You'd think that after years of being aware of how the world really is would widen one's perception. Apparently, I am as clueless as I was when a huge scorpion ruined my field trip to the zoo. Perhaps I am so accustomed to staying hidden that I forgot how unfortunately good immortal memories are when they wish to pull in a favor. As a child of Lelantos, I had naturally stayed out of trouble for most of my life.
And generally speaking, getting an order from a titaness in the middle of a grocery aisle isn't a normal event by lone demititan standards.
That was how I found myself being delegated the task of watching out for a demititan to be born the following day. All I had wanted was fresh milk from the dairy aisle. Cripes. It's not like I could have said no either; I owed Soteria and she would've probably made my life hell if I dared to not hold up my end of the bargain. I had the sense to ask about the father and regretted it. Soteria regaled me with the far too specific details of their "brief" (read: as long as EXO's hiatus) affair. She had met him at a construction site when he had oh so valiantly risked his life to protect a toddler who had wandered into the danger zone. The rundown was that he was reckless and she'd wanted to teach him a lesson while not endangering her child. I told her that she was obviously head over heels for the guy. She threatened to turn me into a cradle. See, this is why you don't argue with immortals. They tend to be terribly dense.
Soteria also dropped off a necklace that went with one of my shirts. Note my disbelief that can't exactly be written down. It's enchanted to let me spy on the kid through their own eyes and ears. I flat out told Soteria that I wasn't going to use it once they hit their teens. I've suffered through teenage hormones before and I did not need a rerun. By some stroke of luck, the overprotective Titaness sympathized with my concerns. Then she vanished and I managed to get the milk I wanted. No respite for demititans who reach adulthood, it seems.
Would you believe the nerve of that titaness? Oh, you should. She is a Titaness, after all. The kid's father is dead. He'd pulled some sort of stunt and didn't come out of it alive. The kid is a she, an orphaned she, and is now involved with me because I'm a foster care caseworker and her sneaky mother pulled strings. Or this is just some fantastic coincidence the Fates cooked up at the last moment. Bah, it doesn't matter either way. I have a demititan on my hands. The first few years shouldn't be much of a problem, but once she hits eleven... no, this isn't Harry Potter but it's still as nerve-wracking as waiting for your letter to Hogwarts. Nope, not thinking about this now. I'm going to get a well deserved bubble bath before dinner and------
Leave it to a f---ing harpy to barge in when I'm fuming. It didn't serve much of a purpose since it failed to keep up a half-decent fight. I thought I was done with immortal all-powerful beings ordering me around. A quiet life is too much to ask with my heritage. I want that bath even more, but just to be safe, I'm taking a weapon with me. Then I'll tackle the paperwork leering at me from my desk.
The kid's first birthday. She'd be two in Korea. Her name's Joori. She's currently living with a stable and very mundane couple who specialize in handling babies. I sent her a present. Although I trust her guardians, I have no doubt that what my present is will leave heads scratched. I hope she receives it when it's the right time. It's a nod to my ex-trainer, may her soul rest easy in Elysium.
We demititans spend our lives surviving, craving for the chance to live. Shunned from Camp Half-blood, we tend to nurture the acidic taste in our mouth and spit it out to leave a trail of destruction in our wake. We seek out something or someone to blame for this sorry excuse of a life, and we give into our worst vices. We are more human than many would expect. While there is beauty in everything, as my old trainer taught me, it is often our own fault for letting it disillusion us.
If you can understand how beauty unravels your fingertips early on, you should find it easier to realize how many other things, including your own fate, do the same.
A paintbrush is in the locked, bottom most drawer of my vanity. The daughter of Techne had forced that into my stubbornly closed fist.
It is odd to say that I have seen the firsts of a child I have been begrudgingly roped into babysitting from afar. I would say that it was uncharacteristic of Soteria to pick me, of all people, to entrust her child's life with, but I suspected that she had gone on more than just pure practicality to choose a suitable babysitter. What if I was a pedophile? She'd done her research for sure. I'm predictable, cowardly, snappish, and disinclined to the life set out for me. In other words, I was the best choice if you didn't want your child to be consumed by their own blood, as others before them have been. Some ominous sounding, inconvenient reason like that. Hooray for me!
Wow, the page hasn't started burning from the amount of sarcasm yet. Anyway, she can read now. Her foster parents gave her the present I sent so many years back. For lack of a better word, she loved it. I'm not sure why I feel so happy about that. She's taken a liking to art, specifically painting. I saw a nice set of fingerpaints at a corner shop the other day and I bought them. Gods forbid that my heart is softening for this little rascal. She's acquired a fondness for trouble, and it was only last week that she bruised up another child who had done something to aggravate her.
It's starting. It was to be expected. Her roots were bound to turn up one way or another, such is the way of a demititan. The best I can do for now is hope she doesn't feel too neglected in the days to come. This is when her parentage begins to catch up to her. When she is not prodding curiously at safety gear or pulling the hair of some hapless soul, I can see that she is not some charity case or the daughter of a fussy Titaness. I see a child who wonders why her mother didn't want her.
Joori has taken after her father. Ten years old and she's already gone through more foster homes than she can probably remember. It's getting harder to find people who're willng to try their hand at her. The only consistency from her is her art. All her foster parents come running not weeks after she sets foot in their home. She's a quiet kid who thinks, but she's vicious. Her grades plummet mainly because of her classroom behavior. I feel like I'm failing her.
I saw her for the first time in years today. It was only a glimpse. Her most recent foster home is close to mine, and I recognized her immediately. She has a brave face that isn't a front; it's genuine. I could've sworn she caught me looking for a moment, but it was fleeting and she disappeared from my view. Afraid that I might start running after her, I departed from my window. What rattled me the most was how she held herself. Joori's stance was the kind you only had if you were scared for your safety every moment. Seeing as her mom is the Titaness of protection, it shouldn't be much of a brain burner, however the knowledge was inconsoling all the same.
That rascal is too young and hasn't even had her first monster attack. She shouldn't be feeling that way in the mortal world.
My ice cream cone got run over by a bicycle and Joori encountered her first monster. Talk about a bad day, eh? Using the necklace while eating was my fault. Joori teleporting to a brothel to get away from a pit scorpion that had targeted her school group was not my doing. The guest appearance of the damn thing was enough to rid me of my grip, but the fateful twist of events wrenched my appetite from me. Not only did I have to stress over how she was in peril, I now also risked getting cursed silly by her terribly conservative mother because no amount of bleach can erase that image burned into her memory.
Considering how I have contracted neither some form of fungal disease nor genocidal tendencies, I'm going to assume that Soteria understood that it was completely out of my control. Also, the fourteen year old kid who escorted her out (read: freaked out more than an ARMY fangirl in front of her oppas) probably was deemed trustworthy or something. I say kid, because I'm trying not to dwell on the fact that he's a ghost. A ghost. I need some strong brandy. Why did I take up this job again? Oh, right, because I had no other option. Please please have pity on me, I'm not equipped for this. Recalling the entire scene is traumatizing. I did not need to hear Joori discussing non-PG 13 things she should not even know about with a frazzled ghost boy. She's twelve. How does she know this? What are demititans these days up to? Good Gaia.
My luck didn't fracture under my feet and Joori made her way back to the bus before collapsing. No one else could see her newly made and bewildered ghost friend send her off, but that was the least of her worries. Mortal life hasn't gotten any easier on her. She's been staggering through in a commendable manner. I crossed out dyslexia when she first began to read, but her ADHD has gotten progressively worse. Teachers lose their patience too quickly, especially with her record. She switched homes again not a week ago, and I got my first complaint the same day. Once again, I can't help but be helpless in this cycle that most of our kind go through. There's only so much I can do for this brat, and I admit that it frightens me.
The root cause of the monster attacks is Joori's classmate. Dug around a bit and turned up the gritty details. He's not mortal for sure. Got held back two grades and his record is best left undescribed. The paragon of a friend Soteria would want for her daughter is in shambles. All the signs are screaming at me; I should've started on background checks when she hit ten. And that's not all — he may very well be a Broken Covenant member. Soteria will get a kick out of that. Note sarcasm. While plenty of demigods and demititans have managed to scrape by despite living alone, almost all of them have had assistance one way or another. Gods, Titans, and even their offspring share a fetish for meddling. I doubt that this kid has entirely pure intentions either. Yes, maybe I am judging a little too hastily here, but two demis in the same classroom isn't a piece of cake I can choke down.
To top this off, she knows what she is. Her damned new buddy brought her up to speed on the whole shebang. I think I still have some wine stowed away somewhere. Sleep doesn't feel like an option anymore. Why I'm reacting like something's tearing a vital organ out of me, I haven't the faintest idea. I must've gotten attached to the little brat. Blast it. There's no lead for me to follow regarding the boy. He's apparently one of those who prefer to stick with their mortal capabilities. I won't be able to figure out his parentage without sufficient time. Naturally, it's the one thing I don't have on my side. This sounds like some fantasy novel with a heteronormative lead couple. Ich.
She wants to make a run for it and come with him to the place he's talking about. It wouldn't be the first time if she does it, and I can't bring myself to be furious with her. Unwanted, she says. That's how she feels in every foster home I find for her. None of us belong here. We can never truly turn away from the gnashing teeth of monsters and the horn of battle to fight wars that were not ours to begin with. Is all this power worth the pain? That's what I ask myself every waking moment. Joori has begun to ask herself too.
Vanished like mangata when the sun came up. First thing I did was use the necklace. She's fine. Trekking across the country with a strange boy and no adult supervision, but fine. Ironic how I discovered this loophole years ago, yet I abuse it the one time I shouldn't. Soteria coerced me into watching out for her; as long as Joori is alive, I'm not disobeying. It's about time she gets to choose for herself, and not get ushered along by the wishes of those in power. Life will not be polite enough to wait for you to grow up, and that's a fact.
In the meantime, I've been doing all I can to know who the boy is. My fears have been confirmed — he's linked to the Broken Covenant. Oddly, I no longer care. If she can't be happy where she was, all I can hope for is that she is happy somewhere. Long ago, I was too scared to do anything about anything. There were people who shoved me, with intentions going both ways, out of my comfort zone. They probably saved my life. If Joori — I should start referring to her as Skid like what the boy calls her — has enough heart to get out there and fight for herself, then Soteria and I are no one to stop her.
The mortal world has proven to not be for Skid. Camp Half-blood is not open to most demititans; curse their need to sentence so many to death. Skid knows this by now. It's entirely up to her now.
The necklace stopped working a few hours ago. After an onerous nine months, they arrived at their destination. Most of that time was filled by monster attacks, strange new people, and an overall exotic experience for Skid. She's not dead, so I'm not dead either. Speaking of which, Soteria paid me a visit about a week after a missing person report was filed. To put it nicely, she was full of hysterics, empty threats, and pregnant woman's hormones. I pointed out that it had been fourteen years since her womb was last occupied. She asked if I wanted to become bubble wrap then burst into tears. Because I have no idea how to comfort overprotective moms, I had the sense to stand there awkwardly until she pulled herself together.
The conversation we had was one I could live without. I'm not even going to bore myself to death by ruminating on the details. That's a fate I wouldn't wish on anyone. Least to say, she was in no way relieving me of my post. Which would have sucked if I had had any intention to. Skid is my daughter as much as hers. I was the one who had spent fourteen years settling disputes, searching for homes, and having monster- and detention-induced headaches.
Skid's friend was ripped from her moments after they were detected. The number of BC members that came to fetch them was mind-boggling; that is until I realized the boy had some unfinished business with them. Quite possibly a defector. Skid thrashed in their firm grasp, but was left unharmed. There must have been powerful wards, because once she was dragged inside what was presumably the entrance, my necklace faltered. I suppose it was to be expected. Only one Titaness had created this necklace, and only Ouranos knows what kind of power the Broken Covenant held to not be wiped out.
I doubt the necklace will ever let me see through Skid's eyes again.
There's no place out there for me. This covenant place, it's my one last chance. My friend's gone, and I'm not sure if he's even alive. He's the reason I'm still alive, but also the reason they're probably considering killing me right now. The thought offers no comfort. I have to stay and find a place here. The worst my mother has ever done to me was drop me in the middle of a forest and leave me there to be found. The stories my friend told me make it look like littering in comparison. It's almost farfetched to believe that these people could fight against their all-powerful parents. Yes, I have my doubts. Yet this is the only choice presented to me. I might be indifferent to gods, and am fortunate for being capable of such, but it's about freaking time the world got a little fairer and us puny demigods get a voice.
Aw, look at who can't climb me in fear of being a pedo.
Look no further for a tongue lined with vitriolic iron. Skid is as standoffish as she seems; in the face of this, she won't be the first to lash out when compromised. She's more than aware of the pervasive waves of uneasiness she lugs around and tries to allay them. As long as her rigor samsa is intact, she's fine with letting people know she's not vicious all the time. You don't have to possess an overflowing ego — the trick is placing it in all the right things, and occasionally, people. Insecurities that aren't covered by the warranty shouldn't be too much of a problem... right?
A frequent oversight for many is how Skid's heritage rears its not-so-ugly head more often than she'd like to admit. Given how she doesn't enjoy sweet banter with just anyone, it's not so shocking that few come across her nurturing side. Cravens should beat their hasty retreats if faced with her words. Those who survive are up for a pleasant surprise. The razor is traded for a spatula and her waspish retorts simmer down to teasing. Skid doesn't deny the moments of amused eyerolls and freely given pizza. Despite how much she dislikes acknowledging it, vulnerability is something she needs to practice in case the lack of it cripples her.
Her opinion on the gods and the Titans is a bit skewed for sure. She tries not to run on good intentions (Gaia knows how well those stories end) alone and isn't a stranger to being objective in the face of the subjective. Alas, sometimes only the subjective can match up to the subjective and she'll give it that. There's very little she's certain of and too much she's still mustering the courage to tackle. Facts and figures offer little comfort when you realize how insignificant everything is in the face of eternity. Her own lineage is laughable: reckless, cranky Skiddo Ban, a daughter of Soteria, the Titaness of safety? Nonetheless, she can't stop herself from wondering a lot of things.
Unwanted, unloved. Closed off, disruptive. Skid's been called a lot of things, and she never fails to regret how some of them are true. All her life, art has been her only reliable escape route. Everywhere else is a dead end or another broken mirror with her tired face staring back at her. She's used her fists to create and destroy. Conclusions were all she reached and achieved. Keyframes, in hindsight, frustrate her to no end. Is she doomed to suffer pâro for the rest of her short life? Humans don't help with her anxieties. Her paintbrush strokes have done more for her than most people in her life have. Be that as it may, killing the inkling of hope she cradles seems futile. She's going to find something better than duct tape to hold herself together, even if it means breaking apart somewhere along the way.
From enemy to a friend lets see how long you last....
Age: ??? Height: ??? Weight: ???
Sexuality: ??? Relationship Status: N/A
Main Weapon: His weapons are unknown while his attire is a white hooded robe, and a set of black and gold armor complimented by a full-face mask.
Powers of a Child of Hebe:
Children of Hebe have the ability to force the effects of age upon a person for a short time; making them feel pain and cause their movements to be slow and sedated.
Children of Hebe can become temporarily changed during battle and become even stronger and quicker in combat than they were before, for a short time.
Children of Hebe can become resistant to all types of physical attacks for a short time.
Children of Hebe can cause an opponent to feel aching bones and muscles for a short time.
Children of Hebe are innately stronger and faster due to their slow aging.
Children of Hebe have an innately faster rate of healing than other people.
Children of Hebe always have an unlimited supply of Ambrosia, even if none is on them at the time, they can create it out of nothing
Children of Hebe can restore energy to a weakened person and heal some minor wounds.
Children of Hebe are able to curse someone with being very young children again, this has the potential to cause the victim a feeling of being lost, helpless and often leading to fits of crying, this only lasts for a short time and drains the user considerably.
Children of Hebe have the ability to strike someone with a curse of old age for a short time; however, the person will not only feel old, they will become old and be unable to fight or even defend themselves, this also drains the user for a considerable time while using the power
Children of Hebe can bless water to have the effects of allowing whomever drinks it to feel young again for a short time, their appearance may also take on a more youthful appearance for as long as the effects last.
These children age slower than normally, beginning around the age of 12, and retain a youthful appearance far longer than most.
Age: 32Height: 6'1Weight: 175 lbs Sexuality: StraightRelationship Status: Single Health Status: HealthyMain Weapon: Law & Justice Accent: Hodgepodge American/British – Δικαιοσύνη και Ισότητα για Όλους
(Note: As a child of Themis, they can tell truth from lies)