.: Chapter Two :.

Sometimes It Matters

EDGAR

It was painful how the Aphrodite kids were all giggly, some even flirting with him. Frankly, he wanted to stab them but thought that would be too kind of a death.

Since the activities director, Chiron, wanted to make children of the minor gods - what was that word? - 'welcomed' Edgar got stuck hanging with a group of girls. It should be a fantasy, really ... but no.

Of course, not all of the Aphrodite kids were put under the assumed stereotype of being dumb and caring about looks. In fact, people like Silena or Piper proved them wrong.

Why did the Centaur even decide right now to fit us in? Edgar wondered. After the Great Prophecy of the Seven, things changed. Since some cabins were wrecked, as well as pretty much half of the camp, demigods were fixing it. Annabeth and a few of her siblings were making some alterations, adding statues or the like.

Edgar swore that he saw a small shrine with some lady statue, having odd-shaped hair sticking out when he passed by. Kymopoleia. Goddess of violent sea storms.

"So, um, how did you arrive to Camp Half-Blood?" a girl with blonde bleached hair asked. Her eyes were changing colour, which was seriously distracting. It was blue - no, brown - no, green...

Edgar gave a sardonic smile. "Hellhounds," he replied, leaving the story at that.

"Why do you wear that thing on your eye?" another girl pressed, bringing several half-blood's attention to the eye patch worn on the son of Tyche's left eye.

"Because I can?" Edgar was satisfied in seeing the shocked expressions' on people's faces when he wore an eye patch. He didn't need it, but freaking people out was kind of his thing. "Look, I don't need a couple of babysitters or whatever."

"But Chiron told us to talk. You know, especially when some children of the minor gods are going to be in the prophecy."

"Wait - what?" Edgar's eyes blazed dangerously. "So that's why kids like us are fitting in more. Just so we will try and not let them down." He stormed out of the cabin, which could be an impulse by now.

As if I thought that things would finally change around here ... but no, there was still blank spaces.

He traveled to his favourite place - well, the one he most tolerate, anyway - his cabin. The coffee table was still placed, with cards strewn across. The thing was, Edgar was a gambler. Taking risky choices, there was a point to that.

Life gives you lemons, then screw it and throw them away. Wait ... that was the quote, wasn't it? Whatever. It was something like that.

The thing that people don't notice is that anywhere and everywhere, there were always choices. Luck may not be believable, because people say that you have to take action instead of sitting back. But luck involved in coincidences.

There were always coincidences. Things that made the winning team see the hope, and use it for their advantage. It didn't hurt that Edgar was the son of Tyche - that meant luck was literally on his side.

Everything was a chance - to see whether you screw-up and fail or succeed. Those were two options that you could not get out of at some point.

There weren't that many people to talk to.

It wasn't that Edgar was a Loner, but just chose to be. The way he came to camp was confusing. Maybe interesting.

Since his family was raided by hellhounds, they barely escaped on a boat to America. His little sister, Rose, had unfortunate luck: she died. Just imagining the glowing red eyes and speed accuracy was chilling. He had a scar to prove it. He absently touched beneath his left eye, blinking.

"H-Hi. Edgar?"

Edgar snapped his eyes to the cabin door. A child of Hypnos stood uncertainly. She had a long slender brown braid hung over her shoulder, and eyes that looked periwinkle, in the right lighting.

"My name is Elma," she said, although there was an awkward silence stretching between them both. Her voice was hesitant and quiet - she must not speak that often. "You might want to come with me, because Chiron's requesting everyone to hear about the prophecy. Lady Aphrodite is at Camp Half-Blood."

The goddess herself. "I guess I do feel in the mood to rant about a few things," the son of Tyche agreed, picking himself off the floor and following.

It must be about the prophecy.

A/N: I am terribly sorry. But you guys probably knew this story was not going anywhere, given that it was dead for months. However, I thank you all for bothering to read, complete the SYOC form - everything. This chapter is just for the heck of it.

To anyone still reading, the least I could do is insert your OC's in some of my stories (with your permission, of course).

Thank you.

Update: Considering my life, and how much time I have, I am determined to continue my stories. So, just maybe this story will be completed. (May 27th, 2017)