CHAPTER THREE

₊˚࿐࿔ 𖥧‧₊⚘ ❀༉. 𓏲｡

Sylvie had made it pretty clear by now that she hated being a demigod. Or, at least clear that she was a horrible demigod. Whatever. Those two things were practically the same—tomatoe tomato, or some shit like that.

Not only did Sylvie have ADHD, suck, be dyslexic, and say y'all, but she had to go through the same kinds of dreams that all half-bloods did. Those dreams being, of course, horrendous visions of torture that plagued demigods at night. Sometimes these dreams were coded messages, or sometimes important pieces of information that needed to be used for things like quests. And, sometimes, when the demigod was really unlucky, these dreams could just be plain, simple nightmares; scenes of the past that served no purpose except to traumatize the dreaming teenager.

Think about Sylvie's low level of fortune and guess which she was experiencing right now.

I'm forcin' you! a voice sounded. Go!

Sylvie knew this story; she'd seen this film before. She hated it, and she wished she could switch to a different dream as if her mind was a remote control for television, but she couldn't. This was the same, old tragic ending. There was no other version of this story.

I will stay! I force it! Demeter snapped right back.

The whole scene was starting to materialize before her; slowly Sylvie could make out what was going on (not like she didn't already know). Two figures—an extraordinary woman and a man so devastatingly ordinary—in one field. A lone farm in Louisiana. A promise made and a promise broken.

The darkness is my demon. But—you bring the light. When I'm with you, my brain is quiet, an' all I know is how to love.

The scene shifted. Sylvie knew what came next, because it always came next. She knew, and yet she still always hoped her dreams would show her something different. Maybe this time Conan and Demeter might turn out. Maybe in this universe Demeter stayed and Conan got better and Sylvie—

Keep your eyes on me. Don't look at them. There's no one here but us.

Sylvie Duvall was a fool to have hope for the impossible. There was no other version of this story. There was no other version of this story. There was no other version of this story. There was no other version of this story. There was no other version of this story.

You an' me.

You and me.

From the moment Conan and Demeter's love story began, it had always been fucked. But still, they tried and stayed with all their might. It was a futile attempt, but that didn't make it less of an act of love. Still, it wasn't enough to save them. Sylvie was trapped as a witness, but she let herself watch anyways. The urge to believe in a version where everything worked out for her parents was as fundamentally human as a love so strong that it doomed itself every time.

I'm sorry. I didn't want to leave. But you were breaking my heart.

Sylvie woke up in a cold sweat, gasping and panting and heaving out short breaths. Her mind hadn't caught up with her body yet. She scrambled backwards as if there were an invisible demon she was desperate to get away from—but the demon was her own mind and that was something Sylvie couldn't escape. Believe her, she'd tried.

"Sylvie," a voice hissed. "Sylvie."

Sylvie wrapped her arms around herself as tightly as she could. Ridiculously, she wanted her dad. She wanted her mother. She wanted her parents. They were supposed to be the ones to teach her, who helped her grow, who corrected her mistakes, who praised her victories. They were meant to love her and be here, but they weren't, and Sylvie wanted them with a yearning ache that pierced through her, a visceral feeling she couldn't escape.

"Sylv, hey, stop," Eurydice shushed, climbing onto Sylvie's bunk. Each Demeter kid received a wooden cot with pillows filled of wheat which were enchanted to be more comfortable than feathers. "It was just a bad dream. That's all."

But it wasn't just a dream, Sylvie thought. It was real life. A story that had no other ending. How couldn't Eurydice understand that? It had no other ending, it had no other ending, it had no other—

Eurydice smoothed her hands down Sylvie's trembling arms when Sylvie didn't give any sort of reaction. This was another constant song—Eurydice up in the middle of the night to help her little siblings through their plaguing nightmares. All of Katie, Florian, Sylvie, and Miranda alike. Sylvie didn't understand how Eurydice never slept, but there was a selfish part of her that was grateful for it right now. She didn't have her mom or dad to look out for her, but she had her big sister, and maybe that was enough.

"Come on," Eurydice whispered into the quiet of the night. "Lay back down. I'll tell you a story."

Sylvie knew what came next here, too.

When Eurydice Arandel was little—before she knew who she truly was and before her role as a demigod sucked the life out of her—she never understood her name. She went to school with normal mortals who thought the same thing. Who named their child Eurydice? What kind of name was that?

The first time Eurydice asked her dad, he smiled. Sebastian Arandel proceeded to tell his daughter a story you've all probably heard before. Orpheus, a poor boy who had a gift to give; a boy who could make you see how the world could be in spite of the way it was. Eurydice, a hungry, young girl who was a runaway from everywhere she'd ever been; a girl who wasn't a stranger to the world or wind. A couple in love. A snake bite that ended in death. A man forsaken without his wife. An impossible mission to free her from the Underworld. A poor boy turning around for a hungry, young girl. A hungry, young girl dying with the knowledge that she was loved.

Eurydice was a name that told a tragic tale of courage, tenacity, and true heroism in Sebastian's eyes. That was why he named his daughter that. To Sebastian Arandel, the story of Orpheus and Eurydice was the most burning account of love of all time. He didn't believe it was that of devastation; he didn't listen to those that said it was a sad tale with no point of being told. He stayed true to the story he knew in his own heart—to love someone was to turn around.

Eurydice (Arandel) had grown to love the story just as much as her father. After the first time he'd recited it for her, she then asked Sebastian to tell her the tale every night before bed. The story of Orpheus and Eurydice was the story that sparked Eurydice's longing for love. One day, she promised herself, she would find a love like that. She would find her Orpheus, and she would be a hungry, young girl that knew she was loved.

And then Sebastian Arandel died. He was the second person to leave Eurydice alone, after her mother—starting a downwards trend of being left that nine-year-old Eurydice had yet to comphrehend. When thinking back on his death Eurydice always just said wasn't the first, wasn't the last. It was a monster attack gone so, so wrong. It started with Sebastian's death and ended in Eurydice showing up to Camp Half-Blood for the first time.

Still to this day, Eurydice longed to feel like she still had any kind of connection with her late father. When she was young at camp, she started telling herself the story of Orpheus and Eurydice when she missed Sebastian. Then she met... a boy she thought she knew and had someone to tell it to that wasn't herself. Now that she was the oldest in her cabin, she told the story to her little siblings when one of them had a bad dream. Every time, it was the same tale, but the Demeter kids never got sick of it. It was the way Eurydice told it, it was Eurydice herself, because they looked up to her more than anything else in this miserable world. If Eurydice was telling them something, they listened. Orpheus and Eurydice's love was no exception.

And so, Sylvie laid back down in her bed. She listened closely for Eurydice, because her voice was so soft in the middle of the night. Then—

"There was poor boy, the son of Calliope..."

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Eurydice wasn't joking when she told her cabin that they wouldn't be participating in the chariot races—not that any of the Demeter kids really minded. She told them that they could sign up if they wished, just without her, but none of Sylvie's siblings had stepped up to the challenge. Sylvie was pretty sure her cabin-mates weren't much different from her—she saw the kinds of weapons and devices that other cabins were adding to their chariots and arsenals. Sylvie didn't hate chores that much. She wasn't going to risk dying.

All campers were required to attend the race, though. So even if none of Demeter's kids were actively involved in the whole ordeal, they still would be present.

The morning of the race was hot and humid. Fog lay low on the ground like sauna steam. Millions of birds were roosting in the trees—fat gray-and-white pigeons, except they didn't coo like regular pigeons. They made this annoying metallic screeching sound that reminded Sylvie of a submarine radar.

The racetrack had been built in a grassy field between the archery range and the woods. Hephaestus's cabin had used the bronze bulls, which were completely tame since they'd had their heads smashed in, to plow an oval track in a matter of minutes.

There were rows of stone steps for Sylvie to sit on with the spectators—Tantalus, the satyrs, a few dryads, and all of the other campers who weren't participating. Mr. D didn't show. He never got up before ten o'clock.

"Right!" Tantalus announced as the teams began to assemble. A naiad had brought him a big platter of pastries, and as Tantalus spoke, his right hand chased a chocolate éclair across the judge's table. "You all know the rules. A quarter-mile track. Twice around to win. Two horses per chariot. Each team will consist of a driver and fighter. Weapons are allowed. Dirty tricks are expected. But try not to kill anybody!" Tantalus smiled at the racers like they were all naughty children. "Any killing will result in harsh punishment. No s'mores at the campfire for a week!"

"Gods, the horror," Sylvie mumbled sarcastically to Florian. He didn't even laugh, so incredulous to the fact Tantalus was so terrible at his job.

Tantalus cheered, "Now ready your chariots!"

Sylvie found that Demeter wasn't the only cabin refraining from participating. The only chariot teams she could spot out there were Hephaestus, Ares, Apollo, Hermes, Athena, and Poseidon. Just as Tantalus advised, they began preparing for the race.

"Could you imagine if we had signed up to do this?" Miranda wondered to her siblings, sounding a little fearful. Her eyes soaked in how lethally deadly all the chariots seemed with their added applications.

Katie asked, "Who would we even chose to compete?"

"Not Henriette," Florian nodded. "That's for sure."

Sylvie hit Florian in the side. This wasn't the dining pavilion, so they weren't banned from sitting next to each other. If Sylvie wanted to kill him, she could. She would only be screwed out of eating s'mores for one week.

"Sylvie's chaos would probably help us out in the race, actually," said Eurydice. "Imagine the other team's trying to steer, and boom, a weed accidentally whacks them in the face."

Sylvie grimaced. She loved her sister for a lot of reasons, but it certainly wasn't because of her sense of humor. Which she didn't have.

After about five minutes of prep time, the conch horn finally sounded.

"Charioteers!" Tantalus called. "To your mark!"

As the competitors got to aforementioned mark, Sylvie noticed how many more pigeons were in the trees now—screeching like crazy, making the whole forest rustle. It was like Sylvie and her siblings could tell something was wrong with the woods; they glanced at each other uneasily, but nobody else seemed to be paying the birds much attention. Their beaks glinted strangely. Their eyes seemed shinier than regular birds.

As the chariots lined up, more shiny-eyed pigeons gathered in the woods. They were screeching so loudly that campers in the stands apart from the Demeter cabin were starting take notice. Sylvie continued glancing nervously at the trees, which shivered under the weight of the birds. Tantalus didn't look concerned, but he did have to speak up to be heard over the noise.

"Charioteers!" he shouted. "Attend your mark!"

Sylvie was doused with the feeling that this wasn't going to end well.

He waved his hand and the starting signal dropped. The chariots roared to life. Hooves thundered against the dirt. Sylvie heard the other campers in the crowd cheering, suddenly easily distracted from the glinting birds. Damn ADHD.

Speaking of ADHD, Sylvie tried paying attention to the races before her, but she couldn't make her mind focus on the competition—even though Percy Jackson was involved, which was saying a lot. She'd been out of it ever since this morning. Despite the fact Eurydice had lulled Sylvie back to sleep last night, she still couldn't get her mind to calm down. Her thoughts were a raging storm of flower fields and white sheep and a story that only ever had one end. Now, stupid Tantalus expected her to care about a stupid chariot race when there were stupid birds shaking the trees.

It was all just becoming a lot, and Sylvie felt herself getting overstimulated.

Sylvie pulled her head out of her thoughts for one moment, daring a glance to the racetrack before her, and that was Sylvie's first mistake. She noted that the Apollo and Hermes chariots were already out of commission, but that wasn't really the big deal right now. The pigeons had risen from the trees. They were spiraling like a huge tornado, heading toward the track.

"Maybe we should get Tantalus to stop the race, or something?" Sylvie panicked, nodding up at the sky. "Look at what those birds are doing."

Florian scoffed. "Like that idiot would ever listen to us."

"Anyway, it's no big deal," Katie tried dispelling Sylvie's worries. "They're just pigeons... right?"

She spoke too soon.

The pigeons instantly began dive-bombing the spectators of the stands, swarming, attacking the chariots. Sylvie heard screaming from every direction, and maybe even from herself, she didn't really know.

Now that the birds were closer, it was clear they weren't normal pigeons. Their eyes were beady and evil-looking. Their beaks were made of bronze, and absolutely fucking razor sharp. Sylvie knew that last part, because they were slashing her flesh like it was paper.

"Stymphalian birds!" Eurydice yelled to anyone that could hear her. They took her words as truth, because even though the campers were wary of her now, she was the oldest person at camp and probably knew the most. "They'll strip everyone to bones!"

"Great—AH, SHIT!" Sylvie groaned in pain as one of the beaks sliced her down the nose diagonally. Her blood poured down onto the stone steps, Sylvie hissing when she brought her fingertips up to touch the wound.

Florian wrapped his arms around Sylvie's torso, throwing her down to the ground. He tried shielding Sylvie from the wrath of the Stymphalian birds, tried protecting his little sister from getting hurt. Florian covered Sylvie's head with one of his arms as chaos warred around them. Sylvie tried shouting at him to stop, because using his own body as a shield would only end up with Florian getting hurt instead, but her brother refused to listen.

The screeching birds pounded in Sylvie's ears. Her sliced flesh throbbed as blood dripped out her wounds. Everyone's clothes were becoming ruined by the holes that the pigeons pecked.

Even if the crowd wanted to fight back, it would be near impossible. The Athena campers were calling for shields, but no one could move with how the birds crowded them. The archers from Apollo's cabin brought out their bows and arrows, but with so many campers mixed in with the birds, it wasn't a safe shot.

"Florian, we can't stay here!" Sylvie shouted, trying to squirm out of her brother's grip. "They're gonna kill us!"

"Aw, damnit," Florian cried when he realized Sylvie—for once—was right.

He heaved Sylvie again, and this time, they were standing back up. Sylvie stumbled as Florian threw her like a ragdoll, but the second she was firm on her feet, she was booking it from the stands. It all honestly sucked, because Sylvie was combining her top two least favorite things—running, and getting pecked to death by murderous, bronze birds.

"ARE YOU GOING TO DO ANYTHING?" she heard Eurydice bellow to Tantalus, simultaneously slicing the birds with her sword. They exploded into dust and feathers, but there were still millions of them left.

Tantalus just chased breakfast pastries around the stands, every once in a while yelling, "Everything's under control! Not to worry!"

Sylvie was very, very worried. Down at the track, the chariots were in flames. Wounded campers ran in every direction, with birds shredding their clothes and pulling out their hair. When they tried for Sylvie's head, she had enough and brought out Halcyon. She stabbed blindly. Thankfully her hair lived to see another day—the bird she attacked went poof!

And then the weirdest shit happened (yes, weirder than their current situation).

Suddenly the air was filled with violins and a bunch of guys moaning (???) in Italian. Sylvie's head whipped over to where the sound was coming from incredulously—gods-awful music blared from Chiron's boom box by the finish line. Percy and Annabeth were standing there.

The demon pigeons went nuts. They started flying in circles, running into each other like they wanted to bash their own brains out. Then they abandoned the track altogether and flew skyward in a huge dark wave.

"The fuck?" Florian questioned.

But Annabeth just shouted, "Now! Archers!"

With clear targets, Apollo's archers had flawless aim. Most of them could nock five or six arrows at once. Within minutes, the ground was littered with dead bronze-beaked pigeons, and the survivors were a distant trail of smoke on the horizon.

The camp was saved (Sylvie wasn't going to ask how Percy and Annabeth's little music trick worked), but the wreckage wasn't pretty. Most of the chariots had been completely destroyed. Almost everyone was wounded, bleeding from multiple bird pecks—that definitely included Sylvie. Some people were still screaming, but it was because their clothes were pooped on. Sylvie thanked all the gods above that didn't include her.

"Bravo! We have our first winner!" Tantalus said. He walked to the finish line and awarded the golden laurels for the race to a stunned-looking Clarisse.

Then he turned and smiled at Percy and Annabeth. But it wasn't kind.

"And now to punish the troublemakers who disrupted this race."

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The way Tantalus saw it, the Stymphalian birds had simply been minding their own business in the woods and would not have attacked if Percy, Annabeth, and Tyson hadn't disturbed them with their "bad chariot driving."

Sylvie, of course, thought that was so completely unfair. In another universe—one where she wasn't the awkward and fearful Sylvie Duvall—she would've told Percy these beliefs. Maybe they could've sparked up a conversation, and maybe (hey, maybe) Percy could possibly enjoy Sylvie's presence. That universe seemed like a nice place.

But it didn't exist, and Sylvie knew that.

Sylvie didn't feel like sticking around to see the aftermath of the demon birds, but she was pretty sure that the trio's punishment had been something like kitchen duty. It was times like these Sylvie was grateful no one cared that much about her. Not enough to make her clean silverware with lava, anyways.

That night at the campfire, Apollo's cabin—but Florian forced them to let him join—led the sing-along. They tried to get everybody's spirits up, but it wasn't easy after that afternoon's bird attack. The camp sat around a semicircle of stone steps, singing halfheartedly and watching the bonfire blaze while the Apollo-guys-and-Florian strummed their guitars and picked their lyres. Being a leader of sing-along time was genuinely Florian's favorite part of camp, and Sylvie wasn't even joking. She still had no idea where Florian got the talent for music from—Demeter didn't specialize in anything close to guitar playing—but every time she asked about it she ended up more confused than she originally was.

The campers did all the standard numbers: "Down by the Aegean," "I Am My Own Great-Great-Great-Great Grandpa," "This Land is Minos' Land," "The Campfire Song" (Sylvie's personal favorite). The bonfire was enchanted, so the louder you sang, the higher it rose, changing color and heat with the mood of the crowd. On a good night, Sylvie had seen it twenty feet high, bright purple, and so hot the whole front row's marshmallows burst into the flames. Tonight, the fire was only five feet high, barely warm, and the flames were the color of lint.

Dionysus left early. After suffering through a few songs, he muttered something about how even pinochle with Chiron had been more exciting than this. Then he gave Tantalus a distasteful look and headed back toward the Big House. Sylvie thought for a moment that Mr. D actually missed having Chiron around, but then she remembered the wine god hated everyone except for his kids, so.

When the last song was over, Tantalus said, "Well, that was lovely!"

He came forward with a toasted marshmallow on a stick and tried to pluck it off, real casual-like. But before he could touch it, the marshmallow flew off the stick. Tantalus made a wild grab, but the marshmallow committed suicide, diving into the flames.

Tantalus turned back toward us, smiling coldly. "Now then! Some announcements about tomorrow's schedule."

"Sir," Percy said.

Tantalus's eye twitched. "Our kitchen boy has something to say?"

Some of the Ares campers snickered, including Phoenix. Sylvie caught Mickey shoot him a look over the fire, and suddenly Phoenix was sobering up his expression. Gods, they were sickening.

Percy stood up and, when he looked at Annabeth, she did too. Sylvie couldn't deny that she was curious about what the two had to say. Her siblings beside her were chattering up theories of what they were up to, but Sylvie didn't listen. Her eyes were glued on Percy. And Annabeth.

"We have an idea to save the camp," Percy announced.

Dead silence. Sylvie wasn't the only person interested in the two, now. The campfire flared bright yellow.

"Indeed," Tantalus said blandly. "Well, if it has anything to do with chariots—"

"The Golden Fleece," said Percy. "We know where it is."

What in the Hades? The flames burned orange. Before Tantalus could stop him, Percy blurted something about a dream he'd had about his satyr friend Grover Underwood. He was stuck on Polyphemus's island, where the Golden Fleece apparently resided. Annabeth stepped in and reminded everybody what the Fleece could do—it had abilities so powerful that it could heal and restore Thalia's poisoned tree. Sylvie had to admit, the plan sounded much more convincing coming from Annabeth (sorry, Percy).

"The Fleece can save the camp," she concluded. "I'm certain of it."

"Nonsense," said Tantalus. "We don't need saving."

Everybody stared at him until Tantalus started looking uncomfortable.

"Besides," he added quickly, "the Sea of Monsters? That's hardly an exact location. You wouldn't even know where to look."

"Yes, I would," Percy said.

Eurydice frustratingly murmured, "Of course he would."

Then, Percy recited, "30, 31, 75, 12."

"Ooo-kay," Tantalus said. "Thank you for sharing those meaningless numbers."

"They're sailing coordinates," Percy said, "Latitude and longitude. I, uh, learned about it in social studies."

Looking impressed, Annabeth agreed, "30 degrees, 31 minutes north, 75 degrees, 12 minutes west. He's right! The Gray Sisters gave us those coordinates. That'd be somewhere in the Atlantic, off the coast of Florida. The Sea of Monsters. We need a quest!"

"Wait just a minute," Tantalus said.

But Sylvie and the other campers took up the chant. "We need a quest! We need a quest!"

The flames rose higher.

"It isn't necessary!" Tantalus insisted.

"WE NEED A QUEST! WE NEED A QUEST!"

"Fine!" Tantalus shouted, his eyes blazing with anger. "You brats want me to assign a quest?"

"YES!"

"Very well," he agreed. "I shall authorize a champion to undertake this perilous journey, to retrieve the Golden Fleece and bring it back to camp. Or die trying."

Sylvie thanked the gods she was nowhere near a champion. There was no part of her that wanted to be selected for a quest—to die trying, or whatever. She was lucky there'd be no way that could ever happen.

"I will allow our champion to consult the Oracle!" Tantalus announced. "And choose two companions for the journey. And I think the choice of champion is obvious. The champion should be one who has earned the camp's respect, who has proven resourceful in the chariot races and courageous in the defense of the camp. You shall lead this quest... CLARISSE!"

The fire flickered a thousand different colors. The Ares cabin started stomping and cheering, "CLARISSE! CLARISSE!"

Clarisse stood up, looking stunned. Then she swallowed, and her chest swelled with pride. "I accept the quest!"

"Wait!" Percy shouted. "Grover is my friend. The dream came to me."

"Sit down!" yelled Phoenix. "You had your chance last summer!"

"Yeah, he just wants to be in the spotlight again!" another Ares camper said.

Clarisse glared at Percy. "I accept the quest!" she repeated. "I, Clarisse, daughter of Ares, will save the camp!"

The Ares campers cheered even louder. Annabeth protested, and the other Athena campers joined in. Everybody else started taking sides—shouting and arguing and throwing marshmallows. Sylvie thought it was going to turn into a full-fledged s'more war until Tantalus shouted, "Silence, you brats!"

His tone stunned even Eurydice.

"Sit down!" he ordered. "And I will tell you a ghost story."

Sylvie didn't know what he was up to, but they all moved reluctantly back to their seats. There was an evil aura radiating from Tantalus the same as any other monster that roamed the world.

"Once upon a time there was a mortal king who was beloved of the Gods!" Tantalus put his hand on his chest, and Sylvie got the feeling he was talking about himself.

"This king," he said, "was even allowed to feast on Mount Olympus. But when he tried to take some ambrosia and nectar back to earth to figure out the recipe—just one little doggie bag, mind you—the gods punished him. They banned him from their halls forever! His own people mocked him! His children scolded him! And, oh yes, campers, he had horrible children. Children—just—like—you!"

He pointed a crooked finger at several people in the audience. Sylvie thought this sounded a lot more like unresolved trauma dumping rather than a ghost story.

"Do you know what he did to his ungrateful children?" Tantalus asked softly. "Do you know how he paid back the gods for their cruel punishment? He invited the Olympians to feast at his palace, just to show there were no hard feelings. No one noticed that his children were missing. And when he served the gods dinner, my dear campers, can you guess what was in the stew?"

No one dared answer. The firelight glowed dark blue, reflecting evilly on Tantalus's crooked face. This dude needed a serious psych ward.

"Oh, the gods punished him in the afterlife," Tantalus croaked. "They did indeed. But he'd had his moment of satisfaction, hadn't he? His children never again spoke back to him or questioned his authority. And do you know what? Rumor has it that the king's spirit now dwells at this very camp, waiting for a chance to take revenge on ungrateful, rebellious children. And so... are there any more complaints, before we send Clarisse off on her quest?"

Silence.

Tantalus nodded at Clarisse. "The Oracle, my dear. Go on."

She shifted uncomfortably, like even she didn't want glory at the price of being Tantalus's pet. "Sir—"

"Go!" he snarled.

She bowed awkwardly and hurried off toward the Big House.

"What about you, Percy Jackson?" Tantalus asked. "No comments from our dishwasher?"

Percy didn't say anything. Sylvie figured it a smart choice, because Tantalus definitely was going to punish Percy again if he did o.

"Good," Tantalus said. "And let me remind everyone—no one leaves this camp without my permission. Anyone who tries... well, if they survive the attempt, they will be expelled forever, but it won't come to that. The harpies will be enforcing curfew from now on, and they are always hungry! Goodnight, my dear campers. Sleep well."

With a wave of Tantalus's hand, the fire was extinguished, and the campers trailed off toward their cabins in the dark.

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BAILEY YAPS...

Do you guys know what comes next? Cus iiii doooooo

Okay fine. Yeah i know. Whatever. This is boring and stupid. No persylv content. Whatever. DON'T KILL ME ITS COMING SOON BLAME SEA OF MONSTERS THIS ISNT MY FAULT

It's gonna be a sec until Sylvie gets into the Plot so i decided to give y'all that first scene instead!! Aren't I so nice......

Yeahhhh you guys noticed eurydice's name. So did i. So naturally i wrote about it. As one does. Be careful what you wish for. I have the power to write and I will use it.

Is Florian a twink? Or am I in love with him? Maybe both. Probably. I'll see what you all think of him before i come to the conclusion but the twink accusations are laid at his feet prepare to bleed good man burr your grievance is legitasjteitjrgdf

Spreading my "Sylvie is an intp" agenda cus other intps are robin buckley, nick miller, josie from bottoms, cameron frye, chidi anagonye, april ludgate, spencer reid, abed nadir, and ben hargreeves Is that not her

Goodbye for now flayedcrank nation!