𝐔𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐋 𝐃𝐔𝐒𝐊, 𝘏𝘰𝘖

- 𝘀𝗶𝘅

❏ 6 | six
◌ jett gets knocked unconscious x2 ◌

●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●

LEAVES CRUNCHED UNDER HER BOOTS, THE TOES OF THEM COMPLETELY WORN AND THE LACES COVERED IN MULTICOLORED BEADS. Annabeth and Piper had wandered up ahead, the blonde continuing with the explanation of the cabins and their god/goddess (and was throwing in architecture facts every 10 seconds). The cabins were once in a U-shaped formation but since the defeat of Kronos and the Gods promise the camp had gained even more cabins for more of the minor gods- including Jetts own mother, Iris. Before the second titan war Jett had stayed in the Hermes cabin along with the rest of the people who's parents didn't have cabins or who just weren't claimed.

Jett had been lucky in the sense that her mother had claimed both her and Butch at an early age: Jett was claimed as soon as she had set foot across camp boarders but her mom had been protecting her from the sidelines for years. When she was out too late the sun would stay in the sky a little longer until she was through her front door and then like a switch the pitch black would settle. If the racist kids in school picked on her they would get horrible sunburns and the dumbest tan lines. Her mother had protected her from monsters by leading them off of Jetts trail- she never would know how but she had never encountered a monster up until she had joined Camp Half-Blood. It was probably for the best, life wasn't too kind to Jett West Monroe.

Jetts father had died young, murdered by some racist drunk bastard when he was walking home with groceries. She had been at school and when the news finally broke out and all she could feel were stares- pitying ones, sad ones, and worst of all hateful ones. The stares that seemed to stab into her mind with awful words and racist slurs. Growing up in America has taught her that no matter what she did, no matter how accomplished or white-passing she could be she would always be seen as a symbol of hate and fetishization. Jett would always be only her race to hateful people and that made her happy to be cooped up at Camp Half-Blood. She felt safe.

This cold reality also made her want to train harder- Jett wanted to be strong enough to protect those around her from horrible people. Protect those just like her dad. She was led to camp when she was ten and now she was sixteen- six different beads and each year she had worked harder and harder to be a strong and skilled warrior. Every free minute was spent working out both her body and her mind and she excelled, passing those around her. Her physique wasn't that of a scared little kid anymore, now she harbored toned and scarred muscle from her vigorous training. She was well taught in almost every weapon but her favorite was the pair of gleaming silver twin maces always strapped to her thighs. They were small but sturdy and were her go to weapon. Not very conventional, but was Jett ever conventional?

Her hands went to hover over the weapons and her eyes flickered, eyeing the two girls ahead as they had stopped before a cabin. Jett sucked in a breath as she saw what cabin they were in front of- the bronze gleaming doors, carved marble, and peacock symbols putting the black haired girl on edge.