Welcome to Gaia! ::

Beth had found herself once again alone. Misha had gone off to find other entertainment and company. Brian, she thought was somewhere out in the woods trying to help wrangle more transformed Chosen. So she sat by herself, staring into nothing. She couldn't really track all of her thoughts, so it was easiest to say that she was thinking of nothing, trying very hard not to exist at all. There was much too much to consider, to feel, to wonder and it was starting to wear on her. She combed her fingertips idly through a loose strand of her dark hair.

When Sylvia came up to her, she jumped, startled at the sudden interruption to her reverie. "Sylvia!" She let a smile bubble up and cross her face. She held out a hand to squeeze the other girl's shoulder, as she was normally very touchy feel-y but was not sure what sort of contact Sylvia was comfortable with. "I'd love it if you joined me!" She needed the distraction, after all. She had pulled the bedroll she had brought out the night before to the side of the building. Currently, they were seated on the clean side, but who knew how long its cleanliness would last.

"Well, here are again, in the thick of it all. I don't know if the long stretches of inactivity are worse or better. And I thought I'd never miss the snow." She fanned herself lightly, again wishing she could remove her coat without ruining her outfit.


WC: 252

Beth shook her head at Sylvia's apology. "Don't even worry about it! I think I could use the company. I don't think alone time helps. I think it's kind of enforced when your friends can't talk back." She resettled herself so that her knees and chest faced Sylvia, indicating that she was ready to interact and giving her friend her full attention.

She nodded at the ruminations about the weather, taking the opportunity to inspect both Sylvia's outfit and her own. She really should have worn something besides a trench coat (and black, no less!), a long sleeved dress (also black), and a million yards of petticoats. And she'd thought to pull tights underneath it? "I thought I was dressing smartly. 'Surely,' I thought, 'the next time we go out, we'll be going back out to clean up our mess.' But then we stepped through the fire and....Well, at least I don't have too much skin for the mosquitoes to much on."

She thought about Brian and others whose lives were usually dictated by non-stop action and crisis situations. She shook her head. "I would have just sat out of this if they had asked us to turn around and come out here immediately after coming back from the Alps." She quieted as she thought about her circumstances after their adventure in the Alps. She would have been no help to anyone. She seized onto anything she could to drag her back up into the conversation. "That's one of the reasons I like yoga so much. It's a way of keeping active that's usually not going to strain injuries. And, hopefully, we'll get used to it, like you said. I just know myself enough to know that I prefer routine." A part of her wondered if that was why she had stagnated so long. Why she had felt the need to take Hera's offer. Too much routine could suffocate. Failure to adapt could kill.

The giggle that wormed its way through Beth's lips at Sylvia's question was not one expressing joy. It was high and strangled, more of a jangle from a violin that had had a string strummed incorrectly. She looked a bit amused but also upset by how funny she found the inquiry. "I mean...I guess, when I was really young and talking animals were all over the place, I might have pretended I was one of them, but now....I think I'd rather keep my human form, to be honest." She looked vaguely disturbed by the notion, but she also thought that being a cloud of smoke or even a drop of rain might be preferable to being human and being Chosen at that moment. "Is there even a rhyme or reason? Will our preference even matter?"

She couldn't help asking the questions, even though she knew Sylvia probably wanted a light answer to a topical question, something akin to answering a personality test. But Beth didn't know how wise it was to tempt fate, not now that they knew the Fates probably, actually existed. After a moment, she said, "Sorry, I know you probably didn't mean harm by it. It just seems...so sad."


WC: 525, Total: 777

Beth was already digging in her bag to rescue the bugspray from the depths of her collection. A couple of people had already used some of it, but there remained a good amount. "Here!" She held it out, along with some of the aloe from the first aid kit.

She laughed. As if she would be caught doing cardio and weight training. "Yeah, I think you might have overdid then. I get pretty zen when I do yoga, but it was hard to clear my mind those first few lessons after coming back."

"I think I'd give up changes in scenery entirely if it meant not having to do this again. I mean, where's the fun in it? We're tired, hungry, stressed to high heaven, and I'm pretty sure my stockings are ruined. Like I get that we're Chosen, we have to be heroes but....Why don't we just throw the Ares Chosen at this and be done with it?" It was a joke, but not one she found particularly funny herself. It was probably on the same level as Sylvia's innocent wondering about what kind of animal she fancied herself.

Beth's lips twitched up at Sylvia's hopeful assessment. "I suppose it's easy to keep one's spirits up when they know what their talent is and what they're contributing." It was an old insecurity and there was a distinct lack of bitterness in her words. "Choose hope, huh?" She wished she had her "water" bottle to take a swig from. "Maybe it's that easy." She'd done it before. But it was hard to keep building back up when there was so much misery everywhere she looked.


WC: 275, Total: 1,052

Beth considered the upsides to being Chosen. And there were a few. Most, like Sylvia said, involving the people she had met. But there was something bittersweet in it. Did sharing such a large and secret part of her life with these people make them better than the mundane friends she had left behind? She hadn't reached out to them since the first week of "orientation." She felt both relieved and guilty.

"You don't miss your friends? Or your family?" She asked, a concerned look twisting her pretty features. She had no idea how the rest of them dealt with having to abridge and censor their great adventures and their struggles. For Beth, most of affection consisted of spontaneous opportunity that came most easily from always being together. To be close, they had to be joined by experience. "Don't you wish you could tell them what you're doing? Maybe get some advice about your purpose?"

Beth sighed, looking mournfully at the mud splatters and kitten scratches. "But how do we fight crime if we're not cute?"

It did perk Beth up to hear that someone else was having doubts. All she could compare herself to was Brian, who was cool and calm in a crisis, and Misha, who was as perfect of an example of desire and impulse driven Aphrodite as anyone Beth could think of. It was like seeing the kids who were on the honor roll at school five years later and finding out they had patented a revolutionary cure-all, went on a tour of Europe and Asia to help underprivileged kids, and were in the process of raising two beautiful children with their lovely and accomplished partner.

It might have seemed like schadenfreude, but in reality, Beth knew and appreciated the struggle. But she wasn't exactly ready to confide in Sylvia, no matter how lovely her hair and how welcoming she felt. There was only so much she could give, and she was feeling the toll of the days' burdens. So she only offered what she hoped was an encouraging hand pat and a sympathetic smile.

A smile that grew at Sylvia's ruminations on hope. Beth couldn't help but regard the other woman with sweet adoration and wonder. Her heart soared in her chest, and though she'd tried to keep her spirits up on her own, hearing it from Sylvia almost made it feel as right as when Brian tried to encourage her. "Hope is a verb." She summarized simply. "You're right, of course. It's not something we can afford to lose here." She giggled. "Thanks for the pep talk, Sylvia."


WC: 434, Total: 1486

The wistful look on Sylvia's face made Beth think that she too worried about how the turn back would be received. At least she had let the people back home know she was safe and still alive. Beth...not so much. She had been in almost constant communication those first few weeks but when they left for the Alps, it had been radio silence since. "It could go so many different ways, couldn't it? It's so hard to judge so you just...let it go. And ignore it, for fear of what could happen. Or, that's what I do, at least." She laughed a bit self consciously. Maybe admitting it had been harder for her than she thought.

Sylvia's thoughts about their currently being with the best people to consult about the pitfalls of being Chosen made Beth think. It wasn't something she had realized--but fast on those heels came the fear that if she asked for help, she could not be respected. "Yeah, but, shouldn't we all be peers here? Maybe the Chosen who got turned might have better advice because they've been doing it longer, at least, that's what I'd assume." She laughed, a bit tensely. "I don't know about you, but I feel like we need some adults! Rather than...you know, face the awful truth that...we are the adults now." It was an epiphany that came to her as she spoke it, and she stared down at her idle, empty hands, trying to process the ramifications. Man, where was that "water" bottle when you need it?

Pulled from her thoughts by the mention of clothes, Beth relaxed slightly. "Lex and I have plans to go thrifting for some action costumes and some retail therapy to replace what we've lost. You're welcome to join us!" This she could deal with. Making plans and enabling friends were her strengths.

Sylvia was sweet. And while she seemed to be more collected than Beth, she wondered if she had found another kindred spirit with this friendship.
WC: 334, Total: 1820

Beth's smile became a bit brittle. What was there not to be afraid of? Besides the rift between who she had been and who she was, trying to keep everything a secret would be...hard. She couldn't lie to save her life, except when it came to saving face. Lying to her friends was not something she could stomach. But admitting to them that she was in over her head--so lonely despite the strong and immediate connections she'd made, and ignorant of her destiny beyond the fighting-monsters-and-saving-people field trips they kept taking--meant first admitting it to herself. And she was not in the mood for that kind of heavy self-reflection. Not when her leather pumps were ruined.

"It's like right now, there's a glass door between what we do here and what we were there. But if we say anything, that glass will shatter and suddenly the magic world of gods and monsters," her voice twisted wryly on those words, "will run into the world of froyo and pumpkin spice." That wasn't the entire issue, but was broad enough to encompass her specific thoughts. She hoped Sylvia accepted her answer and shot a glance to ascertain whether the girl believed her or not.

Her smile became more natural and relieved as Sylvia empathized with her worries over being the "experienced Chosen" in lieu of their transformed leaders. "Intimidating is one word, sure. I'd use horrifying, maybe or petrifying, even. Sometimes diversity means no one agrees on what to do. With so many competing priorities and opinions, it's a wonder we get anything done at all." She frowned, thinking of the choices they had already made, the blood they already had to live with. She shook her head, shaking herself from thinking about the Alps again. It all came back to that, didn't it? "But you seem to be adjusting just fine!"

"Not yet. I'm sure if I asked my parents, they'd send me a new wardrobe...but that would probably involve explaining just what I was doing to need the replacements. And that wouldn't exactly help the two of you." Besides, she wasn't unaware that their stipend from the Prytaneum was not enough to sustain the kind of fashion that Beth demanded. She wasn't about to jeopardize her budding relationships by price-gating her hang out times with them.

Like Sylvia, Beth had had her share of regrettable isolation. It had taken various visits with several friends before she could shake off the depression that had settled upon her in the wake of their Swiss adventure. She wondered how weighed down she would have been if Briiva, Misha, and Brian had not pried her from the malaise. "The mind can be a terrible thing." She mused. "Should we be grateful that we have company when we go through these hard times if that means the people we love go through them too? It's a comfort, but is it right?"

She shook herself and sighed. "If we go to the thrift store, we'll find some outfits we won't mind putting at the mercy of the bayou." She considered, then said, "Maybe camp stores could be a good stop? You're supposed to be able to wear that stuff anywhere, right? And for a long time?" She stretched. "Maybe that's a conversation for when we get back to the Prtyaneum."