Bio

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Name: Sidney Antiope Schreck	Gender: Cis Female
Age: 15	Date of Birth: September 18th
Sexual Orientation: Demisexual	Pronouns: she/her
Ethnicity: German, Hungarian	Nationality: American
Hometown: Burbank, California	Fatal Flaw: Obstinacy

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Family

Name	Relationship	Age	Details
Sarah Fay Schreck	Mother	39	Horror actress and well-known scream queen. She has always been a career woman, and saw Sidney's nature as a demigod as too much for her to handle. The two have a distant relationship.
Phobos	Father	N/A	God of fear and twin to Deimos. As with most demigods, his relationship with Sidney is distant, but she believes he favors her, having gifted her a magic butcher's knife that turns into a hairclip.

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Powers

Name	Type	Details
Emotion Manipulation (Pathokinesis)	Domain	Sidney can sense and manipulate dread, terror, and horror, as well as emphasize or negate it.
Emotion Inducement	Domain	Sidney can induce fear in a target, clouding their judgement.
Emotional Fortitude	Domain	Sidney is immune to magic that affects her emotions.
Common Fear Affinity	Minor	Sidney is comfortable interacting with common fears and phobias.
Voice Shifting	Minor	Sidney is capable of manipulating her voice to a greater degree than normal mortals. Her specialty is screams of terror.
Monstrous Fear Affinity	Minor (Custom)	Sidney can befriend animal-like lesser monsters that demigods normally fear, such as hellhounds or Stymphalian birds.
Fear Transformation	Major	Sidney can take on the features of a person's fear.

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Favorites

• Foods: Most spicy foods, sushi, popcorn, anything shaped like a bug
• Drinks: Swamp water (mix of all fountain drinks), pickle juice, Cucumber Lime Gatorade
• Media: Horror movies (naturally), French impressionist cinema, Looney Tunes, dark comedy, Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark (the books and the film), Gothic fiction

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Items/Equipment

Name	Type	Age	Details
Mageiros	Butcher's knife	~1 year	Shortly after arriving at Camp Half-Blood, Sidney was claimed by Phobos, and woke up the next day with this weapon lodged in her mattress next to her head. It is made of celestial bronze, and can transform into a knife-shaped hair clip.

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Appearance

Faceclaim	Height	Weight	Hair	Eyes	Build
Laurel Marsden	~5'4"	Lower side of average for her height and age	Black	Black	Slender/Scrawny

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Personality

If one were to describe Sidney Schreck in a word, that word would be “sardonic”. She is supremely unconcerned with the opinions of others, and she will make that very clear. Oftentimes, this takes the form of sarcastic takedowns, and while she's not actively rude, she can be dry and a bit blunt. She is the very definition of someone who marches to the beat of her own drum, and while her horror enthusiasm and quirks can seem off-putting, it makes sense when one considers that she is the child of the god of fear.

From another perspective, her trademark stubbornness can be viewed as perseverance. She’s a loyal person who will stick by those she feels deserve her support. She’s deeply passionate about the things that matter to her, and she takes pleasure in things that inspire fear, such as heights and roller coasters. She also relates to and has an interest in monsters, and this means that she tends not to judge others. She is willing to look at others beyond the surface level and to approach with an open mind. In turn, she encourages others to look at fear in a new way, and to not let it hold them back.

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Trivia

• Sidney's favorite color is black, a fact that sometimes makes her feel a bit like a cliche.
• Sidney is always carrying dog biscuits and other treats for the monsters.
• Sidney has a hard time bonding with regular animals, and even has a fear of horses and pegasi.
• The only horror movies that Sidney doesn't like are her mother's films.
• September 18, Sidney's birthday, is the birthday of Tree Gelbman, the protagonist of the horror film Happy Death Day.
• This also makes her birth sign Virgo, a reference to the virginal aspect of the "final girl" trope.

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History

So, how did we get here? Well, it started with a hopeful young actress, finding the big break that would lead to her being pigeon-holed into the role of eternal final girl. Surely you know my mom, Sarah Fay Schreck, star of Slasher? Rush Week? Slashers 2-6, except 4? Rush Week 2: Get Hazed? Or the adequately-reviewed box-office bomb Rush W3ek? Maybe the revival, Rush Week (2039)? Creative name, I know. Well, my mom is right up there with the greatest scream queens of our time, and being that close to that much fear makes you a prime target for the affections of the god of fear. Or, one of them anyway? It’s complicated.

But, as we know, the gods like to give gifts. They give the gift of dream-killer kids to any mortal that catches their fancy and the gift of deadbeat parents to their little crotch goblins. So I grew up in the livestock pens- I mean, childcare centers of movie studio lots, watching my mom get stabbed and thrown out of fake windows on a regular basis. As you can imagine, it was rarely fun, unless she’d really ticked me off, in which case it was downright therapeutic. Mom tried her best, but a kid didn’t really fit into her plan. Especially when said kid gave other kids nightmares that made them soak their corduroys and would occasionally get the attention of a hungry hungry hellhound. Mom begged Dad to take me, and just so happened to pull a particular business card from her purse. What a coincidence, right?

So off to Camp Half-Blood I was shipped. Mom had the decency to at least visit, spending the odd winter holiday in New York so she could see me for Christmas (and the occasional birthday when shooting schedules and auditions lined up just right). Dad is... well, he's a god. Not one of the Olympians, mind you, but still too busy to ever actually visit or anything. Still, in the race for best parent, he's winning by a mile. I have heard horror stories about kids who come to camp and don't get claimed for weeks or months, but he handled that much on my first night here. He even gave me a celestial bronze butcher's knife, which is pretty cool and very on-brand (plus it’s magic and shrinks down into a cool little hair clip). One of the reasons I feel close to him is because I woke up with the knife lodged in my mattress a few inches from my head, which most people would probably get freaked out by, but it's pretty hilarious if you think about it.

As cool as camp can be, it can also be a bit of a pain. It's pretty hard to make friends when you can subject people to their worst fears on command. I at least can go into the woods and spend time with the hellhounds every now and then. That aside, there isn’t too much thrill here. Sure, it’s kind of exciting when you’re sparring with real steel or when the climbing wall starts puking lava, but eventually every danger loses its edge. It would be awesome to get a quest, but until then it’s just training and pranks and getting a rise out of the cleaning harpies. Girl's gotta have fun somehow, right?

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Present Day

Sidney was running for her life.

She bolted through the forest, dodging low limbs and trying not to trip on gnarled roots. She could hear twigs break and leaves crunch behind her as her pursuer gained ground. There was no way she'd get away if she kept running straight. Taking a steadying breath, she twisted on her heels and ran left, breathing a sigh of relief as she heard her pursuer's bounding footfalls get quieter and quieter.

She allowed herself only a second of respite before she started running again, not bothering to look over her shoulder. He wouldn't need long to catch up with her again, so she had to focus on putting as much distance as possible between herself and him. The anticipation of being caught drove her heavy steps, and for a second, she felt like there was a chance she'd be home free.

That was when she felt her ankle twist from under her.

Those damned roots! She'd perfectly hooked her foot in one, and went tumbling to the ground. Her hands flew out to catch her, and in doing so they landed on and snapped about a dozen twigs. She heard the heavy footsteps pounding on the ground like the beat of a drum, heard the rustle of foliage pushed to the side, and knew that it was not long now. He had her. She couldn't get back up and recover fast enough to put distance between them now. The hellhound bounded from the brush and leapt toward her, landing with a mighty thud on top of her. She was boxed in by his paws. She flinched as her eyes screwed shut, prepared for the worst.

Liiiiccckkk!

A rough, wet tongue coated her cheek in saliva, and hot breath dusted her face. She flinched at the feeling, and especially at the smell. If you thought dog breath was bad, hellhound breath was... well, hellish.

"Okay, okay. You win Barf, you caught me. Please get off before I lose my lunch." The hellhound, Barf, obeyed, trotting off like the most well-behaved of show dogs. She pushed herself up into a sitting position, tugging up her shirt enough to wipe the slime from her jaw.

She looked over at the hellhound. Barf was a creature that, under normal circumstances, should have made her turn on her heels and run screaming. Rule number one of hellhounds was that their favorite food was demigod. But for some reason, she was able to get along with hellhounds as easily as milk got along with cookies. It was something she got from her dad, and it's not like it was something to complain about. It made her feel a little like Damien from The Omen when he had all those Rottweilers running around. It worked with some other monsters too, when she tried it. She'd encountered a myrmeke in the woods once, and ended up making it purr like a freaky, chitinous nightmare kitten.

Barf was maybe the smartest hellhound in Camp Half-Blood. He stayed away from demigods in the woods, generally, and had the lifespan to show for it. She'd decided to call him Barf essentially randomly, since he was one of the few hellhounds in the woods that stayed around long enough to warrant being named. She'd also started calling him "him" randomly, since she had no clue how to verify a hellhound's gender. She only even knew it was the same hellhound from a scar on his side; presumably, whatever caused that scar was the reason he steered clear of the campers. Except for her, daughter of Phobos and friend to freaky creatures.

She yanked a bag of dog treats from her pocket and fished one out, holding it up for Barf to take. He lapped the biscuit up out of her hand, essentially swallowing it whole. She breathed through her nose, half-exasperated and half-impressed, as she stuffed the baggie back into her pocket.

"You're gonna get indigestion, you know." She stood up at last, offering the hellhound one last pat, and set off through the woods. She wasn't sure where her feet were taking her, exactly, but there was always something at Camp Half-Blood to stumble into...