xNocturnax

Noct's Junkyard

Short shots/episodes of Camp AU between Sparky and Nocturna.

What if their enemies flooded in and wiped out their one demigod sanctuary and training ground?

What if the gods meddle and a curse is placed on one of the unassuming but powerful demigods?

Noct's Junkyard

waiting for the next contestant...

Noct's Junkyard

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Rhea Bellfon...

.................................................... __________________________________________ R H E A . B E L L F O N ________________________________________________________ 18 | female | heterosexual __________________________________________ ..................▹ hair color | snow white ..................▹ eye color | green ..................▹ height | 5' 4" ..................▹ build | slender ..................▹ species | mage ..................▹ faction | Beastward Academy (WIP) ..................▹ role | initiate

. S T R E N G T H S strength - Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit. Proin rhoncus libero risus, et porttitor ex mattis quis. Aliquam id tellus dui. Vivamus pellentesque quam et risus viverra, eget facilisis orci porta. Cras efficitur turpis sapien, sit amet sollicitudin lacus maximus sed. strength - Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit. Proin rhoncus libero risus, et porttitor ex mattis quis. Aliquam id tellus dui. Vivamus pellentesque quam et risus viverra, eget facilisis orci porta. Cras efficitur turpis sapien, sit amet sollicitudin lacus maximus sed. strength - Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit. Proin rhoncus libero risus, et porttitor ex mattis quis. Aliquam id tellus dui. Vivamus pellentesque quam et risus viverra, eget facilisis orci porta. Cras efficitur turpis sapien, sit amet sollicitudin lacus maximus sed. W E A K N E S S E S Naive - A blend of her young age and lack of exposure to the big wide world makes a lot of situations new to her, she therefore falls inexperienced to a lot. She is prone to the game of manipulation and unaware of dangerous corners turned. weakness - Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit. Proin rhoncus libero risus, et porttitor ex mattis quis. Aliquam id tellus dui. Vivamus pellentesque quam et risus viverra, eget facilisis orci porta. Cras efficitur turpis sapien, sit amet sollicitudin lacus maximus sed. weakness - Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit. Proin rhoncus libero risus, et porttitor ex mattis quis. Aliquam id tellus dui. Vivamus pellentesque quam et risus viverra, eget facilisis orci porta. Cras efficitur turpis sapien, sit amet sollicitudin lacus maximus sed. __________________________________________________________________________________ P E R S O N A L I T Y trait .... | .... trait .... | .... trait .... | .... trait .... | .... trait H I S T O R Y Bellfon, a name taken before her time and since derived from a legacy of beast slayers. Rhea, however, had other plans. She often allowed animals into the castle gardens and would slip injured wildlife into a room in the east wing to treat them back to health with her mother's aid who was a healer. The time had long passed of it being cute or a phase, her father's temper boiling over, a fist slamming down on the grand table and demanding she stop her antics. Stop wasting resources and food on simple beasts. But she didn't change. She only grew more cautious and clever about it, and her mother continued to help. When she passed, the feeling of being an outcast among her own family nearly overwhelmed her. She was surrounded by men: her father and two brothers who all loved to hunt, that didn't understand her sympathy for primal forms of life at all. So when she enrolled herself to Beastward Academy, they were more than surprised. But the enrolment wasn't done in spite as whispers may suggest, but escape and finding herself for her own sanity. A luxury not many get to do, and she did before she ended up trapped in an arranged marriage or carrying an heir and the lady of the house expectations could fall on her. __________________________________________________________________________________ hexcode . | . #cc99a2 ........ faceclaim . | . Freya Allan........ creator . | . xNocturnax

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What Lies Below

^{#b899ff ....|..... outfit .....|..... main street}

She sat in her car, one hand’s fingers clenched tightly on the steering wheel while her other hand hovered over the keys, ready to twist it over to bring the ignition to life and leave the town of Pine Ridge behind and finally in the rearview. She had been in this exact spot once…twice before. But she hesitated. Always hesitated. Even when she hated it.

Her hand eased away from the keys and joined the steering wheel, gripping it impossibly tighter as she squeezed her eyes shut. “Fuck,” she muttered to herself and threw her head back against the headrest in defeat.

Gradually, her hands withdrew to her lap, admitting complete surrender to the pull of the town. To the pull of the pack. It was something she couldn’t leave behind. Nobody ever said ‘stay’ and nobody demanded ‘go’, they were just always silently and sturdily supportive.

Several minutes passed by like this. Danica sat silent and still in her car with her eyes closed, seemingly napping or maybe even meditating to the outside world, while her thoughts run rampant. She gulped as flashes of her attack ruled her mind – she would say vengeance kept her here, but it had been months and she hadn’t seen the man – the wolf, that attacked her and the pack was oddly hush about it. Dani had never asked outright but they shared thoughts telepathically and they were rather sealed on who was responsible and why and where the hell he was now…where other thoughts ran quite freely and openly.

Regardless, as it always did, her troubled mind eventually turned to resolve. She’d stay to stop that from happening to anyone else. Fatalities. Torture. Turning unwillingly into something. That was part of the wolves’ cause.

She pulled the keys back and climbed out of the car, locking it up, glancing up at the sky obscured by grey clouds. After months, she still didn’t identify or quite settle into Pine Ridge as home. She still had that same motel room booked. Hadn’t settled into any job. Didn’t bother to make friends much beyond a smile or small talk. Never got personal. The closest person she had come to know was the owner of the motel, Dottie and that was to explain her extended stay and so they could arrange a tailored payment plan when her pockets ran inevitably shallow.

Dani walked along the street, hands buried in her pockets, aiming to pass by quietly and lightly on her feet as a ghost and reach the diner. She’d tuck herself into a booth against the window, facing the door as normal with a hot brew of coffee planted between her palms like any other day. But instead, she slowed and swivelled to watch people manoeuvre large props and haybales around. Locals littered the main street to decorate their town for a Halloween festival, working in unison to achieve their goal.
It almost looked innocent and wholesome of the small town. But it was displays like this that particularly clenched at her gut and gnawed at her being. Why would anyone ever have reason to assume werewolves and vampires and witches were a thing? They looked so ordinary. For the most part. Perfect for blindsiding newcomers and tourists. Just like her once. She wondered if they knew the elusive guise they put forward. If the locals — the humans, knew of the special beings they were holed up in town with.

A strained grunt followed by a clatter turned her attention to a tipped table across the road, where a pumpkin rolled a foot away and fake webs and lights toppled out of a box. Danica jogged over, helping them recollect their décor.

“Oh, thank you.”

She moved automatically to push the foldable table up, cloaked in a white cloth. The second they applied weight and replaced the box, the table leg caved again, almost making it topple over towards her once more. Danica caught it and reached under to adjust the hazardous iffy leg, pushing it out properly.

“It’s rather finicky. Don’t worry too much about it, dear,” the lady assured.

She grabbed the opposite leg on the same short side and — the sharp sound of a horn had her yank the adjustable height, getting her index finger abrasively pincered between the metal bars while the table slanted now. Dani jerked her hand away with a hiss shaking her hand out.

“Oh my.”

Impossible pain tolerance wasn’t part of the wolf package regrettably, and Dani was caught looking between the lady scolding the table on her behalf, dismissing the whole structure muttering about getting a new one and the direction the horn blared while her finger stung and turned red.

She stiffened, ears all but pricking up to the confrontation further down the road, away from the main bustle. The cowboy vampire. She wondered if this was one of those things she’d have to step into to protect — the albeit idiot — tourist. But she also knew it was a battle she wouldn’t win. He was older, experienced, stronger. Knew the Boones might reprimand her for confronting the cowboy of all people and starting something over nothing. So she stayed in place, still as a rock waiting and observing.

The tension in her shoulders eased fractionally when the van reversed the way he came. Vampire and tourist parted for now. But she stared a moment longer, as if for good measure and to confirm they had really got away unscathed. Physically.

Dani looked back at the lady and flashed a smile. Something between apology and warmth, hurrying to fix the table one final time. “We'll get it,” she assured. And sure enough, table legs were hard set in place and set at the same height to finally make for a sturdy structure.

A small task by all means but the lady's smile and the tiny contribution gave Dani feeling of...gratification.

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^{interactions ....|.... none ............... mentions ....|.... clint ............... collabs ....|.... none}

What Lies Below

Danica Duran | The Reluctant Pup

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Danica Duran...

.................................................... __________________________________________ D A N I C A . D U R A N ________________________________________________________ 33 | female | bisexual __________________________________________ ..................▹ hair color | brunette ..................▹ eye color | brown ..................▹ height | 5' 7" ..................▹ build | feminine toned ..................▹ species | werewolf ..................▹ faction | pack ..................▹ role | The Reluctant Pup

. S T R E N G T H S Loyalty - Whilst Dani has her inner conflicts about being a werewolf and likes to drift from the forest, there is no mistake in her mind that her pack is her family and has her best interest at heart. Tempted as she may be by other avenues and offers, if it costs her anything with the pack she won't do it. She owes them, and it's something that runs beyond wolf instinct. At the first sign of trouble she would drop what she is doing if they called upon her. Tracking - Her attention to details and eidetic memory — once simple perks for recalling on her past travels and adventures, now combined with her supernatually heightened senses, make her exceptional at finding and seeking. Although not as deeply familiar with Pine Ridge as others, she is determined. Courage - She's always been daring from her youth and isn't afraid to do things independently. Not much rattles her to the state of paralysis. She may get an ill feeling, but when something's at stake, she'll do and face what she has to. W E A K N E S S E S Refusal - There is, at heart, a large part of Danica that resents being a werewolf. From the little things like being able to catch people’s scent without trying, smelling cheap nostril burning perfume, to hearing all sorts of things, to the transformation itself. She’d rather be, and misses being, normal and unburdened by being an animal. Some days she deliberately busies herself in town to avoid being around her pack — she has no qualm with them personally, but it’s another wolf thing that she’d rather try to ignore and forget. Control -Because of her inability to embrace her heritage as a wolf and her constant discontentment with herself, Dani is a constant work in progress when it comes to control. Her enhanced sense of hearing can be particularly painful, and she seems to frequently be doing deep breaths and meditation to remain calm and keep her wolf at bay. Hard Headedness - On some things, Dani is unrelenting and unbudging, even when she ought to let it go and it's no good for her. Some things evolve almost into an obsession. One such matter is her desperation for control and to find the dog that bit her. __________________________________________________________________________________ P E R S O N A L I T Y tenacious .... | .... autonomous .... | .... passionate .... | .... adventurous .... | .... persistent H I S T O R Y Like the tourists that frequent Pine Ridge now, Danica once explored what she’s now bound to call home as a visitor with keen eyes and excitement, jumping at every chance to walk around the town and participate in their tours. Unfortunately, that included adventuring out in the night and accessing restricted areas, not knowing it was just dumb luck that carried her through until she met a mysterious man. Well, not met as much as frequently saw; at the diner, across the street, in the forest. Never with anyone else, just alone and staring intensely. A werewolf, she would come to find when the bite was lunged upon her. Whether from curiosity, attraction, instinct or threat, she has no closure on why the rogue chose to bite her that day. Perhaps he was aiming to kill her and didn't finish the job? She just knows the week of misery: sitting at the doctor's running a frightening fever, struggling to form a coherent thought about the oversized wolf that bit her, muscle aches and pains and telling her friends to go on with their travels and that she would catch up. But most of all, the embedded pain from turning on the full moon. The man who inflicted her with such a curse nowhere in sight as bones cracked, muscles seized and pulled and skin shifted while she begged for mercy as her own body turned against her. The only one that was there, eerily calm and guiding was Warren. Maddening as his calm was, it proved an assurance and most importantly, that she wasn't alone. A bigger favor and blessing than he could ever know. The least she owed him was her attentiveness, looking at him as a teacher — though the correct term is 'alpha', as he introduced her to pack life and lore. She was never forced to stay at Pine Ridge but he warned, life and turning could be difficult outside on her own. Especially with how fresh she was. Somewhere in her being, the idea sold. Being with a pack was better than being a loner. So she stayed and never left Pine Ridge — the small town meant as a spontaneous stop. But, strangely enough, she also never saw the man or wolf who bit her again. And she has looked. With little knowledge that he has long been disposed of. __________________________________________________________________________________ hexcode . | . #b899ff ........ faceclaim . | . Eiza González ........ creator . | . xNocturnax

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Noct's Junkyard

Danica Duran| The Reluctant Pup

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Danica Duran...

.................................................... __________________________________________ D A N I C A . D U R A N ________________________________________________________ 33 | female | bisexual __________________________________________ ..................▹ hair color | brunette ..................▹ eye color | brown ..................▹ height | 5' 7" ..................▹ build | feminine toned ..................▹ species | werewolf ..................▹ faction | pack ..................▹ role | The Reluctant Pup

. S T R E N G T H S Loyalty - Whilst Dani has her inner conflicts about being a werewolf and likes to drift from the forest, there is no mistake in her mind that her pack is her family and has her best interest at heart. Tempted as she may be by other avenues and offers, if it costs her anything with the pack she won't do it. She owes them, and it's something that runs beyond wolf instinct. At the first sign of trouble she would drop what she is doing if they called upon her. Tracking - Her attention to details and eidetic memory — once simple perks for recalling on her past travels and adventures, now combined with her supernatually heightened senses, make her exceptional at finding and seeking. Although not as deeply familiar with Pine Ridge as others, she is determined. Courage - She's always been daring from her youth and isn't afraid to do things independently. Not much rattles her to the state of paralysis. She may get an ill feeling, but when something's at stake, she'll do and face what she has to. W E A K N E S S E S Refusal - There is, at heart, a large part of Danica that resents being a werewolf. From the little things like being able to catch people’s scent without trying, smelling cheap nostril burning perfume, to hearing all sorts of things, to the transformation itself. She’d rather be, and misses being, normal and unburdened by being an animal. Some days she deliberately busies herself in town to avoid being around her pack — she has no qualm with them personally, but it’s another wolf thing that she’d rather try to ignore and forget. Control -Because of her inability to embrace her heritage as a wolf and her constant discontentment with herself, Dani is a constant work in progress when it comes to control. Her enhanced sense of hearing can be particularly painful, and she seems to frequently be doing deep breaths and meditation to remain calm and keep her wolf at bay. Hard Headedness - On some things, Dani is unrelenting and unbudging, even when she ought to let it go and it's no good for her. Some things evolve almost into an obsession. One such matter is her desperation for control and to find the dog that bit her. __________________________________________________________________________________ P E R S O N A L I T Y tenacious .... | .... autonomous .... | .... passionate .... | .... adventurous .... | .... persistent H I S T O R Y Like the tourists that frequent Pine Ridge now, Danica once explored what she’s now bound to call home as a visitor with keen eyes and excitement, jumping at every chance to walk around the town and participate in their tours. Unfortunately, that included adventuring out in the night and accessing restricted areas, not knowing it was just dumb luck that carried her through until she met a mysterious man. Well, not met as much as frequently saw; at the diner, across the street, in the forest. Never with anyone else, just alone and staring intensely. A werewolf, she would come to find when the bite was lunged upon her. Whether from curiosity, attraction, instinct or threat, she has no closure on why the rogue chose to bite her that day. Perhaps he was aiming to kill her and didn't finish the job? She just knows the week of misery: sitting at the doctor's running a frightening fever, struggling to form a coherent thought about the oversized wolf that bit her, muscle aches and pains and telling her friends to go on with their travels and that she would catch up. But most of all, the embedded pain from turning on the full moon. The man who inflicted her with such a curse nowhere in sight as bones cracked, muscles seized and pulled and skin shifted while she begged for mercy as her own body turned against her. The only one that was there, eerily calm and guiding was ___ . Maddening as his calm was, it proved an assurance and most importantly, that she wasn't alone. A bigger favour and blessing than he could ever know. The least she owed him was her attentiveness, looking at him as a teacher — though the correct term is 'alpha', as he introduced her to pack life and lore. She was never forced to stay at Pine Ridge but, [VERIFY- he warned, life and turning could be difficult outside on her own. Especially with how fresh she was.] Somewhere in her being, the idea sold. Being with a pack was better than being a loner. So she stayed and never left Pine Ridge — the small town meant as a spontaneous stop. But, strangely enough, she also never saw the man or wolf who bit her again. And she has looked. __________________________________________________________________________________ hexcode . | . #6403F3 ........ faceclaim . | . Eiza González ........ creator . | . xNocturnax

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Camp Athens - Closed

^{#66356a ....|..... outfit .....|..... their cabin}

Trinity stilled by him, her chest rising and falling against his in what transformed into another breath-stealing kiss by the son of Aphrodite. "You’re playing a dangerous game, Blondie." Her eyes drew to his and she only beamed at the accusation. "If you keep kissing me like that…The only place we’re going… is to bed." A knot curled in her stomach and heat crept through her body. At his promise. At his tone. A part of her just wanted to nod against his head and say ‘go ahead’, she wouldn’t oppose. Instead, she stayed close, annoyingly patient and non-impulsive as she waited for why that couldn’t happen. He kissed her again, this time in a brief, fleeting kiss that made her grin return. "I’m trying to be good," he whispered against her lips.

Trinity’s brows shot up and she leaned her head back like he delivered an insult, but she wasn’t willing to part in proximity yet. “Excuse me, Mr Preston, who the hell said abstain from your girlfriend?” Her air was playful, knowing well no one advised as much.

Before he could answer, she took a step back, slipping from his arm. She couldn’t even conceal her sly smile as she nodded to herself. “Alright, okay. You know a dangerous game is playing hard to get with your new roomie, Ken doll,” she warned, eyes glimmering with mischief and challenge. But if he wanted to be genuinely good for some reason or another, she’d respect that.

Still. She looked him over, no rule saying she couldn’t admire from afar, eyes drifting down his collarbone and mentally peeling his jacket away to reveal the hard planes of his chest and lines of his abs. When she caught herself, she cleared her throat gently and looked away, leaning against the kitchen counter.

Her gaze swept through the small first floor of Wes’s cabin to distract herself. “No, I’m not gonna bother Andy with anything,” she mumbled, finally addressing his earlier comment before they got swept up in a kiss. The girl conjured enough. “All you’re missing is a daily buffet in here and this would be Westopia.” And she wasn't going to disturb that.

Wes who kept his space modest. Wes who never asked much of anyone. Wes, who only ever tried to help others.

The thoughts gradually deepened until they resolved on the inevitable conclusion. Wes didn’t deserve to have his limb torn off. Not many people did in hindsight, but particularly not him. He wouldn’t be sporting a black and blue nose and dry blood now otherwise. Trinity crossed one ankle over the other. “Ya know, I don’t think I’ve ever actually directly asked if it bothers you.” She nodded to the absent limb then her eyes scanned his face, her typical blazing steel eyes gentle and patient now, waiting for his truth.

“I could never do it,” she muttered, stepping towards him again and sliding her arms around his waist, needing to be close. “I know it’s not mind-blowing information but I would really struggle to adapt and you…” the words escaped her. He took it in his stride – outwardly anyway. “You’re stronger than you know. Maybe even stronger than me.” Her brows lifted softly at the consideration.

^{interactions ....|.... Wes ............... mentions ....|.... none ............... collabs ....|.... none}

Camp Athens - Closed

^{#ffc300 ....|..... outfit .....|..... #0a6d6b ....|..... outfit .....|..... sylas's cabin}

She stirred softly and blinked herself awake, heavy eyes skimming across the unfamiliar floorboards and out the window. Her foggy brain took a minute to catch up that she was in Sylas’s cabin, in his arms. Evelyn glanced down to his arm secured around her waist and traced along it with her fingertips lightly. She was almost afraid in the time she had napped, he had reflected and withdrawn. Instead, he was where she had left him. Or, he had snuck away and taken the effort to sneak back in place which still indicated some degree of care.

Evelyn shifted carefully onto her back, head turning to face him. Rather than state the warmth in him staying or even comment on what a good big spoon he made, she spared him. "You went to bed with wet hair," she murmured and smiled. "You know, even you can get sick if you’re not careful." The back of her hand sat against his chest, pinching the fabric of his shirt between her fingers gently. "You’re not cold?"

Sylas didn’t move the entire time she napped. The thought crossed his mind once or twice, but the idea of disturbing her kept him firmly rooted in place. For the most part his mind continued to cycle through the rollercoaster of emotions that passed between them, questioning his decision while trying to pinpoint the inevitable destruction that would follow. At one point he might have drifted off for a moment or two, but for most of the quiet time that ticked by his thumb lightly stroked her arm while he counted the copper hairs that brushed against his nose with every breath.

It was only when she started stirring that he let himself adjust, shifting slightly so he could move the arm that had long fallen asleep pinned beneath him. He rotated his hand and flexed his tingling fingers as Evelyn’s head moved to rest along his bicep. His other arm loosened its hold, letting her move freely within his embrace without sacrificing space or warmth. His hand slipped across her waist as turned, palm settling against her stomach as she settled on her back. When her words broke the silence, his eyes locked with hers before falling to where her fingers assessed the warmth of his shirt, or lack thereof.

Sylas actually chuckled. It was a quick, fleeting sound, muffled behind his lips, deep and quiet like a hum dragged across gravel. He pondered her comment for a beat or two before replying quietly, like any sound too loud would break the fragile peace they had created between them. "I’m Russian. It takes more than a thin shirt and wet hair to make me sick." A second or two passed before he continued barely above a whisper. "My cabin also has a furnace."

And there it was… the feint, ghost of a smile… not fake or forced or manipulative, just surprisingly authentic.

An easy smile extended across her lips as she inclined her chin. "Aahh. Right. That’s how you’ve avoided hypothermia. Russian heritage and possessing a furnace" she relayed. The answer to how he could endure and cross camp so sturdily and jacketless in winter. How he could remain wet for hours in a medical tent after nearly drowning and being electrocuted…Her smile faded at the latter intrusive thought, glancing up at Sylas. She always thought she had some responsibility in his pandora related injuries, even when they had faded to cosmetic nuisances. But she didn’t like to bring it up.

Evelyn looked him over, that familiar glimmer of wonder and fascination in her eyes. What she wouldn’t give to read his thoughts. Sylas showed her another version of him and let himself be…something very close to vulnerable with her. He was there when she woke up, he gave her food and a coat earlier and protected her previously. And for that, she was beyond thankful and privileged. She rotated again with the same caution and awareness of Sylas’s limbs as before, turning to face him, resting up on her left forearm, red hair draping over her shoulder. She didn’t want to burden him with more serious confessions and conversations or take from the ease that seemed to settle between them.

"Do you still speak your native tongue?" She inquired, genuine curiosity and excitement swirling under the surface of her question. Of course, she was only finding out now Sylas was bilingual.

"Я делаю — I do," Sylas responded, his voice deep and rumbling beneath the Russian that fell effortlessly from his lips. "I only really speak it with my sister anymore, but my father insisted we learn both Russian and English fluently since we were children," he added in English, no sign of an accent tinging his words. The Astors were educated well so that they passed as Americans unless stating otherwise. It was a tactic his father inherited before either of them could walk. As an ambassador, while he wanted them to embrace their heritage proudly, he wanted them to also have every advantage when they were in the United States as well.

Evelyn’s eyes lit up as he responded in Russian. She didn’t speak Russian, but he seemed to shift effortlessly between the two dialects, no hint of the other in his chosen speech at the time—his father’s lesson a blessing. So he had the wits of a goddess of discord and the smarts of his mortal father. She was always dealing with a clever man. "You always keep me on my toes," she mumbled quietly, barely above a whisper.

His hand slowly lifted from Evelyn’s side, fingers lightly running along her forehead before brushing her crimson hair gently behind her ear. "I never thought to mention it," Sylas admitted quietly. While manipulation and deception were his trade, it became very apparent that honesty always bled through in her presence, even when he tried to mask it. He would have shared if it crossed his mind or he thought she’d want to know, but considering everyone at camp was from all around the world… It often slipped his mind. "I do enjoy surprising you," he confessed with a slightly devious and guilty smile, something that looked a bit more normal than the authentic unguarded smile that lived there before. "But if there is something you want to know," his hand settled upon her upper arm, "you just have to ask."

She gnawed on her lip, biting down her excitement and impulsive mind that immediately buzzed with a hundred questions. Sylas should’ve known better…Or he knew exactly what effect his words would have on her. She twisted her fingers lightly in his black shirt again. "And you’ll be honest and forthcoming?" She gave him a knowing look. "Or are there favors attached per question?" Evelyn teased, smirking lightly at her own taunt as she leaned nearer.

Sylas hummed quietly, slipping his hand beneath his head to prop it up slightly. "I’ve never lied to you," he responded quietly, holding her gaze. It was the truth, a rare side of him that he had only exposed for her. He meant it when he said if she asked he’d tell and while he knew she was teasing there was a tightness that constricted in his chest when she mentioned favors. He wasn’t sure if it was the thought that she half expected that, or that there was a part of him that would require compensation—a truth for a truth—if it was anyone but her.

But to pay him credit, she didn’t just see him that way. As the man that gave things at a price. Her hand came up, cupping his neck gently, eyes dipping to his lips. He was devious, he was sly, but she also saw his sweet side. She kissed him softly then, unhurried, an assurance and apology in one lingering touch. "Mmm, no," she said lowly, invalidating her poor joke. "Thank you," she murmured on his lips more sincerely.

She drew back enough to meet his eyes. "How do you say ‘thank you’ in Russian?" She smiled.

To his own surprise, there was a small, almost missable smile that tugged at the corner of his mouth as she spoke softly against his lips. Sylas slowly opened his eyes to meet her gaze, even letting out a single low chuckle at her question. "Spa-see-bah," he replied, his voice deep and husky as it slipped into a whisper from her closeness.

She tried to repeat it back to him, pausing mid pronunciation when it didn’t sound like his and started again. "Spasiba." She searched Sylas’s expression to measure how off it sounded or what she might’ve really uttered to him, an amused smile dancing on her lips as she tried to harness her very freshly acquired knowledge.

Sylas’s hand that rested upon her arm slowly lifted until the tip of his thumb ran along her bottom lip before resting in the soft dip at the corner of her smile. He studied the delight, burning brightly along her face as if for the first time in his presence her words and thoughts weren’t guarded and measured. She simply existed beside him in his bed in her natural form. Something about that stirred something in his chest more violently than it had in her presence before. It stole his thoughts and words for longer than he cared to admit. He simply remained silent and content as he watched her lips fumble clumsily around the Russian word.

It took him a moment to recognize the unspoken question behind her eyes, seeking validation or correction. He cleared his throat, forcing his gaze to lift from her mouth to her eyes as he wet his lips. "Close enough," he whispered beneath a quiet, entertained chuckle of his own.

She caught his eyes lingering on her lips in a way that made her stomach flip. Combined with his easy smile and chuckle, the moment almost felt surreal, shining another light on a rare glimpse of Sylas that only she was privy to. No snake or predator visible under a cold gaze, tense jaw or carefully selected words. Part of her wanted to shake off the silly fluttery sensation but another part, the larger part, simply let herself absorb it, to find it didn’t subside as simply as it came.

Evelyn shifted her head slightly to place a kiss on his thumb. Her eyes searched his, waiting…expecting…hoping he felt this new charge between them too. Something made without guards and walls and reluctance but closeness…connection. She found herself leaning in again, her destination his lips but paused, hovering a breath away from them, denying herself contact. "Sylas," she whispered instead, "do you think I’m too indulgent with you?" A small smile danced on her lips.

Sylas’s thumb hovered beside her lips, studying the softness of the kiss like he didn't quite know how to accept it. Before his thoughts could dwell on it long enough to detangle the confusing knot of emotions, she was drawing closer. His fingers curled around the base of her skull, snaking their way through her hair as his mouth gravitated towards hers, attracted by a magnetism he no longer fought against but embraced. Just as his eyes began to lull shut, awaiting the warmth of her kiss, he was instead met with the warmth of her breath ghosting across his lips. Evelyn’s smile pulled a quiet, unbidden chuckle from him, even though he struggled to refrain long enough for her to finish her ridiculous question.

Something darker, and more devious, flashed behind his eyes. It wasn’t anger or arrogance, but challenging and needing in a way he had never been allowed to be around her before. His hand unknotted itself from her hand and ran down her arm with a slow, patient sort of temptation. With a gentle dominance, his arm curled around Evelyn's waist while he trailed the tip of his nose along her cheek until his mouth lingered beside her ear. "No more than I am," he whispered in response. Then in a swift move, he rolled them both until he was on top of her, hands braced against the mattress on either side of her head as his waist slowly slotted between her thighs.

"I will indulge you as much as you wish." With every word Sylas’s voice dipped lower, more rough and raw as his hand ran down the bed alongside her body, temptingly close without ever touching. His hand stopped beside her hip, seizing it in a tender but possessive grasp. The tips of his fingers pressed hungrily into the softness of her flesh as his hand trailed along her thigh. He gently eased and guided her leg to bracket his waist, fingers hooking around the bend in her knee as his weight settled upon her. His gaze remained fixed on her, taking in the startled expression in her eyes, the erratic rise and fall of her chest with every breath, and the gentle quiver of anticipation in her bottom lip that he felt course through her body beneath him. But he did not close the distance. He remained just close enough their lips could almost touch with every movement as the warmth of his breath bloomed along her flushed skin.

She squirmed beneath him gently, not to escape him or move position, but to test his grip and the control he desired over her. From a flex of his fingers in her skin to stay put or lifting his weight slightly to allow her to move more freely, it made a difference. Not that Evelyn minded either way, his weight was delicious on her. She just didn’t want him to tease and exploit her want for him too much.

She swallowed heavily, her eyes searching between his, willing him to close what distance remained. But why should she deny the pull she felt and what she wanted? He had said he wanted to be hers. Her eyes flickered to his lips again—the only prewarning he got before she leant up suddenly catching his mouth with hers. The pressure was initially firm and clumsy in her haste, even her legs tensed and squeezed his waist slightly, but within seconds she softened as it settled over her that she had him.

She bit his bottom lip gently for good measure, slowly releasing and allowed her head to sink back into the pillows.

At first Sylas couldn't help the deep chuckle the rumbled behind their locked lips. She was never one to shy away from what she wanted, but the greedy fervor that came rushed and clumsy was entertaining, if not endearing in its own way. He had intended to make a playful comment, something goading and teasing when they parted for air, but then she seized his bottom lip between her teeth like a predator catching prey. It drew a rough, guttural growl from him, devious and feral like a tempted beast. He gathered both of her hands, pinning them in place over her head against the pillow with his right hand, while his left took her jaw gently into his grasp. The tip of his thumb trailed along her bottom lip as his breathing became more erratic, his chest rising and falling with every soft pant.

"Careful," he mused while holding her gaze. "You're playing with fire." His grip around her wrists tightened, only a fraction, just slight enough to emphasize his words, remaining in control but still gentle.

Another sharp thrill shot through her when he pinned her hands above her head. "I know." She was surprised at the ease in which she responded and acknowledged what she was doing, even as her chest brushed his with her own heavy breaths Any time I enter your cabin, your proximity, it turns into playing with fire. Granted, she had never been as openly provoking before. "I’m only capitalizing while I’ve got you to myself," she added, quieter.

Then, she leant up again, restrained and restricted in her movement this time but testing again. Testing if he’d allow her to reach his lips once more or rob her, arching up into him.

His smile grew temptingly playful, teasing just close enough that the tip of his nose brushed hers as she squirmed. Their lips never touched, only the warmth of his breath caressed her skin, taunting and out of reach. "So impatient…" Sylas mused as his left hand released her jaw. His touch trailed down her neck, along the orange knit of her turtle neck, until it settled along the waistband of her pants. The tip of his finger followed the hem of the black denim until he found the metal button and unfastened it with a smooth deftness. "We have all evening." His gaze lifted to meet hers as his fingers seized the pull of her zipper and began inching it down slowly. "I intend on taking my time." Then, and only then, Sylas conceded to her desires and leaned down, closing the distance between them until their lips met. His hand that was wrapped around her wrists didn’t release their hold, but shifted until his palm ran along hers and their fingers intertwined.

For the first time since they met, they didn’t give into each other like a crime of passion, stolen in the heat of anger and other uglier emotions. It was a choice born of nothing beyond the desire to be closer. Their touches were tender, hungry, and intentional as the rest of the day vanished somewhere beneath soft sheets and heavy breaths.

^{interactions ....|.... none ............... mentions ....|.... none ............... collabs ....|....@Mjolnir}

Camp Athens - Closed

^{#66356a ....|..... outfit .....|..... Hall}

"Are you saying you don’t like the smell of blood and sweat?" Wes asked, mischievous grin in place that otherwise would have been contagious if it wasn’t so unhealthily close to the truth. Trinity’s eyes dipped to his bare torso at his gesture then back on his face and his discolored nose.

“No need to call me out,” she muttered begrudgingly.

"Counter offer," he said and cleared his throat. Trinity crossed her arms, waiting to hear it out. "I help you get your things, because I am nothing if not a gentleman."

She laughed once, tallying his acceptable counter offers. “Fair enough,” she agreed and a finger went up against her bicep.

"You shower with me," he added, flashing her a look that sent some heat flushing to her cheeks with a guilty smile, even when she tried to suck in her lip and hallow her cheeks to contain it. Her gaze fled for a moment before landing back on him.

Well that one was a no brainer. A second finger went up.

Wesley looked contemplative for a moment, weighing on the biggest elephant to address. "And then maybe I’ll let you convince me to turn back into the Winter Soldier." Trinity’s eyes hardened on him. "I don’t know if our new leader will let me train with it if it makes me like… the terminator or something." He laughed softly.

“Yeah? Well, he can — ” Trinity stopped herself short for a more civilized response. “I’m sure we can arrange something,” she said, nose flaring as the words came through with strained effort.

While she wanted the instant gratification of results, Wes clearly didn’t share the hustle. “Rae was one of the people who had to run the course a second time,” he began with ease and gathered their plates. “She’s the only person I ever knew who hated P.E. more than I did. We should give her a little time to unwind before we bombard her with your little project.” She picked Rae for his benefit but they could find another Hephaestus kid. Duke or maybe the crafty god had other offspring hiding among the fresh faces. He flashed her another look as he leant in. "Gives you time to work on your apology." Then a kiss and laugh was plopped on her forehead while she grumbled. It may have been owed but apologies didn’t come easy to her.

Trinity moved for the exit, linking up with Wes seamlessly again and crossed her arms over her chest as the cold greeted them cruelly. "So… Roomie," he smacked her butt, causing a small jolt and her hands to cover her backside instinctively, half turning to look at him as he his arm draped around her shoulder like the most natural thing in the world. "How many trips do we think it’ll take to get all of your stuff?"

She pursed her lips and squinted. There wasn’t a great deal of personalized items in her cabin or memorabilia, especially for someone attending camp as long as she had. But given all the demolitions and reconstructions, it served a pretty good idea. Mostly clothes. Maybe a drawer so Wes didn’t have to ration room in his own closet and stuff. CDs. “Fff…Three? But I reckon we could do it in two.” She bumped him with her hip gently, smiling up at him, a challenge in her eyes.

Trinity held his arm loosely, keeping it around her but loose enough to let it slip free when he wanted as they made the trek to her cabin. There was no press or force applied on his arm, only contact. Even then, she walked right by his side, huddled for warmth in her own way without curling her body into him, too focused and proud for that. She only broke away when they reached her cabin.

She stepped in front of him and spun on her heel to face him. For a moment she scrutinized him, her face scrunching up and tongue peeking out to assign him something. “Speaker annnd some jackets.” Wes knew his way around to seize the big electronic cylinder and some clothes. That would do for his first round, pending on how well he juggled things.

Meanwhile, she headed to her room and rummaged through the small closet for her forgotten backpack she hadn’t had to use since hiking to camp. She dug it out with a relieved breath then started shoving clothes in it. Should make the trips a little easier than carrying mountains of clothes. She froze, moving back and forth between her drawers and closet on autopilot. “Sleeping bag?” She questioned aloud and looked over her shoulder, scanning the room for the wise one in the relationship. “Spare sheets?”

Materials came and went from the bag, rearranged until they achieved a full bulk bag filled to the brim and the zip struggled to close. Trinity swiped at Wes when he tried to take it and swung it over her own shoulders. She stacked what she could on her arms on the way out, between her and Wesley, getting all the fundamentals including one framed photo with her and her mortal family back at home.

“Let’s go.” She flashed him a grin and gestured out the door.

On the way to his cabin, she carried a pep in her step despite looking like a tourist. There was something eerie and unnatural about transporting all her stuff between camp without a bunch of cabins in debris around her but it was for a good cause. She looked at her handful of stuff and monitored her speaker in Wes’s clutches carefully from time to time. “So I’m thinking of Rocco and stuff and it got me thinking, did you leave anything behind at home? Home home, I mean.” Trinity gestured in the vague direction of camp’s gate.

Approaching his stairs that led to the front door, Trinity had to peer around the small mountain of belongings in her arms to get her footing in the snow that it collected. “If I eat shit right now, I’m suing,” she chuckled as they ascended steadily.

There was something different about entering his cabin as an official co-resident. She looked at it with new eyes, the same cabin she had entered 100 times before had a new lens, part hers too. The gravity of moving in becoming suddenly real.

Trinity offloaded her cargo on a nearby couch to organize later, backpack following and falling to the floor gently. “Okay, so I’m thinking renovate the kitchen, make it larger, add a bathroom downstairs...” she began to rattle off with visionary gestures but laughed unable to get through her bossy take-over act. She never wanted to intrude on his space and things.

Her eyes sought his and she smiled gently before closing the distance between them, wrapping her arms around his neck and drawing him into a kiss, pouring all her overwhelmed, stored devotion into it. Like something she needed to do. While Wes probably didn't think too much of his offer, to her it was impossibly sweet and trusting and she was grateful.

^{interactions ....|.... Wes ............... mentions ....|.... none ............... collabs ....|.... none}

Camp Athens - Closed

^{#66356a ....|..... outfit .....|..... Hall}

“I think you mean romantic,” he replied after her commentary of how over saturated sweet her previous words were.

Anyone else and she would have dived across the table for saying something so absurd. But since it was Wes, she didn’t know whether to wear it as a badge of honour and relief that she could be romantic too for the son of Aphrodite, or uncomfortable and disgruntled that she was getting soft. Still, Wes proved infinitely more important than how she appeared and her compassion was evidently exclusive and limited. He knew it. She knew it. That’s all that mattered.

“I… didn’t sleep,” he responded in succession to hers. “The bed felt empty and cold… and eerily quiet without you snoring in my ear.” His foot bumped hers and she looked up at him and smiled tightly. She didn’t mind his joke or grin or…maybe the real fact she did snore but most of it was an exact reflection of how she felt. Her bed was cold, empty and eerie without competing for space on the bed or the noise of someone else. Something she didn’t know had grown to be such a luxurious comfort until he was missing.

Her grumbling in herself and frustration had Wes push aside their dishes and take her wrist, pulling it towards him gently. Trinity conceded in letting him comfort her and pull her along where he liked even when she wasn’t sure she deserved his tenderness. He kissed her palm and Trinity twitched up a smile. “We’re not perfect… neither one of us.” Their fingers slipped through each other and she sighed softly. Not because she was tired or exasperated, but because Wes was gentle and caring and easy to surrender the fight to. He wouldn’t even let her be mad at herself. “And there’s this crazy thing about dancing, you can do it anywhere, anytime.” Trinity’s gaze slipped to their joined hands and while he squeezed hers, generating a whole series of warmth and assurance, the pad of her thumb stroked his skin. “At midnight on New Year’s Eve, in our cabin in our pajamas while listening to shitty oldies, or—if I knew you wouldn’t kill me from the embarrassment—right here, right now in the middle of the cafeteria with no music at all, for all of camp to see.”

Her eyes widened for a moment in horror at the mere idea, then she leant forward. She loved Wes. She would do a lot for him. “Lucky you know my limits then.” Like him, she revealed a grin she couldn’t help and brought their entwined hands to her lips this time, kissing his knuckles and masking her growing grin behind his hand.

“We had a… I don’t even know if I’d call it a disagreement. But so what?” Wes shrugged while Trinity listened to his sweet assurance continue. “I’ll upset you and you’ll upset me. And we still fight far less than Andy and Mason.” Trinity scoffed quietly, unsure how to feel about that comparison. Were they a good margin or a toxic margin? “I’m not going anywhere because we had a fight. I love you and it’ll take a whole hell of a lot more to scare me away.”

“I know,” she replied, her voice softer than she knew it could ever be. “You’re far too stubborn to head in the opposite direction,” she teased with a brief smirk. “But I love you too. It’s still nice to hear though,” she admitted. Hearing from the source itself that they were sturdy and he wasn’t going to walk away at any minor disputes was honey to her. And he didn’t even try. Imagine what he could do when he unleashed his powers.

Trinity tilted her head curiously when Wes got up. She prepared to brush herself off, forfeit food and walk with him somewhere, but he only walked around the table and took a seat beside her instead. She smiled, eyes expectant and wondering on him until he spun her chair around and pulled her in closer. Her eyes lit up a moment in shock before settling in her new position with a quiet laugh and fond expression. “So… Xena.” His voice dipped to sharing something privy. Trinity’s eyes scanned his. “Will you move into my cabin with me?” he asked. “I can make it way worse and get on one knee if you want.”

He was joking and she knew it, but she still couldn’t stop the rapid response, hands clapping down on his knees, holding him in place. “No, no, no. I’ll move in with you. No scene required.” She leant in and gave him a fleeting kiss and warm smile.

She drew back slightly and turned for the plates Wes had pushed aside. His was as good as scraps but hers was still half full and she dragged it between them. “After you help me eat. I know you can pack more away somehow, someway.” Honestly the way his food did a disappearing act showed he could have more, and frankly, he probably hadn’t had a workout quite like the obstacle course for a while. So she was in full support of more energy, and muscle and joint repair.

She picked at the plate herself. Her eyes travelled briefly between food, the main hall gradually becoming more occupied and Wes. Trinity pressed her tongue to her cheek, refraining from behind a broken record, bringing up matters like how outnumbered they were in camp and allies now, most people strangers with supernatural powers that wouldn’t hesitate to use them. More trial and challenges ahead that would benefit from two arms. But it was always in her eyes. The way her eyes gravitated to the stump where his whole arm should be when it bothered her.

Trinity cleared her throat leaning towards him. “How about I get some stuff, bring it to yours. You shower. And then, we go bother Rae for a project.” Trinity rose her brows, expecting only one answer. Subtlety wasn’t for her and they both knew it. But the blonde daughter of Ares was done asking and tip-toeing around it.

When Wes was done, she rose to her feet. “If not for me, do it for the healer.” She nodded towards Tapeesa’s table.

The minute Wesley got up, Trinity clasped his arm, her gaze cast elsewhere. Hephaestus children had to feed some time. The hall was a prime spot. And what if they forfeited their perfect position? “Or do we wait her out here?” Trinity brainstormed aloud, eyes narrowing slightly in plot. “You know her cabin?” Her eyes flickered on Wes, eyes clouded over with something — a thrill and desperate flare. It took a second but she suddenly became grounded in reality again, eyes softening. Wes knew where her cabin was. He led her there. She didn’t need to be ‘hunted’ or ‘waited out.’ They’d meet up with her at some stage, in their own time. Wes was still shirtless.

She released Wesley’s arm and put on her jacket, furrowing her brows. “Think dad’s instincts are taking over a bit,” she muttered, more as an apology and explanation than concern. But Wes was probably used to her random bursts of enthusiasm when it came to...stuff.

^{interactions ....|.... Wes ............... mentions ....|.... Rae ............... collabs ....|.... none}