(abby makes a scrunchy little what the fuck face at her as she passes by her and over the threshhold, handing her off the bottle on wine on the way in.) Yeah? Posting it would have taken too long.
(and she said she was gonna do it, so. here she is, in clarisse's apartment. it's actually really cool, and she is immediately, predictably, drawn to the weapons collection and the combat armour. the boar helmet makes her whistle appreciatively. fuck, if she saw somebody walking toward her in all of that out in the field, she would definitely turn around and walk the other way, it is intimidating as all get out.)
This is cool. (the armour, the space, the polaroids which abby's sort of looking at while trying to pretend she isn't sneaking glances at them.) Your place, I mean. How's the prep going?
(i.e what kinda food smell are we working with right now)
[ Clarisse takes the wine and follows Abby into the living room, then past her to the kitchen to set the wine down on the countertop. ]
Yeah, it's okay, [ she calls over her shoulder. ] I'm, uh... marinating chicken? [ She's doing HER BEST, okay.
The polaroids are of teenagers—hanging out in armor sometimes, kids with muscles and similar facial features clearly celebrating some sort of win. One is of Clarisse around age fourteen, by herself, wearing a crown of golden laurels and posed holding some kind of big, golden blanket. Most others are of different kids in regular clothes, fooling around, mugging for the camera. Featured prominently are a big Hispanic guy with upturned eyebrows and a sarcastic smile, and an extraordinarily pretty girl who has zero bad angles, apparently. Some of them have dates scrawled underneath, others brief notes, but written in Greek, not English. ]
Oh, fancy. (she's proud, actually. sounds like a good romantic dinner.) Marinating it in what?
(she's making no effort to follow her toward the kitchen, she's still looking around. snooping, at this point, and keeping one eye out for the elusive last jar of greek fire, if she's being entirely honest...
she's distracted completely by the polaroids, though. endless snaps of– friends? people that clarisse undoubtedly knew from back home, smiling and laughing. clarrise herself, younger, resplendent and triumphant in golden laurels. she can't read the little subtitles underneath any of the photos because she can't read– greek? what the fuck, nobody can read greek. abby, not for the first time, has to remind herself that clarisse is a demigod. for real.)
Who are these people? (she's pointing at the two who feature most across the collection of photos, careful not to actually touch their surfaces as she picks them out.)
[ The Greek fire is there, Abby... somewhere... hiding... ]
Some stuff I got from the Hart Mart. I think it's honey lime.
[ Clarisse emerges from the kitchen with some cash in hand, which she attempts to hand off to Abby. If she seems a little shifty while she does it, it's because the only time she's ever done anything like this before was when she was buying weed. Only afterward does she glance over to the pictures, seemingly unbothered by the fact that Abby was studying them. ]
That's Chris. He's. We used to date? I mean, he was my boyfriend for a while. Uh, but we're still friends. [ This last bit she feels like she has to add, because like, why would she still have pictures of him up otherwise? Yikes. ] And that's Silena. He's a son of Hermes, and she—was a daughter of Aphrodite.
[ It's awkward for a second, the little slip. She always has to force herself to say was, not is, and to say it in a way that sounds natural, which it never does. It feels really, extremely necessary to move on from that right away, so she points at some random picture of some jock-y looking boys in camo. ]
Those are some of my half-brothers. Ares always has a lot of kids.
(she's going to find it and she's going to take it.
for a moment, abby looks blankly at clarisse's attempt to hand over the cash, because she keeps forgetting that that shit actually matters here. clarisse being kinda weird about it doesn't help, but after a beat she takes it, and puts it away into her pocket. honestly, she'll probably forget it ever went in there and then put the jacket through the wash.
anyway. pictures.)
Oh yeah. (abby's monotone is about as inquisitive as it goes as she squints at the boy– chris– in each photo again in turn. son of hermes, huh. wait.)
Wait, (she says, and looks at clarisse a little incredulously,) aren't– you related? (not that that was especially... strange... back in ancient greece, or anything. the awkward wording around silena having been the daughter of aprodite is passed over for now, because abby isn't really keen to get onto the topic of dead friends either.
and then, because she can't resist for even a second,) Is it mandatory for demigods to date all of their cousins, or just some of them?
[ And honestly Clarisse probably wouldn't notice it was missing for a while, but when she finally did, she'd know just who to go after!!
Clarisse snorts at Abby's utter lack of enthusiasm. She would react similarly if she got stuck talking about someone's ex. The questions only make her smirk, because look, there's no joke anyone can make about the gods and their horniness and lack of boundaries that their demigod children haven't already made. The Olympians are a freaky bunch with a family tree that looks more like a gnarled bush.
Actually, nobody's ever even asked her about demigods dating other demigods before. The only people she's mentioned it to are Bella (who is too chill about most things) and Peter (who, to be fair, has bigger things to worry about than whether or not Clarisse used to bang her cousin). But still. She can't believe she's been here for a whole fucking year and is just now having to explain this to somebody. ]
We're not really related. Gods don't have DNA. They just pass aspects of themselves down to their human kids, so it's fine to date another demigod as long as they don't have the same parent you do. [ She waves a hand, casually adding, ] Sometimes I say Nico's my cousin, but it's not like we actually consider each other family. It's just easier for people here to understand it that way.
(abby has no idea what you're talking about... how dare you assume.......... she's never heard of greek fire before in her entire life
she can't help but mimic clarisse's smirk. this whole thing is pretty hilarious, and even more so that clarisse isn't embarrassed, or annoyed that she asked about it. almost seems like she was waiting for her to ask.)
I feel like if you're trying to explain it by starting off with 'we're not really related' you're already in trouble. (but she's only teasing, now. it's gods, right. it's different. they're not actually born, or whatever, they come into existence with little fanfare.)
Right. I've– wondered that about me and Lev, actually. (people don't get the survivor thing over here. that you can meet somebody and form a pact with them in as little as a day; anything, in order to keep each other alive. it's what lev is to her. somebody she'd give her life for, somebody deeply important to her, and somebody not related to her in any way.) Dunno if I could get away with calling us cousins, though.
[ Maybe Clarisse is just being dumb, or more likely it's because of her family situation, which is Weird with a capital W, but she doesn't really get why Abby couldn't say Lev was her cousin. If she wanted to. But she senses that's not really the point in what Abby's saying, and shrugs. ]
It's nobody's business anyway.
[ Like, yeah, she doesn't really get what the deal is with Abby and Lev exactly, but she hasn't really asked, either. Because it isn't her business. She gets what it's like to be all in on someone for reasons other people don't understand, and that's enough. ]
True. (it's just for her and lev. and clarisse and nico respectively, though abby knows now that they don't have the same thing going on at all.
she's done with the polaroids, at any rate.)
Do you live here by yourself?
(it's a lot nicer than her and lev's place. which is weird, because their place is bigger, which abby would assume made it better, but... looking around at how inviting and interesting clarisse's place is, maybe. maybe not.)
[ Clarisse snorts and grabs a tufted throw pillow off the couch. She throws it at Abby, because... because. That's what friends do, right? ]
If you think I bought this shit, you don't know me at all. [ She's grinning, though. She doesn't get the shopping thing at all, but she thinks it's cute when Bella does it. ] Bella moved in after I woke up from being dead in December. [ So casual, Clarisse, damn. ]
(it's definitely what friends do, and it makes her laugh, even when she doesn't completely manage to catch the pillow before it beans her in the face.)
I just assumed you bought it to try and impress some girl. (because that seems like the kind of thing clarisse would do; the chicken currently marinating in the kitchen is proof. she likes that talking about bella always makes clarisse grin, it's cute in a disgusting way, and she's happy for them.)
Wasn't that when I met you for the first time too? Passed out on the floor in the gym like a wimp?
I wasn't passed out. [ Just, like, nearly!!! Excuse you, Abigail. ] But, yeah. That whole month sucked so bad. I could never sleep, so I just went to the gym or walked around town all night instead.
[ Demigods don't get sick unless something poisons them, so Clarisse's experience with ways of appropriately dealing with the flu is, uh, limited. ]
Just once. And ha ha, that's really rich coming from someone who's been here like two whole weeks. Make it a year without dying and then you can make fun of me. [ That seems fair, right? ]
[ Clarisse chuckles, but it's soft, almost gentle. She doesn't want Abby to think she's laughing at her, but she totally recognizes the look on her face. That realization. ]
I think that was around when I stopped looking for a way to get home. Actively, I mean.
(abby grunts. she's trying not to let how bothered she is show on her face, but she's fucking awful at it. there's a little furrow between her eyebrows.)
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(and she said she was gonna do it, so. here she is, in clarisse's apartment. it's actually really cool, and she is immediately, predictably, drawn to the weapons collection and the combat armour. the boar helmet makes her whistle appreciatively. fuck, if she saw somebody walking toward her in all of that out in the field, she would definitely turn around and walk the other way, it is intimidating as all get out.)
This is cool. (the armour, the space, the polaroids which abby's sort of looking at while trying to pretend she isn't sneaking glances at them.) Your place, I mean. How's the prep going?
(i.e what kinda food smell are we working with right now)
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[ Clarisse takes the wine and follows Abby into the living room, then past her to the kitchen to set the wine down on the countertop. ]
Yeah, it's okay, [ she calls over her shoulder. ] I'm, uh... marinating chicken? [ She's doing HER BEST, okay.
The polaroids are of teenagers—hanging out in armor sometimes, kids with muscles and similar facial features clearly celebrating some sort of win. One is of Clarisse around age fourteen, by herself, wearing a crown of golden laurels and posed holding some kind of big, golden blanket. Most others are of different kids in regular clothes, fooling around, mugging for the camera. Featured prominently are a big Hispanic guy with upturned eyebrows and a sarcastic smile, and an extraordinarily pretty girl who has zero bad angles, apparently. Some of them have dates scrawled underneath, others brief notes, but written in Greek, not English. ]
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(she's making no effort to follow her toward the kitchen, she's still looking around. snooping, at this point, and keeping one eye out for the elusive last jar of greek fire, if she's being entirely honest...
she's distracted completely by the polaroids, though. endless snaps of– friends? people that clarisse undoubtedly knew from back home, smiling and laughing. clarrise herself, younger, resplendent and triumphant in golden laurels. she can't read the little subtitles underneath any of the photos because she can't read– greek? what the fuck, nobody can read greek. abby, not for the first time, has to remind herself that clarisse is a demigod. for real.)
Who are these people? (she's pointing at the two who feature most across the collection of photos, careful not to actually touch their surfaces as she picks them out.)
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Some stuff I got from the Hart Mart. I think it's honey lime.
[ Clarisse emerges from the kitchen with some cash in hand, which she attempts to hand off to Abby. If she seems a little shifty while she does it, it's because the only time she's ever done anything like this before was when she was buying weed. Only afterward does she glance over to the pictures, seemingly unbothered by the fact that Abby was studying them. ]
That's Chris. He's. We used to date? I mean, he was my boyfriend for a while. Uh, but we're still friends. [ This last bit she feels like she has to add, because like, why would she still have pictures of him up otherwise? Yikes. ] And that's Silena. He's a son of Hermes, and she—was a daughter of Aphrodite.
[ It's awkward for a second, the little slip. She always has to force herself to say was, not is, and to say it in a way that sounds natural, which it never does. It feels really, extremely necessary to move on from that right away, so she points at some random picture of some jock-y looking boys in camo. ]
Those are some of my half-brothers. Ares always has a lot of kids.
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for a moment, abby looks blankly at clarisse's attempt to hand over the cash, because she keeps forgetting that that shit actually matters here. clarisse being kinda weird about it doesn't help, but after a beat she takes it, and puts it away into her pocket. honestly, she'll probably forget it ever went in there and then put the jacket through the wash.
anyway. pictures.)
Oh yeah. (abby's monotone is about as inquisitive as it goes as she squints at the boy– chris– in each photo again in turn. son of hermes, huh. wait.)
Wait, (she says, and looks at clarisse a little incredulously,) aren't– you related? (not that that was especially... strange... back in ancient greece, or anything. the awkward wording around silena having been the daughter of aprodite is passed over for now, because abby isn't really keen to get onto the topic of dead friends either.
and then, because she can't resist for even a second,) Is it mandatory for demigods to date all of their cousins, or just some of them?
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Clarisse snorts at Abby's utter lack of enthusiasm. She would react similarly if she got stuck talking about someone's ex. The questions only make her smirk, because look, there's no joke anyone can make about the gods and their horniness and lack of boundaries that their demigod children haven't already made. The Olympians are a freaky bunch with a family tree that looks more like a gnarled bush.
Actually, nobody's ever even asked her about demigods dating other demigods before. The only people she's mentioned it to are Bella (who is too chill about most things) and Peter (who, to be fair, has bigger things to worry about than whether or not Clarisse used to bang her cousin). But still. She can't believe she's been here for a whole fucking year and is just now having to explain this to somebody. ]
We're not really related. Gods don't have DNA. They just pass aspects of themselves down to their human kids, so it's fine to date another demigod as long as they don't have the same parent you do. [ She waves a hand, casually adding, ] Sometimes I say Nico's my cousin, but it's not like we actually consider each other family. It's just easier for people here to understand it that way.
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she can't help but mimic clarisse's smirk. this whole thing is pretty hilarious, and even more so that clarisse isn't embarrassed, or annoyed that she asked about it. almost seems like she was waiting for her to ask.)
I feel like if you're trying to explain it by starting off with 'we're not really related' you're already in trouble. (but she's only teasing, now. it's gods, right. it's different. they're not actually born, or whatever, they come into existence with little fanfare.)
Right. I've– wondered that about me and Lev, actually. (people don't get the survivor thing over here. that you can meet somebody and form a pact with them in as little as a day; anything, in order to keep each other alive. it's what lev is to her. somebody she'd give her life for, somebody deeply important to her, and somebody not related to her in any way.) Dunno if I could get away with calling us cousins, though.
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It's nobody's business anyway.
[ Like, yeah, she doesn't really get what the deal is with Abby and Lev exactly, but she hasn't really asked, either. Because it isn't her business. She gets what it's like to be all in on someone for reasons other people don't understand, and that's enough. ]
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she's done with the polaroids, at any rate.)
Do you live here by yourself?
(it's a lot nicer than her and lev's place. which is weird, because their place is bigger, which abby would assume made it better, but... looking around at how inviting and interesting clarisse's place is, maybe. maybe not.)
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If you think I bought this shit, you don't know me at all. [ She's grinning, though. She doesn't get the shopping thing at all, but she thinks it's cute when Bella does it. ] Bella moved in after I woke up from being dead in December. [ So casual, Clarisse, damn. ]
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I just assumed you bought it to try and impress some girl. (because that seems like the kind of thing clarisse would do; the chicken currently marinating in the kitchen is proof. she likes that talking about bella always makes clarisse grin, it's cute in a disgusting way, and she's happy for them.)
Wasn't that when I met you for the first time too? Passed out on the floor in the gym like a wimp?
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[ Demigods don't get sick unless something poisons them, so Clarisse's experience with ways of appropriately dealing with the flu is, uh, limited. ]
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(semantics!)
How many times have you died? Maybe you should get a different hobby.
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Excuse me, I've been here, like– (she puffs her cheeks up, and exhales roughly as she realises:) three months.
(fuck. that's a lot longer than two weeks.)
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I think that was around when I stopped looking for a way to get home. Actively, I mean.
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Yeah.
Guess that'll be me, soon.
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You'll go home eventually. Everyone does.
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Yeah. (she doesn't really want to talk about it anyway, so) What time is Bella due home?
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Sure. (she doesn't need movies, though. she's fine to collapse on clarisse's couch and just talk to her while she works on her big romantic meal.)