( don't go into the badlands, they said. you'll get eaten out there, they said. well, that sounded like a challenge. besides, how did she know her friends weren't out there with the same stupid idea as her? (they're smarter than that, one might argue, but she would argue demigods rarely find themselves spirited away to strange fantasy lands without running straight into danger.) where there be monsters, there also be demigods. usually. it's what she was counting on, anyway.
unfortunately, there were no demigods. or, at least, none within the small area she managed to search. she'd managed to steal a dagger from a camp of bandits on the outskirts of the badlands, which is probably the only thing that managed to save her from getting shredded to pieces by a pack of huge, hungry hyena-like creatures.
as she stumbles into the clinic (like hell she was about to show her face at one of the military outposts, just to have them all laugh at her and say i told you so), her thigh is bleeding from a nasty bite and she's got several deep cuts on her hands from where she'd pried one of the hyena's jaws apart until it snapped. the creatures had been taunting her, that's for sure. she'd never heard of a hyena that could mimic voices like a cyclops, but hearing her own voice parroted back at her in a horrible snarl just made her more angry when she'd demanded where her friends were and all she got in return was you have no friends here. maybe they'd actually been telling the truth; maybe they'd meant it literally; but something about about the way they said it made her blood boil, her eyes seething with rage.
so she'd been reckless. she'd been desperate. and, of course, it had gotten her absolutely nowhere. still no sign of percy or annabeth or anyone else. she'd be more prepared next time. assuming there would be a next time. she'd done her best to wrap her wounds with torn pieces of her shirt, but it's pretty obvious she's in worse shape than perhaps she's willing to admit.
the clinic smells almost familiar, in a weird way, like she's stepped into the infirmary at camp half-blood. it's probably just her mind playing tricks on her. she's a little lightheaded. she bumps into a counter, leaning on it for support. )
Hey! ( she calls to the boy with his back turned. her voice is rough but still has enough force left to command a room. if she didn't feel like she was about to pass out, she might have clocked him right away, from the set of his shoulders to the surfer-blonde waves of his hair. ) Little help over he— ( she doesn't finish that thought, because the boy is turning around and she recognizes him immediately. gods of olympus, what are the fucking odds. she stares at him for a moment with a mixture of relief (a familiar face) and indignation (not the familiar face she'd been hoping for), like she can't quite decide if he's real or not. ) Will?
no subject
unfortunately, there were no demigods. or, at least, none within the small area she managed to search. she'd managed to steal a dagger from a camp of bandits on the outskirts of the badlands, which is probably the only thing that managed to save her from getting shredded to pieces by a pack of huge, hungry hyena-like creatures.
as she stumbles into the clinic (like hell she was about to show her face at one of the military outposts, just to have them all laugh at her and say i told you so), her thigh is bleeding from a nasty bite and she's got several deep cuts on her hands from where she'd pried one of the hyena's jaws apart until it snapped. the creatures had been taunting her, that's for sure. she'd never heard of a hyena that could mimic voices like a cyclops, but hearing her own voice parroted back at her in a horrible snarl just made her more angry when she'd demanded where her friends were and all she got in return was you have no friends here. maybe they'd actually been telling the truth; maybe they'd meant it literally; but something about about the way they said it made her blood boil, her eyes seething with rage.
so she'd been reckless. she'd been desperate. and, of course, it had gotten her absolutely nowhere. still no sign of percy or annabeth or anyone else. she'd be more prepared next time. assuming there would be a next time. she'd done her best to wrap her wounds with torn pieces of her shirt, but it's pretty obvious she's in worse shape than perhaps she's willing to admit.
the clinic smells almost familiar, in a weird way, like she's stepped into the infirmary at camp half-blood. it's probably just her mind playing tricks on her. she's a little lightheaded. she bumps into a counter, leaning on it for support. )
Hey! ( she calls to the boy with his back turned. her voice is rough but still has enough force left to command a room. if she didn't feel like she was about to pass out, she might have clocked him right away, from the set of his shoulders to the surfer-blonde waves of his hair. ) Little help over he— ( she doesn't finish that thought, because the boy is turning around and she recognizes him immediately. gods of olympus, what are the fucking odds. she stares at him for a moment with a mixture of relief (a familiar face) and indignation (not the familiar face she'd been hoping for), like she can't quite decide if he's real or not. ) Will?