Chapter Text
Okay. So.
I'm staring at this archway in the woods. A smoky black taxi disappearing behind me along with the crazy three old drivers in it.
It reads: Welcome to camp half blood. Well. I think it reads that.
A guy in an orange T-shirt with a Pegasus logo trots up to me. He has curly hair and- trots. He trots up to me.
He has hooves.
My mum said there would be satyrs there, but still.
'Hi! I'm Grover. Grover Underwood. Welcome to camp.'
'Um. I'm Izel.'
He notices my accent immediately.
'You're-'
'British? Yeah. That's where I was last, but I was born in Greece.'
'Anyway, come on. Monsters can get you out there. You need to see Mr. D and then you can join the other campers.'
He led me to a tall building, probably the most modern looking of all the structures in this valley-like area. A faint light glimmered in a window in the attic.
I was led to a table seating a round man drinking Coca-Cola from a can that came from nowhere and a balding guy in a wheel chair. The round man looked at me, absent-mindedly throwing the can he'd just emptied at Grover, who happily chewed it up.
'You. Girl. You're old. Very old. Not as old as me, but still.'
'Sir, ' the satyr started timidly, 'I don't think that twelve years is very old'
'Looks are deceiving. You look twelve as well, but how old are you?'
'25, Mr. D.'
That surprised me.
The guy in the wheelchair spoke. 'Grover, how about you head down to the fields and pick some strawberries. I know you're anxious about getting your license. We'll see to this girl.'
The goat boy trotted off outside, taking out a set of pan pipes.
The remaining two people both turned to me. 'Come, sit with us. Mr. D will deal you in.' the guy in the wheelchair said. I sat down at the table.
'How old are you, Girl?' the round man asked.
'My name is Izel. Izel Athanasiou.'
'Athanasiou. Sounds...' his eyes flicked up to me while he placed down two aces. 'Greek. I ask you again. How old are you?'
My mother told me to go here to be safe, and this guy in Tiger patterned clothes and hair so dark it looks purple is the camp director. I guess I can tell him and the balding guy in the wheelchair.
'rounding up to 2250, sir.' I mumble.
Mr. D grinned in triumph.
'And your... parent?' The guy in the wheelchair asked
'Hebe, goddess of eternal youth.' I say, placing down a king, queen and Jack of diamonds down.