Half-Siblings

Turna did not possess the same longing to be "normal" that Percy Jackson had.

She had begun reading The Lightning Thief in hope that perhaps she would be able to relate to Rick Riordan's characters, and they had failed to do so. She had even been naive enough to wonder if perhaps Riordan was a demigod himself, but of course that had been even more foolish than her original wish - those who knew the truth of Yggdrasil had no interest in humanity's other gods.
No, even being a daughter of the jotun-god, Nocturna Dru Lokisdaughter did not wish to be rid of her pedigree, even with all it had cost her. None of the "normal" humans who passed by the fifty-eighth room of the North Kansas City Hospital could have guessed at some of the memories that the head of the pale, silver-blonde teenager contained. They would not have guessed that her father was the killer of the light-god, that her half-siblings were monsters with the power to destroy immortals, that she had the knowledge to disprove hundreds of theories that had been created by mortals who called themselves researchers. They would not have guessed that the girl in room fifty-eight was not human.

And that was how Turna liked it. That was why she did not wish to be "normal". She was popular at school, people liked her, they thought she was nice. They thought she was an underdog, so they made her the most popular girl in elementary school, middle school, and now high school. They were idiots, and Turna hated them. But oh, the attention!
Like her father, the silver-blonde demigoddess craved attention. She would do anything, anything for it. Turna would kill for it. That was, after all, what her father had done.
So, she sat with the idiots of her high school, talked to them, listened to their problems, basked in their attention. Loki did not discuss personal matters with his children, but Turna had often wondered if that was the simple reason he had joined the Aesir in the first place - their attention, their love, their gold.
The father and child were much more alike than either of them knew, than either of them wanted.

Footsteps. But unlike the usual constant sound of passersby outside the hospital room, these made a clack sound that could only be caused by the linoleum flooring of room fifty-eight, not the dull-colored carpeting of the corridor. Turna brushed a silver strand of hair out of her pale eyes and shifted position on the hospital bed to face the door, wincing as the pain in her side returned, protesting to the new change in position.
She could not actually see whoever had entered the room, as the curtain has been pulled all around the bed in an attempt to cut out at least a small percentage of the noise, and she did not not wish to risk re-opening her wounds in order to draw them back again.
The footsteps ceased. The curtains were somewhat violently drawn back, revealing a younger-looking man with the same fair features, long face and icy blue eyes as Turna.

"Vali." was all Turna said, the uninterested look on her face immediately evaporating, replaced by irritation.
The god of vengeance gave a sideways and rather tepid smile at the sound of his name, then nodded at the immense amount of bandages on his half-sister's side and leg.
"What did you tell them it was?"
"A dog." Turna snapped, already knowing that he'd criticize her answer, whatever it was.
Vali frowned.
"You and I both know that they'll never believe that." was his reply.
"What the heck do you want me to tell them? 'My dad, who happens to be Loki, the god of mischief, suddenly decided that he wanted me to meet my older half-brother, who happens to be a giant monster wolf, and things got slightly out of hand'? I couldn't think of anything better than a dog!" the girl slammed her fist on the bedside table, knocking off a vase of flowers which instantly shattered on the floor, and then wincing in pain again. "And besides, wolves basically are dogs." she added, nearly a whisper this time.
A minute of silence ensued. A man in a nearby room began coughing non-stop. A baby cried.
"You can't honestly believe that this nuthouse is going to do your injuries any good, not if they were inflicted by a divine animal on the same level as Fenris." Vali broke the silence, picking up the copy of The Lightning Thief that had been laying on the floor, endangered by the sudden shattering of the flower vase. Glaring, Turna yanked the book out of the vengeance-god's hand, and as the pain flared up again, cringed and muttered a new curse word she'd learned from her father on the trip to see Fenris.
"Now that's a word that I haven't heard for a few centuries. And as I was saying, you should really go see Eir." the amused tone that Turna despised was creeping into his voice.
"I hate her!" the demigoddess snapped, her glare intensifying. Vali frowned.
"You know, if you weren't the daughter of an insanely powerful jotun-god as well as my half-sister, I doubt that the higher gods would have had a problem with me killing you for saying that."
"I don't care!"
"You just want to stay here for the attention."
Turna didn't bother to respond. First of all, it was true - she loved all the attention that was given out in these mortal hospitals by idiots who called themselves healers. Secondly, also being a child of Loki, Vali knew her too well.

"Fine." the girl mumbled, scowling at the blood pressure monitor as if it were the core of all her problems.
In response, Vali extended his arm. Apparently having done this before, Turna took his hand, still scowling.
The hospital room became empty, the monitors became blank. A vase of flowers sat on the bedside table, unscathed.

Vampire-Style Rabbit Stew. Almost.

Fletcher flipped the throwing knife over and over in his hand, surveying the landscape around him through frosty green eyes, almost bored.
To be honest, the vampire had a great aim. Better than great, it was astonishing, even with his blind eye. He knew that, he wasn't one of those idiotic people who couldn't accept praise for anything they did - he despised that kind of person. People like that redheaded Warwick girl. His gaze intensified at the thought of her, and he nearly dropped the knife.

A snap.
Fletcher whipped around to face whatever or whoever had entered the area behind him, the element of boredom immediately leaving his features. Straw brown fur, long whiskers, beady black eyes. A rabbit.
Human food.
Sure, it was small. Just a meal or two, but it was still a meal. But this knife wouldn't do. Too heavy, made for long-distance kills. Silently, he slid the weapon back into its place in the double scabbard, his hand returning to the ready position with the lighter, short-distance knife, its silver blade gleaming in the moonlight.
Fletcher almost allowed himself a smirk. Ready, set, rabbit stew...
"Boy, your left eye sure looks creepy."
The rabbit wasted no time, and was gone before Fletcher could fully register the situation. The knife embedded itself in a tree root. October stepped out of the shadows, grinning. The vampire used the opportunity to show off an assortment of extra-colorful language he'd collected over the past century.
The fair-haired boy walked over to the knife and threw his hands in the air, in mock horror.
"Oh my God, you killed some dirt!"
Fletcher yanked the blade out of the teenager's hand, eyes flashing. "I had it! Are you trying to starve yourself along with everyone else? Because you certiantly can't afford to lose any weight, Pharrel!" he nearly snarled.
"Hey, it was only a rabbit. Besides, Alpine doesn't like it when cute little fluffies die." October's grin almost seemed stuck on his face, it appeared so often.
At the sound of the Warwick girl's name, Fletcher glanced around until his gaze reached the small girl that, for months, had never seemed to leave October's side. "Well, if she wants to eat, she'd better get used to it."
With a final glare, he set off to hunt somewhere else, but immediately realized it was useless when the two children followed him, October continuing to talk non-stop.

"Are you alseep, Wolf?"

((Somehow, in the process of copying and pasting this from WordPad, the spacing got really messed up... sorry about that))

"Are you asleep, Wolf?" the child whispered hopefully, her gray eyes wide with the excitement of what it could mean if her theory was true.

"No, Braith, I am not." came the deep reply from the dark beast that lay just a few feet away from where Braith had been playing, his wolfish eyes closed, enjoying the warmth of the late summer sun. Braith's fair face fell in incredible dissappointment.

"Why not?" she demanded. His eyes were closed and he'd been still as a stone, surely there was some trick behind the whole thing.

"Because I have been given the task of looking after you, which I canot fulfill unless I am awake." Wolf's golden eyes popped open, although they were not neccesarily neeeded - his sensitive, black-furred ears picked up every movement that the child made. Seeing that there was nothing else she could do about the situation, Braith sat back down to help her dolls finish the house they'd been building from leaves and pebbles.

"Are you wise, Wolf?" the girl inquired, while testing the strength of a newly-built leaf room.

"No." the beast answered, eyes closed once again, giving the false appearance of slumber.