THEIA WAS ALWAYS UP BY DAWN; HER INTERNAL CLOCK SO TIED TO THE SUN'S CYCLE, IT WAS ALMOST CRIMINAL. Many of her siblings found her habit an affront to their very existence, the lone threat to their desperately needed beauty sleep. It was mostly in jest. Children of Aphrodite were often the last to emerge from their cabin in the morning; with the sole exception having always been the golden Swan herself who was often up doing a morning jog with cabin seven. A persistent force of habit, one that had Theia up and ready at the break of dawn each and every morning, even when her body longed for the beauty rest her siblings so vehemently desired.
The soles of her gym shoes slapped against the damp cement; her uncle's white-panel house barely visible in the distance. A cool breeze chilled the sweat dripping down her forehead, her homemade jacket, a dull grey polyester, clinging to her figure. Black leggings, soaked around the ankles as she stepped into another puddle. The air thick with the scent of petrichor, so strong she could taste it, an earthy aroma of pine and damp earth. Dense clouds, a woolen grey concealing the sunlight she knew shone proudly overhead as her three-mile run neared completion. A dull ache in her thighs and calves was a welcome distraction from the sluggish lethargy that lingered in her bones.
The effects of time changes were something she'd never really understood until this very morning. She found herself unable to clear the hazy, exhausted fog that left her strangely weighed down. Every snap of a branch, every rustle of leaves, made her flinch. Hands instinctively flashing towards her hair pins, stabbed through the tightly bound bun atop her head. Deliberately contained as her eyes followed the tree line with obsessive attention. Her eyes searching for a single glimpse of glittering pallor or the flash of auburn.
Her senses were going haywire, every instinct a wailing siren she couldn't silence. The knowledge that an abomination had invaded her uncles home so brazenly, toying with her cousin like the perfect little doll, had her practically vibrating with rage. Every single instinct, every nerve, every damn thought consumed by the need to drive a dagger through his eye socket. Perhaps she'd slice him open and extract each and every one of his crystallized organs - alphabetically.
She would reduce him to nothing.
She'd even bottle his audacity; sell it by the ounce and watch her profits skyrocket.
It was a thought that brought her comfort as she skipped up the front steps. Her shoes squeaking against the mat as the handle twisted and she slipped inside. Her sneakers carelessly discarded at the shoe rack the moment she shut the door. The scent of burnt bacon a not so welcome sign as she stalked towards the kitchen. The insistent burn in her legs had her regretting the decision to skip her quadricep stretch. She'd feel worse in a few hours, making a mental note to swipe an ibuprofen later. Far more practical than ambrosia or nectar. Both of which she didn't have much of. She'd need to take stock of what she had later once she got packed and everything organized.
Stepping into the kitchen she caught sight of her uncle Charlie, sipping from a steaming mug as he held a newspaper in his free hand. A plate of burnt bacon in front of him. She shot her uncle a smile, wiping her forehead with the sleeve of her jacket. "Hey, Uncle Charlie."
"Thay, you're up early," he rubbed the back of his neck. A nervous tendency Theia would use to her advantage as she moved to grab a coffee mug from the cabinet above the coffee machine.
"I could say the same about you," she teased. "Aren't you supposed to be off today?"
"Yes well...I'm so used to being up early, makes it hard to sleep in." She nodded, fully understanding her uncles point as she came to sit alongside him at the table. Her body flopping into the seat - lacking all trace of her usual grace. "Also got an early call from the mechanic. Car will be ready for pick-up first thing tomorrow." That last sentence was like a bucket of cold water being dumped on her. The fog on her mind chased away by memories of a baby blue Mustang, country hits, and her father's smile as he sang along to Rascal Flatts. Her hair whipping in the breeze, the towering fir trees a blur as the engine roared, only the open road ahead of them. "I can take you to pick it up on my way into the station tomorrow."
Gods did she miss her dad.
"Thank you so much," she hadn't intended for her voice to crack the way it did, though she was glad when all her uncle did was advert his gaze. His hand rubbing at his neck as she sensed there was something more he wanted to say "It's...I know it's just a car, but-"
"Thay, your father loved that car like a second child. He wanted you to have it," Charlie still wasn't looking at her. His gaze peering out the window. "Besides, how else are you going to get around?"
"What? Don't want me hitchhiking around town?" She teased, soft smile on her lips.
"Preferably not."
The silence that settled between them was surprisingly tranquil. Most of the residual awkwardness having evaporated the night before as they ate at the diner. All three of them swapping stories, well two of them. Bella was quiet for most of the hour they'd spent eating, seeming to desire being anywhere but with them as Theia studied the fractured aura that flowed between father and daughter. Charlie loved her. A deeply, intensely, parental affection that she knew he struggled to show. He was awkward when it came to ways of the heart. It was why his marriage had ended so quickly; his heart so tender was lost in his inability to express his love the way many desired to feel it.
His eyes peering into the woods as Theia sipped her coffee with a heavy mind. Relishing in the comforting silence that seemed to draw them together in a way. A comfortable companionship, a calming interaction that patched a bridge that'd always been there but severely decayed. It was nice, it was quaint, and Theia felt when the atmosphere shifted. Her uncle turning to look at her with a look in his eyes that showed his hesitance.
"Yesterday when...when Edward," he practically spat the abominations name. "Dropped off Bells you...well you had this look about you. Like...like something was off about him." Her eyes flashed from her uncles to the ceiling, pinning the exact spot she'd heard a soft creak. "Is there?"
"You've always had good instincts, Uncle Charlie," her eyes remained locked on the ceiling. The stale scent of stone and decay, a soft undercurrent that caused her teeth to grind harshly together. He was in the fucking house. She felt the mug crack in her hand as her grip tightened. Each word falling from her lips a perfectly chosen code. One she knew her uncle smart enough to decipher. "I'd trust them."
He hummed - more a snarl, the weight of his eyes on her one she briefly entertained. The harsh set of his eyes, blown pupils lacking any trace of the warm brown she'd been so accustomed too. All trace of the kind and awkward man she knew lost to the protective rage of a father whose daughter was being wronged by something beyond his means. She knew he understood.
Motioning upward with her hand before pressing a finger to her lips. "Trust your instincts, and trust that I won't let anything happen to you or Bella."
He nodded. A stiff motion, knuckles white, cheeks inflamed with rage. "I trust you," then in a quiet whisper. "Please, protect my daughter."
"Always."