[ war is coming — and it's become rather hard for luke to ignore. with the birds tittering and the girls experiencing difficulty in translating a language he believes isn't truly their native tongue (not like gossip is), and george and martha trying to lure him into a cave and trap him to keep him far from what will inevitably ensnare him, it's been a little difficult to ignore it. he can feel it; anxious and incapable of properly sleeping, it's worry for the future and even his own fate as the titan war had never truly been kind to him. perhaps it's karma collecting her debt — finally — as the fates decide to cut the yarn of his life once more with their sharp and glinting shears. ]
[ accepting clarisse's call is odd. but luke doesn't give it much thought — while he wishes to be difficult, as hard and stubborn as he has been, he finds himself slightly tired with fighting before he's pulled backbiter from its sheathe and swung him at another ghastly creature he'd sliced his second arm into the chest of an ugly orc. a part of him is excited for battle, it thrumming in his veins, while a bigger portion of him is dreading it. wars have never been won by boys who had attempted to pull mount olympus to its knees.]
[ he appreciates the heads up — not for the telegram, but to the fact he'd been asleep. pulling his pillow over his head, he can't quite ignore the locket as it begins to sing the ringtone he had successfully put in place for clarisse. groggily, ] What? [ then it sinks toward him, drifting softly from the surface to reach him as he drags his hand over his face and groans. maia curls beside him, tucked into herself, as she slumbers undisturbed. snatching the pillow from his face, he tosses it over his head and falls back against another pillow with a soft grunt. maia awakens, ears twitching, as she seems to wrinkle her nose at him. mouthing what? to her, he looks up at the ceiling of his suite. it's important is annoying enough to almost release another groan. ] Where?
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[ accepting clarisse's call is odd. but luke doesn't give it much thought — while he wishes to be difficult, as hard and stubborn as he has been, he finds himself slightly tired with fighting before he's pulled backbiter from its sheathe and swung him at another ghastly creature he'd sliced his second arm into the chest of an ugly orc. a part of him is excited for battle, it thrumming in his veins, while a bigger portion of him is dreading it. wars have never been won by boys who had attempted to pull mount olympus to its knees.]
[ he appreciates the heads up — not for the telegram, but to the fact he'd been asleep. pulling his pillow over his head, he can't quite ignore the locket as it begins to sing the ringtone he had successfully put in place for clarisse. groggily, ] What? [ then it sinks toward him, drifting softly from the surface to reach him as he drags his hand over his face and groans. maia curls beside him, tucked into herself, as she slumbers undisturbed. snatching the pillow from his face, he tosses it over his head and falls back against another pillow with a soft grunt. maia awakens, ears twitching, as she seems to wrinkle her nose at him. mouthing what? to her, he looks up at the ceiling of his suite. it's important is annoying enough to almost release another groan. ] Where?