<div class="floatleft">(https://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/8/8f/Elias1.jpg)</div><strong>Name:</strong>Elias Neighton (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=207204.msg10388159#msg10388159)<br/><strong>Cabin:</strong>Apollo<br/><strong>Location:</strong>Big House/Infirmary<br/><strong>Date/Time:</strong>September 25th, 6a.m.<br/><strong>Tagging:</strong>Open<br/><strong>Notes:</strong>Wears dark grey jeans, some beige Vans, and a clean, unburnt white Tshirt. Glad to be alive, and trying to get used to the idea that he made it alive. Headed to the Pavilion.<br/><br/><br/>Elias snaps upright in the hospital style bed, his eyes darting around the room for several long moments before locking on the dusty ceiling. The sudden movement calls forth an immediate groan from his body, his sides tensing as the muscles expect a pain…that just wasn’t there. Ambrosia. He could feel it now. The nectar of the gods…the thought made him want to spit. More like the poison of choice. He runs his hands through his short hair, whipping it up into its usual grade-a mess before spinning his legs over the side of the bed.<br/><br/>He couldn’t help himself as he holds his right hand out before him, admiring the way the pinky was back to it’s usual fleshy tone. Poison it may be…but he’d be damned if it wasn’t effective. The hand flex’s, suddenly tense as his eyes dart about the room. Where was his lyre! If some had stole-. It was on the floor next to the bed. The youth gives a sigh of relief that no one had been around to see that particular reaction…but the moment doesn’t stop him from snatching the instrument off the ground, holding it tightly with his left hand.<br/><br/>It still amazed him how it never got damaged. The shimmering golden wood never had so much as a scratch…the engraving’s up the side looked as if they were done yesterday, and the thin golden cords of the string were immaculate. Elias allows his fingers to pluck the strings softly, but freezes as he hears it…<br/><br/>The one note that plagued his dreams. Discordant, and unlike the rest in every way possible. He nearly drops the lyre in shock, fearing one of his episodes was near. The note was always present when…it happened. He clutches the lyre a little tighter, plants the feet he had so carefully positioned moments before on the ground, and heaves himself to a standing positon. He stretches, taking the time to yawn a hearty breath out into the crisp air of the cabin before taking a step…and then another…and then three more and he was out the front door.<br/><br/>Morning sunlight….it felt marvelous. His face warmed with the heat given off by the embrace of the rays touching his face. Not a cloud in the sky for as far as the eye, well, his eye could see. More importantly though, he was alive. And that could only mean one thing…Ambrosia? Morning sun? He had made it to camp Halfblood!<br/><br/>With a yip that was hardly suitable for a man his age, Elias allows his eyes to scan the open ground before him. It was really…clean. He had expected a bunch of dyslexic high school drop outs, but this, this felt like home. Without pausing for a moment, he decides to stretch his legs, heading for the first structure he could see….a Pavilion. But his feet have no more than landed on the grass than his mind snaps back into focus. Who had brought him here? Whoever it was…he owed them. And big time.<br/><br/>With a wary glance around, he begins to walk. Maybe it was too early for most campers to be about? Heck, whoever ran this place was thorough, he knew that much. It was too clean not to be in good hands…but whose hands were they?<br/><br/>He sighs, nearing the pavilion with each step. Today was going to be a good day. He wasn’t crispy…yet. His lyre was with him….and he had a home. And a safe one for a change!<br/>