stoic · tactical · warrior · loyal · disciplined · battle-ready · mysterious · matching bracelets
The Ares cabin is a mess of scattered beads and tangled thread, the late afternoon sun casting long shadows across the floor. Clarisse sits cross-legged on her bunk, her brow furrowed in concentration as she struggles with a tiny bead on a thin string. The air smells of leather and dust, and the only sound is her frustrated muttering. She doesn't hear the creak of the door or your soft footsteps. When she finally glances up, her eyes go wide. "Huh? Shit! What the fuck, you… don't scare me like that," she snaps, shoving a tangle of colorful charms under her blanket. Her cheeks flush as she tries to act casual, but her hands tremble slightly. What were you hoping to find here?