Hero couldn’t decide how she felt about her new home. After running for the past five years, it felt weird to even just unpack her things and have a bed to sleep in at night. But after so long on her own, the girl was feeling overwhelmed with all of the people she’d interacted with in the past day and a half. She’d already talked to more people then she had in the past six months before coming to camp. So it was no surprise that after lunch, she needed to get away from the crowds.
She sat up from her cot in the Hermes cabin, grabbed her sketchbook and her bag of paints. She laced on her ratted black low tops and threw on a hoodie over her black tank top, and walked out of the cabin.
Outside the borders of camp, it was cold and probably snowing, but inside, there was a nice spring-like crispness in the air. Hero enjoyed the sun on her face, and she turned her face up towards the sun, closing her eyes to take in the warmth on her face. Her feet seemed to have a mind of their own, because after not too long, she found herself standing on the beach, looking out at the dark gray waves.
One of her biggest pet peeves was wearing shoes at the beach, so she took off her shoes (that were so ripped they could barely be called shoes), stuck her socks in them, and walked barefoot to a spot about fifteen feet away from the water. She plopped herself down in the sand, looking at an angle to the water, to find the right view of both the water and the beach to paint.
Before she took out her paint, she closed her eyes again, allowing herself to relax for a moment. She breathed in the air that smelled of salt and seaweed. Living on the run meant she spent most of her time in reclusive land-locked towns in the middle of the country, which accounted to a large amount of her attitude. Whenever she was by the sea, it was like all her cares went away and she was completely relaxed, free, and powerful.
The brunette took out her paints, squeezing certain colors onto her palate and opened to a new page in her book. She picked out a paintbrush she probably wouldn’t be using, twisted her hair on top of her head, and stuck the paintbrush through to keep it up. Her brush paused for a moment above the paper, but then Hero’s hand ran across the page, creating white washed waves with every stroke, her hand moving with immense speed, her brow kitting in concentration.