It's all details, she thinks, as she vomits up her food for the fifth time that week.
All anyone ever sees is the perfect facade they've all managed to perfect over the years, in between the wars and the quests and the death.
Though, that isn't particularly true. It's only the newer campers, the ones that haven't had to suffer the wait of being claimed or the panic and fear that war brings.
Percy's saved those campers, but the older ones - the Councilors, those who've been thrust onto the front lines after their older siblings had been killed, teens who were just children, are still children - are still broken.
The newer campers don't see that, though, because they don't see the details.
They don't see the scars that cover Percy's upper torso, because he's always worn a shirt when he swims, even before the gods forced him into this world of danger and made him fight.
They don't see the food Annabeth doesn't eat, because even before the quests she had gotten used to hiding what wasn't right and gotten used to nights of hunger and pain from the spiders.
They don't see the way Leo screams and cries nearly every time he's alone, alone in the soundproof walls of bunker 9, because it's his fault his mother died.
They don't see the way Nico flinches away from the shadows that always seem to reach for him, never see the way he screams and claws at his throat whenever someone he knows dies because he can feel it in his gut that they're dead.
They don't see the way Piper practices charmspeaking herself in the mirror, planning on the day she'll tell herself it never happened, planning for when her father will remember that he has a daughter because the potion worked a little too well.
They don't see how Hazel's afraid of herself and her powers, how she's afraid that one day her curse will come back and the jewels she gives Frank will curse him and he'll be torn away from her.
They don't see the details.
What they do see, though, is the glory of being a "Perfect Little Hero" like they weren't all just pawns. They see the glory of being like Jason Grace, because he and everyone else who ever the world (It's always him who's practically worshipped by the Romans, never anyone else,).
But it's all just details, Annabeth tells herself.
We're normal, right?
They aren't the only broken ones - there's Reyna, Clarisse, Frank, Chris, Will, and so many others who had been caught up in the wars.
But they're never mentioned, because they paint a perfect smile across their face and show that little bit of kindness or roughness that's expected of them.
No one ever outright says that they're all broken, either, but that's what they are - PTSD riddled teenagers who cry themselves to sleep nearly every night or don't get to sleep at all, too scared of what will happen when they manage to close their eyes and let the nightmares take over.
They don't talk about it, ever, though Chiron brought it up the first time all of the demigods had sat under the stars and tried to watch the fireworks for forth of July, as camp tradition and the first time the Greeks and Romans had celebrated a holiday together that wasn't really related to their godly sides.
It hadn't worked, however, and ended in a crying, sobbing mess of flashbacks.
But that's just details.
Thank you for reading, if you care enough please leave a review - they make me write faster, especially if you leave prompts... If you want I could do a prompt series... :)