Miles Endicott's Story

Adam woke with the sun like he did every morning, feeling it's gentle tug as it rose over the horizon even before it's rays could creep through his window. This was a gift in the early Fall. He never had to set an alarm or worry about being late but as the seasons changed and the sun rose later and later he required two or three alarms set long before classes started to avoid having to rush to get ready.

Grabbing his iPod from the charger he slid in his earbuds and changed it from the “Sleepytime Playlist” to “Morning Stroll Playlist.” -Morning stroll is one of five morning playlists but this one is particularly mellow, maybe a little sad with a few upbeat but mostly acoustic jams- He crept through his dim room over a pile of clothes and around his collection of sparkly rocks, some more boulders than rocks but nonetheless needed to be dragged into the room, and carefully crossed over what he liked to refer to as the Maginot Line. The official dividing line between his side of the room and Miles' was clearly marked along the floor with masking tape; however, much like the French defensive structures it failed to keep the mess from spilling over via the space behind his nightstand also referred to as Belgium. On Miles' pristine side of the room he was even more careful not to wake the sleeping son of Hades when he passed the alphabetically organized movie shelf that included a super fun WWII movie from the History Channel.

Once in the bathroom he was much less careful and began to sing along to Timber Timbre's “No Bold Villain.” After relieving himself he disrobed and made faces at himself in the mirror for at least two song's length before unplugging his ears and turning the volume up loud enough to be heard in the shower but not any louder than the shower itself. He stepped into the shower and grabbed the only washcloth in the there, probably Miles' but who cold really tell anyway?

Out of the shower he scoured the darkness of the room for the clothes he forgot to select and take to the bathroom with him. A probably clean pair of undies from this pile, pants from underneath the bed, socks that didn't match but also didn't stink were retrieved from the top of his dresser and a shamefully wrinkled t-shirt. Slipping on his shoes he ran his fingers through his hair and scooted out of the door and was soon basking in the glow of the morning sun.

With wide hip-swinging strides he sang along to the eerie music-box heavy cover of Brittany Spear's “Toxic” by Yael Naim and sauntered off in the direction of the lake. He skirted around it's banks hoping to startle a few frogs though they might be much more terrified by the son of Poseidon thrashing about within their safe haven. Adam picked a nice sunny spot to sit, somewhere across from the book reading, the exercise, the building maneuvering and general outdoor morning routines. Removing his earbuds he sat in silence and watched it all unfold, a remnant of a tune played around in his head while he plucked at the grass.

Time passed, the blades of grass were tied into strings, the strings into messy cords, the cords he tried to wrap around his wrist but they refused to stop unbundling long enough for that to work. Smiling because of his semi-successful handiwork he glanced up and across the lake to see that the last group of four had packed up and headed in. With that he stood up, brushed the grass from his legs and walked back to his room to see if Miles was up and interested in breakfast.

Adam poked his head in through, “Miiiiiiles,”he whispered, you up?”

Miles had never been an early riser.

He had a theory about that. Sleep is the closest that most living come to Death, and Miles, being closer to Death than most, slept deeper. The hypnagogic journey from dream to reality felt almost exactly like stepping out of Erebus and into the living world. It heralded the return of weight, the end of mystery, the crossing of the thin terminator between subconscious and conscious.

It was only a theory. He was not so concerned with the Underworld, its magic, or its inhabitants as some of his siblings. Hades had eventually grown content with his domain and his seasonal bride, but Miles would never allow himself to be sequestered like that. He had plenty of his father's traits, but the ability to be satisfied so easily was not one of them.

Miles slept only in a tangle of thin (though comfortable, and expensive) sheets. Blankets inevitably led to too much warmth, a night of fitful sleep punctuated by suddenly waking up drenched in sweat. He was chilly as he stirred, dragging the black Egyptian cotton around him protectively, a cocoon to ward off the next five minutes of wakefulness before his snooze alarm started to go off.

Go off it did. Miles pawed at the clock on his nightstand and sat up slowly, rubbing crusts of somnolence from his eyes. He couldn't hear any music, which meant that his roommate was already up. He didn't quite understand the logic behind someone so slovenly and sloth-like getting up so very early. It would have been grand, if Adam had used his early start to make a dent in the Sargasso of clothing and debris that had accumulated on his side of the line. Miles had felt ridiculous laying down that tape. It was something out of one of those formulaic television comedies, but what choice had he? No amount of cajoling or threatening could seem to get the lazy son of Apollo serious about neatness, so Miles had to at least take some measures to confine the mess.

Thinking about it drew his gaze to Adam's side of the room, and unconsciously, Miles clenched his jaw, causing tiny muscles behind his cheeks to flare a bit. How hard was it to use a hamper? A garbage can? Miles didn't even want to imagine when the last time was that Adam had laundered his bed clothes. A black light shining near the other boy's bed would likely transform the unmade bed into a Pollack painting in glowing white.

He forced himself to stop thinking about that particular image and rolled out of bed, onto his side of the room. Despite having twice as many personal belongings as Adam (and thrice as many articles of clothing), Miles' portion of their shared domain was immaculate. He'd been forced to sacrifice some floor-space for a modular wardrobe, but it was well worth it. The closet he'd been afforded was more of a cupboard by his estimation, and he needed somewhere to hang his ironed shirts!

He slept in basketball shorts and a tank top, navy and black respectively today. He preferred sleeping in the nude, but that seemed unwise given the fact that he lived with another young gay man. The two were aware of one another's predilections, but in the interest of cohabiting, they'd both exercised some discretion in terms of doing anything that might make things difficult. As much as Adam infuriated him, Miles couldn't deny that he found him attractive. He knew full well what went on in Adam's bed and their shared shower when he wasn't around. It was like some kind of albatross of arousal, constantly winging lazy circles around their dorm.

He trudged with leaden limbs to his desk and flopped down in his rolling chair. Reaching downward, he keyed in the combination to open his mini-fridge. He'd had the normal desk drawers on one side removed to make room for it, and had a lock installed after a certain son of Hermes had made off with two full four-packs of his favorite chocolate stout. He withdrew a bottle of Brooklyn Kombucha (Straight-Up flavored, or rather, unflavored) and twisted the top off to take sip and then a swig, washing his pre-tooth paste mouth with the vinegar-champagne taste of the probiotic tea elixir.

There was a hole in his morning routine. Normally, after his first swig, he used the second to wash down a fistful of pills. Mood stabilizers, anti-depressants, anxiety meds, and occasionally the odd anti-psychotic, depending on how his month was going. It had been nearly two weeks since he'd decided to take control of his mental state and stop taking the meds, but there was still a part of him that wanted the ritual. It was safe. Comfortable. At the expense of concentration, intellect, and feeling, he was virtually guaranteed that he would not break down in tears or start shouting. The ritual component was powerful too. He'd read somewhere that it took... well, a fairly high number of times doing something in order for it to become a habit. How many times not doing something did it take for a habit to go away?

How many sunrises and sunsets would have to trudge by before he wouldn't want to dull himself with chemicals in the interest of appearing normal?

He was grimacing as he sipped his kombucha, but not because of the taste. He rather enjoyed the sharp bite of the fermented concoction. His eyes slipped to Adam's side of the room, and he couldn't help but muse that his kombucha wasn't the only thing present with a colony of bacteria and yeast in it. Somewhere just above his gut, a warm spike of anger began to twist. It grew hotter as he trailed his gaze over errant socks and undies, magazines and books, pieces of litter. By the time those burning eyes alit on a candy bar wrapper, no doubt with a bug-attracting film of chocolate clinging to the inside, it had already begun.

Miles' abilities had always been directly tied to his emotions. That was what the teachers liked to tell him, anyway, but he knew better. Emotion played a part in it, but the truth was that darkness had a mind of its own. It was dormant most of the time, yes, but when unleashed...

There was no want for shadow in the room. The closed blinds resulted in a series of segments of light dividing the dark. The dark strips of that chiaroscuro display emblazoned on the floor began to stir, then ripple, then writhe. Miles took a white-knuckled sip of kombucha, and the shadows went to work.

The ten tendrils fed on other bits of darkness, growing larger and stronger as the surged across the line of tape and set to work. The fingers of Miles' free hand began to curl and uncurl slightly. Most would not have noticed the gestures, and they certainly wouldn't have drawn a parallel between his movements and those of the Abyssal arms he had brought into being.

They began picking up everything. The clothes, the trash, the glinting rocks. Everything. Sinuously, they wound around one another, depositing the detritus marking Adam's existence right atop his bed. In a matter of a minute, the floor was spotless save for stains that Miles just had to pretend didn't exist. Every stitch of clothing and pound of garbage and even the boulders were now piled somewhat precariously atop Adam's bed. Miles moved to his feet, taking another sip from his bottle as he padded across the room to get a better look at his handiwork.

Bands of shadow spiraled up his bare legs in a twisted ephemeral caress as a smile slowly formed. As his rage abated, the tendrils- each of them strong enough to rip the tailgate off a pickup truck- began to gradually recede into the natural patterns of light and dark present in the room.

Just as he finished his kombucha, the door partially opened. Adam, whispering about breakfast.

Miles was still smiling- no, in fact, he was smirking now- as he regarded his roommate. ”Breakfast? I'd love some breakfast. Let me just get dressed.”

He selected a Brooks Brother button-down and a pair of gray slacks, along with briefs and gray socks, and headed into the bathroom to change and see to a few ablutions. Face wet, hair combed, and his shirt neatly tucked in, he tucked his hands into his pockets. ”Shall we?”

With his hands in his pockets Emmett lazily made his made towards his dorm. He was whistling a tune to himself, anyone hearing it would not be able to place the song since it seemed to change with Emmett's fancy, altering from that new song he'd heard the other morning to an olden goldie that his grandparents liked.

His whistling quietened as his eyes cast over the face of the dorms, alighting onto the many open curtains and the rooms beyond. Most people were getting breakfast or on their way to class. Most people would have left their rooms blissfully unguarded. Emmett's eyes darted from window to window, the seed of an idea forming. He spotted one window that showed life, he could see curious shadows moving behind the curtains and it took him a moment to realise that the room belonged to Miles and Adam. Emmett's mouth twitched into a smile, no 'borrowing' from that room today. He made a habit of checking Miles' fridge for goodies. Recently the boy had started to lock his fridge, a waste of time given that locks opened for Emmett without the need for keys. Just one of the perks of being Hermes' son.

He was jolted out of his thoughts by the sudden appearance of his half-brother. Quentin looked horrified, not at almost running into Emmett but at the idea of losing a moment of sleep.
”What day is this? Is it Saturday? Does that mean I can go back to sleep?... It can't be Saturday, because that means yesterday would have been Friday, and I definitely do not recall getting wasted last night.” His words tumbled out, not giving Emmett enough time to reply. Emmett waited for Q to finish, a smile on his face as he watched his brother talk. Finally Q stopped talking, his face splitting into a grin.
”So where are you headed then? Up to no good? Need a wing-man? ... Holy fuckballs, I need some coffee."

Emmett pushed a stray curl out of his eyes, letting his own smile grow to mimic Q's grin.
"I was just on my way to have a shower, but I think I'll stop by and... pop into a few rooms. I've gotta check that no one's brought illicit substances into the school." Emmett knew that his brother would understand what he meant, it was obvious that Emmett's interests lay in breaking the school rules, not protecting them. He gave a lazy shrug before continuing, "What can you do when you live with a bunch of deviants? Someone's gotta keep 'em in line. You're welcome to join me."
Emmett liked to work alone, preferring not to be slowed down by the clumsy attempts of others. That is unless it was Quentin. Q was the only person that Emmett would even consider taking with him. But, as Emmett looked at his half-brother, he wondered if he would join him this time. As Q had mentioned, he needed a coffee. Emmett wouldn't hold it against him if he decided to pass on this particular adventure.

---

Head down, nose in his book was how Leonard spent most of his time when he was trying to disappear. Today, sitting alone in the classroom, he found that he was readying himself for the arrival of others. His back was hunched over his desk, the book as close to his face as he could get it without actually hitting him.
The book? A stunning work on the string theory. The physics of the idea was breathtaking and Lenny was completely absorbed in its depths. His brain was absorbing and playing with the ideas as he read, his eyes flying across the words.

It wasn't until footsteps sounded, and close, that Lenny's attention was diverted. His eyes flicked up above the pages of his book to see Mr Guess, son of Poseidon and the History teacher, placing papers on his desk. It took him a moment to spot Leonard, all the way at the back of the room and when he did Lenny quickly ducked his head back behind his book. Then Lenny thought perhaps it was rude to ignore him, Mr Guess was a teacher after all. So, hesitantly, he looked back up.

"What's up, Leonard?... How's it going? I'll be right back after the bell rings. Just going back to the teacher's lounge to get some coffee."

The words sent a wave of relief through the shy boy, he wouldn't have to struggle to think of something to say now. However his relief was short lived because a moment later a girl walked in. Leonard recognised her immediately as Sage Fitzgerald, his half-sister. His eyes widened and he hunched further down in his seat. He was shy around everyone, Sage was no different. Only his shyness stemmed from a fear that, as her half-brother, he would somehow disappoint her. He also spotted the arrival of Halley and was pleased when she sat down in the middle of the room, not attempting to converse with him.

It seemed that Sage had no such problems with approaching him. With a polite smile on her face she thrust out her hand and introduced herself.
"Sorry to interrupt you from your reading... but I feel the need to properly introduce myself to you. My name is Sage Fitzgerald. Like you, I was born to the goddess of wisdom, reason and battle strategy: Athena. Your name... it's Leonard Moreland; correct?"
Lenny took a slow breath, steeling his nerves. Among other things Athena was the goddess of Courage and Lenny, as her son, would have to take a leaf out of his mother's book. Only... only the words stuck in his throat as he tried to answer Sage. His hands fumbled as he marked his page and put the book down. He managed to take Sages hand and give her a quick shake before withdrawing his hand.

He took a gulp, then a deep breath and then another gulp as he calmed his nerves.
"You... you can call me Lenny." His voice came out surprisingly strong, despite the initial stutter. Then his mind started to race. Perhaps he was being to forward? Or not friendly enough? As a fellow child of Athena was Sage also scared of spiders? Was she, unlike him, a warrior? What weapon did she favour? He knew she was smart, perhaps he could ask her to compare notes? Or would that also be too forward. In the end he bit his tongue and waited for Sage to make the next move.

Miles certainly seemed happy this morning. Adam smiled back at his roommate as he slid the rest of the way through the door. A cheerful Miles was always a good thing, especially since they'd had their conversation about Miles getting off his meds completely. Of course Adam was a little frightened at the prospect of a Miles with no mood-stabilizers or antidepressant's considering that his abilities were closely tied to his emotions, but so far any changes Adam had noticed were mostly positive. The son of Hades had been more alert, active, they'd been talking a lot more in general and about guys and he'd been making some hilarious jokes. Even if Adam had to suffer the occasional outburst or judgmental quip, and it had only happened twice, the new Miles was definitely worth it.

Adam's smile faded as he watched his roommate cross over the line with a sordid mountain behind him where his bed belonged. They both remained silent while Miles chose his outfit and stepped into the bathroom. All of Adam's belongings save the few things that were in their proper place had been piled atop his bed. The rocks, all school supplies, notebooks, his clothes dirty and relatively clean alike, his snacks and any trash that happened to be laying around sat on his bed in an arrangement that threatened to collapse at the slightest touch.

Miles had been threatening him about the mess for days, he supposed this was what he got for ignoring threats made by the Sire of Shadows himself. Adam carefully plucked an empty bag of chips from the summit spilling crumbs and cheese powder all down the eastern face. Sighing and scratching his head he wished that he possessed the same photokinetic prowess that Miles had over his umbrakinesis. That way he could summon light warriors to carefully sort through the pile and put things in a way suitable to Miles' tastes.

Adam tried, he glared at the bands of light on the floor. Clenching his fist the way Miles always did he tried to concentrate, his brow furrowed and teeth clenched his gaze seethed at the floor. They might have wavered a bit but he couldn't quite tell he was using photokinesis or if his head was just shaking in fierce concentration before he gave up. This would have to wait until after class, he was hungry and it was too early for cleaning. His backpack rested on his pillow buried only beneath a few small items and his books from the previous day were all still in it. Thank Tyche, right? Adam slung one strap over his shoulder and stepped away from the mountain, it was already forgotten about, carelessly catalogued in the overflowing mental file marked "later".

He figured it might take Miles some time to go through his meticulous grooming routine so popping in his ear buds once again he sifted through the songs trying to find something that suited his mood. The sixth song in the Carmina Burana cantata, this was one of the most joyful bits of the collection to which he bounced on his toes to the music while staring at the bathroom door. The problems of rooming two gay teenagers together were obvious but due to Miles heavy medication and the strict in room rules Miles had imposed nothing had happened yet. Of course Adam found Miles attractive, he's got such a neat face and a cute butt, plus it was almost impossible to find someone who didn't tower over his 5'7" frame. However, it's hard to consider a romantic relationship with someone who never shows much emotion.

At that moment Miles stepped out of the bathroom all groomed, pressed and combed, releasing a cloud of mist on the room. ”Shall we?”

"Huh? Yeah sure" Adam said pulling an earbud out and opening the door. "We might want to hurry if we're actually gonna get anything." The thought of hurrying was nauseating, especially hurrying breakfast but the cafeteria was bound to close soon.

Miles nodded; Adam had a point. Class would be starting soon, which meant breakfast would be winding down. It wasn't quite as important to Miles- he didn't tend to eat much in the morning. Greek yogurt, maybe some fruit, occasionally hard-boiled eggs. Too much of what was usually available for morning meals was just plain unhealthy. Bacon. Eggs fried or scrambled in butter, oil, or both. 400 calorie servings of carbs, often packed chock-full of processed sugar. His nose wrinkled just thinking about it as he stepped to his desk to retrieve his bag, a canvas-and-suede messenger bag from Brooklyn Industries that held his texts for the day and his Macbook.

He said nothing about the mountain of refuse he'd created on Adam's bed. The other boy had obviously seen it and had plenty of time to process it while he'd been in the bathroom. He felt he'd made his point sufficiently. That Adam wasn't being petulant or confrontational was proof enough to him that the act had been necessary- obviously, he realized that his cleanliness was unacceptable. He just wasn't prepared to do much about it. Now he had little choice, unless he planned on sleeping on the floor.

He turned to face his roommate. It was strange that he thought of Adam strictly as such. They'd shared several confidences, but something kept him from classifying their relationship as a friendship. For a long while, he'd thought it was the fact that they were both gay. Adam had never made a move though, or even expressed an interest, so far as Miles could tell. Admittedly, romantic matters were not an area of expertise of his, but he hadn't seen any signs. At all. He had been numbed on medication the entire time, and a good percentage of the treatments he'd been prescribed over their time cohabitating had some very distinct effects on libido. Namely, wrecking it.

Those were the thoughts buzzing through his skull while he regarded Adam. That in and of itself was something of a novelty, a welcome effect of his clean-living. Normally his thought processes felt ponderous, and keeping focus on more than one idea at a time was often a challenge. Was he even attracted to the son of Apollo? He'd only considered it rarely, and distantly enough that none of his decisions on the matter came up in his immediate recall.

He started toward the door. He hadn't tabled the internal debate, but it would probably be fairly strange for him to stand there for several minutes staring at Adam while he made up his mind. He pulled it open and stood, waiting and holding it for Adam, all the while pondering. Adam wasn't the most physically attractive guy in the school, no; that was Rueben, easily. Height did something to Miles that he didn't quite understand. It had even been enough to cut through the gauzy perceptions he experienced while drugged to the gills. He had his merits though; he was slim, had excellent posture, his smile was enviable. He definitely met- no, exceeded- the bare minimum physical requirements Miles had for dating.

More importantly, he had incredible taste in music and movies. He wasn't a crazy party boy. How often had they both skipped out on fatiguing social affairs only to sit around their room debating this lyric or that scene? He'd been there for Miles, too, in his own way. He'd never made him feel like a freak or a problem he had to endure. He'd given him space when he needed it, which was often.

Miles blinked slowly; he'd been holding the door open for a second or two too long. He extracted his room key and locked the door. He hadn't really acknowledged it yet, but he could hear the Hermes boys down the hallway. He knew damn well that they wouldn't have a problem getting past a standard five-pin, but he'd be equally damned if was going to make things easy for them.

He hurried to catch up with Adam. His immediate impulse was simply to ask the three to six questions necessary to put this issue to bed one way or another. I was wondering if you're attracted to me. If you are, is it merely physical, or do you enjoy my personality as well? If you do find me physically attractive but would prefer not to date, how do you feel about messing around now that I can finally get it up? Conversely, if you only enjoy my personality, do you think we are friends? Finally, if you are physically and emotionally attracted to me, would you be willing to reconsider our relationship on the basis that I feel the same way about you?

Normally bluntness served him well, but... well, it was complicated. Regardless of the answers to any of those questions, they would still be living together, and things could get very awkward. No, it was best to continue gathering data until he could be sure of the best course of action.

”I was thinking of downloading Perks of Being a Wallflower later tonight,” he said simply as they walked. ”Would you want to watch it?” He glanced over, not needing to feign casualness since his expression was as void as ever.





Coffee, or illicit plunder?

As far as brothers went, Q may have gotten the looks and the brains and the charm, but Emmett had definitely gotten the criminality. Well, Emmett had a lot of charm too. And he wasn't all that bad looking. Hell, if they weren't related, Quentin would probably have had a hard time keeping it in his pants. Quentin vastly preferred working cons with him. In those he was at least a dynamic part of the action. For break-ins, he was basically just the look out.

There was an upside to the ignominy of it all though. He got a cut of the loot, which was usually far more interesting than just valuables- booze, prescription meds, un-prescription meds, even harder stuff occasionally. Quentin enjoyed getting fucked up as much as the next teenager, and it was actually difficult to scare up mind-altering substances in other ways.

There was another form of booty he liked better. Well, technically, two forms of booty. The more relevant one in this instance was what Q liked to call personal items. He didn't even need to make off with a beer if he could spend half an hour with some girl's diary, or rifle through a guy's porn collection. Those fascinating, private details of his peers lives were far more thrilling and interesting than a contribution to his next buzz.

Was the chance of all that worth more to him than sweet, sweet caffeine? They didn't have much time at all before class started. That pretty much ix-nayed the chances of finding any juicy tidbits.

Quentin twisted slightly in the air, the small white wings protruding from the heels of his All-Stars beating steadily to keep him aloft. He drifted backwards, away from Emmett and toward his most harmless addiction.

”I just remembered, I have something really important to do. I'm supposed to engage in some fisticuffs with someone today, you know, for honor and stuff. I don't remember when, exactly, but it might be now. If you find any band-aids or ice packs could you snag them for me? I'm a lover, not a fighter.” His grin was threatening to swallow the whole of his face as he floated backwards, clasping his hands behind his head with his elbows kicked out to the side, like he was floating in a slow moving river. Emmett wouldn't have much trouble parsing Quentin's creative version of reality; it was just an excuse to go get coffee, and likely flirt with some boys en route.

He slowly twisted around to face the direction he was drifting him, and then set his feet down on the ground, opting to walk normally the rest of the way.

One thing Adam hoped would change when Miles went off his meds was the listless staring. In two weeks it hadn't and was presently making Adam just as uncomfortable as it always had. Miles pensive gaze was impossible to read, he didn't appear to be looking at anything really, more in Adam's general direction than at him and thinking about gods know what. Adam stepped through the door trying his best not to look creeped out and continued slowly down the hall like he hadn't noticed his roommate's distracted stare.

”I was thinking of downloading Perks of Being a Wallflower later tonight. Would you want to watch it?” Miles said halfway down the hall.

Adam had been turned to his roommate as they walked, "Hells yeah! I've been dying to see it since November! I guess I just forgot to look for it online. " He had really wanted to see it in a legitimate form, like pay to watch or own it, but he never managed to catch it in theaters or on DVD.

Like tens of thousands of teens across the country and maybe the world Adam felt a personal connection to only book he'd ever finished in a single weekend. Watching the movie, he felt should be a momentous occasion equal to the momentous feelings that the book had provoked, but watching it with Miles seemed to justify both the illegitimacy and the small viewing party he'd never be able to put together. Miles had to have read the book and felt even more strongly about it, unless he read it after assuming the pharmaceutical regimen.

Now I have something to look forward to for tonight . Which is great because this morning when I was outside sitting by the lake I totally had a 'That's So Raven' moment." He paused so that Miles could be visibly impressed by his improving foresight. "Basically all I could gather is that it's gonna rain and I definitely smelled some popcorn and maybe some fancy beers?" He shrugged his shoulders. That last part was obviously more of a plea more than foresight. Really any part of what he had perceived could've been a completely different night but so far the farthest he'd been able to see was 32 hours into the future.

Of course this instance of foresight was nothing to travel to Delphi for -Adam chuckled at the thought. 'We trekked for weeks to this spot for a weather forecast and snacks?'- but this was exciting ability development. Had Reuben accidentally predicted the weather any time in the recent past? Had Rose had a multi-sensory vision in a while? Hmm? Adam honestly didn't know. He was usually wary to compare himself to his siblings but he was proud of himself and felt like things were going his way.

Today itself was already looking fantastic. Adam had already accomplished a lot down by the lake what with all the future seeing and grass twisting then tonight he would be watching what he hoped would be the greatest movie ever with his roommate, some popcorn and expensive booze. It got even better when they stepped into the cafeteria and bacon was still being served.

Miles blinked, unaccustomed to such enthusiastic responses from Apollo's laziest child. He processed that for a few seconds. What was the source of that enthusiasm? Was it just an appreciation of Charlie's story, one of the most adroit coming-of-age novels contemporarily penned? Or was there more to it than that? Miles tried to think of the last time he and Adam had really done something- just attempted some recreation together. It had been a while. They'd made stabs at it over the course of the first few months, but as they'd slipped into routines, they had fallen out of that habit.

Miles' lips pursed, something of a false start as far as smiles went, but it was the closest he usually got. It was strange to think of someone actually looking forward to spending time with him, but again, maybe he was reading too much into it. Maybe he was just looking forward to the movie, or, Miles couldn't help but suspiciously think, a few of his beers. Those were the details that stuck out in his mind as Adam described the vision he had received by the lake. Miles, not having a grasp of the Disney Channel, was somewhat confused before he managed to gather the details via context.

Something in his brain lurched forward, or maybe sideways, like a typewriter being rapidly advanced. On some subconscious level he'd slowly been piecing things together, but his conscious mind became aware of the results of that internal investigation only suddenly. He and Adam would be alone in their room, watching a movie on his laptop, which would almost certainly necessitate them sharing his bed, and they would be drinking beer.

He swallowed, a lumpy mass having inexplicably surfaced in his throat. He had yet to say anything, so he managed a nod. ”It will be fun.” He cleared his throat. ”I hope so, anyways.”

He had much more thinking to do than talking, and not only about the strange circumstances he was creating for himself. As they advanced on the cafeteria, a buffet of sensory information assailed him. It was another byproduct of being so thoroughly medicated. Not only his thoughts seemed sharper and more clear, but the world around him did as well, practically like upgrading from standard to HD. The smells of cooked meat and sugary fruit juice, the sounds of scraping trays or lilting voices, even just the strange, stained looking pattern of the tiles on the floor- all of it just seemed more than it had ever been before.

He followed along behind Adam, anchoring himself to the other boy in order to not get overwhelmed. He could feel a tiny flittering moth of anxiety drifting through his torso, but he was determined to ride it out. ”What are you having?” he asked quietly.

Adam eyeballed the bacon, warding off the cafeteria lady with a glare, lest she try to remove the tray. He turned to regard his roommate. He had hardly heard Miles' question through the intensity of his stink eye, "Just something handheld so we're not too late."

"What about you?" He said making his way along the buffet line with a napkin in hand. Grabbing the tongs he scooped seven or eight strips of the ultra-greasy, paper-thin cafeteria bacon that he loved so much onto his napkin and folded it in half. There was something about its sometimes crispy, sometimes floppy texture and sodium-rich dripping grease that he liked even more than real bacon from home.

He also got toast, sans butter, and a coffee with four little cups of flavored creamer, all three held in his hands taking turns visiting his mouth. Few students remained in the cafeteria, Adam noticed as he slid a bacon strip from its napkin and used a combination of gravity and careful chewing to eat the whole thing without dropping bits on the floor. It meant they had just enough time walk to class, breakfast in hand and find a decent seat before class started. He took another bite, toast and bacon together as he started out of the cafeteria with Miles.

"So," he said with crumbs spraying out of his mouth,"We've got History, right?"

He struggled to remember which day of the week it was, every day he'd gone on the same walk and sat by the lake, nothing had been memorable enough to signify today as the day after Monday or Wednesday. He was pretty sure History came first which just happened to be one of his favorite classes. He enjoyed History, he liked the idea of viewing the world from a perspective other than the present. In History, events are simplified, there are a few great characters, it can be told like a story in which a lot of the confusion and chaos has already happened and everything is viewed through a lens of hindsight. Besides, Mr Guess was sensitive to the fact that it was early in the morning and even though Adam was fully awake, his fully awake when it came to class was as good as anyone else's just rolled out of bed.

As the pair strolled into class it was just full enough for the ideal spot by the window not to be taken by the handful of Children of Athena, people that wanted to mooch off their genius and those who clearly didn't care where they sat. Adam sauntered up to the chair like it was a hottie in a bar and he wanted to buy it a drink. Sliding into the seat he ate the last strip of bacon, stuffed the greasy napkin in his backpack and took a sip of his pale, mud-colored coffee. It wasn't long before he was at eye level with his desk slouched and sighing blissfully in the final minutes before class.

Fay had a good feeling about today as she closed the door to her room and began strutting down the hallway, an impish smirk already resting on her lips. Though she was dressed innocently enough, one could simply glance at Fay's expression and see that mischief was on her mind. Her mind began to wander as her shoes clicked and clacked against the floor. For some reason, the world felt relatively at peace. She definitely needed to change that.

As she walked towards the cafeteria, she wondered who she'd play with today. Maybe that shy Leonard boy. His meek nature was fun to mess with and the way he'd get red when she flirt with him was just soooo adorable. Or, maybe she could talk to Abby, the daughter of Ares. With her explosive temper, Fay would barley have to do a thing to set her off. She sighed, her heart fluttering at the though of it. This school needed someone to stir things up every now and again, and it was only natural for the daughter of Eris to do the honors.

When she reached the cafeteria, Fay was greeted by the scent of fake bacon, fake sausage, fake eggs, and fake...well, everything. It smelled decent, but Fay wasn't exactly in the mood for a big meal and her internal clock was correct, she needed to get to class soon. She skipped all the breakfast foods and went right for the fruits, picking out a nice, juicey red apple. "That should be good for now." She began walking to class, History, if her memory was correct, which she wasn't exactly thrilled about. Sure, she had a good grade in the class, but still, it wasn't as exciting as sparring with a son of Ares or learning how to properly severe Hydra's head. But, where there there were classes, there were students that Fay could mess with.

She entered Mr. Guess' room, her eyes instantly running over all the faces inside. Quite an interesting bunch. Leonard was there, so was Sage, Adam, Miles, Halley, and others, but a foxish smile found it's way to Fay's face when she saw her sitting in a dark corner. She began walking to the back of the room, smiling at everyone she passed. She put down her purse and waved at Sybil, sitting down in the desk next to her. "Heeeeey." she said, dragging out the e in hey like a dead body . Her lips contorted into a twisted grin as she looked at the daughter of Hades. "So. How's it going?"



"What the hell is a Manchurasian-candied nut? That sounds like a weird sexual position." Tricks pouted slightly when Q shot down his proposal that the milk shakes were chocolate. He didn't spend much more time thinking about it, however, because he got distracted by Quentin's wiggling eyebrows and the arm around his shoulders. "Oh stop it!" Tricks feigned embarrassment, playfully making his voice higher and more feminine. "You're making me blush!" He giggled slightly before continuing. "Well, yesterday I watched the Beyonce documentry and realized that she has to be a goddess. She's just too perfect to be mortal. Then, I wanted to watch Hansel and Gretel: Witch Hunter on Netflix, but Rabbit wouldn't stop talking and I just turned it off before I even made it 10 minutes in. Uhhhh....Oh! I got Injustice: Gods Among Us and I could totally beat your ass with Harley Quinn. I think I might go on a run later. Or I could finish Hansel and Gretel. But I kinda want to watch Pitch Perfect again. Or Mean Girls. Is that still on Netflix? It should be. It's a classic."

He scrunched his nose slightly at the sight of Quentin making his coffee. It wasn't because of all the sugar and creme he put in it...it was just because it was coffee. It didn't matter how many packets of splenda and milk he used, anytime Tricks drank the bitter dark liquid, he'd spit it right back into the mug. The son of Eris looked back at Q when he said the other guy didn't show up for Fishi-cuffs, or whatever he said they were going to do, and nodded silently. "Yeah. Oh and I forgot to tell you." He stared gravely at Q and looked around, as if someone was listening. "I've been ordered to kill you. Turns out, your dad pissed off my mom, so she kinda wants to- you know, get back at him by killing one of his sons." He slunk over to the counter that had Q had fixed his coffee at and grabbed a handful of sugar packets and shoved them into his pocket for later. He took another one and ripped it open before looking back at Q. "I forgot my ceremonial knife in my room though, so I guess you can live for now. If you want to."

He stuck out his toungue and poured the sweet white powder into his mouth. It shocked his tastebuds, but in a good way, and he gave Q a large toothy grin. When the subject of class came up, Tricks bit the inside of his cheek. Did he really want to go? Everyone else probably would. But there was just so much he could do if he skipped. He could- Well....He could find something to do. "You should go to class." said a light voice from behind Quentin. "Shut up, Sunshine! No one likes you!" "You're a very mean person." Tricks sighed, cartwheeling over to a basket of fruit, from which he took an apple and a banana. He skipped back towards Q, quickly peeling the banana and taking a bite before offering his arm to Q. "I'm ready when you are, Bud." he said with a wide, goofy grin and a full mouth.

The incipient anxiousness was held in check by a far more powerful emotion: disgust.

Miles' usually blank face looked much more severe as he surveyed the “offerings” of the cafeteria. His lower lip curled outward. His upper lip pulled back, and his small nose wrinkled ever so slightly. He might as well have just walked into a room full of mimes. The sound of his perfect teeth grinding together might have been audible as he watched Adam scoop up nearly half a day's worth of calories (most of it from fat) and a week's worth of salt in one fell swoop- never mind the nitrates and other preservatives that likely went into the “curing” process used for the meet.

He distracted himself by seeking anything resembling something he might eat. Scrambled eggs? Not even if they weren't from powder. Sausage patties? Even worse than the bacon. Hash browns and home fries? The worst offenders by far were the donuts and bagels.

”Did you know that it takes nearly two entire days for your body to digest a single bagel?” The question was obviously rhetorical; simply his way of putting that information out into the ether. After a few more moments of scowling, he finally settled on a meager fruit cup and a bottle of water. Even his disapproval was starting to become more animated; most days, he simply drifted along the line, staring through the food rather than at it, his features blank and vacant. ”Meanwhile, even if you're tempering your diet with nutrient dense food, that block of carbs is just sitting in your gut, interfering with the absorption of everything else, feeding your body cheap, easy energy.” He wasn't being particularly quiet, and had earned himself some very dirty looks from the cafeteria staff. His indignation and a life spent not noticing those who served him allowed him to ignore the ire easily enough.

Still, the fact that Adam could eat such unhealthy fare only made Miles consider his appearance further. By all accounts, Adam should have been sporting a face covered in pimples swimming in grease. Youth and perhaps a matter of divine genetics kept him slim and clear, though. Miles had no expectations that being the offspring of Hades would leave him similarly endowed. He wanted to look young forever, and he wouldn't do so by dint of inheritance.

He acquired a slim plastic fork and was content to walk to class in silence, every so often spearing a somewhat mushy piece of fruit on the tines of his temporary weapon. Amusingly enough, a fork was quite close to one of the weapons associated with his father; everyone knew Zeus' lightning bolt or Poseidon's distinctive trident, but very few knew the symbols associated with Hades. Miles and most of his siblings chalked it up to bad PR. Some went so far as to claim that their uncles had exerted their considerable influence over mortal affairs to [i]suppress[/i[] their father's historical footprint.

It was an interesting thought to be having as they walked into Mr. Guess' classroom. With a light flick of his wrist, Miles sent the empty plastic cup in a loose, wobbly toss toward the trash can by the desk. It rebounded off the rim, nearly tumbling out, but with a simple curl of his finger, Miles caused the shadow cast by the desk to congeal ever-so-slightly, becoming just solid enough to “knock” the refuse back in. His lips twisted into a brief smile, and then his expression was stony once more.

He nodded cordially to Sage, and couldn't help but let his gaze linger for a few seconds on Leonard. The children of Athena were the only worthy academic competition that their massive extended family had to offer, and as such, they deserved a bit of respect. He watched as Adam slunk toward the sunlight and bonelessly slouched into his desk, shaking his head by fractions.

Others were filtering or had filtered in as well. Halley, Xavier, Sybil. Miles made his way toward the front of the room, taking a seat in the front row, but toward the door rather than the windows. Laying his backpack down gently on the desk before him, he began to meticulously remove his notebook, his pen, and his texts, arranging them on the desk before him with a degree of precision that suggested architectural plans and astrological alignment.

Sybil Nolan

Sybil, from her spot in the corner, watched as more students filled into the classroom. The classroom was becoming crowded very quickly. Fay Pomme entered, her eyes scanning the classroom of students. When those eyes fell onto Sybil a grin spread across the girl's face and she began to make her way towards her. Sybil watched as she came, her lips slightly pursed as she watched.

"Heeeeey." Fay greeted Sybil, placing her purse and self down at the table next to her. "So. How's it going?"
To Sybil's mind the twisted grin that contorted Fay's face was not altogether a friendly smile.

"Fay." Sybil replied in greeting, pushing herself into an upright, seated position. Sybil gave a noncommittal shrug as Fay asked her question, "I've been better, but I'm not dead so I can't complain." She pulled her lips into a brief smile. Once this girl would have earned a full on grin from Sybil, but things had changed and now Sybil preferred to keep Fay at arms length.

Fay and Sybil's relationship, at least from Sybil's point of view, was complicated. They had once been great friends. Sybil had enjoyed hanging out with the girl and together they had always been guaranteed a good time. Then Fay screwed Sybil over. Sybil held grudges. She always had and she always would. It wasn't a trait she tried to improve or work on, in her mind once someone had wronged her then they had no place in her life. Only, Fay had somehow managed to wiggle her way back into Sybil's life. Perhaps Fay didn't even realise that she had wronged Sybil or didn't think it was that big an issue? So to describe their relationship Sybil would most likely use the word Frenemies. They were friends, of a kind, but at the same time enemies. But, like the famous saying 'Keep you friends close and you enemies closer.'

"Ready for a thrilling history lesson?" Sybil asked, the hint of a smirk flicking across her face. Her words were, obviously, sarcastic. Sybil had never loved nor hated Mr Guess' class. Sybil just cruised through, doing what she needed to pass and little more.

Her attention was caught briefly by the arrival of more students. Abby received the subtlest of frowns from Sybil as she entered and sat beside Halley. Adam came into the classroom with Miles, Sybil's half-brother, a moment later. Sybil glanced at the classroom clock, hopefully class would start soon. The sooner it started, the sooner she could move on to classes that she actually looked forward too.

Halley McClain

It seemed the class should be starting about then although many more students filtered in filling the seats quickly. Something turned Halley away from her phones screen and it was Abby Jarvis. Wow, she wants to sit here? But as soon as Abby slammed her books down almost harshly the Hephaestus girl knew it was not to have a casual conversation. In fact it was to possibly meant to ward off Xavier. And Abby was good at giving looks, she glared at Xavier threateningly. Of course Halley would need to thank Abby later for that but, know was not the time. Quickly she tucked her phone into her backpack pocket and pulled out a history note book. Then she looked up to Abby pulling out a packet of gum. To the fragile little girl candy or gum was a great way to thank some one so with courage she shyly asked "Want a piece?" It wasn't a best friend treaty Halley was asking her to agree with. Just a piece of gum that might confirm she wasn't completely alone in this world of Gods and Goddesses. Have at least one person she could count on if necessary.

Class was going to start soon, that is as soon as Mr. Guess made a point to quite everyone down. It seemed he wasn't quite paying attention. The class was full Halley noticed Adam, Miles, Fay, Sage and Sybil in a group talking. So many people