AN: Hey all! Avalonfreak here! I don't want to bore everyone to death with a long AN, so I'll try to keep it short. You're not going to like this girl. In fact, you're kind of supposed to hate her. It's the point of the story, the twist.
Disclaimer: Let's play the "owning Percy Jackson" game! Oh, look. I lose.
No one could resist her words.
Sweetly they dripped from her mouth like honey; but the ulterior motive of these sugarcoated words was far deadlier than innocent, golden honey. With each pretty syllable, she slowly brought Camp down farther and farther into chaos. The other campers - those silly, trusting creatures - felt in their bones that they should stay away from this girl, but how could they? She smirked. They couldn't, of course. She drew them in like flies to sugar.
And who could really withstand her adorable looks?
She looked much younger than thirteen, more like a cute little girl, but if you looked past the sweet smile and the large eyes, you saw. You saw that the smile was more like a dangerous baring of teeth - teeth, if you leaned in and squinted, that were sharp. Surrounding the teeth were lips that were not round or soft or cotton-candy pink, but crimson. The color of blood.
Her skin was pale. Too pale. It was almost translucent, a vampire-like papery color, which was an almost unbearable contrast to the long raven hair flowing done her shoulders. It was hair that was sleek and shiny, yes, but sleek and shiny as a panther's fur would be. Predatory, just like her maw.
But really, it was the eyes that caught you. Eyes that someone would see in their worst nightmare, in the deepest, darkest corner of their mind. They were black, but not a flat black. Nor were they the warm black of a summer's night, or the shiny back of a pretty beetle. No - they were the haunting, chaotic, frightening black of a monster's eyes. A changeling's eyes - perfectly innocent on the surface, but if you dared to look closer, you would see malice, death, evil. Her eyes were evil.
She was evil.
Perhaps not evil like Kronos, not evil like the Titans. But it was there. Like her mother. Eris may have been an Olympian, but in no way was she kind or compassionate or benevolent. So why would her daughter be? Why, indeed, she mused with a low, chilling laugh.
Strife and chaos were where her talents lay, so why not exercise those talents? They were, after all, gifts from her mother. And gifts were meant to be used, weren't they? Yes. She should follow in her mother's footsteps, down here at Camp. And that was exactly what she was planning to do.
She smiled, a sweetly sadistic smile. This was going to be fun.