Climbing Wall

[tokkimi]

The deadly climbing wall is a great area for those who wish to test their hand-eye coordination. Though about halfway up, the challenge begins. If I were you, I'd be a bit wary as you make it up. Higher and higher you go, the more danger you fall upon. Rocks will fall, lava will seep through the cracks, and there's the occasional prank that a Hermes' child might place as well. Watch your step - you don't want to fall, now do you?

 

[iUberUber l33t]

E R I K xxx ↪ N E R O ↩ xxx G O S S E

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xxxxxxxx〖ʏᴇᴀн〗 xxx↝ нeᴙe we ₲↻ Ƒɵᴙ ԏԋԑ Ԋ ᶙ ᶇ ᶁ ᶉ ᶓ ᶁ ҭ ӊ ↷ ϯ ι м ᴇ
xxxxxxxђѧпᴅ⇝ԍᴙᴇᴎᴀᴅᴇ ᴘιηs in ↾ ᴇ v e r y ⇃ ʃɪɴᴇ⥽→
xxxxx⤿ T H R O W × ’ᴇм⤻ᵘᵖ && ᴌᴇᴛ s.o.m.e.t.h.i.n.g xxx ƧHƖNƎ ⇝⥁⥁⥁
g o » i n ⤻ O.U.T of my Ӻ ᵘ ᶜ ᵏ ᶦ ᶰ ᶢ ⦕ M I N D ⦖xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

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There were a few demigods that always seemed to hang out by the climbing wall until they were discovered as idle. However, Nero paid them no mind. He looked up at the wall, thoughtful half-frown on his lips. He was thinking about the best way to get up. True, he didn't feel the heat as much as the other campers when lava started seeping to the surface of it, but that didn't mean that he couldn't get damaged on the wall. Especially if the Hermes kids were playing around again. They were known for their pranking. He sighed, taking off his jacket and folding it on a rock far enough away that it would be in sight, but away from the harm that may come to it. On top of his jacket, he rested his copy of Paradise Lost by John Milton. It was, by far, his favorite book, and especially of the classics. His mind had memorized it cover to cover, and in the case that someone could recite a line, he would easily come up with the next few lines. He smiled, recalling a powerful line as he took the first foothold. He began to recite it under his breath, hoisting himself to the top.

The doctors told him to stop exerting himself. His scoliosis could get worse, he could become paralyzed. However, that didn't mean he could just drop everything and call it done. He sighed at the thought, internally cursing his father for being the disfigured god he was. Otherwise, maybe he wouldn't have had such a horrible deformation. However, his mother was also partly to blame. And the thought of his mother made his temper flare.

About halfway up the wall, the demigod paused. He took a deep breath, closing his eyes. He felt the calm breeze on his face, reminding him that he wasn't in that hellhole where all she did was drink. He smelt the fresh air, the flowers, the heat from higher up the climbing wall. The son of Hephaestus sighed, knowing he was the only one on the wall. After all, no one was setting vibrations. Opening his eyes, he reached for the next handhold. Then the next. His feet found new ledges, and finally, he was at the lava area. The heat must be unbearable to those unable to stand the fiery forges. His siblings had many problems, but not he. It was odd. To not draw attention to his tolerance, he evaded the lava where he could, soon having to evade falling rocks. He internally wondered what triggers there were. Like most things, it could be either technological or magical. It depended on which god created it. His father and Athena were the only ones who invented, by all likeliness, but Ares was eliminated. He was too stupid and brawny.

Finally, the demigod pulled himself up onto the last ledge, which was the very top. He sat, folding his legs and looking down at the campers who were still chatting. His lips tilted downward as he took a recess to his thoughts, knowing nothing would disturb him other than another climber who somehow made it all the way to the top.

The youth's thoughts were plagued by his mother now. He always did his best to stay away from her mentally, as his mind would never release the smell of alcohol, her intoxicating smile, and her glassy stare. Even in death she had looked beautiful, except for those eyes so devoid of emotion, so nearly clouded completely over. He could so clearly recall the sanitary smell of the hospital as the doctor dragged him away from his mother, the stark white of the walls in the face of such dark cruelty. He had never made funeral arrangements for his mother. Why should he? He was the only one who remembered that she existed. Her father was dead, and that left him and her exes. None of her exes would have done anything.

Still, it would have been nice to have a grave to go to whenever he wished to pay what little he had of respect to her...

A mechanical clanking became apparent a distance away, and he opened his eyes to see something black coming toward him quickly. He waited, watching as it landed on his shoulder. It was a black Automaton, but it was quite different from the ones usually made for the reason that his raven was made from Stygian iron, one of the deadliest immortal materials. However, he took precautions when welding the precious metal, and although he'd never needed to, it could be a really good weapon. Sighing at the thought, Nero realized that he should probably get off of the wall. Some Satyrs were whisking the campers away, and one motioned for him to come down. He sighed and started to make his way back down, which was always trickier than going up. He grunted, nearly slipping. One of his feet lost its traction, and he almost slid down. He grit his teeth, letting go. His back hurt from the jerking, which was unfortunate. The fortunate part, however, was that he fell on a satyr. Well, fortunate for him. Not the satyr. He managed to roll off of the half-goat creature, who huffed before cantering away. Nero rolled his eyes, trying to push himself up and hissing as he made it onto his hands and knees. Finally, he was on his feet, and his back ached.

The son of Hephaestus looked at his automaton to be sure that it was alright, and it was perched on the ledge that his foot slipped from, tilting its head with a few creaks. Sighing, he pulled on his jacket, movement quite slow and pained before he picked up his book and moved to sit down, leaning against a tree. He pulled up his hood to shadow his eyes, resting his book in his lap and lacing his fingers together over the book. He closed his eyes, letting himself slump and relax into a light nap.

⦅ OutOfCharm . : : . If anyone wishes to harass Nero, feel free. This is why he's just lying there asleep~!

>< I feel like a noob, just RPing with such a bad avi... ⦆

xx xx xx

 

[JJmonkeychic]

уσυ cαη'т нι∂є уσυя ℓуιη' єуєѕ
αη∂ уσυя ѕмιℓє ιѕ α тнιη {∂ιѕgυιѕє}
ι тнσυgнт ву ησω уσυ'∂ яєαℓιzє
тнєяє αιη'т ησ ωαу тσ нι∂є уσυя ℓуιη єуєѕ.

__________________________________

Scathach walked up to the climbing wall, planning to at least give the treacherous thing a try. She was a little frightened, mostly because she absolutely despised fire, but she figured that she would have to get over her fear eventually. And what better place to do it than at a camp where, if she were to get injured, she could just chug some ambrosia and get all fixed up within a day or two. She wasn't sure if she'd even get all that harmed, really. She was athletic and she had incredibly fast reflexes, but she knew she would probably freeze up when she saw the lava. Fear did that to her.

As she looked up at the climbing wall, she spoke softly, reciting something her grandmother used to say, "Tá eagla ar bhonn na sanity. Chun a bheith dÚsachtach is é sin le nach bhfuil eagla. Chun nach bhfuil eagla a bheith cróga. Dá bhrí sin, é a bheith cróga a bheith dÚsachtach." The little mantra helped her, in some odd way, as she started up, hand over foot, foot over hand, over and over again. She tried not to think about the fire and lava that would eventually come spurting out. What she did, instead, was anticipate the little traps that she was sure some of the Hermes kids had set up.

When she got halfway up she paused, then took a deep breath and kept going. When the lava spurted for the first time she yelped and let go, landing on her feet with a soft thud. She cursed herself under her breath and glared up at the lava that dripped down from the wall, wishing that it was alive so that she could hurt it. With a long suffering sigh she backed up and started to walk away, then noticed a boy sitting up against a tree with a book in his lap.

More interested in the book than the kid, she walked over on silent feet and looked at the book curiously. Paradise Lost. She loved that book. It was one of her favorites, and she used to read it non-stop before she came to the camp. Without really thinking about it, she quoted in her naturally quiet and soft voice:

"The first sort by their own suggestions fell,
Self-tempted, self-depraved: man falls deceived
By the other first: man therefore shall find grace,
The other none

Her thick Irish accent made the statement a bit difficult to understand by untrained ears, and she tried to sound more American as she said, "Nice book, isn't it?" It didn't sound more American at all, it just sounded like a bad British accent. She gave up and reverted back to her native accent as she nudged the boy with her toe, "Are you awake?"

му, σн му, уσυ ѕυяє кησω нσω тσ αяяαηgє тнιηgѕ
уσυ ѕєт ιт υρ ѕσ [ωєℓℓ], ѕσ cαяєƒυℓℓу
αιη'т ιт ƒυηηу нσω уσυя ηєω ℓιƒє ∂ι∂η'т cнαηgє тнιηgѕ
уσυ'яє ѕтιℓℓ тнє ѕαмє σℓ∂ gιяℓ уσυ υѕє∂ тσ вє..


((Out.Of.English: Fear is the basis of sanity. To be insane is to not fear. To not fear is to be brave. Therefore, to be brave is to be insane.))
((Out.Of.Classical: Scathach'll bother Nero! ^^))

 

[iUberUber l33t]

E R I K xxx ↪ N E R O ↩ xxx G O S S E

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xxxxxxxx〖ʏᴇᴀн〗 xxx↝ нeᴙe we ₲↻ Ƒɵᴙ ԏԋԑ Ԋ ᶙ ᶇ ᶁ ᶉ ᶓ ᶁ ҭ ӊ ↷ ϯ ι м ᴇ
xxxxxxxђѧпᴅ⇝ԍᴙᴇᴎᴀᴅᴇ ᴘιηs in ↾ ᴇ v e r y ⇃ ʃɪɴᴇ⥽→
xxxxx⤿ T H R O W × ’ᴇм⤻ᵘᵖ && ᴌᴇᴛ s.o.m.e.t.h.i.n.g xxx ƧHƖNƎ ⇝⥁⥁⥁
g o » i n ⤻ O.U.T of my Ӻ ᵘ ᶜ ᵏ ᶦ ᶰ ᶢ ⦕ M I N D ⦖xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

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Soon after his nap, he sighed internally. He heard someone walking to the wall, talking to themself. He opened one eye slightly and discerned that, whoever it was, they weren't looking at him, so he opened his eyes. He was faintly curious, the raven automaton on his shoulder whirring dully. The girl was starting to climb, and quite well. She hesitated about halfway up, and he arched an eyebrow, confused. True, that was where the lava started. And yet...it seemed so simple. At least, it did to him. Was she afraid? He was never afraid of the lava, as he couldn't be burned. He had tried many times, and thankfully, he had also managed to hide this factor. There were horror stories about those with the power of fire.

She suddenly dropped to the ground and, disappointed, he closed his eyes again. Nero heard the whirring of his creation, which almost masked her footsteps toward him. He heard a very thick accent talking, and he almost didn't recognize what she said. He was laughing wryly on the inside. Of course - a foreigner would understand and know John Milton. Of course she would be able to recite Paradise Lost, likely from memory. In her thick accent - somewhere on the borderline of British and Irish - she asked if he was awake, and he sighed.

"Better to reign in Hell, than serve in Heav'n," he commented in response to her question, opening his eyes. He looked up at her, studying her with a lazy stare. Although he was a diligent person, he knew how to appear so relaxed, nonchalant. He huffed softly, smirking a bit. "Are you Irish or British?" he asked, knowing that it had to be one of those. Her orange-red hair lent the theory of Irish much merit, but it was common knowledge that the Irish and British intermingled a lot, so he couldn't say for sure. The raven on his shoulder still whirring, he put a hand on the ground to push himself up a few inches so he could get his feet under him. Then he slowly straightened, tugging his white dress shirt into place and patting down his black pants.

"I take it you can't have been in America long. Your accent's really fresh...either that or it was a lot thicker." He didn't necessarily mean it as an insult. Like his father, he just wasn't good at dealing with people...

⦅ OutOfCharm . : : . YAY! COMPANY! Sorry for the late post ^^; ⦆

xx xx xx

 

[JJmonkeychic]

уσυ cαη'т нι∂є уσυя ℓуιη' єуєѕ
αη∂ уσυя ѕмιℓє ιѕ α тнιη {∂ιѕgυιѕє}
ι тнσυgнт ву ησω уσυ'∂ яєαℓιzє
тнєяє αιη'т ησ ωαу тσ нι∂є уσυя ℓуιη єуєѕ.

__________________________________

Scathach smiled a small smile when the boy responded with a quote from the book. Her blue eyes lit with amusement, then she said, "'Tis is a theory I can really get behind, that one." Being the daughter of the God of the Underworld, that statement had always pleased her. It wasn't, in fact, Hell, but the realm of the dead was a good enough place to rule. Albeit, there was no actual life down there aside from monsters and gods, it still seemed better than to have to listen and obey the words of such a p***k as Zeus.

Her pale skin turned a tad red as she cleared her throat, "Nay, lad, I'm Irish. I was attempting to sound more.... American. That horrid British accent was the product of my efforts." She shrugged sheepishly, "I gave up, because I'd rather have my hardly audible Irish accent than that awful British one. Who would want to be a Brit anyways?" Not that she didn't like the British, but she felt that the Irish's accent was much more beautiful. It had a lilt and lull that could cause such a vast range of emotion with just a single word and tone. When Scathach had come to America, she was homesick most for the sound of her people's voices. America had nothing like it, nothing at all.

She shook her head at his last statement, "Nay, haven't been here long a'tall. Maybe a month, perhaps two? Really only came because of who my father is, anyways. Would'v stayed in the Lagan Land if I was completely human." She hadn't really wanted to come to this country. She'd been perfectly happy where she was, even though her mother really got to her, sometimes. But, the woman and that man had insisted that it would be safer for her to be here. That if she didn't come to this camp, she could get killed. Now, Scathach hadn't been afraid of death, she never had from the day she was born, but she preferred to stay alive, if at all possible. And so, she'd found herself here. Home of the Free, Land of the Brave. Or however that saying went. And she'd found herself in Camp Halfblood. Home of the Freaks, Land of the Parentaly Neglected.

му, σн му, уσυ ѕυяє кησω нσω тσ αяяαηgє тнιηgѕ
уσυ ѕєт ιт υρ ѕσ [ωєℓℓ], ѕσ cαяєƒυℓℓу
αιη'т ιт ƒυηηу нσω уσυя ηєω ℓιƒє ∂ι∂η'т cнαηgє тнιηgѕ
уσυ'яє ѕтιℓℓ тнє ѕαмє σℓ∂ gιяℓ уσυ υѕє∂ тσ вє..


((Out.Of.English: ))
((Out.Of.Classical: Don't worry about it ^^))

 

[iUberUber l33t]

(( Sorry, hun, I'll be replying late tonight, but I have some stuff to do today. Really really sorry! ))

 

[JJmonkeychic]

iUberUber l33t

(( Sorry, hun, I'll be replying late tonight, but I have some stuff to do today. Really really sorry! ))

It's fine, take your time ^^ There's no rush.  

[iUberUber l33t]

E R I K xxx ↪ N E R O ↩ xxx G O S S E

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xxxxxxxx〖ʏᴇᴀн〗 xxx↝ нeᴙe we ₲↻ Ƒɵᴙ ԏԋԑ Ԋ ᶙ ᶇ ᶁ ᶉ ᶓ ᶁ ҭ ӊ ↷ ϯ ι м ᴇ
xxxxxxxђѧпᴅ⇝ԍᴙᴇᴎᴀᴅᴇ ᴘιηs in ↾ ᴇ v e r y ⇃ ʃɪɴᴇ⥽→
xxxxx⤿ T H R O W × ’ᴇм⤻ᵘᵖ && ᴌᴇᴛ s.o.m.e.t.h.i.n.g xxx ƧHƖNƎ ⇝⥁⥁⥁
g o » i n ⤻ O.U.T of my Ӻ ᵘ ᶜ ᵏ ᶦ ᶰ ᶢ ⦕ M I N D ⦖xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

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The son of Hephaestus drew a lot of amusement from this girl. He didn't particularly want to ask which god or goddess was her parent, considering the fact that it had a tendency to sober a good mood. He truthfully didn't want to talk about his father, either. It wasn't that he had anything against the man, but he just didn't want to have to talk about his heritage. That was simply going to work against him. He smiled at her lightly, arching his back a bit though the curve of his spine made it difficult. He placed a hand behind him to press against the bend in his back, easing the pain for the time being. "I like accents. I never could get a grip on the Irish accent, though. I used to travel a little bit with my mother - she was a model - and learned accents to fit in..." He paused, smiling a bit as he thought about it. "Well, long story short, Americans are very lazy with their English, and the Irish have such an art to how they speak."

Yes, he was lying. He had never traveled with his mother. In fact, he had only traveled the past year after saying he was only staying in the summers from then on. At age 18, he applied for his passport and went on a backpacking trip through Europe, mostly to visit Greece, where he spend a month. He wanted to see Greece and learn the culture. He met many people on his trip, where he only truly camped. He had money from his mother's modeling set aside, and it became available to him on his eighteenth birthday. In Europe, when he went to see a modeling company, he had actually spent a few months in France as a model, though it was quite difficult for him with his disfigurement, though his ability to understand French helped him a lot. His mother being a daughter of Aphrodite made him comfortable. When his mother's name was once brought up, he was paid her salary, though he didn't stay around. After all, he had to return to camp. He would definitely consider going back through the year, though.

His eyes traveled over her appearance, and he understood what she had to say, though his life was a little different. Had he been normal, he would be tossed from foster to foster, or even adopted by some family that wouldn't treat him properly. True, some kids came out right, but after his childhood, he wouldn't bother. He had never been taken away from his environment by Child Services. Some would say he didn't know better. However, he would take his lot and let himself do what he needed. He leaned on the tree behind him, the raven whirring softly, calmly in his ear as the gears whirred. Its obsidian eyes were directly on Scathatch, and he noted her hair. "I'm not sure if your hair or your eyes are what catch my attention most. Both are vibrant." He tilted his head slightly to the side, as he normally did when he encountered some questionable - yet interesting - blueprint or mechanical piece. He chuckled lightly. "However, yours is the most vibrant orange I have seen, despite my time in Ireland. Far more orange than red, is it not?" He paused, looking up the wall and smiling. He put his fingers on his shoulder, and the raven automaton found his palm. He pushed his hand up and the automaton spread its wings, taking the momentum to the top of the climbing wall.

"I saw you climb. You did really good until about two thirds up. It was the heat, wasn't it?" he asked inquisitively. He set the book down again and rolled his sleeves up to his elbows. "Come on, I'll show you where to go. There are a few places the lava won't come out. But it's a secret, okay?" he asked, winking at her before his hands found the first holds and he pulled himself up, waiting for her. "A person has to be afraid, but the ability to surpass that fear is far more beneficial and helpful than the ability to not fear. Not being bothered is simply stupid, because it causes dangerous, blind arrogance." He smiled a bit, unsure what she had been saying before but knowing that saying something may be helpful. He released one hand hold, pulling back to twist a bit and look at her over his shoulder. He offered a hand. "You coming?" he asked softly, offering to pull her up a bit, or lead her to a hand hold.

⦅ OutOfCharm . : : . School was crazy, but I'm here now! I should be able to RP more often now. ⦆

xx xx xx

 

[JJmonkeychic]

уσυ cαη'т нι∂є уσυя ℓуιη' єуєѕ
αη∂ уσυя ѕмιℓє ιѕ α тнιη {∂ιѕgυιѕє}
ι тнσυgнт ву ησω уσυ'∂ яєαℓιzє
тнєяє αιη'т ησ ωαу тσ нι∂є уσυя ℓуιη єуєѕ.

__________________________________

Scathach watched the boy curiously, noticing the way he massaged his back. She wondered if he had some sort of disfigurement, or perhaps he was just sore from something else. If he did have a disability, that would be interesting. She'd never met anyone who was more than normal, well, as normal as a demi-god can be, so it would be rather intriguing, a chance to learn something new. She didn't ask about it, though, because it would have been horribly rude. And it may have upset the boy. She wasn't looking to upset anyone. When he finished his statement she laughed, a light, tinkling sound, "Aye, lazy as a fat cat in a field of barley. My accent isn't so hard now, but be careful not to confuse it with Scottish. Even though they sound nothing alike, mind you, Americans always seem to get them confused." She cocked her head lightly as something clicked ion the back of her mind. His mother.... Well, at east now she knew that his godly parent was a male. Once again, though, she didn't ask. Even though there was a slight tremor in his voice, something that only a seasoned liar would detect. Somewhere in that statement there had been a lie. Now what it was, the daughter of Hades couldn't decide at the moment, but she had to give the boy points for almost slipping that lie past her. She admired a good liar.

She noticed, for the first time, his mechanical bird. The thing was cool, and she would be interested to better find out how it worked. She'd never really been able to build anything like that, she wasn't very mechanically inclined, but she liked to know things, so she wanted to know how exactly it worked. Perhaps it was just her imagination, but those dark eyes of that bird seemed rather intelligent. Her attention was drawn back to the boy when he commented on her appearance. While other girls may have blushed or giggled, Scathach simply smirked, "Really? My eyes? I always thought that they were a very drab and ugly color. Not the vibrant green like my mother." She paused for a moment as she thought about what he said last, then she laughed, "Are you suggesting that this is not my natural hair color." She ran her fingers through it almost as an afterthought and chuckled, "I can assure you, it is." She paused and watched as he sent the bird flying to the top of the climbing wall. It was really an extraordinary device.

Once again, her attention was taken from the robot bird when Nero spoke to her again. She smiled sheepishly and nodded, "Aye, the heat gets me every time. I'm not a big fan of hot." She watched him curiously as he headed over to the wall with a promise to show her a way past the lava. This had to be interesting, a secret was always nice to know. She nodded and followed him grinning when he spoke of fear, "You took the words right out o' my mouth, albeit in a different language." She took his hand gingerly as she recited, "Tá eagla ar bhonn na sanity. Chun a bheith dÚsachtach is é sin le nach bhfuil eagla. Chun nach bhfuil eagla a bheith cróga. Dá bhrí sin, é a bheith cróga a bheith dÚsachtach. It means, in Irish, 'Fear is the basis of sanity. To be insane is to not fear. To not fear is to be brave. Therefore, to be brave is to be insane.'" She let him guide her to a handhold, then she hoisted herself up and smiled at him softly, but a tad timidly, as she was still weary of the lava, "After you."

му, σн му, уσυ ѕυяє кησω нσω тσ αяяαηgє тнιηgѕ
уσυ ѕєт ιт υρ ѕσ [ωєℓℓ], ѕσ cαяєƒυℓℓу
αιη'т ιт ƒυηηу нσω уσυя ηєω ℓιƒє ∂ι∂η'т cнαηgє тнιηgѕ
уσυ'яє ѕтιℓℓ тнє ѕαмє σℓ∂ gιяℓ уσυ υѕє∂ тσ вє..


((Out.Of.English: ))
((Out.Of.Classical: It's alright, I know how you feel ^^))

 

[iUberUber l33t]

E R I K xxx ↪ N E R O ↩ xxx G O S S E

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xxxxxxxx〖ʏᴇᴀн〗 xxx↝ нeᴙe we ₲↻ Ƒɵᴙ ԏԋԑ Ԋ ᶙ ᶇ ᶁ ᶉ ᶓ ᶁ ҭ ӊ ↷ ϯ ι м ᴇ
xxxxxxxђѧпᴅ⇝ԍᴙᴇᴎᴀᴅᴇ ᴘιηs in ↾ ᴇ v e r y ⇃ ʃɪɴᴇ⥽→
xxxxx⤿ T H R O W × ’ᴇм⤻ᵘᵖ && ᴌᴇᴛ s.o.m.e.t.h.i.n.g xxx ƧHƖNƎ ⇝⥁⥁⥁
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Nero listened to her talk about Scottish and Irish. He smiled a bit, remembering the different sounds of an accent. He looked at her over his shoulder, making it up about halfway, then shifting to the side. "You continue the way I was, doing my holds exactly three from me," he said as he waited for her to catch up. As she caught up, he decided to comment on Scottish.

"The resonance is completely different. Scottish is rough, coarse. However, there is a sort of...legato feel to Irish. Speaking Irish is more like a song. And German is also throaty, but smooth. British is more of a roll and a slur. As I said, the only thing I haven't mastered is Irish. Americans are mostly stupid enough that they cannot tell the difference, but I think it's pretty obvious. Your attempt at being lazy confused me." He paused, smiling at bit as they reached the lava. "Be very careful. It's a bit tricky. Also, don't worry about me, and don't let your body touch the actual lava." His eyes scanned the holds. He knew that he had to find...There! "If you see the crusted, dry lava, use that. Don't use the holds, because the holds are what ooze the lava. If the lava's crusted out enough to be a hold, there's no chance of it hitting the surface fast enough to burn you," he explained as he found one and used a foot to tap one in front of Scathatch. It took a few more moments for him to find the rest of the holds he needed and make it to the top, and when he reached the top, he offered his hand when she made it close enough to pull her to the top with him.

The automaton raven found his shoulder and he looked at it, listening to its mechanical clicking dull in his ears. He sat on the top, which was about six feet deep and flat, extending about twenty feet long because of how wide the wall was. He smirked at Scathatch, offering his hand once more. "My name is Erik, but I go by Nero. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance." He did have a bit of an ego, but it was there for a reason. He truly knew what he was doing, and when he didn't know what to do, he knew he was too meek.

He finally responded. "Your eyes are blue, and quite vibrant. As for your hair, your roots are only slightly darker, which is natural in redder tones. I did not mean to suggest that your hair is dyed. In fact, I know that dyed hair tends not to suit the roots so well. I would have been stunned to hear that you dyed it." He paused. "In any case, I don't like America, after my time in France. Europe is far more geared toward nature and the traditional way of things, and I'm quite a traditional person, be it for the better or the worse." He smiled, lying back to look at the sky. "In the cities, though, you can't see the stars."

⦅ OutOfCharm . : : . I don't like posting when Sammi (Bara)'s not around, sorry ><;;; But she's here now and will be tomorrow as well, and so will I, so I should probably be replying more without her around, too... ⦆

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[JJmonkeychic]

уσυ cαη'т нι∂є уσυя ℓуιη' єуєѕ
αη∂ уσυя ѕмιℓє ιѕ α тнιη {∂ιѕgυιѕє}
ι тнσυgнт ву ησω уσυ'∂ яєαℓιzє
тнєяє αιη'т ησ ωαу тσ нι∂є уσυя ℓуιη єуєѕ.

__________________________________

Scathach nodded as she followed Nero's every move, dividing her attention between listening to him speak and concentrating on the hand and footholds. She smiled as the boy spoke of the different qualities of accents, nodding again, "You'v pinned it exactly. A gentle song, like a harp." Scathach thought about her harp, one of the three instruments she had ever bothered to learn, and remembered how her mother, on a good day, would sing along to a made up tune, accent lilting and rolling like a soft cloud. One of the few happy memories she had from her childhood. She was pulled from her thoughts by the rest of his comment and she laughed, "I wouldn't call them stupid. Just ignorant. And it's a phrase my mother used to use. When my great-grandmother was a child, she had a cat that wouldn't chase mice like it was supposed to. It would just sit in the fields and gnaw the barley."

When they came to the lava she paused and took a deep breath, sending a silent prayer to Airmid, the Celtic healing goddess (yes, she was aware that this woman probably did not exist, but old habits die hard), to heal her quickly if she were to succumb to the lava. Then she took another breath and started up after Nero, sharp blue eyes focusing on the crusted, dry lava and ignoring - against her better nature - the built in handholds. When she finally reached the top she let out a sigh of relief and positioned herself next to Nero, squeezing his hand briefly before letting go, "Thanks for coaching me through that." She smirked back at him and took his hand again, "The pleasure's all mine. My name is Scathach Duilleog Fiáin. You can just call me Scathach or Scatty."

She chuckled lightly, "Stunned, he says. You don't seem like the type of guy to be stunned so easily, Nero. I feel as if you would have been more disappointed than anything." Scathach was usually a pretty good judge of character, and that extended past humans to demi-gods and even immortals. But then, Nero seemed like the type of guy who would stun her. And that, in and of itself, of a feat to be admired. She looked out across the camp and laughed, "Aye, America is very uncultured. I really think the only thing they honestly invented on their own was road rage." She mimicked his action and lay back as well, tucking her hands under her head. When she spoke her voice was wistful, almost nostalgic, "Aye.... I saw no stars when I first moved to Manhattan. It felt almost like losing a good friend and constant companion."

му, σн му, уσυ ѕυяє кησω нσω тσ αяяαηgє тнιηgѕ
уσυ ѕєт ιт υρ ѕσ [ωєℓℓ], ѕσ cαяєƒυℓℓу
αιη'т ιт ƒυηηу нσω уσυя ηєω ℓιƒє ∂ι∂η'т cнαηgє тнιηgѕ
уσυ'яє ѕтιℓℓ тнє ѕαмє σℓ∂ gιяℓ уσυ υѕє∂ тσ вє..


((Out.Of.English: ))
((Out.Of.Classical: Oi, sorry for taking so long. I'v been swamped with school, band, and other rps sweatdrop And sorry for it being kinda short, I'm completely worn out sweatdrop ))

 

[iUberUber l33t]

E R I K xxx ↪ N E R O ↩ xxx G O S S E

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

xxxxxxxx〖ʏᴇᴀн〗 xxx↝ нeᴙe we ₲↻ Ƒɵᴙ ԏԋԑ Ԋ ᶙ ᶇ ᶁ ᶉ ᶓ ᶁ ҭ ӊ ↷ ϯ ι м ᴇ
xxxxxxxђѧпᴅ⇝ԍᴙᴇᴎᴀᴅᴇ ᴘιηs in ↾ ᴇ v e r y ⇃ ʃɪɴᴇ⥽→
xxxxx⤿ T H R O W × ’ᴇм⤻ᵘᵖ && ᴌᴇᴛ s.o.m.e.t.h.i.n.g xxx ƧHƖNƎ ⇝⥁⥁⥁
g o » i n ⤻ O.U.T of my Ӻ ᵘ ᶜ ᵏ ᶦ ᶰ ᶢ ⦕ M I N D ⦖xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

xxx - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Nero smiled a bit. He was lying flat on his back, which was painful to him, but he did it anyway. If anyone knew of his weak back, it would be too easy to use to their advantage. Therefore, he hid it. He rolled onto his side either way, looking at her. "Granted. Disappointed, not stunned. Simply a figure of speech, dear Scathatch," he said smoothly, his voice a soothing timbre. He had a baritone voice when speaking normally, but had a very wide range, something he discovered in France. It was requested of him to take a class, and over three months' time, he had learned pieces in all three male voice ranges. However, that was only in singing. His moderately low voice was reserved for talking, and he had learned that it soothed many people who would be otherwise anxious. He had held a full conversation with the murderer, Simon Xander, without once being threatened or feeling like he should worry, and had also engaged in the activity of soothing nymphs when they were concerned, simply by talking it out.

His eyes found Scathatch. "However, I am pleased to see that you are entirely natural in appearance," the son of Hephaestus commented, smiling at her. It was only halfway smug, considering he was simply in a good mood. "To one who has grown up not knowing the stars, it's a stunning change when you finally see them in the mountains. The most clear spot that I saw was actually in Ireland, in one of the more clear areas. I think it was a cliff," he admitted. The night had been so dark, and it was just after a rain. The clear skies held so many stars, and he had tried to count them all, but finally stopped and just stared at the span of lights. He looked up at the sky, eyes distant as he remembered the sight. "I grew up in the slums of New York. I never truly knew the night skies, considering my eyes were always focused around me for trouble. In Ireland, it's almost freeing by how peaceful it is. I am sure that there are crimes and troubles there as well, but it is quite a step up from America," he praised. He had been in true awe during his visits to Europe.

Europe had spurred his love for traveling, and he loved Paris above anywhere else, but Ireland was a very close second. He smiled, sitting up and folding his legs. He had rolled his sleeves up to climb the wall, his elbows bare as he rested them on his knees, leaning forward in a relaxed position. It was one of the few comfortable positions he could maintain with his spine as it was, and he often sat like this when talking with people. The shift in his spine could be hidden, for the most part, but not when he bent over. This was why he was careful about what he did. "But there are marvels in America as well. Have you traveled much here?" he asked. He loved to speak on the things he had seen, and it was never a dull topic. He was smiling at her as he put his hand on his shoulder, his automaton raven stepping on his fingers. He held his hand over the side, and it dove, coming back up moments later with his jacket. He slipped his hand into a pocket to pull out a few small, pocket-sized albums that would hold wallet-size pictures. He had many larger, digital copies, but this was perfect for simply showing someone what he had seen at one time or another.

He held one out to her, marked "AMERICA" across the front in a sort of calligraphy. It held four pictures for each page, making it about the size of a regular photograph, and he set a few next to him, ones that he had of other places that he had been. "I could suggest some wonderful places to go and see," he offered with a soft smile.

⦅ OutOfCharm . : : . ⦆

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[n00bz n ii g h t m a r e]

xxx here we are ↺ again
xx I feel the `☢ » ( chemicals ) kicking in
xxxx IT'S GETTING HEAVY ↘↘
xxxxxxxx And I wanna run and hide ↯
xxxxxxxx And ↳ I wanna run and hide
xxxx I DO IT EVERY TIME xx ✖ EVERY TIME xx ✖ EVERY TIME
xxxxxxx YOU'REKILLINGMENOW!!
x You're just ☇ a c ↷ annibal
xxxxx and i'm ( afraid ) i won't get out ( alive )
xxx ▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇ ‹ ♡ › ▇▇▇▇▇
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx ｎｏ ｉ ｗｏｎ'ｔ ｓｌｅｅｐ ｔｏｎｉｇｈｔ...


Tyra, one of the more tomboyish daughters of Aphrodite, was on her way from the Ares cabin. She liked to fight, even when she lost, and she knew she was going to have some really bad bruises when she woke up the next morning, and she was currently running her tongue over her busted lip, tasting the metallic tang of her own blood. She clicked her tongue against the top of her mouth, sighing with disappointment.

Okay, she couldn’t take on the Ares campers. She wasn’t really good at fighting, it was more like a hobby. For that reason, she wanted to get better. The classes offered here were based more on weapons, and she hadn’t found anyone who could really teach her dual-wielding. Sure, there were a few campers that knew how, but they weren’t so good at teaching. This kinda bugged her, considering she honestly wanted to know how to use her own weapon. However, she had mastered the art of the sheathing and unsheathing the swords. That just made the day that much sweeter, in her opinion. She liked being able to at least show that much off, and get a slightly impressed look from some of the more inexperienced boys she fought.

The daughter of Aphrodite took out her lip ring, considering it was just agitating her swelling lip. She didn’t feel like going to the Apollo cabin right now, though if it was suggested, she’d probably drop by. Right now, she just wanted to get her mind off of the crummy day she’d had so far. She honestly was thinking about the family that she had thought was hers, but she was adopted. Thinking back on it, running away had been the smart thing as soon as the beasts had come, but she wished that she hadn’t thought so badly of her parents. They weren’t related to her by blood, but had that made them any less her family? They had taken strides to take care of a child that was in no way theirs, and they had done a really good job. She supposed that she regretted how she had treated them those last few weeks before she arrived at Camp Half-Blood, winding up being dragged into the infirmary immediately. When she had come to, she asked about her baby sister, and when no one would talk to her, she knew. She knew immediately, but she couldn’t cry. Here at the camp, as they explained things to her, she found it hard to believe that the goddess of love and femininity was her mother. She had spent her entire life rumbling with the boys, building up a horrifying reputation as a tomboy, and bullying anyone around her who dared to look at her the wrong way. Here, she had to start over, and so far, she wasn’t doing so good. The past month had been a flurry of activity, and she was still trying to get the hang of this whole demigod act. She had spent her first week with her mother’s blessing, dodging boys and finding ways to play down on the absolutely alluring aura that she portrayed. It simply wasn’t her.

Her eyes looked up as she walked, and she saw the climbing wall poking over a few other structures, so she decided to give her aching knuckles another workout. She jogged over to it, ignoring how sore her face and neck were getting and licking over her lip again. She took handholds and footholds, climbing halfway up before a rock shower landed on her, knocking her down painfully. She groaned in complaint. “Who does that?!” she asked, a rhetoric question, of course. The demigods did that. Strange people. Why put a rock shower on the climbing wall?

It took her an hour of weary determination, but finally she got past scorpions, rock showers, and lava, entire body aching and clothing ripped and singed from the climbing wall’s tricks. She sat on the top, quickly shifting to lie flat on her back with a celebratory whoop. With the sunlight making her warm, she closed her eyes, deciding that a little nap would be the least of her worries. Besides, if anyone came up, she was a light enough sleeper that she’d wake up to confront whoever it was immediately.



ooc; Thanks for the layout, Bara~!