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Martin would love to say that he and Jon had somewhat settled into the everyday life of Camp Half-Blood, but this specific camp seemed not to have much of a 'normal'.
For example, you'd be out walking and almost get impaled by an arrow when none of the campers were supposed to be at archery practice, and you were in a completely different part of camp to said archery practice (which definitely did not lead to him helping out with archery training). Or, you'd be reading in the library and get barged in on by over enthusiastic teens looking to make a 'them problem' an 'us problem'. Failing that, you would think yourself alone in the woods, before getting jumpscared by someone either figuratively or literally materialising next to you, or, on one memorable occasion, about 4 feet above you.
Jon, for his part, seemed to take this all in stride, somehow managing to become even more chaotic than the campers at times, unleashing a side of himself Martin had never really seen before.
(Upon being asked, Jon had grinned and said that he should tell Martin about what he used to get up to in uni at some point, before going back to trying to help assemble an automatic alarmclock/glitter bomb with some Hephaestus campers. Martin had felt resolutely uninvolved with the whole thing, and had absolutely no reaction to seeing Clarisse covered almost head to toe with glitter, seemingly tackling one of the Stoll's (they never seemed to learn) who had been involved.)
In all honesty, Martin did enjoy watching the antics that Jon and the campers got up to, no matter how much he complained about getting that glitter out of Jon's (read: Martin's stolen) jumper.
But, they also get rather overwhelming after a bit, what with Martin's prior experiences with the Lonely, and then the Eyepocalypse that had mostly been he and Jon, with the occasional avatar or tentative friend. Still, the constant assault on every sense that Camp Half-Blood provided grated on his nerves a little.
He had taken to going on walks through the quieter areas, which gave mixed results (the aforementioned incidents weighed in his mind with the minor concussion), so he decided to go deeper into the woods that day.
The woods themselves were deep, lush, and blissfully quiet. Sunlight dappled across the mossy floor, the creek murmuring and burbling to his side as Martin followed its clear, winding waters deeper into the woodland. The banks were littered with small rocks and pebbles; flat ones perfect for skipping, round ones the fit smoothly in his hand, angular ones he ran his thumb over the edges of.
A scuffle in the leaves made Martin glance up in time to spot a red squirrel scurrying up a tree, resting on a high up branch with an acorn in it's tiny claws. Distant birds twittered and chattered, insects humming their melodies alongside them. Martin whistled gently as a cool breeze blew through the late summer air.
As he wandered deeper, he split away from the creek as it bustled back out of the forest and into the great lake at the edge of camp. The further from the creek he walked, the thicker the forest itself became.
Branches made a lattice across the early morning sky, large trunks grew closer together, their roots competing to trip any passers-by. The sunlight became dimmer, blocked by a near constant layer of foliage above. A hush settled over the forest here, the silent peace Martin had been craving settling over him like a comforting blanket. The whisps of fog that had been growing more present recently faded, dissapating in the cool air.
Martin found a decently sized boulder and settled down, gazing aimlessly at his surroundings. His eyes were drawn to a dragonfly flitting about, the limited light glinting off the insect's iridescent armor, framing it like an oil spill on water. The insect flitted closer to him, hovering nearby for a moment, before darting behind a tree and out of sight.
Martin felt a slight disappointment at it's departure, his gaze being drawn towards something else shimmering in the light. Thin lines criss-crossed between some branches, a spiraling loop eminating from a central point, where sat the gem-like dissected body of a spider, glimmering eyes glancing around before it lithely manoeuvred it's way to the edge of the web, before descending on a single thin strand, delicately lowering itself to the lower branch before continuing it's nimble movements along the branch and out of sight. Martin found himself transfixed, only shaken from his stupor as the creature vanished.
"Beautiful things, aren't they?" An all too familiar voice asked, causing Martin to jolt and whip around, desperately wishing he had brought a dagger or something with him. Behind him stood that familiar figure, a little taller than Jon, umber skin, short bleach blond hair, with a large hole in her skull shimmering with gossamer spider's silk.
"The hell do you want?" Martin demanded, now standing to face her.
"Oh, do relax. I simply wanted to say hello. Check up on how everything's going here!" Annabelle smiled, revealing slightly-too-sharp teeth tinged with red which Martin desperately hoped was just lipstick or cherries or something. He had a feeling it wasn't.
"I was doing just great up until a moment ago."
Annabelle laughed, in it a jingle of a thousand other tiny laughs. "You flatter me so, Martin."
"Why are you here, why now? What do you actually want? You didn't just come for a wellbeing check." Martin glared at the spider, who simply tilted her head appraisingly.
"So many question, not too uncommon for the Eye lot, I suppose. Weirder from you, but hey." She murmured, "It is the perfect time for a visit, when everyone's all settled in, yes? Tell me, how is that going for you? I see your dear Jon appears to be taking it in stride." Her voice carried a vague interest, but her eyes sparkled with something close to amusement.
Martin felt a lump rising in his throat, before he cleared it, "Don't try and dodge the question. What do you want?" He punctuated each word slightly, still glaring Annabelle down. He had a feeling his attempt at intimidation was failing miserably.
Annabelle sighed, sounding more annoyed than anything. "I really did come just to check in on you lot. Had no idea if you both actually made it. I am pleased to see you did."
"What, so you can have your favourite plaything back?"
"Gods no, you've both lived your usefulness to the Mother, and we got what we wanted already."
Martin began pacing slowly. "Yeah, you achieved your oh so noble goal of spreading across the multiverse like a plague, while we puny beings almost died, or did die for your little prison break."
"Well you aren't actually dead so, a win?" Annabelle's arms, all six, raised placatingly.
Martin shot her a final withering glare, under which she had the decency to shrink back slightly. "A win? Really?" He sighed. "Sure."
They both relaxed somewhat. He sat on one edge of the boulder, gesturing for Annabelle to sit on the other.
"My turn, why are you so deep in the woods? Took me ages to find you out here." Annabelle queried as she perched elegantly on the rock.
"It's quieter here. Just wanted some peace for a bit."
"You are aware of the creatures that populate some areas of this place, right?"
Martin glanced at her, questioningly.
"As in the massive wolf things." She clarified. "And the ant things. And whatever other critters reside here."
"Well, that explains the quiet, I guess. People probably don't want to spend too much time this deep in monster-ville."
Something chittered to their left.
"Quite. Shall we leave then? Might be helpful for an extended stay in the land of the living."
"Ah right, yeah, good idea. By the creek over that way is probably less risky. Though more at risk of people." He frowned. "And small children with sharp instruments."
"That seems irresponsible."
"Right?"
~-•-~
The pair meandered back towards the creek, chattering about random things, the weather, the camp, the differences from their own world. At one point, Martin attempted to shift the conversation towwards Annabelle's own time in this new world, but was deflected in her own fashion, so twisting and redirecting that you don't even realise shhe hadn't answered the question until hours later.
The trickling sounds of the creek came back into earshot as they drew closer, the atmosphere of this area of the woods filtering back in. This time, Martin navigated the pair towards a fallen log he had stopped at on previous walks.
It was fairly new, the wood not yet rotten but with mosses and lichens populating it, shelf mushrooms down one side with more mushrooms of various types bridging the gap between trunk and floor. Fallen leaves and twigs had gathered around it, sheltered from blowing away in the wind or by demigodly activities.
Somehow, the simple quiet of this area had grown dull to him before, but as he sat on the makeshift bench and watched Annabelle begin sifting through leaves for gods knows what, the quiet felt less overwhelming. Less wrong, less mournful. Whereas before, he had been escaping the constant noise and bright lights and smells, now he was laughing quietly as Annabelle Cane of all people showed him a 'really cool bug I found', as the woodlouse curled up in her palm, hair like antennae wafting through the air.
The pair of them spent an hour or so just existing in the area, Martin going to the stony edge of the creek to look for a cool rock to add to his steadily growing collection. Annabelle appeared to be looking for more bugs, the most common being spiders (yes they technically aren't insects but still), which lead to a mostly absent minded trading of random spider facts.
He found himself beginning to enjoy having someone else to talk to. Sure, the people from here were great but they didn't live through what he had, and most of the campers were kids. Sure, he loved Jon with his whole heart but the man really hated spiders. For a good reason, Martin understood, but still. He liked spiders (the non spooky ones at least).
Annabelle was, of course, about the most spider person a person could get, in more ways than one. She seemed to have an almost encyclopaedic knowledge of spiders, as well as the extra limbs and eyes associated with such creatures. Martin was tempted to ask which species she was most similar to, but he wasn't sure if that would be considered rude, and he was still very aware of the fangs that glittered in her smile when she showed him a particularly cool critter.
In a weird, probably messed up way, it reminded Martin of the walk from London to Oxford the pair of them had shared at the end of the Eyepocalypse, just chatting. Less torment, horrific events, blackmail and dimensional fuckery, definitely, but more normal than he had since forever really. He was never much of one for friends.
That thought shook Martin out of his contemplation slightly, glancing over to where Annabelle was slowly pushing a rock over to see what was underneath. Is that what they were now? Friends? Not yet, he thought. Maybe in the future, but not yet. It was still too soon after everything. He allowed himself to think of it as a possibility though.
Martin looked back at the pebbles, reaching down to pick up something that glinted slightly. He brought it up, itno the light, which shimmered off part of the object and diffused through other parts. Sea glass, or creek glass he supposed. He wondered idly how it got here, before pocketing it with the other good rock he found (it had a hole in, so was supposed to be lucky). Annabelle picked something up, lifting it to her face, before slowly putting it back, placing a few fallen leaves over it.
"What did ya find?" Martin called over, intrigued.
"Oh, nothing really. Just another bug. Not a particularly fun one either, given, well." Annabelle cut herself off, allowing her words to fade away.
"Given?"
She gave him a pointed look. "What kind of bug would you definitely hate?"
Martin's eyes widened slightly, remembering a faint sqelching and the hiss of a fire extinguisher drowning out a constant knocking. "Oh. Yeah. That's, uh, that's probably wise."
Annabelle nodded curtly, openimg her mouth to reply, when a crashing noise interrupted her. The pair of them spun around to face the sound, staring at the intruder, a camper. Which one, Martin couldn't tell due to the helmet that covered their face, and he was more focused on the large sword in their hand than anything else. He saw another couple campers appear from the edge of the forest, and after a moment Chiron burst into the area as well. The centaur gave a sweeping glance, gaze settling on Annabelle, bow out, arrow drawn.
"Who are you? Martin, who is this?" He demanded.
"Oh, an acquaintance, its fine, don't worry, lower the pointy objects perhaps?" Martin gave a nervous laugh.
Annabelle gave her best (most unnerving) smile, "Annabelle Cane, pleasure to meet you." She introduced cooly. Martin was struck with how differently she had spoken with him, as though a whole layer of performer had been stripped away and was now back in full force.
"Well, Miss, Miss?" At a minute nod, Chiron continued, "Miss Cane, I must ask you to leave the camp at once, or speak with our director."
Martin grimaced, "Might be easier to go, to be honest."
"I was thinking the same." Annabelle agreed. "This has been lovely Martin, we must do it again sometime. See you round!"
Just as the spider was about to dissolve into the surroundings again, Martin called out. "Wait!"
Annabelle stopped, tilting her head at him again.
"Take this, for luck." Martin handed her the stone with the hole through it he had found earlier.
Annabelle glanced at him, shock hidden well in her face, but Martin still saw it. He smiled slightly at her.
"Thank you." She nodded, tucking the stone away after a moments examination, before wandering back into the forest, past the border and out of camp, giving a small wave back before leaving his sight. He waved back.
~-•-~
"Annabelle Cane came to visit you? Really? What did she want?"
It was later that day, early evening bearing down on Long Island. He and Jon were preparing for the amphitheatre tonight while catching up on each others days.
"That's what I thought, to be fair." Martin replied, "But I don't think she really wanted to hurt anyone. Just wanted some company I think."
"I imagine it would get pretty lonely out there. From what we know about her, she wasn't ever exactly a people person."
"More of a spider person." Martin joked, as Jon elbowed him lightly, causing the pair of them to start laughing, before they began to head back out of the Big House, towards the amphitheatre where smoke was beginning to rise from the campfire, and distant chatter and song could be heard. Normally, Martin would be partially dreading the evening, with far too many people around, but today he found himself more relaxed, the whole thing a reminder that he wasn't alone.
He leaned over, kissing Jon on the cheek as they entered the amphitheatre.