<div align="center"><em>Vanessa runs out of midnight oil</em></div><hr/><br/>The siblings' walk back to the cabin was quiet, though in her mind, gears were turning.  Mentally, all the pieces she needed were falling into place, like a Tetris game playing on its own perfectly at high speed.  Her fingers unconsciously flexed until they arrived, eager to get to work.  She muttered her good-night to Vincent before settling in her own small, cluttered bunk.  Flicking on an overhead light, she shuffled off her orange flip-flops and entered a flurry of work, uncaring of the time.  The pieces began to come together in her hands as they had in her mind; the yet uncreated bits formed and molded into their needed shapes.  It was like a wondrous magic to watch, nearly separate from herself though she knew it was her own stiff and limp fingers dancing like broken dolls over the parts, their awkward performance the enchanted wave which made her mental creations real.<br/><br/>Like shoemakers elves, her bizarre little hands continued to work as she began to doze off.<br/><br/>"Vanessa? Are you ready?"<br/><br/>Her head shot up, sleep-blinded eyes blinking wildly.  "Huh!?"<br/><br/>"Please head up to the Big House when you are. Mr. D is going to take care of getting you and your brother to the forge"<br/><br/>Vanessa sighed, closing her almond-shaped eyes.  "Uh-huh..." she said, nodding unseen in her bunk.  Groggily, she wrestled out of the orange "Camp Half-Blood" shirt she'd worn for the last two days.  She hazily decided that she should wear something nice or at least something clean when she arrived at her father's godly home.  She stuffed a couple shirts and jeans into her backpack along with the clean underwear the disembodied voice of her mom in her head chided her to bring.  On top she carefully folded a nice sleeveless blouse of muted cream.  Her camera bag was already packed with the exception of her newest creation.<br/><br/>She sighed as she deleted the first images it had taken: four hundred shots of Vanessa's sleeping face smushed against her workbench with a golden dot of light on her shoulder.<br/><br/>Vanessa made her way hastily past her half-siblings.  Any reaction of theirs, even their congratulations or begrudged silence, would only make her lose her determination.  Her head down as she stomped toward the Big House, she wondered if she could just throw herself off the dock instead.  She didn't fear her father, but the uncertainties were worse than his wrath.  What would she even call him?  It wasn't like she could just call him "sir" forever.  Her excitement had grown cool over night.<br/><br/>Hypocritically enough, Vanessa thought little of meeting Mr. D at the Big House.  Her path, however, crossed with Abigale's first, and she greeted her with a mute, nervous smile and a nod of acknowledgment.