Calling all Demigods! discussion

Set deep in the woods and connecting each of the camp sites is a quaint little trail, used by campers to ride their horses and/or pegasi on, or simply hike. Many beautiful lookout points, including a cliff overlooking the sea. RP Here.

After a long ride down from the stables, Lucas decided to let his pegasus rest, as the winged creature grew tired. He came to a halt near the cliff, dismounting the chestnut-coloured animal and looking out at the view.
At least I'm alone, just me and my thoughts. He sat down in the grass, leaning against the trunk of a tree and absently watching his pegasus, Cherry, nibble away at the grass with an easy smile.

Myra reached the end of the trail and turned back. There was a thin sheen of sweat glimmering on her skin, and she was rosy-cheeked and breathing hard from the climb up the slope of the cliff.
When she rounded the curve of the trail, the first thing she saw was the beautiful dark pegasus. Its fur matched her hair and she smiled, a little tired from her hike but feeling exhilerated nonetheless.
She approached the pegasus, not seeing its rider who was currently admiring the view, and kissed its velvety nose, stroking its smooth cheek and looking into its liquid eyes. She loved pegasi--they were beautiful animals.

Cherry snorted softly, giving a pleased whinny at the much-wanted affection and returning the attention by nudging Myra's side gently.
Turning at the sounds that came from his pegasus, Lucas was surprised to find Myra there. "I see you've made a new friend, Cherry," he mused quietly, addressing the dark mare with a nod.

((WHIMSICALITAAY:))

Soft, intense breathing through the silky chestnut fur. Myra closed her eyes and leaned her cheek against the pegasus', the hot horsey breath coming in great affectionate gusts.
This little reverie was interrupted by the husky low voice that Myra knew so well, and she opened her eyes in surprise, side-stepping the pegasus (did he say her name was Cherry?) to peer at the cliff.
"She's beautiful," Myra answered in a soft voice. "Is she yours? I'd have thought you would prefer something more... aggressive." The gentle tease was spoken with nary a smile, though Myra's eyes softened a bit to see Lucas so... calm.

((Yep, he said it. ^^))

"Stereotypical much?" Lucas responded with the same amount of tease, though he didn't smile either. As calm as he looked, the boy was always raging on the inside. "Ah, no, one of the Demeter kids gave her to me, greatest pegasus ever." In response to the compliment, Cherry stomped a hoofed foot. "Look at me, blowing up your ego." He spoke with warmth in his voice, fond of the dark horse.

((No, I know-- that was just Myra's thoughts. :3))

"Well, it is true," Myra reasoned, turning her face again to the gorgeous horse. Curious, she lifted a strand of her own glossy hair and put it against Cherry's fur. She smiled a bit. "Funny," she mumured, letting her hair go so it slipped down the pelt that was exactly the same dark coppery colour. "You've got a beautiful pelt colour, my dear," she said affectionately to the pegasus, wrapping her long skinny arms around the creature's neck, wincing a bit a her injury protested.

((FAIL, on my part. >.>))
Lucas chuckled softly, the two seemed like an ideal pair, not just because of their impeccable matching pelt and hair colour. "Not only is she good-looking," he said, with a wink. "But she's incredibly fast. I don't know if you noticed, but that time you came to watch the aerial combat practice," he nodded to Cherry. "That was all her."

WHIM:

((I luuuurve you anyway.))

Her eyes flickering violet to blue and back again, Myra tossed her head back and smiled, a little sadly, at Lucas. "Interesting," she said quietly. "So the ever-arrogant Lucas Cromwell has a soft spot. Modest at last." Returning his wink with a one with her own, Myra stroked the wild forelock of the pegusus, humming a melancholy French melody.

((^^ Ily too.))

"It's hard to hold a grudge against her," Lucas mused, half to himself, moving his gaze back out the lovely view of the sea. "Even when she decides that she doesn't want to fly," he said, tone amused. He had wanted to fly, but the stubborn pegasus refused.

"Well, if she'd wanted to fly, then you-- she-- wouldn't have met me here," Myra murmured in her soft voice. Her aunt had told her multiple times that her faint French accent always grew more pronounced when she was yelling or whispering. Aunt Lepide had detested the French in Myra, loving instead the immortal bloodline of Hebe that ran through her veins.
He thought her name was Phebe...
The fingers stroking the pegasus' coarse, glossy mane tightened momentarily, and Myra kissed the soft nose goodbye to go sit down next to Lucas, dangling her feet over the high cliff and willing herself not to look down.

"You do know Cherry is going to expect daily sugar cubes from you now, right?" Lucas asked, completely serious as he turned to look at Myra. But after a moment, a teasing smile played about his lips. Something about being up here, almost alone, with the comforts of a gentle pegasus, it made him seem more at ease.

"I think I'll handle that request quite easily," Myra said slowly, not meeting Lucas' gaze. She could try to keep the melancholic tone from her voice but she'd never been a great actress: better the tinge of sadness to stay than it be forced and cheerful. "She deserves it, after all."

Lucas tilted his head to one side in the slightest, eyes misty with question and something else, something hidden, or did he always have that look in his eyes?
"I think I've given her too many already, maybe apples would be a better alternative."

"I'll remember if I see her again," Myra said, the if slipping off her tongue before she could stop it. But she was always doing stupid things like that around Lucas, like speaking before thinking.
"Lucas..." She turned to him, her mouth opening once, twice, her eyes sad but searching. She was going to ask if he---- but then she said:
"Did you find out how to fix your spear? Maybe if I ask, my father can find a way..." The words spilled stupidly from her mouth and Myra turned once again to the ocean with a bemused look-- bemused and confused with herself.

"No, I haven't gone to the Hephaestus kids yet. Like I said, I can always get a new spear, and I'm not so bad with a dagger, thanks, though." Lucas' words betrayed his true view on the matter, he would've done anything to to fix that spear, but he'd done enough self-absorbed things for the day, he decided.

Myra shrugged and didn't say anything, though she could sense the lie quite well.
"I guess I'll be heading back then," she said abruptly. Clearly he liked being alone wth his pegasus and so she stood up to leave, face blank again of emotion.

((Cue for Lucas! Cue for Lucas!!

BRB in a while... long dinnah. :3))

((Cue for what?
I feel so stupid and clueless. >.>))

((Cue for him to be like "NO! DON'T LEAVE!"... only if you want to do a pretty intense arpay session. ;) ))

((OHHH.))

Inside, around all the other things clouding his mind, he debated on calling her back or not.
"No, Myra, please stay," Lucas finally managed, in a rarely pleading tone.
Damn impulse.

She turned, hesitant at first. Myra's mouth was turned down, the smile that usually brightened her intense features a sad frown.
"Why?" she asked, in spite of herself. She waved a long hand through the warm air. "I don't want to disturb this peace you seem to have when you're alone. I rarely see it when we're together, anyway." A bitter little laugh.

Because I'm alone.
Lucas struggled with his words, thoughts, feelings memories, it was far too overwhelming. For a frantic moment, when he glanced at the cliff, it looked as if he was about jump.
And the bitterness in Myra's laugh only made him feel worse. He wasn't calm here, maybe more quiet and demure than usually, but certainly not calm. "Never mind, then," he said in a choked stammer, something unintentional. You're alone, Lucas, and it's all your fault, it was always your fault. Your fault. Was that all he had, faults? Faults, and no one else?
And now he was feeling the same emotion Myra had been feeling earlier, self-hatred. And the feeling was all too familiar.

Tilting her head to the side in slight worry, Myra reached out an arm to Lucas. The sight of that feeling in his dark eyes was the reason for her heart floating up to her mouth, she was sure of it. And under the influence of that warm and expanding beating heart, she pulled him tightly to her, stroking the dark curls, pressing his head close to her shoulder. Myra wanted to comfort him-- she didn't know where the emotion had risen, perhaps in the choked way he'd said, "Never mind," but suddenly she felt incredibly for him. How could she tell him? And when he looked out above the cliff, his noble features twisted in confusion, Myra had wanted to shriek and cry out. It had looked like he wanted to dive off it, like she had.
"I want to," she whispered in his ear. "But sometimes I'm not sure if you do." She pulled back so their foreheads were touching, thumbs twirling in the dark glossy curls. "Do you?"

Mind racing, Lucas could only manage a weak nod and a, "Yes." His voice was hoarse, tired, weary, almost...pained. He closed his eyes, letting out a soft sigh and wrapping his arms around Myra in a gentle embrace. "I'm sorry," he murmured, voice heavy with guilt. Though he wasn't quite sure what he was apologizing for.

"Don't apologize to me," Myra said gently. "You're beating yourself up for something. Don't tell me what if it won't help."
She'd been taken aback by the gentleness that which Lucas handled her with, and now stepped back and sat down, looking up at him with those great expectant eyes, flashing lavender now and then in the passing sunlight.

Lucas let go of her, and moved his arms to tuck his knees up against his chest, conflicted. Would it help to tell her? Would it hurt?
"I don't know," he said, brows slashed down as he debated with himself. "It's just another one of those sob stories that every demigod has, nothing important."

Myra pushed her bottom lip on her upper one, eyes trailing the ocean. Her finger trailed up and down her foreleg-- the way the slender limb ended in a clunky steel-toed hiking boot was laughable.
"It's probably not a sob story," Myra said, voice gentle, coaxing. "And history can't be the same for every demigod, and that is what makes it important." She looked at him.

Lucas heaved a sigh, staring out at the cliff, though this time it was just admiring the view again. "There's a reason I'm a year-rounder," he began quietly, closing his eyes to take in the guilt and regret that would follow his story.

She'd never seen Lucas this... pained. Through numb surprise, Myra felt herself reach out and slide her fingers down his muscled arm, twining them in his warm and calloused fingers, urging him to go on.

"I can't go back home," Lucas continued, the words like daggers in his heart. I can't go back home. "For two reasons." He swallowed, the first one would be easier for Myra to handle.
"When I was about five, I had my...my grandfather. He was like a father to me, along with my mother caring after me, it was okay. And, uh, then..." His voice was strained with pain and grief, talking past the lump in his throat. "I came home from school, and no one was home."

Myra could tell where this was going. Her face twisted in sympathy. Her own aunt was like a mother to her-- if she died...

"He died." Lucas finally said, not bothering with the heart-breaking details. "My mum tried to tell me he was gone, but I was too young to understand..." And then the shocking happened. Lucas' aggressive eyes were dull with grief, and from them, a single, hot tear escaped.

She caught the betraying tear with her hand before it slipped down Lucas' chiselled cheekbone, staring at the glimmer of moisture in her palm in a mixture of shock and grief.
Suddenly Myra felt like she was violating something, interfering with Lucas' personal details.
Her eyes stayed locked with his dark ones, so pained, so wiped of all aggression that Myra could clearly imagine him as a rosy-cheeked, dark-curled angel of a five-year-old.
She was silent. No words could console Lucas and she understood that.

Lucas couldn't finish, and in shame of showing his weakness, he buried his arms in his arms. It took all his strength not to sob, it wouldn't help anyone. He hadn't shared his past with anyone, because the pity was unneeded and unwanted.

Myra slipped her arms around Lucas' hard waist, folding her head awkwardly on his shoulder. She waited a while, hoping that the comfort of her body pressed against his was enough for now. She was in lack of things to say and she told him so, softly, softly.

Lucas was silent, mostly because if he tried to speak nothing would come out. Eventually, he looked up, toward the expanse of sea again, the worst of the moment's pain subsiding.

"I'm sorry," Myra said finally. Her eyebrows her twisted in a sadly thoughtful expression.
I'm sorry for your loss. I'm sorry I was so selfish and vain. I'm sorry that your heart is broken.

"No," Lucas murmured, shaking his head. "Don't be, it's not your fault." At least he'd let some of it out, he decided, keeping it bottled in for years had already done it's damage, though.

But the damage was done on Myra also: she felt terrible, terrible, terrible for the thoughts she'd had about Lucas. She gave a shuddering sigh. "Je veux devenir une meilleure personne," she said in her fluid mother tongue. ("I'm working on becoming a better person.") "But it's hard to keep selfish thoughts away."
Especially around you.

Lucas let out a bitter laugh, nodding. "Don't we all know it," he said, giving Myra side glance. "I suppose the effort pays off in the long run," he said, shrugging.

"It's hard," Myra said, her expression petulant like a child's. "There it is again," she said, squeezing her eyes shut. "I'm most selfish when I'm with you," she said ruefully.

Lucas tilted his head at her, brows slashed down in confusion. "Um, what?" He stared at her in genuine puzzlement.

"And stupid. Don't mind me, I'm crazy." She flapped a hand at him dismissively, her expression regretful. "You probably shouldn't be exposed to my ~insanity~."

((I love you, and when Ivi reads that, she'll love you too.))
"Too late," Lucas said, shrugging again. "I've grown used to your ~insanity~." And while he said that, he made a wave-like motion with his arms.

((Hehehehehehehe.))

"That's a first," Myra said with a slight smile.
Waves pounded on the rocky crag of the cliff and she turned so her side profile faced Lucas, small straight nose pointing out towards the open sea. "I've never been a year-rounder," she said. "I like the outside world too much to stay at camp and train all year." Her eye flicked langoriously to him, silently asking him to go on.

"I like it here better," Lucas admitted. "I was never really one for school, and there wasn't much I could do out in Maine." He was only telling her half of the truth, the other part could wait.

"I live with my aunt Lepide in New York," Myra said. "Go home to Father during holidays in France... but I don't know. It's funny, it's like my aunt understands me better than my dad and she's never met my mother." Spoken with an underlying edge of teenage biterness.

"My mum was like that," Lucas mused to himself. "France? That sounds interesting." He raised his brows curiously at Myra.

Myra shook her head. "Parents," she said with disgust, throwing a look up at the partly clouded sky. "Yes, my father's French. France was... interesting. I don't think I'll go back this year, though." The words were spoken lightly, but her eyes darkened and she turned away. One glance at the plummeting side of the cliff, and vertigo shook her to her core.

Lucas didn't want to probe into the details, though he was curious. "Parents," he repeated, with more weariness than anything else.