Although her writer tends to refrain from posting on introductions because the girl she writes about very rarely initiates conversations with strangers, and this same writer despises describing clothes in great detail because she never has any references to show to the other writer and is afraid that she'll be misunderstood, Aubree approaches.

Where there is a crowd, there is a spectacle. The spectacle is the new boy. It's always a new one, never an old one - once the demigod has been here for a week, they lose their right to claim "I'm new" and make stupid mistakes, because they've met others and fought them and befriended them, hopefully befriended them (Aubree never did, big mistake, but all little girls make big mistakes) and learned how to behave at camp.

One of those lessons, one that Aubree never learns, is that greeting a new camper is reason to drop everything from ones hands in order to say hello. The girl enjoys watching the greeting more than actually greeting people herself - which is why she prefers to keep her distance. Bacchus is a spectator of war, a madman who watches and laughs, and although her lips (painted black, cupid's bow accentuated, high-shine gloss) don't smile, ever, unless drunken debauchery is involved, she takes after her father in this aspect: she watches, doesn't interfere.

The breeze lifts up her pleated skirt (black again, it's all she wears), reveals layers of petticoat-tule, edges decorated with rose-lace, and garters plus their respective suspenders. The girl smooths her skirt down, pale hands on dark fabric. The soft fabric of her sweater (the print of a ouija board, which is cut off fairly high, since the skirt begins there) falls around her stocky upper body, does nothing for her shape but doesn't take anything away from it either.

Aubree is impressive and eerie with her skeletal frame, indigo eyes lined and winged, black lips unsmiling and perfect, skin perfectly ivory but for the blue lines of her veins. And miss Eldritch-Abomination waits until the crowd has dispersed, until the spectacle is over.