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~2021 The amphitheater's emptiness provided a solace that Tempest rarely found within the buzzing confines of the camp. Underneath the fading twilight, she stood center stage, the gentle breeze whispering through the columns, almost encouraging her to voice the melody held within her heart. With every note that escaped her lips, she felt a layer of the emotional armor, meticulously crafted over the years, peeling away. Her voice resonated through the silent stone arena, a harmonious blend of vulnerability and strength that painted her internal struggles. The songs were her secret confessions, a reflection of the hidden desires and fears she dare not voice, especially the unresolved tension with Trix that had been gnawing at her conscience. As she delved deeper into song, the memory of their heated kiss, the lingering warmth, and the sting of the unsaid words resurfaced, and her voice wavered, caught between a longing sigh and a pained whisper even a year after it had happened. Struggling to keep the tremor out of her voice, Tempest's gaze wandered over the empty seats, and she couldn’t help but imagine a red-haired figure sitting there, smirking at her exposed vulnerability. “Stop it,” she muttered to herself, attempting to shake off the vivid imagery. “She’s just a storm you weathered; no point in looking back at the clouds.” Yet, despite her stern self-reminder, Tempest felt an undeniable pull towards resolving the unspoken tension between them. She halted her song, taking a deep breath, feeling the air fill her lungs and quiet the storm within her heart. The silence of the amphitheater was deafening, and Tempest's resolve solidified in the quietude. “I can’t keep running,” she admitted, the words barely above a whisper, yet holding the weight of the world. @ Beatrix McCoy

Embattled in this electric exchange, Tempest felt a surge of mixed emotions course through her veins, oscillating between this vulnerability and a defiant need to maintain her stance. The palpable fear lacing her heartbeat was an unfamiliar sensation, and it only intensified the chaotic whirlpool of thoughts spiraling within her. Trix's sharp retort, laden with defiance and provocativeness, sent shivers down Tempest's spine, making her clench her fists involuntarily. “It was just a dream, Trix, it means nothing! Of course dreams would be the only place you’d ever have a chance of having control over me, we both know I can best you in anything I’d want to!” she snapped back, trying to mask the tremor in her voice, the blush on her cheeks deepening. The vulnerability, the openness of this conversation, was a territory she hadn’t traversed before, and every fiber of her being screamed at her to regain control, to not let Trix see her in this state. Yet, as much as she yearned to mask her feelings, to cloak herself in the familiar armor of indifference and control, Tempest found herself entrapped in the intensity of Trix's gaze, the unspoken challenge that lingered in the air. The proximity, the clash of their contrasting yet similarly strong personalities, created a magnetic field that she couldn’t resist, despite her better judgment. “You think you know me, you think you can get under my skin?” she questioned, her voice laced with a mix of defiance and curiosity, as she stepped closer to Trix. Despite the verbal jabs and the unrelenting battle of wills, there was an underlying current of curiosity and exploration, an uncharted path that Tempest, with a racing heart and bated breath, found herself hesitantly willing to explore. Determined to prove to herself that she had no real emotions for Trix and eager to unnerve her seemingly unflappable rival, Tempest stepped forward decisively, closing the gap between them. Without a word, she cupped Trix's face and pressed her lips to hers, the kiss passionate and fiery, a challenge and a declaration wrapped into one. The room seemed to spin for a moment, the tension and rivalry melting into the unexpected intimacy of their connection, before Tempest pulled away, her eyes locked onto Trix's. "See? Nothing...."

Navigating the undercurrent of tension, Tempest felt a shiver of fear, unlike any she had experienced before. The vulnerability of her emotions, the dread of relinquishing control, and the unprecedented terror of being dominated by her rival—by Trix—cast a shadow over her usual confidence. The closeness, the demanding questions, and Trix's unrelenting gaze had her cornered, eliciting a response she hadn’t intended to reveal. “We were… close, and you had a whip…” Tempest admitted, her voice barely above a whisper, as a rush of blush painted her cheeks, the vivid imagery of the dream flashing briefly in her eyes before she abruptly fell silent. Caught in the shifting dynamics of their confrontation, Tempest found herself grappling with the shadows of her fears, feeling the weight of unspoken emotions and the unsettling realization of a power shift. The lingering warmth of Trix's touch and the intensity of her demands conjured so many thoughts, where fear and desire melded into a disconcerting uncertainty. Struggling to maintain her facade, she shyly averted her gaze, the vulnerability of the moment palpable in the silence, as she confronted the depth of her fears and the burgeoning complexity of emotions she hadn’t anticipated exploring with her rival. "It doesn't mater anyways, I don't do relationships, and I certainly have no desire to explore that with a freaky goth girl like you!"

Tempest felt a flush creep up her neck at Trix's probing inquiry, momentarily caught off guard, fragments of the dream flashed vividly in her mind. “You were there, with a whip, and we were—” she began involuntarily, the words tumbling out before she could catch herself, the realization causing her to bite her tongue. Flustered, she quickly regained her composure, her eyes narrowing at Trix. “That’s not the point!” she snapped, anger and embarrassment mingling in her gaze. "I know you’re working with a Hecate camper to mess with my head," she accused, trying to maintain a stern exterior, though the blush staining her cheeks belied her inner disarray. The room felt charged with tension, the air heavy with unspoken words and emotions, as Tempest struggled to reconcile the lingering sensations from her dream with the reality she was currently confronted with. Ignoring the sparkling glitter still clinging to her face and hair, Tempest focused intently on Trix, trying to gauge any hint of guilt or admission in her expression. “Admit it, Trix! You’ve gone too far this time!” she declared firmly, her voice a harsh tone of accusation. Despite her conviction and the prickling tension between them, a part of Tempest was still uncertain, questioning whether her suspicions were indeed accurate or if this was just another layer of the intricate game they played now for years.

Verse 3: "So make your siren's call and sing all you want, I will not hear what you have to say" ~One Month Later~ Submerged in the realm of dreams, Tempest found herself entwined with Trix, their surroundings blurred and insignificant. Trix was holding a whip, the ends of which were tracing patterns over her bare skin, its presence a tantalizing threat and promise, coupled with the warmth of Trix's breath against Tempest's neck, created an intoxicating blend of fear and desire. The echoes of whispers and restrained laughter formed a hazy auditory backdrop as their closeness blurred boundaries. The vividness of Trix's gaze, the teasing snap of the whip just out of reach, had Tempest balanced precariously between realization and yearning. Jolting awake suddenly from the dream, she found herself enveloped in a mix of frustration and confusion, the remnants of the dream's warmth and intimacy lingering leaving her restless and on edge. The notion that Trix might be behind this, possibly having struck a deal with a Hecate camper, fueled her annoyance and determination to confront the younger redhead. Could a Hecate camper even cast a spell like that or was she just starting to lose her mind? No, Trix must be behind this somehow, there was no other explanation that could make sense. Rubbing her temples, Tempest muttered under her breath, "Enough is enough. Trix is not going to get away with this." No sooner had she stepped out of her room, a glitter bomb detonated, showering her in thick, black glitter. The timing was uncanny, further solidifying her suspicion that Trix was behind not only this prank but the dreams too. Shaking off the excess glitter, yet still sparkling with every step, Tempest's stride was purposeful as she made her way towards the Hermes cabin. "Really, Trix? Glitter? You can do better," she mumbled to herself, irked by the seemingly endless games between them. Upon reaching Trix's cabin, Tempest didn’t bother knocking, pushing the door open with a determined glare. "Hey, we need to talk! I don’t know how the fuck you managed to pull it off but stay the fuck out of my dreams!!" she yelled at the source of her torment. Her heart raced in her chest, a confusing mix of irritation and the lingering sensations from her dream. She was ready for a confrontation, ready to unravel the mystery, but part of her, a part she didn’t want to acknowledge, was also curious, wondering what it would mean if Trix was indeed infiltrating her dreams.

He would take the small spider and see some friction marks in the joint so it wasnt lubricated right. “So ball joints? How did you keep them lubricated or are they self lubricated? That makes sense and I think I know exactly what you need to do. I need something out of there. I keep all my super expensive materials in there also. Hence why my safe covers most of the foot locker over there. So i will let you have what you need if you can tell me how the safe works. I have two things in there you can have that will help you. One with your friction issue and the other with a flame thrower. But you have to figure out the safe it is good practice.’

“I am not sure who your mom is but all i know is that we all need to practice. I am always a little worried about controlling it. Dont want to burn anything down which is why it is probably a good thing that the Hephaestus’ Cabin is mostly made of brick and metal.” He would nervously laugh. “Yeah Arieon, named after one of the horses on Apollos chariot, i thought it was fitting. I was wondering about some technical stuff. I am not quite sure what to do with it yet. You see the knee joints i feel like with this joint and not a full socket just a full ball and socket or should i go with a ball bearing approach. I feel like the friction would be bad or do i just nix the legs and go wheels. I am not sure what will work best.” He would notice her face getting red. And not really understand why so he would say “Is it me or is that forge starting to get super hot.' SO he would go down and turn it down a little. "there that is better. don't want to burn the brass and have it separate. It is almost time for some practice. Steve, my protector makes me do like 2 to 3 hours of weapons training. Then we try to train my fire for an hour or two. But i have a couple of hours till then. I am sure steve wouldn't mind if you come, i mean if you want to. Which when i like to do my forging and stuff i will also come after my 4 to 5 hours of training before lunch then i will probably come back. This project will hopefully be done by the time im 15. ”

Devon was doing what he normally did now that he got to the camp. He was working on this idea of a mechanical horse but he was not super skilled yet but he had the idea come to him so he was forging some of the pieces but he knew it would a couple of years to finish so he would start on it now maybe by the time he was 15 or 16 he would have a working prototype. When he would hear a hey from somewhere he would jump and the fire in the forge would spark up a little more to which he would answer one “I am forging and shaping some metal what are you doing over at the forges.” he would wipe his hands a little and go for a handshake when he turned around and saw this little redheaded girl who was probably around his age and would say “I am sorry maam did you need help with something from the forge or from cabin hephaestus?”

Things had gotten more than just a little out of hand. Asher knew she had crossed a line and her words had been cruel. But she had also said so because she had been provoked and though Asher couldn't justify her actions without coming out as a bitch, she didn't regret them. She didn't say anything as Evelyn walked away, her words echoing in the background. How dare she? Well, did she really want her to answer that question? She took a deep breath and once Evelyn was out of sight, Asher relaxed her shoulders. If only for a moment. Asher could still feel the sting of the slap the blonde had left on her face but she knew that in time that would subside and fade. An unpleasant memory. But her words, she knew would echo inside Evelyn's head for who knew how long. Asher was aware of what she had done but there was no point in regretting any of it. She took a deep breath and then turned to look at Theo. She tensed up again, looking at him with a mixture of anger and resentment. "I hope your happy, because we are done."