Reaching

The woods were among my favorite parts of Camp Half-Blood. Now understand me correctly -- I love every part of Camp. Everything. The Arena, the archery range, the cabins, the Amphitheater, the Mess Hall (foooooooood), the stables... but these woods were just different from any other I had wandered in before. The tree trunks were knotty, the bushes were close together, there was moss a bit everywhere which silenced my footsteps, and this sempiternal fragrance of sap danced through the air molecules, running down my tongue like a light sirup. Everything was so clear, so icy. It felt like the world was opening its skin.

My long dark hair moved against my back as I walked, almost noiselessly, stepping between paths. I was carrying my weapon in my hand, in kopis-modus, just in case a monster decided to attack me. The razor-sharp blade gleamed in the filtering sunlight like a film of solidified darkness. The stygian iron was steaming a bit in the warm summer air, but I had grown accustomed to this weird phenomena. I could touch it without it absorbing my essence, and I knew how refrigerating it was, as if I had put my fingers into the middle of a glacier. It was burning cold.

I was dressed in a black graphic tank top printed with a wolf's head, which I had scribbled with runes and symbols, like the rest of my clothes, with a pair of black ripped shorts and my leg greaves, just in case. The stygian iron they were made of also released threads of ghostly white vapor into the air.
I had altered my appearance a bit by manipulating the Mist, like I had taught myself during and after my Quest: I had turned my eyes into a light indigo shade of violet, and, right under my left eye, I had cast the illusion of a celtic flash tattoo, its pattern extremely fine and detailed, that spun with my emotions and pulsed with my heartbeat. Cutter-style. Because I was an absolute fan of the Uglies series.

Moving casually yet aware of my surroundings, it didn't take me much time to spot the red-haired girl who was walking a couple of meters ahead.

"Lily?" I asked, smiling.

Lily did not reply.... Had I done something wrong? Offensive perhaps? Or had I just annoyed her?
Biting my lip, I stepped closer, my now-indigo eyes gleaming in the dim light. The fine, detailed flash tattoo under the right one pulsed with my regular heartbeat.

"Xaire," I greeted her in Ancient Greek, the sound of my heavy combat boots absorbed by the thick moss. "Is everything all right?"

I stopped near the knotted trunk of an old tree with extremely low branches. Lily didn't seem very happy to have me here, and I wondered why. I had not talked a lot with her, okay, but she always seemed like a nice, albeit quite reclusive girl.
Her staring was making me feel a bit uneasy and I felt new tattoos spreading on my arms, wrists and hands, all celtic design, all extremely fine and flourished with precise details. I tried to make them disappear but they too started pulsing and twirling with my heartbeat.

I finally looked back up at her.

"Sorry 'bout that. You seem... nervous. Did I do something wrong?"