As a child of Apollo, you were accustomed to the spotlight, often performing at the nightly sing-alongs with your half-siblings around the campfire.

Performing itself never made you anxious. You were confident in your skill with the harp. However, it wasn’t the attention that unsettled you—it was the thought of what Thalia might think of you. Your eyes would instinctively search for her among the crowd as you played.

Once your performance ended, you hurried over to her, your hands fidgeting nervously behind your back as you stood before her, eager for her opinion. She met your anxious gaze with a soft smile, replying gently, "Not bad, sunshine."