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[sleepbeneaththewaves-blog]

Annabel had never flown much in her life. She tried not to appear nervous as she boarded the plane. Cam had been rather silent the entire way to the airport and while waiting around, and now she walked a few steps behind him, tugging her backpack around her shoulders. She wasn't sure if he was irritated or just being Cam, but she figured it best not to comment on her apprehension about flying lest he regret inviting her along before the trip had even started. He had, of course, never been a particularly chatty companion in any way, But the very pointed silence in which they traveled settled heavily around her, and she chose to sleep most of the plane ride. Luckily, she didn't suffer from too much motion sickness. That would have been unpleasant. When she opened her eyes for what seemed like the tenth time, drowsily peering around her after a fitful sleep, they were landing. 

In the car ride to the resort, Annabel hugged her backpack to her chest and watched the landscape out the window. The car wound its way up into the mountains where the resort was. She looked at Cam multiple times during the drive, trying to catch his eye, but he didn't seem to want to acknowledge her. When he practically ran off after paying the driver, she scrambled for her bags and jogged after him. The cool air stung at first, but the sunshine was bright and cheery. Better here than sitting alone over the holidays at Camp Half-Blood. There wasn't much doubt in her mind that Cam didn't think her to be the most preferable of companions, but she did like him just fine. By the time she caught up to him at the reception desk, she was a little out of breath from jogging along behind him and her cheeks were flushed from the cold. She dropped her bag by the desk and put her elbows up on the cool marble counter. She pulled her hat off her head and shook out her hair, then turned to Cam. "So are you going to talk to me again anytime soon or is this silence going to be how we spend this entire trip?"

In This Castle, Made of Stone | Annabel & Cam

The inertial nausea following their flight had thankfully, dissipated. He had thrown some bills at the driver without much care, and then proceeded to open the car door, breathing in the chilly air with an unspoken sense of satisfaction. Winter suited him, and it pleased him more than he would ever have admitted, as much as he hated the life it reminded him of. With a quick glance at Annabel that barely registered, he began to trudge up the slope towards the resort, expectant that she would follow behind him. Inviting her to come along with him had been a reckless choice on his part, he mused. He berated himself internally for what vulnerability he had allowed her, when she confessed that her father was forcing her to spend her break away from home, in regards to her own interests. And she had acted as if that were punishment. He wasn’t sure as to whether that should have irritated him, or amused him, as it managed to do a rather odd mixture of the both. But this was uncharted waters; far too close for comfort in revealing what was personal to him, and him alone. It had not been a good decision, and he was certain in this, speaking little to her as they made their way there.

He would have to face his family eventually, but he would be damned - at least if he hadn’t been already - if he were to do so in front of Annabel. His relatives were coldly formal, at best. Their comments had double meanings, and their wits were always sharp; waiting for the prime moment where he would trip and cut himself upon them like a fool. The moment had yet to occur, thankfully, but he was not keen in likening the possibility. He had to be on guard. Not only mentally, but physically as well, though the likelihood of monsters appearing in such a place had always been rare. Tight-lipped, he approached the reception, a plan already beginning to map itself out in his mind. They would secure their rooms. Annabel could get an instructor of sorts, and he could spend time skiing in solitude, time that was sorely needed to think. To prepare. Then, when he was ready, he would go visit his family, the briefest of visits, and return as he always did, without much of a change. If luck would have it, the two aspects of his trip here would never have to intertwine at all. 

[sleepbeneaththewaves-blog]

[sleepbeneaththewaves-blog]

You’d think that people would’ve had enough of silly love songs… I look around me and I see it isn’t so, oh no. Some people wanna fill the world with silly love songs Well what’s wrong with that? I’d like to know. Cause here I go… again… Love lifts us up where we belong! Where eagles fly, On a mountain high! Love makes us act like we are fools. Throw our lives away, For one happy day.

[sleepbeneaththewaves-blog]

By all means, you're welcome to try! I'd be impressed if you actually sparked some magical talent. 

Fighting is too much work..

I should teach you some stuff sometime.

[sleepbeneaththewaves-blog]

We can't all be a Potter, can we? Nah, I don't know actually. I didn't get any usual magical skills. I'm an empath, which is kind of magical but not the same. 

Fighting is too much work..

Sis, are you a muggle?

[sleepbeneaththewaves-blog]

I wish I could. That'd be awesome. But I don't actually know how or whether not I even can. 

Fighting is too much work..

You saying you wouldn’t pull a Sorcerer’s Apprentice and make the cleaning supplies do it for you?

[sleepbeneaththewaves-blog]

I call not being a part of the clean up crew.

Fighting is too much work..

That’s the fun part!

[sleepbeneaththewaves-blog]

That could work too. It's a bit of a messy alternative though. 

Fighting is too much work..

Haven’t quite perfected that yet, but I do like making Greek Fire, which is just as effective.

[sleepbeneaththewaves-blog]

It'd be great if you could snap your fingers and make the Romans disappear.

Fighting is too much work..

Most of the time.

[sleepbeneaththewaves-blog]

Does that actually work?

Fighting is too much work..

I don’t like fighting, I like casting spells to make my problems go away.

[sleepbeneaththewaves-blog]

It's not worth it on so many levels.

Fighting is too much work..

[sleepbeneaththewaves-blog]

So yes. You're inviting me. If only for your own entertainment when I faceplant down the slopes. But I'll take it. 

It's official. Holidays suck.

[sleepbeneaththewaves-blog]

I wouldn't object. Why? Is that you inviting me? 

It's official. Holidays suck.

[sleepbeneaththewaves-blog]

I know. It takes some serious skill. You can't judge me. I've only been like twice in my life. 

It's official. Holidays suck.

[sleepbeneaththewaves-blog]

It's a joke, Cam. I was kidding. And yea, I have. But I'm pretty bad at it. I basically fall down the slopes instead of ski down them. It was fun when I went though.

It's official. Holidays suck.

[sleepbeneaththewaves-blog]

I'm sure that could be arranged if you really wish to drink bleach. It'd get you out of your trip, that's for sure. Skiing sounds like fun. Better than being stuck here.

It's official. Holidays suck.

[sleepbeneaththewaves-blog]

You say it like someone just asked you to drink bleach. Not looking forward to it then? 

It's official. Holidays suck.