the diary is stashed beneath the wobbly wooden planks by her bed, and andromeda sends a silent thank you prayer for the fact that her siblings bought it when she said she nailed all the planks down again. the feast went as per usual and she’s only mildly nauseous from seeing apollo this year. ( as the years go by, it doesn’t get easier playing russian roulette as to which of the gods will show up ---- demeter will and andromeda won’t get to say half the things on her mind, or apollo will and she’ll look at him and see his dead son, of whom she was horribly in love with. lose - lose. )
it’s too early to go to bed, andromeda concludes, so she aimlessly roams the camp grounds. she debates the forest despite being barefoot, ultimately deciding against it and taking a turn for the big house. ( chiron was always good company. he didn’t ask questions. ) a hand runs over her face, as if that alone would wipe away the exhaustion, and honey eyes open to see not chiron at the big house’s steps, but brooklyn. andromeda stops in her tracks, hesitating a moment before her hands are shoved in dress pockets. “ y’know, ‘m startin’ to think i’m destined to always stumble upon ya’ or somethin’, ” comes her gentle, teasing tone. cue a pause ; another tentative step is taken forward. “ penny for your thoughts ? ” / @necrmnce !
