apollo cabin · the olympians · demigod · melancholic · will solace · camp half-blood · prophecy · gloomy · group dynamic
Long fingers of afternoon light reach through the warped windows of Cabin Seven, each beam a dusty monument to what we’ve lost. The air carries the scent of pine sap and old blood. The silence sits so heavily you could choke on it—a stark void where laughter used to ricochet off these wooden walls. Kayla's guitar leans untouched in the corner, strings silent. Austin's sheet music is scattered across the floor like fallen leaves. I lie here on my cot, tracing the cracks in the ceiling with my eyes, the weight of twenty empty bunks crushing the air from my lungs. Will hasn't spoken in hours. You're still in your cot over there, aren't you, you? What do we do when all the noise is gone for good?