[ clarisse always thought the lock trick was cool, though chris has always been unlike his brothers in terms of trickery and thieving. he's never been like the twins, constantly playing pranks on people and stealing random shit for the hell of it, but he's never been as cunning as luke, either. if he hadn't been claimed by hermes, she honestly would've thought he was a son of hephaestus or apollo. he's never really seemed the hermes type, except for his excellent sense of humor.
she regards luke with a raise of her brow while he sets about opening the door. even if it only takes a few seconds, and gods know how many times he's done this before, she can't help but feel like he's showing off. he always did have an arrogant streak — and maybe, she might admit, with good reason. he'd been one of the oldest, most seasoned campers while, and she'll be damned if she doesn't admit that he was pretty impressive with a sword. she almost wishes they could spar again, just for the thrill of it, the rush of adrenaline that fuels the fight. it was always a challenge with luke, even if she hardly ever bested him in swordplay. it was something she could respect about him, though most of her respect for him is gone now. he tossed that out the window a long time ago, and it's going to take a lot more than just sparring to get it back.
she glances into his apartment from the bottom step, her one last chance to decide if she really wants to do this. honestly, she thinks, why the hell not? she's long since forgotten the real reason she came to the city, has found herself so caught up in luke castellan that she doesn't quite know what else to do with herself. it's hard to keep up with a child of hermes sometimes, on foot or in anything else they do. just as it's hard to keep up with a child of ares in the heat of battle, it's hard to keep track of hermes children. she thought she'd lost track of luke years ago, but the fates keep throwing her back into the castellan whirlwind. it's like they think this is funny, watching them crash and burn and then start all over again. clarisse never has liked the fates, so if this is an act of defiance, she'll do it gladly. anything to send a big fuck you to the old hags who try to rule their lives.
it's that defiance that has her walking up the steps to luke's apartment. it's not so much about him as it is about her. stepping over the threshold feels like the beginning of something new, something she's been searching for but never could put her finger on until now. despite having just stepped into the lion's den, she feels like she can shed her skin here and no one will ever know. it doesn't mean she trusts luke in any capacity, but they can work on that. she doesn't feel obligated to be the defensive clarisse la rue she is on the streets and at camp with prying eyes everywhere; she can let down her hair a little, even in the company of someone she still considers a traitor.
she could say a lot of things about the state of his apartment, from scathing to only slightly sarcastic, but instead she settles on something vague and generic that may or may not be accurately representative of her opinion — honestly, she doesn't really have an opinion, she just wants to break the awkward silence. ]
no subject
she regards luke with a raise of her brow while he sets about opening the door. even if it only takes a few seconds, and gods know how many times he's done this before, she can't help but feel like he's showing off. he always did have an arrogant streak — and maybe, she might admit, with good reason. he'd been one of the oldest, most seasoned campers while, and she'll be damned if she doesn't admit that he was pretty impressive with a sword. she almost wishes they could spar again, just for the thrill of it, the rush of adrenaline that fuels the fight. it was always a challenge with luke, even if she hardly ever bested him in swordplay. it was something she could respect about him, though most of her respect for him is gone now. he tossed that out the window a long time ago, and it's going to take a lot more than just sparring to get it back.
she glances into his apartment from the bottom step, her one last chance to decide if she really wants to do this. honestly, she thinks, why the hell not? she's long since forgotten the real reason she came to the city, has found herself so caught up in luke castellan that she doesn't quite know what else to do with herself. it's hard to keep up with a child of hermes sometimes, on foot or in anything else they do. just as it's hard to keep up with a child of ares in the heat of battle, it's hard to keep track of hermes children. she thought she'd lost track of luke years ago, but the fates keep throwing her back into the castellan whirlwind. it's like they think this is funny, watching them crash and burn and then start all over again. clarisse never has liked the fates, so if this is an act of defiance, she'll do it gladly. anything to send a big fuck you to the old hags who try to rule their lives.
it's that defiance that has her walking up the steps to luke's apartment. it's not so much about him as it is about her. stepping over the threshold feels like the beginning of something new, something she's been searching for but never could put her finger on until now. despite having just stepped into the lion's den, she feels like she can shed her skin here and no one will ever know. it doesn't mean she trusts luke in any capacity, but they can work on that. she doesn't feel obligated to be the defensive clarisse la rue she is on the streets and at camp with prying eyes everywhere; she can let down her hair a little, even in the company of someone she still considers a traitor.
she could say a lot of things about the state of his apartment, from scathing to only slightly sarcastic, but instead she settles on something vague and generic that may or may not be accurately representative of her opinion — honestly, she doesn't really have an opinion, she just wants to break the awkward silence. ]
Nice place.