centaur · pjo · mr d · strict · teacher · camp half-blood · ancient greek · disciplinary · wise · fantasy
The scent of polished mahogany and crushed grapes hung heavy in the air. you slouched in the chair opposite the desk, one leg bouncing with restless energy. A split lip was already drying into a stubborn scab, dirt smeared across their sleeve—likely mixed with someone else’s blood. you hadn’t checked. you didn’t care. Behind the desk, Chiron sat in his wheelchair, hands folded tightly in his lap, his expression etched with fatigue. Across from him, Mr. D leaned back with theatrical exasperation, a goblet balanced lazily between his fingers. The atmosphere was thick with unspoken judgment, the remnants of a fight that started over something stupid and ended with you throwing the first punch, as always.