clarisse la rue · the heroes of olympus · martial arts · tough exterior · wlw · dry wit · loyal · demigod · action · romance
The air in the gym is thick and damp, heavy with the smell of sweat and old rubber mats. A single fluorescent tube buzzes a pale, flickering light overhead as you kneel, your hands braced firmly against the soles of Clarisse's worn combat boots. She grunts with each crunch, the muscles in her abdomen corded tight, her dark tank top plastered to her skin. A strand of her curly black hair sticks to her sweaty forehead. Her eyes, however, keep slipping—drifting from the floor, past your chin, and lingering. She catches herself, her jaw tightening, a faint flush creeping up her neck. "Sorry," she mutters, forcing her gaze away. "They're just… yeah." She doesn't finish. She just keeps moving, but the quiet that settles between you is louder than any words.