where did the party go? [open!]

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Go to the party at the Dionysus cabin, they said. It'll be fun, they said. That's how we get rid of you for at least one evening, they most likely thought. Zachary hated his siblings for making him do this, but he didn't have much of a choice. He didn't want anyone to run to Chiron because he was depressed. He wasn't depressed. His life really didn't make sense. But anyway, tonight he'd been at said cabin and everything was even worse than he'd thought it would be. The boy usually avoided being social at all and this wasn't going well. The good thing about the party was the alcohol and the good thing about the alcohol was that it didn't take much of it to get him tipsy. Tipsy was what he called it, while he left the cabin he heard somebody say something about how he looked intoxicated and he just rolled his eyes about that. He shut the door of the cabin behind him with no intention to go back in; there were too many people and too loud music and he'd probably kill his siblings who made him go here, if he wasn't in kind of a good mood just yet.
It was a clear night, the stars and the moon were shining on the night sky, it seemed like just another casual night he spend like he always did; strolling around Camp, sleepless as the dreams came back when he was sleeping. Just that tonight he felt warmer and his thoughts weren't as dark as he usually was... And he didn't get as far as he wanted to, because his legs decided that it was time to sit down at the side of the place were the cabins were located. He just sat there and looked up at the sky, somehow losing his sense of time for the moment but it didn't really bother him right now.

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It's not that Fitz really wanted to go to a party at the Dionysus cabin. There were always too many people, too much yelling, and someone would undoubtedly yell at him. They always yelled about something. It just would have been nice to get invited. To be included in the camper's fun and games. It wasn't like the Satyrs in the camp really ever wanted to do with him. Someone who was too fascinated by 'humans', too timid to take on more than two missions, and too involved with the birds to help the plants grow. Sometimes he felt like he couldn't exactly fit into either group. It didn't help, either, that he had no one to talk to about all this.

He pulled the ever present scarf -this time a soft grey made out of cashmere, he liked that material the most- tighter around himself to hide away from the light chill to the air. In the distance, all of maybe ten feet, was the warm glow emanating from the Dionysus cabin. He could hear the dissonant clatter of voices and if he focused just enough he could smell the liquor. They must be having fun. The door of the cabin opened up, spilling light into his hiding spot, and a camper left the party without the familiar shout of goodbye. Fitz watched as the silhouette moved through the camp, but not towards any of the cabins. Where was he going?

Fitz followed the male as stealthily as a Satyr can, sticking to the shadows and watching the other with unabashed curiosity. Eventually the male sat down, for no reason that Fitz could see, and just stared at the sky. Fitz looked up out of reflex, wondering what he saw that could be so enthralling. All Fitz saw were the tiny pin points of light and the bright moon that was currently spilling light onto the camp. Was there something there that he was missing? Eventually, though only moments passed, he turned away from the sky and took a step towards the still sitting camper.

"Um..." He started to call out, not sure why he even bothered talking. Maybe it was the fact that the guy was sitting out all alone from the party like Fitz was. "Did... Did you not have fun?" He tried again, stepping further out of his hiding spot to become visible to the other. What a sight he might have made if it weren't for the jeans hiding the majority of his goatly legs, hooves only barely visible and only if one looked for them, his horns were too small to be seen above his curly hair. Almost like a human, like a camper.

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How long was he staring up there? Zachary's mind was wandering and he lost touch for a moment. And suddenly his thought went to a dark place and he was thinking about Skylar. Sweet, loving Skylar, back when they were thirteen and everything they had was themselves and it was enough. But then she died and he was all alone. Luckily there was a voice that startled him enough to get away from that kind of thoughts. They weren't good for him. Next thing he knew was that a scarf wearing a guy walked up to him... Or was it a guy wearing a scarf? He didn't care and it took him a moment to process that the scarf was talking to him. He frowned. Someone talked to him? Weird.
"Fun...?", he repeated slowly and thought about it. He laid down on his back to have a better view of the stars above him and realised that the scarf wasn't wearing a guy, it was wearing a satyr. "No, it's no fun at all. People are dull and think they are funny. Why's everyone so dull?" He covered his covered his face with his hands and shook his head. At least his mind seemed to clear up a little... Well, not much but enough for Zachary to realise that a scarf couldn't wear people. He was dull himself. Dull and tipsy.
"And it's too loud and bright and crowded and drunk in there. Can a location be drunk..?"  He removed his hands from his face again and looked up before patting on the ground next to him. "Sit, scarf. Just don't go to that party or you'll be dull yourself." The boy sat back up, looking up at the sky with the thousand yard stare of intoxication. The stars reflected in his eyes, making them appear to be a dark shade of violet, a feature he had from his mother, something that would upset him if would realise. "Am I drunk?", he suddenly asked out of nowwhere and looked up at the sc- satyr. Satyr, not the scarf. Maybe the scarf as well, but mostly the satyr.

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Fitz... Didn't know how to answer a question like that. He didn't think everyone was dull. People probably thought he was dull. Just a confused Satyr that spent his time knitting and watching and talking to birds but not actually doing anything. No wonder no one ever wanted to invite him to the parties. He didn't fit in and he was boring.

Thankfully the demigod just kept talking, chattering away like he didn't even notice Fitz hadn't responded to the question. Probably for the best, really. Fitz could imagine that they were friends if the other guy just kept talking at him. He did, however, move to sit down beside the other. Slowly, though. A bit farther away than that patch of grass he motioned to. "I wasn't... Um... I wasn't invited to the party." He offered up, wanting to extend the conversation with his own voice. After all he'd started this. To try and make a friend, and here the guy was offering up information. At the last question he scrunched up his nose and little and ducked his chin into the scarf before answering, "Maybe... Maybe a little bit drunk?" He paused before letting out a slightly bleating laugh. "Maybe the location got you drunk?" He could make a joke! A pretty good one, too, if you asked Fitz.

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Zachary blinked a couple times and looked at the... whatever next to him. Though he was pretty sure that scarfs couldn't wear people he wasn't 100% sure. "That's 'cuz you're not dull enough for 'em", the son of Nyx stated simply and nodded to underline his words.Then he listened and took a moment to process to progress the words again but something was startling him. Was he laughing? Why was everyone he met laughing? Hades, he didn't know how to deal with people who laughed! hen he noticed that he wasn't laughing at him. He'd made a joke and that realisation put a smile on his face. Then he dropped back on his back, crossing his arms behind his head.

"Location got me drunk... Drunk on dullness. Maybe a tinsy bit alcohol" The boy nodded a bit and looked at the scarfyr - that was what he would call it - next to him. Was it just him or was he sitting a few feet away...? "I'm Zachary, by the way... My friend call me Zach" He stopped and frowned before he shook his head. "No, they don't, I don't have any friends", he realised and sighed. "You can call me Zach, if you want to." He chewed on his lip, thinking again. Why didn't he have friends? Maybe because he didn't want friends, because people were dull. Thinking made his head throb anyway so he stopped and looked at the scarfyr again.

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"I don't, um, I don't think drunk on dullness is... A thing." He offered up, a small grin on his face. His shoulders fell back a little so his lower face wasn't completely hidden in the scarf. Fitz always warmed up to people quickly. Someone once said he'd warm up too quickly to someone, but Fitz thought it was probably better than being thought of as weird. Or worse. Being chased by a twelve year old. Again.

He shifted slightly so his legs would fold more naturally underneath him. It'd slow him down if he had to run, but this camper seemed nice enough. Fitz doubted he would have to run. The action, unfortunately, pulled his jeans a little higher so his hooves were fully visible. "Oh... Um... I'm Cormick, but uh... I go by Fitz. As a name." The grin this time was far wider than before. But he ducked his head and let it fade again before he could focus. The guy.. The camper. Zach had said only friends called him Zach, and that Fitz could call him Zach. So were they already friends? Fitz was certain it didn't work that way, he'd had friends before, but... He wasn't about to turn down another friend. "Well.. We can be friends?" There. Perfect. A way out was given, even if Fitz really hoped the other wouldn't take it.

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"Bein' drunk on dullness isn't a thing?", Zachary repeated a bit puzzled but then he nodded. "Maybe it's not... a thing." He closed his eyes for a moment and covered his face with his hands again. Something definetly was wrong with him lately. He was talking to people. He never did that. There was a reason why he didn't have friends. Eventually they'd end up hurt or dead and so it was better to just keep away. Safer. Not only for others, for himself. He raised an eyebrow though. Fitz. "Fitz is a weird name for a scarf... It's weird that scarves have names anyway...", he muttered not even noticing how he was speaking his thoughts out loud.

"Wait. Fitz is the satyr's name, right? Not the scarf." He straightened himself up and turned to face Fitz. Suddenly he asked Zach if they could be friends and the boy was confused. He blinked again, looked at Fitz, tried to process the words and find the mistake in them, the part that he'd missed. But there was nothing he'd missed. He wanted to be his friend. His eyes filled with tears and he couldn't hold them back, they streamed down his face and he sobbed. "You want to be my friend?", he asked in between two sobs and his voice trembled. Nobody had ever told him that they could be friends and the whole thing was a bit overwhelming.

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Fitz leaned forward a fraction when the male began to respond. Saying strange things and- what? Fitz looked down at the scarf in confusion. Why would Zach think that his scarf had a name? His grin faded as he tried to understand what was going on. He thought maybe it could be the alcohol affecting Zach. It's not like the Satyr couldn't tell that the other had been drinking. The smell of alcohol alone could give it away, if he couldn't notice the light slurring. Which he didn't, notice the slurring that was.

Thankfully he was saved from having to question his confusion when Zach continued to speak. Okay so, the camper hadn't actually been calling his scarf Fitz. Unfortunately the confusion on grew a bit deeper as Zach began to tear up. Fitz drew his scarf towards his mouth suddenly, hands twitching from wanting to hug the other. He hadn't meant to upset the camper just by offering his friendship! The crying just seemed to get worse and his voice was trembling. Fitz wasn't sure he could handle the emotion going on in front of him, especially if he'd caused it. "We... We don't have to! Um. No, don't cry. It's okay!"





((Note: jeez, sorry this sucks))

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Zachary pulled his knees up to his chest, trying not to look at the scarfyr. He didn't want him to see him cry, he didn't even want him to hear him cry but it was a little late for that now. And that was the point where he'd messed up, wasn't it? "No!" He actually wanted to interrupt Fitz but eventhough he thought he'd said it while he talked, the word came out when he'd finished. "No, no, no, it's just... I never had a friend", he sobbed and rocked back and forth a little more before he looked up at the scarfyr next to him. A moment of hesistation passed in which he didn't move, except for the sobs that shook him but then he crawled to where the other person was sitting and wrapped him in a hug.

He rested his head on Fitz shoulder and cried even more, his tears soaking the grey scarf he was wearing. That was wearing him? Zach was still confused about that and it seemed like he wouldn't figure it out any time soon. He pulled away a little bit and looked at the wet scarf. "Sorry about the scarf...", he numbled and wiped away his tears with the back of his hand even though that didn't have the desired effect because he was still crying. "Do you still want to be my friend...?"

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The thing about Fitz was that he cried, a lot. More than any other sixteen-year-old boy he'd ever known. He cried when he was happy, when he was scared, when he was feeling sad, and when other people were crying. A sympathetic crier. Tears were easy for Fitz, which is why he wasn't at all surprised to feel the warm prickling sensation in his eyes as he watched the camper. It was just so sad. He didn't even know why Zach was sad, or what Fitz had done to cause it. Until 'I never had a friend'. Fitz sniffed a bit, trying to hold off his own tears at those words. Even Fitz never had that experience. He might not always be anyone's favorite guy, and he got picked on a lot more than he thought was right, but, at least, he had friends. "What... But... Um?" Fitz didn't fight it when Zach crawled over for a hug -he'd been wanting to do the same thing- and just wrapped his arms around the demigod.

Fitz carefully patted Zach's back as he cried. Well, as the both cried. Because Fitz was definitely crying like the faun he secretly was, with fat sympathetic tears. They were easier than the confusion in any case. His nose burned slightly from crying, but he sniffed it away, not really noticing that his scarf was being cried on. It would only have made him cry harder for the abuse of his favorite cashmere. Fitz sniffed harder, trying to suck in the tears when Zach pulled away finally. It didn't really work, but he looked like less of a blubbering mess as he looked at Zach's face with it's equally tearful eyes. " Scarf?" He asked in confusion, looking down to see the great wet splotches on it. Fitz frowned, taking in another sniffling sound to avoid crying over the scarf. His scarf. His favorite scarf. Instead, he tried to ignore the material as he looked up at Zach and smiled brightly through his own tears. "The best friends!" he answered, reaching up to wipe away his own tears. " See? We cried together. That, um. That means something, right?"