<div class="floatleft">(https://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/3/38/Justine.jpg)</div><strong>Name:</strong>Justine Cornett (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=207204.msg10185332#msg10185332)<br/><strong>Cabin:</strong>Demeter<br/><strong>Location:</strong>Camp Halfblood Infirmary<br/><strong>Date/Time:</strong>September 21st || 1600 or so<br/><strong>Tagging:</strong>Marcus<br/><strong>Notes:</strong>-<hr/><br/>Dreams are a funny thing, they occur in all stages of sleep- like Morpheus lays in wait all day to fuck with your brain until you wake 'X' amount of hours later. Some people never remember even a sliver of their night visions, chalking it up to the fact that they never dreamed. Others bet that they were having premonitions of what would be, or had been. Justine just wished that she did not have the nightmares. Not everyone is born to destroy, to spill blood enough to bath the fields in gore. Being a daughter of Demeter, you would think that growing and letting the plants wither away in accord with the seasons would be their only 'power.' For the brunette, she was a killer mostly by accident. The choking deaths, their skin blistered and nerves shot from inhaling her toxins- those where the dreams she dreaded nightly.<br/><br/>For a moment, there was blissful peace- the muffled hum of shouts and calls from the campers outside. The calm haze of coming to dulled the fear and anxiety her dreams instilled. Sometimes, she never remembered the images, but knew the well of emotions where caused by them. Behind her eyelids, her grey eyes flickered back and forth, trying to hold onto the last remnants of rest. Try as she might, her body was in instant awake mode. Perhaps being born of a mortal parent and a goddess, Justine would never know the lazy days in bed. Demi-gods were built to fear for their lives, and wake ready to do battle the moment their eyes opened.<br/><br/>Now was a good time as any to stop pretending she could continue to fight to stay under Morpheus' heavy cloak of night. Distantly, she knew acknowledged she was waiting for something- or someone. This new camper, an unclaimed one at that, based on his merits- he could give any of them a run for their money as untrained as he was. Well, Justine assumed he was untrained. A son of Zeus, or others, he was impressive to behold beneath the film of blood and gore (mostly his). Her eyelids shot open to let in the unfiltered afternoon sun through the windows. It was something to behold, the camp and its perfect weather and glorious sunlight. Apollo had to be having a smug chuckle about it, she was sure. Her plants appreciated it though.<br/><br/>Her attention shifted, noting the empty bed speckled with dark- mostly dry- blood. Up and moving around already? Not only was he impressive, he was deadset on killing himself. Unable to tell if Lorelei had fixed an antidote or not, she rolled to her feet in a motion that was less human and more animal. You ever heard that saying, 'muscles in places they shouldn't have'? Justine was use to it. Demigods came programmed with the genetics for perfection. Honestly, after seeing some people- she was not that sure. Some people just did not fit into their Cabin stereotype. In any case, she came up short in the infirmary doorway- smelling smoke with no fire.<br/><br/>Justine looked down at him, her eyes roving over the bandages- appreciating the broad shoulders and naked chest for a moment. Leaning against the door frame, her back braced against it as she angled her body in a way that she wouldn't completely slide down and collapse into an inelegant heap. He clutched at a shiny gold spear that had her curious where he had gotten it. Her eyes focused on the spear, pointing should he not get the picture.<strong>"You won't need that here. Camp Halfblood has border guards, and should something get through... We might as well pray to the gods we're dead anyway."</strong>