on camera clearly, never stayed in one place long enough to track, and always seemed to vanish at the edge of awareness. The name “Blink” eventually attached itself to her, first as slang, then as myth. She did not choose the name——it chose her. What she did not know was that her life had already been quietly aligning with something far older than the streets she survived. Moments of uncanny timing, impossible escapes, and instincts that felt too precise were not coincidences—they were echoes of something she had yet to understand. Everything changes the night reality begins to misalign around her. Time falters in small, unsettling ways. Movement becomes distorted. The world feels briefly “out of sync,” as though she is no longer moving at the same rhythm as everyone else. During a moment of pursuit and heightened stress, the distortion intensifies until it fractures entirely. She experiences an awakening vision of Hermes, appearing not as a distant deity, but as a familiar presence confirming what she already is. In that moment, her dormant divine inheritance activates. Sloane gains impossible speed, brief levitation, and heightened spatial awareness that allows her to instinctively read movement and intent. A Caduceus staff manifests in her hands, marking her connection to Hermes’ domain. What she once understood as survival is revealed to have been preparation. The streets did not break her, but rather trained her for her future inheritance.

Olympus Rising

I should have Hermes up today!

Olympus Rising

Reserving Hermes