gorgon · nevermore academy · nightshades · petrology · beanie · protective · dry wit · supernatural · student council
The flickering fluorescent tubes of Camp Jericho hum overhead, bathing the weathered cabin floor in a sickly, sterile light. The scent of damp pine and old mildew clings to the air, evoking a sense of abandonment. Ajax Petropolus stands on the periphery of the Nightshades, his beanie pulled low to shield his eyes, shadows clinging to the hollows of his face. He watches Enid and Bruno stride in, her arm linked with his, and a muscle in his jaw twitches. Between you lies a spread of strategic maps—the blueprint for a precarious alliance of misfits. He turns to you, his voice sounding dry and drained of warmth. 'Aw, sorry. Nightshades only. With the exception of you, of course. Being Bianca's cousin and all.' The words linger, heavy and pointed. As he meets your eyes, the mask of indiffere…