I don't believe in Coincidences, only Fate (( Sarenrae))

Malik stood staring at the little piece of paper that had his Cohort assignment: 3rd. Was this what he wanted? To join this group of demigods? He came here to find his friend, (and check out the library) and if he wasn't here, then it'd be time to leave. That P.H.D wasn't going to earn itself after all. Shrugging, he pocketed the note and shouldered his grey duffel bag. It had a few changes of clothes and a score or so of little journals. They were his inheritance in a way, his parents' thoughts, ideas, projects, plans and more all gathered in the books they wrote them down in. His were nestled in his backpack against his weathered laptop. Pushing open the door, Malik blinked, taking in the sight. Here was as good a place as any to start the search, right? He wasn't even sure if this was the right building. Rows of bunks worked their way down to the far side of the room, a few door leading off to where he assumed the showers and toilets were. His battered trainers barely made a sound as he stepped inside, the rubber soles long since worn through. A lot of the bunks seemed empty, a lack of any personal belongings adorning the area, whether the bed had sheets or not. He stifled a yawn as he strolled past a few that appeared a bit more inhabited and in varying states of order. The demigod had to admit, some of the beds were starting to seem very appealing... it had been a long flight after all. Checking his watch, he sighed, mid-afternoon. If he slept now he'd totally wreck his sleeping habits. Looks like today was going to be a long one. Not many people actually travelled on the 31st, so at least the airports hadn't been too busy, and the plane barely had any screaming children at all!

He wasn’t sure what he was even looking for, something that struck him as familiar? It was the best he could do, well, not really, but he figured it’d be really sketchy asking around for a specific person. He did seem to be a fair amount older than most of the other demigods, and he was new… But this was also pretty sketchy. Well, whatever he’d been hoping to see, he wasn’t. He was nearing the end of the room when he stopped. Pausing at the head of a bed, Malik frowned. Something had struck him as vaguely familiar. Maybe a Tolkien reference had caught his eye? Turning to face a board hanging above a bed, his eyes narrowed. An extremely familiar scrawl lined the centre of a page, folded many times, and pinned to the board. In fact, Malik was sure there was no one's handwriting that could possibly be more familiar. After all, it was his own. It was a simple style, tending towards the neater side of things. It was the one he used when he was trying to make something look presentable, and as a teacher who actually cared if students were able to decipher his script, one he'd used on a daily basis. His casual hand was looped and almost a scribble; Malik was pretty certain he was the only one able to crack that particular code. The page itself didn't contain a lot, just a few lines and fewer words populating each one. He'd picked red ink, the fancy stuff. He smiled and shook his head as he scanned the lines, knowing exactly what the next one would say before he read it. Malik was a believer that things happened for a reason, and didn't just come down to chance. When someone died, it was Atropos slicing their thread. He'd believed in Fate with a capital F long before he found out the Fates were real. It only made sense; there had to be some pattern, some order to this chaotic universe. No sane sentient being with the power to set this life into motion would have done so without a plan. But this... this was unexpected. When she'd said goodbye, Malik had been so certain that her blonde hair flying in the Seattle breeze was the last he'd ever see of her. They'd never even been serious, they both knew she was moving on from the Emerald City and had decided it was wise if they didn’t get close. It was better that way. He'd idly toyed with the thought of bumping into her on his brief trip to the Big Apple, but he'd never imagined it would come true. It... did make sense though. How many training camps for Roman demigods were there on this coast? But even still, to find her exact bed...

Pulling the sheet from its resting spot, Malik stepped back away from the bunk, soaking in the words that stared back at him from the page. He'd almost thrown it away so many times. That was where the crumples had come from. He'd decided not to discard his work, at least not at that point, and had folded it into his pocket. It was where the creases had come from. He’d been going to see how things went, and maybe...


It wasn't his best work, he hadn’t really known her. Some of the best poetry, his at least, came from a place of knowledge and guided the reader through a problem, existential normally. It would have double meanings, triple meanings, layers upon layers of hidden depth to be peeled away by the most astute. It would speak volumes in mere phrases, house worlds in few words, it would reach out and tug at the heartstrings. Well, it's what he aimed for at least, and this poem had done none of those. It was playful in its usage of nouns, internal rhyme and alliteration, sure, but it did little else beyond work in a few little tricks with the structure.

But it had stuck in his head. This one of all the things he'd written had stuck. Why? What had made it remain when others faded away?
The sound of the front door opening dragged his attention away from the sheet, and saw the eyes of the reason staring back at him, light filtering in over her blonde hair.

Sarenrae had never been one for violence. She left that part to her father and sister. She herself took after their mother. The beautiful woman that had more peace about her than was normal to be found in a household. Perhaps that was why she'd gone to stay with her father while her sister had remained with the Romans. They were both explosive forces, like fire and gunpowder. Both could only cause an explosion when mixed. Energy and fuel to the flames. No, it had been better that the calm natures had joined with the more flighty ones. Sarenrae did not believe in war, in violence. She knew it existed and that once upon a blue moon there would be a good reason to go to war and fight a battle that was worth dying for. Yet most wars ended up solved at a conference table at some point. The young woman sometimes wondered why the idea of a conference didn't occur to the leaders in the first place. Why fight when many lives could have been spared? 

Sarenrae would not fight. She would counter ignorance with words of peace and do what she could to preserve the peace. She didn't carry weapons on her side, not even when the Romans were around. Perhaps it was foolish but within camp the only things she truly needed were the concealing ring and perhaps one day something to fight the monsters with. Her father claimed she was the concealed child of war but she herself didn't feel it. She felt more as if she was the one concealed from war, as if it could not find her and take her in its hold. She would not let war take control of her life and would avoid fights where possible. With that thought in mind, she smiled slightly. She approached the barracks and already longed for the start of the new semester where she could continue to study the arts of healing. If war would be her destiny, she knew she'd go to the battle fields to heal those that got hurt. Not to fight herself. "Always a lover, never a fighter." She whispered softly, the words her healer and once told her still close to her heart. Love was a battle against hate. The only battle she wanted to fight. Forgiveness and redemption, to only destroy those things that had closed their hearts to it. That was what she longed for. Perhaps one day she would take up arms. Just not today.

When she stepped through the door her eyes instantly fell on a shape standing by her bunk bed. The dark hair, the way he held his frame. Everything seemed familiar. Her eyes locked on him as she felt everything in her soul tense up for a moment. He was here? She vaguely remembered that her grandfather had promised her she'd be safe here. She remembered that he'd never been anything but kind to her. That he didn't know who she really was but had known something about her was incomplete in a sense. Sweet Roses, he had written. He hadn't even known who she was back then. He probably still didn't know the full truth. 

When he turned and their eyes met, she instantly found herself relaxing and smiling despite all the previous worries. "Didn't expect to see you here." She said with a soft voice as she walked up beside him and looked at the paper in his hands. The poem he had written her and given as a keepsake after the goodbye. She glanced from the paper to his face and that silly beard he sported. It looked good on him of course but Sarenrae had never been the biggest fan of beards. 

"Are you going to be staying in the area?" She asked him, her question already filled with everything that hadn't been possible in the past because they never expected to meet again. The question already asked everything that might have been before if they had thought there was a future of sorts for them. It was obvious they liked each other, or to Sarenrae it seemed that way. It just was no good to get invested only to be hurt a little while later. Hurt by something easily avoided by simply not investing. Now that they were both here though, there seemed to be an odd sort of possibility in the air. Sarenrae wondered what might happen if he did plan to stay. She hadn't trusted anybody enough since the incident those years ago. She'd grown and healed with time though and now felt that she somehow was ready to try again. She had plenty of experience in the acts of love and lust from the expertly foolish way she had handled the losses she had suffered but maybe it was time to build a new life. Or maybe just to try for a little while. Despite the fact she was broken and unable to give any man the sort of future that she wished for she felt that maybe things would change. Perhaps there was hope somewhere. Maybe this would be the true start of something new. A new future.

Malik blinked, shocked into freezing up. For a moment he imagined he looked like the hare in the headlights, or the misbehaving student beneath the weighty gaze of a teacher. He knew that one well enough. The variety of often comic excuses students would come up with often struck him as funny, as if the kids were desperately clinging to the defence of "I wouldn't dare make something that stupid up, would I?" Students always forgot that teachers talk, and never seem to think that they might be the subject of the discussion. After all, teachers had to find their amusement somehow and while they have to be professional (to a point) in the classroom, they can totally laugh at their students in their free time. The teacher life had so few perks, but that was quite a satisfying one; it helped maintain sanity in the face of the Sisyphean task they struggled against daily. Her smile thawed him out, pulling out a grin from him that was somewhere between sheepish, relieved and honestly happy. I can honestly say the same. She crossed the distance between them and glanced down at the poem, the one that had been tacked to her board, and his grin became mostly sheepish. Not in any creepy, stalkerish way, I swear! I was just... coming through and it caught my eye. He knew how weak that sounded, but it was strictly the truth. Shamefaced, Malik handed the poem back over, the red ink glinting in the Barracks lights. It was a shame, he'd been unable to take it with him; pots of ink didn't really travel very well but he still had the pen and knew the manufacturer so it was always a possibility again for the future. Ehm, sorry about that.

Their first encounter could have been disguised as chance, and their second a pure fluke, but Malik did not believe in coincidence, only fate. He'd figured the time they'd spent together previously had been a lesson of sorts for the future. Not an investment, he wouldn't think of another person in such a way, but a learning experience. One went into life and could either run around blindly, eyes closed to the lessons all around them, or they could walk casually taking in all that passed around them. He believed the latter was the way to go and tried to integrate that belief into his lessons to inspire his students to feel the same way. He was wrong in assuming Sarenrae had just been another lesson in growth, and meeting her here on the other side of the country could not be a fortunate accident. It only reinforced his belief that there was more to everything that merely met the eye. I- As he paused, the question ringing in his ears, he felt his self-questioning fade. Malik had been up on the fence about staying, but maybe he could stay awhile longer than anticipated. Plus, did New York count as "the area" because the answer in that case would be certainly. He'd been offered a position in a post-graduate program to work on a dissertation and that wasn't something he was going to give up lightly. Plus, she was here. He'd been a little heartbroken when he'd found out she was leaving Seattle, but had accepted it. They had both known there wasn't a possibility of anything going anywhere, and had decided it was best if they didn't get too attached otherwise they'd just be making things more painful. Well they had thought that, but fate apparently knew better than two foolish mortals. Maybe there was something for him here. Maybe he could start something new here, something that wasn't hanging the gloomy shadow of his mother's passing. Maybe Sarenrae could be here for that. Perhaps if he'd known he was leaving the emerald city as well earlier they could have made arrangements to travel together, but the past was in the past and it seemed like all was for the best? They'd run into each other once again, and also once again in the most unlikely of scenarios. Maybe things would be different now that Sarenrae wasn't going to be moving across the country from him, was she? Yeah, I think I am. I'm in the Third Cohort, are you? Malik wasn't one to disguise the optimism in his voice, why would he? It was a question asking two things, well kind of three. Was she staying, was she in the Third and through that line of questioning, were they physically standing in that building? Someone really should label the buildings.

Everything about this situation was nothing but strange. Sarenrae believed in the Gods from a young age onwards, but not by choice. Her entire life she'd been raised to believe in them and now that she'd seen one of them.... Sarenrae knew she'd never escape their world and would come to treat it as her own. In a few years though, maybe then she'd escape for a while. Her blood was calling her and she knew what she wanted her calling to be. It was not quite that simple though. It never really was. 

Sarenrae took the poem he'd once written her back, her fingertips soft on the paper while the red lights glinted like freshly drawn blood. Red ink seemed only too appropriate now that she knew she was a Legacy of Mars by a demigod that had taken the life of another. It had broken her father and in a sense it had always broken the legacy. Perhaps not Calla, but she hadn't seen her father quite as much as Sarenrae had. Besides, she absolutely hated the man. Sarenrae still loved her father despite all the bad things. No matter how much his anger and guilt now controlled his life. "Thank you." She said, both for him giving her back that which he had once given her and for writing it in the first place. Gentle words for such a strange situation. She gently placed the poem back where it belonged before turning back to him. The writer.

But he was here to stay as much as she was. She smiled slightly. "I was placed in Second, under the guidance of my sister." At that point the smile grew, although there was a sadness in her eyes. She never really had gotten along with her sister the way they should have. Upon returning her sister had nearly killed her for not telling her she'd been alive. It was the harsh reality, everything was intense. "But I'll mostly be in the city. I want to keep studying." To keep healing, although she wouldn't say that. In a sense learning how to cure physical wounds felt like it was curing her own mental ones. She was a lot better now, but still had a long way to go. "Would you like to go for coffee some time?" Sarenrae suddenly asked with a smile. She had to admit she'd missed the man of poems, the friend she'd had for a little while. Perhaps now was the time for them to grow closer together?