PRIVATE | Where The Hell Am I

 

Genevieve Starr Cohen was lost.

No, she didn't mean to (who wanted to get lost?) but this place was just so confusing. She wasn't a permanent camper, only hovering over at the place every few months or so to hide from others—and by "others", she meant monsters and paparazzi and sometimes both. Being a well-known demigod actress took its toll in more than one way.

The daughter of Loki was perched on a wooden bench near the edges of what she guessed was a courtyard, her posture near perfect as she studied the campers milling about. Some were laughing and talking, some were making out (yeesh, get a room), some were ambling around with confused expressions on their faces. She could relate to the last one, even though she didn't let it show.

Tossing her tame black mane of waves over her shoulder, Starr looked around for someone to approach. She didn't want to look clueless or anything.

 

As the brunette's gaze raked through the courtyard for a few minutes, she shifted positions to see a little better. Nobody had caught her attention so far—they were too busy enjoying the company of other people and she did not want to intrude; nor did she want to talk to the lost-looking people, who would no doubt ask her for directions to some place she didn't know the whereabouts of.

Finally, as Starr almost gave up, her eyes settled on a girl that was a little bit younger than she was; of course, being eighteen years old, she was among the oldest at the camp. She flicked some unruly hair out of her face before standing up and stalking over in the direction of the girl, who, she noticed, was walking a cute little German Shepherd puppy that reminded her a little of Fluffy, her mother's, er, fluffy lapdog.

Starr shook herself away from her thoughts as she came closer to the girl. "Hello", she said, smiling sweetly and hoping the girl didn't take her smile as a mocking one. It was true that the majority of her smiles towards strangers were intended to be cruel or sarcastic, but this one wasn't.

 

The daughter of Loki tilted her head to the side, a more amused smile quirking at her lips as she noticed the adorable little puppy—Laurie, the other girl called her—barking loudly. She continued smiling at the other girl. "My name's Starr", she told her. "Starr Cohen. And you are?"

The brunette couldn't help but giggle a little bit as Laurie attempted to jump at her, but was restrained by her leash. Before she knew it, she was saying, "She reminds me of Ivory's puppy. Fluffy, her name was—yes, I know, it's super uncreative, but whatever. He was a cutie."

She didn't really know why she was discussing her mother's dog—her mother's dog, of all things!—with a girl she had met almost three seconds ago. The only person who she ever talked to, kindly and on a regular basis, was Aurora, who was her twin sister, so that didn't really count. Did it? Whatever.

 

“Iris? That’s the... uh... Greek god of rainbows or messaging or something, right?”

Starr flushed a bit. Being a Norse demigod, she wasn’t too great with the Greek gods, and was aware she might be being rude towards Charlotte if she was wrong. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, adding, “My godly paren’t Loki, the Norse god of mischief and fire and whatnot. I’m not too good with Greek mythology, so I’m sorry if I got your mom wrong.” She felt a bit awkward while apologizing, not really used to doing it a lot, but she wasn’t a famous actress for nothing.

The brunette sighed a little and shifted her gaze to her feet for a moment, before turning it back to Charlotte’s face. “Sure she is”, she said, smiling a bit. “Anyway... How old are you?”

 

Starr twisted a lock of black hair around her finger in a rather absent manner. “To be honest, I’m not great at any mythology. Not even Norse. I know who a few major gods are — yanno, like Thor, Loki, Odin, people like that — but I’m not too good with the rest.” She shrugged, letting go of her hair and dropping her arms to her sides. “Meh.”

The daughter of Loki started to twiddle her thumbs before adding, “Oh, and I’m eighteen” to her words. There was a minute or so of silence as she struggled to come up with a conversation topic. Then, she said, “So... How long have you been here?”

[ooc: i have no inspiration creys]