Yes. You read that right. Greece has fallen...or at least the camp that has catered to Greek demigods for over three millennia has fallen. Camp Half-Blood had a traitor in their midst. A traitor with powerful allies who quickly burned the camp to the ground. Some were lost, some killed, and the rest who remained began the long trek across the country to the only place where they might be safe: Camp Jupiter.
Chiron banded what campers they had left, told them of the other camp and sent word to Camp Jupiter pleading for shelter. Chaos now threatens the camp daily with the arrival of new Greek campers to this foreign camp. This camp with strange customs and rules. While on the Roman end the Praetors are forced to hold up a balancing act of providing sanctuary while also trying to find the traitor before their home suffers the same fate as Camp Half-Blood.
New alliances are forged, new enemies are made, and these two worlds have to find some way to work together for the future of them all. Which side are you on? Which position will you take? It's time to jump in the fray because Greece has fallen.
ANNOUNCEMENT
Welcome to our site! We are so glad you are here my friend. Pull up a seat, set your weapons down and let's chat. We are a non-canon, percy jackson RP site based in Camp Jupiter. Both Greek and Roman demigods allowed. Legacies are limited. We have a very small word requirement for posting and we're pretty relaxed around here. We like drama but not the RL kind so keep this place nice and friendly. If you've got questions don't hesitate to ask!
GHF is the product of the mind of Addi; inspired by the percy jackson and heroes of olympus series by rick riordian. this is a work of fiction. names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. several beautiful remodels (including mini profile, profile) were designed by deltra of gangnam style and edited by Haya to fit the site's concept and needs. most images and gifs used for the skin are taken from assassins creed, the percy jackson movies and various google finds. all contents are copyright to their original owners. all characters belong to their original creators, and may not be used or replicated without permission. all images are copyright to their original owners. if you see an image/gif which is yours and you would like us to specifically credit you or remove it please do not hesitate to let us know in the cbox with a link.
First and foremost, Isaak would like to say this whole evening was not his fault. Admittedly, yes, he may have seen a pretty girl in the Mess Hall during dinner and decided to sidle up to her and start talking to her. No, it wasn't anything rude or disruptive, he was literally just asking how she was, and maybe he was a bit close to her, and maybe he'd been pulling out all stops with his flirting because that was just how Isaak was. Asking him not to flirt with a pretty girl was like asking him not to be himself, and that was just really rude. Yes, even if that girl turned out to be a Greek camper, and yes, even if it that girl turned out to have a boyfriend or jealous admirer who decided Isaak's face was probably missing his fist.
Of course, Isaak couldn't take that lying down. He had the pride of Rome resting on his shoulders! Besides, fighting in the legion was pretty normal, just as long as things were kept even between the fighters. Isaak was holding on fine by himself for a few seconds, that was until a cowardly uppercut nearly toppled him to the ground. As it was, he flew back a little and hit his side against the edge of a table. It winded him, but Isaak was a proud member of the Roman legion and he wasn't going to let some Greek push him around. A quick check of their audience confirmed the girl was still watching - worriedly not watching him, which hurt, by the way - and Isaak knew he wasn't going to be humiliated in this fight.
He charged again despite his injury and the promise of a shiner on his right eye and bruise under his chin. For the lady, for the pride of Rome, and for his own ego! His arms locked against the other demigod's as they both wrestled, trying to get the other to the ground. Isaak would like to re-iterate that this was not his fault at all in the least.
William was eating with his Greek counterparts. They had insisted, when he had first arrived, that he call them his family but one deadpan stare had nixed that idea as quickly as they had suggested it. They were not his family. He had no family. At least none in the tangible, genealogical sense of the term. They could claim divine half-relative associations all they wanted, it was of no concern to him. Unless, he presumed, he needed a kidney. Then he begrudgingly supposed he would allow them to entertain the idea of being related to him.
He was just fine on his own as it stood. He didn't understand why they all needed to drudge up these make-believe ideals and feelings of togetherness. Were they that insecure about themselves? He had pondered the question over in his mind as he finished eating. The mess hall was different than the one he had grown accustomed to at Camp Half-Blood, but he didn't mind. The only thing that bothered him was that he was asked to sit with his cabin-mates and not allowed to freely eat where he wanted. Which, of course, would have naturally been far away from the mess hall itself. There were too many bodies much too near one another for him to enjoy it. He tended to eat quickly and get out of there as quickly as possible. Tonight was no different.
Except, his friend, had other plans apparently. William watched as Isaak began flirting shamelessly with a girl. William shook his head no, to himself obviously, as Isaak hadn't even glanced in his direction. William had healed a nasty cut that the girl had gotten while traveling to Camp Jupiter. He didn't know anything about her other than the fact that she had a very large boyfriend from the Ares cabin. William's eyes shifted to the guy who was quickly moving out of his seat and towards Isaak. "kèpfos."
William pursed his lips as he watched what he hoped to be an apology and a quick de-escalation. As Isaak took an uppercut to the chin, however, he realized that had been a fool's hope. William slid out from his seat and walked over as the two began wrestling, putting one hand on the Ares kid's arm. William's senses went into temporary overdrive. As he suspected, the guy had been drinking, His BAC was around 0.075 with mild disinhibition and impairment. Quick as his fingers made contact, William flooded his nervous system, tricking his body into thinking there was more alcohol in his system than there actually was.
William pulled his hand back immediately, grabbing Isaak's arm as the other boy's legs wavered before he stumbled hard to the left. As he began pulling Isaak towards the door he didn't need to turn and watch to know that the boy was now down and more than likely incredibly nauseous. "Keep it moving, out the door." The words a murmur to his Roman friend.
With a small grunt, Isaak swung out his arm, his hand in a closed fist and aiming for the Greek camper, but he missed. To his surprise, the camper had dodged his blow -- no, wait, he was just falling to the ground. Isaak's eyebrows furrowed as he watched in confusion, before the answer became clear: Reynolds. Isaak was torn between telling him to go away because he got this, or accepting his presence as backup. Distracted as he was by the appearance of his best friend, his brother from another mother, Isaak completely missed to notice the last wild swing from his fallen opponent. It got him right on the jaw, and Isaak staggered to the side.
Luckily for Isaak, Reynolds had already had his arm in a grip and was pushing him along, but if the son of Mercury had been hoping for something sympathetic, or maybe a show of support for his cause to win the lady's love and maybe a punch to the gut on someone from his own camp, Isaak was sorely mistaken. He almost stumbled as Reynolds practically dragged him out of the Mess Hall. The hissed directive to keep moving was only met with an offended whine of, "What the heck? You're supposed to have my back!" Isaak supposed he could understand William's reluctance to step up against his own cohort - after all, he had to sleep with them - but Isaak had thought years, nay, decades, of friendship trumped anything like having immortal extended family.
Upon exiting the Mess Hall and leaving the chaos behind them, Isaak paused to gingerly touch his face. Things were broken, he just knew it, maybe his jaw or his nose or his cheekbones or something. He would have a bruise and it would be huge and ugly and he didn't know whether to be proud of it or ashamed that it was Greek that had left the mark. Chicks dig scars, of course, but no Roman girl would want to have anything to do with a third cohort legionnaire who couldn't even hold up his own against a Greek. With a groan, Isaak turned to spit blood out of his mouth. Gross, he shouldn't have done that. Now he was ugly and uncouth. How had his life spiralled so completely out of his control?
His friend took a solid hit to the jaw and William felt a burning pain in his chest flare. Apparently breaking up pointless testosterone-fueled brawls was terrible for digestion. Not that his friend cared about his digestive issues. He grabbed the other by the arm and was slightly shocked that the boy had moved along with him without protest. Had William not had his hand on the other's arm, reading his injuries, he might have wondered if the boy was concussed.
They moved out of the Mess Hall with no further altercations and for that William was thankful. The last thing he wanted to deal with was the camper's friends seeking retaliation. Though he imagined that day would come regardless of it happening tonight or not. His friend accused him of being disloyal and William sighed in annoyance, "You were trying to get with his girl, you better be thankful you only received blunt trauma and not a damaged appendage." He had seen enough of the guy around camp to know that he wasn't exactly the kind of person who let things go. He was loud, arrogant, and always seemed to have something to prove. Essentially Isaak in Greek form with less scruples.
They moved around the Mess Hall and it seemed like a reasonable enough place to stop and assess the damage. Isaak immediately began touching the wounds and William cut in, "Stop touching it. You're going to let in more bacteria." He glanced over Isaak's face, confirming what he already knew. He had made contact with Isaak's skin, his father's gift practically screaming what needed mending already. The bulk of the injuries were inflicting inflammation and trauma to the skin and nerves. There would be swelling and lots of dark bruising if it wasn't mended. The main issue, however, was a broken nose. Possibly a hairline fracture as well to his chin, though, there wasn't too much he could do about that.
William sighed, leaning back against the wall of the building they had come from, hands in his pocket. "You've got a broken nose." He tilted his head to the side, a small smirk coming across his face as he regarded the other boy, "Do you think you can pull off the Owen Wilson look?" He continued leaning against the wall, in no urgent rush to clean up the mess that his friend had brought upon himself.
Of course Reynolds would be all logical about it, and Isaak didn't want logic in the face of the beating he'd just taken. Besides, he'd been innocent. "I didn't know she had that Hulk of a monster rooting for her," Isaak complained, feeling very justified in doing so. And he hadn't. If he'd known that he'd be getting his face punched so squarely, he would have thought twice about it. Probably. Maybe. At the very least, Isaak would have waited for a more opportune moment to flirt than right there in the middle of the Mess Hall in plain view of all the Romans and that one Greek. While Isaak had very little self-control when it came to girls, he did have a very strong sense of self-preservation.
Carefully, he touched at his face again, just in time for Reynolds to notice and scold him. Huffing, Isaak pulled his hand away, keeping his gaze on the distant horizon behind Reynolds as the Greek camper came closer to study his injuries. He was probably going to scar, he just knew it. "It's going to scar, isn't it?" he muttered, unable to stop touching his face again after Reynolds healed it then moved away. Isaak didn't even know how bad he looked, but he just knew his perfect face was going to be marred forever. Oh, woe was he. All of his internal whining and drama about no longer being beautiful was uninterrupted as his best friend leaned on the wall of the building beside him.
That was until Reynolds turned to him with a smirk and asked him if he could pull of an Owen Wilson. Offended and also terrified, Isaak moved forwards to grasp Reynolds by his shoulders, shaking him slightly as he wailed, "No! You have to fix my face, Reynolds, fix it." Anguished, Isaak broke away the next second, his face pulled into an expression that could only be described as a kicked puppy look. All his swag, his charm, his beauty - gone. Just because some idiot from Greek Mars had taken him down for smiling and chatting at a pretty girl. "I'm never going to be pretty again, am I?" A pause, and then, "Do you think girls like an Owen Wilson look?"
He was going to have to rely on his personality from then on, wasn't he? Luckily, Isaak also had a sterling, sparkling personality. His damaged face would detract from it, he was sure, but that meant he just had to be extra-charming, extra-witty, extra-funny. A sigh was pulled from the depths of his chest as the son of Mercury sank to the ground in his despair, his eyes downcast. Well, aside from his personality, he was also going to need to rely on being a kickass legionnaire, if only so that he could get that moving mountain from the Greek cohort and get him good in a rematch. He was going to kick some gluteus maximus.
An amused grin came to William's lips as Isaak objected to knowing that the girl had a boyfriend. Although he was keen to believe the boy, at least in this one instance, that had never stopped him before. The other boy seemed to have a weakness for females that bordered on histrionic personality disorder. "Do you really think it's wise, in general, to be flirting with any Greek girls right now?" He raised an eyebrow in a prove-me-wrong way before his head tilted to the side, the ghost of an amused smile on his lips before retorting, "How does that work by the way? Heard your bed burned to the ground, want to share mine?" He couldn't imagine what Isaak could say to get girls from an enemy camp to give him the time of day, but flirting had never been William's strong suit. Actually, talking in general wasn't anything he scored favorably in.
William's face showed pure boredom as his friend lamented over the sheer possibility of a scar. As if that was the most important thing in the world. He didn't rebuke him though, he had known his friend well enough by now to know how important looks were to him. His looks had gotten them both out of tight situations, most that he himself had put them in, but nevertheless it had gotten them out as much as it had gotten them in. His looks were as ingrained into his identity more than some kid's family lineage was into theirs. William suspected it had something to do with his childhood, but hadn't deemed it important enough to ask. "They won't scar, we just need to get some ice on them. Apply plenty of sunscreen, multiple times a day. There shouldn't be scarring."
William looked around for some sort of back entrance to the Mess Hall. Perhaps a side door where they could sneak in and get some ice without dealing with the campers inside the main dining area. His knowledge of the layout for this new camp was still gapped but he was certain there were no ice machines marked on the welcome pamphlets. "Where can we find some ice?" The question was out of his mouth and he knew his friend would likely have a sarcastic comment on the tip of his tongue for it. William could only hope that Isaak would remember this was for his face and keep the comments to a minimum.
As William had leaned against the wall, the tone of his words coming out unhurried, Isaak quickly had done the math. He grabbed William by the shoulder and had it been anyone else who had done it, William would have immediately made them regret the action. As Isaak began to wail about his misfortunes in life, the barest edge of William's lips ticked upward in a hint of smirk.
As his friend bemoaned the whole situation, asking if he'd ever be pretty again William shrugged, "I suppose beauty is in the eye of the beholder isn't it?" He tapped his fingers on his chin in thought before shrugging, "At least you have your award-winning personality right?" He couldn't help the smirking grin that came across his face. Isaak did sometimes make it too easy, especially in situations like the one that they were in. Which happened more than he'd like to admit.
Deciding he had tortured his friend long enough William shook his head, "I don't think they do, but lucky enough for you, you won't have to find out." He moved to gently touch the surrounding area, ensuring that he couldn't do anything with his powers from the inside. He wasn't great at external injuries and couldn't make the bone do anything mystically. He'd have to set it the old-fashioned way. Thankfully he could then use his gifts to mend the cartilage and membranes, as well as numb the nerves after the setting. He put his hands down at his side, back into his pockets before speaking, "Forget the ice in the Mess Hall. Let's go to the Infirmary. It'll have what I need there and with any luck no one will be around to hear you crying."
Isaak didn't look up from his morose contemplation of the demise of his own beauty, even as Reynolds started talking, although he did turn to look at his friend just as Reynolds gave him that look. It was the look his best friend often reserved for whenever Isaak decided to do something particularly idiotic, at least for Reynolds, and considering the amount of trouble Isaak got into on a regular basis in high school, he was well-versed in that expression. He had even imaged it sometimes, before Reynolds had arrived into Camp Jupiter, as Isaak had missed his friend a lot when they'd lost contact. Isaak would have even taken more sardonic looks and more lectures from Reynolds if it meant he'd at least be around. You know, to have his back, which he most certainly did not do that night. But Isaak would forgive him that transgression this time.
Delicate eyebrows scrunched in the middle as Isaak debated whether he should be offended that Reynolds didn't think he had game, or laugh at Reynolds' joke. Of course, the default setting for the son of Mercury was 'offended', so he gave his best friend an affronted, unimpressed look. "Absolutely not," he replied, miffed. "I'm much better than that. I'd have had her eating out of my palm if her absolute d*ck of an admirer didn't mow me down." Shrugging a shoulder carelessly, Isaak looked away again, still refusing to acknowledge the girl had a boyfriend. Isaak would have his way, somehow...
His internal moaning was paused as Reynolds told him he wouldn't scar, and Isaak looked up hopefully. At the flat look on the Greek demigod's face, though, Isaak suddenly had second thoughts. Reynolds didn't often get him into trouble; usually his best friend bailed him out of it. But suddenly Isaak's hyperactive imagination went into overdrive. "Is this like the time you told me the bendy ruler definitely wouldn't hit me in the face if I pulled it back hard enough?" he demanded accusingly, the early memory of their friendship still seared into his mind.
The question of ice destroyed all resurrected hope that his face would be fine, because how would Isaak know where there was ice? This was it, this was the last question and he was about to win the top prize of Who Wants To Be A Millionaire and he was going to fail it because the question was where to find ice in Camp Jupiter? Groaning dejectedly, Isaak slumped against the wall, defeat in his shoulders as he muttered, "I don't know." He wanted to put his head in his hands and wail to his heart's content but his pride prevented him from succumbing completely to his grief. He did, however, shoot Reynolds a tired glare and a flash of his middle finger at his sarcastic comment about Isaak's personality. By the gods, his whole life had turned to a washed out grey in the knowledge of his face being uglified. Was there even a point to living?
Isaak didn't say anything more as Reynolds studied his face again, following Reynolds dejectedly like a marionette with its strings cut. He didn't know what Reynolds had in mind, but Isaak knew there wouldn't be ice at the medic's tent. The jab about crying hit him hard though - because it was so true - and for a second Isaak was tempted to cuff Reynolds in the back of the head. But he kept his hands to himself for now; after all, Reynolds wasn't completely leaving him to his new fate. Isaak could be grateful, maybe for a little bit.
William was quite comfortable watching the offended look of indignation come across his friend's face. The other boy didn't take a whole lot of things seriously, but his game was one of them. A term that William was embarrassed to have even admitted to knowing. Life had so many other things to concern oneself about. It seemed pointless to care about something as trivial as the admiration of others. "Is that the goal? To see how many hearts you can break. That seems a little callous, even for you." He personally didn't care either way. He was wholly indifferent to the matter of who and how many beings his friend dated. Curiosity had simply gotten the better of him. The small desire to understand the root of who the other boy was. Like a small part of a puzzle that he had realized was missing.
At the mention of the ruler incident, William's face gave way to a rare grin bordering on the edge of a smile. That had been a great day. He hadn't truly thought that the boy would listen to him, but he had. The ruler had of course smacked him squarely in the face and William had to clutch his sides from laughing so hard at the shock and rage that Isaak had that day. "It's not a trick. If I was trying to trick you I would have suggested actually going with the Owen Wilson look. You could never pull off that much blonde."
Isaak had all but mentally melted under the pressure of locating ice in Camp Jupiter and William pinched the bridge of his nose to alleviate the tension that was building. In all of the humans in all of the planet in all of the cosmos, why this one had been chosen to be his best friend he had no idea. Couldn't fathom it. They were utterly and completely unlike one another yet he knew he'd die before letting harm come to the other boy. At least in the permanent sense of the word.
Isaak gave him the middle finger and William had the ghost of a grin on his face as he began pulling the other along. Isaak hadn't commented further which William knew was a bad sign. He tried not to let himself get too offended. As if he couldn't fix a simple break. The walk was short and they thankfully hadn't passed anyone before slipping in the building. He passed right along the hallway, towards the back. He didn't stop to say hello nor let anyone know why he was there. He figured if they tried to stop him they'd have to fight Isaak first. Plus he was fixing one of their own so really all he would accept from any of them would be a thank-you. He opened the door to one of the last rooms, pointing wordlessly at the infirmary bed that was in the middle of the room.
He left Isaak for a moment, walking from the room to an adjacent one that contained bandages, medicines and herbs, and of course: ice. He put some in a zippered bag, grabbing a towel and wrapping the bag of ice in it. William grabbed a pack of bandages, cleaning solution, and butterfly sutures before soundlessly going back to where Isaak was waiting.
He set the supplies down next to the other boy and stood in front of him. William gently put his hands into position on either side of Isaak's nose. "Take a deep breath in. Exhale deeply on my count beginning on one. One. Two." William quickly popped the broken nose back into place, stepping back slightly so he could grab the ice pack, holding it out to Isaak. He reached over and then with the other hand, took a small mirror down that had been on the wall. He held it up, a self-assured look on his face "Good as new."
Isaak tried to go for another offended glare at the mention of breaking hearts, but it was wasted on Reynolds. Isaak knew himself very well and he wouldn't count himself a player... right? He shouldn't be, he was trying to be A Very Good Person these days. He just happened to like flirting with girls and maybe other things too and maybe he often got bored or just didn't really want to actually get tied down, but that was perfectly normal and reasonable for a funny and witty and handsome guy like him, right? Besides, he was young and a legionnaire and he had glory in his future - he was allowed to not settle down. Pshh, Reynolds didn't know what he was talking about.
Obviously Reynolds still remembered the ruler incident, and Isaak watched with narrowed, suspicious eyes as his best friend grinned, clearly reliving the memory. At least one of them looked back at that time with fondness and hilarity, and that person was most certainly not Isaak. He only snorted and made a rude sound like blowing a raspberry, one hand distractedly going to his hair as he imagined himself a blond. "Pfft, I could pull off anything," he muttered, although he did sound less confident than his words. Going that level of blond meant bleaching, and Isaak had heard of all sorts of horror stories about people bleaching their hair and having it all fall out afterwards. Isaak couldn't bear the thought of clumps of his lovely tresses coming out in the shower.
The son of Mercury shuffled along behind the Greek camper, not even bothering to put on a brave and stoic front. At least no one had passed them by, saving Isaak the double embarrassment of explaining his injury had been caused by a Greek as well as having anyone see his nose like this. His poor, perfect, innocent nose, so horribly crushed by a brute of a boy with far more strength than finesse. Although, Isaak supposed finesse wasn't a requirement to break someone's face. How utterly barbaric - at least Isaak had actually gone for a proper fighting stance rather than just charge at someone like a Pamplona bull.
As Reynolds pointed him to a bed, Isaak slowly made his way over as directed, hands in his pockets now and shoulders hunched, his face drawn as he sat himself down on the edge of the bed. He watched Reynolds move around the infirmary with only a little interest, wondering how and why his friend knew his way around medicines and first aid. Probably had to after always patching Isaak up during high school. It had always been Reynolds who'd looked after him after a fight, after all, Isaak's pride preventing him from admitting he'd needed to see the school nurse. Or maybe it had always just been part of Reynolds' blood, like his sarcasm and wit and favoured activity of scolding Isaak.
When the Greek camper came back and grabbed at Isaak's face, the son of Mercury's eyes widened, suddenly very unsure about the thing that he had a horrible feeling he knew was going to happen next. "Now wait, wait," Isaak squeaked, partly trusting Reynolds to actually fix his face and the other part even more sure that Reynolds was going to make him hurt for it. "Are you sure this is really--"" But Reynolds had completely ignored him, talking over him about counting to two, and Isaak hardly heard him finish 'one' before there was a flash of pain and a part of his face literally moved back into place.
"Ow ow ow!" There was a lot of yelling, a lot of curse words both in English and Latin, as well as a few select ones that Isaak had created himself - he was very proud of those. Isaak rocked back, clutching at his nose with one hand while reaching for the ice pack with his other. As the frozen plastic was laid across his face, Isaak glared at his best friend again, but was then distracted when Reynolds held up a mirror. Like a bird, Isaak's eyes were directed towards his own reflection, previous tantrum forgotten as he pulled the pack aside for a second to judge Reynolds' handiwork. "Fine," he admitted grudgingly as he covered his injury again. Isaak knew that smug look on Reynolds' face: it was what he liked to call Reynold's I told you so, so suck it face. "Yes, you're a genius at fixing my face."
William noted Isaak's widened eyes, a thought bubbling up curiously as he placed his hands on either side of the other boy. He didn't know how in the hades Isaak had managed to survive a magical wolf if the rather small process of correcting a broken nose made him fearful. William did not wait. William did not pause. And yes, he was absolutely certain that this was what he needed to do. One slip of his hand, bone meeting bone correctly, and it was all over and done with. As easy as a walk in the park, at least on his side of the action.
As the other immediately began fussing and cursing, William shook his head. "I don't know what you have to be complaining about. I'm the one who did the hard work. You only had to sit there." William held out the ice and watched as Isaak carefully laid it against the mended area. If looks could kill, William would be dead on the floor. The other boy glaring at him over the bag of ice as if he had been the one who had caused all of this. The glare was met with a pleased smirk. "Would you like me to make the glare a more permanent feature? I'm sure the ladies would love that." He held his hand aloft with a smirk, not sure if he could get Isaak to fall for it or not. He was not a child of Aphrodite nor Hermes. He couldn't hex the boy or arrange his self-proclaimed pretty features. Still, he had convinced him of the ruler so it was worth a shot.
Isaak's attention was drawn to himself and William sat back patiently watching the other. Had it been anyone else, he would have marched right out the doors and headed to the baths to take a hot shower. Instead he simply leaned against the counter opposite of the Roman boy, hands in his pocket. Isaak commented on his work and he shrugged, "I've had a lot of practice."
William waited until Isaak calmed down. It wouldn't do to continue to work on him while he was distracted by his face. Finally, after the other settled, he moved over to the sink and washed his hands, getting a pair of gloves out of the bin on the wall and putting them on. He knew the other boy didn't have anything that he needed to worry about catching but it was a habit that he didn’t want to break. He walked back over and popped the top off of the bottle of alcohol, opening up the bandages and suture packets. "So, do you have a plan in mind for when those Ares campers decide to get revenge?" Because it was certainly coming.
William hadn't been in camp very long, but he knew which cabins were best to avoid. That particular cabin was number one on the list. Zeus and the other big three were impressive and could certainly cause damage, but the Mars cabin didn't have the clout. They were all walking around with chips on their shoulders, dying to prove themselves to one another. He grabbed Isaak's dominant hand gently, willing the nerves to numb as he poured alcohol carefully over the wound. "Did you know, when we were growing up, that you were a demigod?" His eyes remained on the other boy's hand and cleaning the wounds.
Despite Reynolds' insistence that he had been the one to do the hard work, it had been Isaak's nose and Isaak's face that had been man-handled and that now hurt due to Reynolds' actions. Although, Isaak supposed he couldn't blame his friend for causing him paint - Isaak, after all, was now saved from an Owen Wilson look. A bit of a sore loser, though, Isaak merely harrumphed as he studied himself in the mirror, only breaking his hard gaze from his best friend when Reynolds offered to make it permanent. Isaak rolled his eyes at the Greek boy, but wisely remained silent. There were some times when Isaak realized he should maybe keep his mouth shut. They were few and far between, of course, but Reynolds threatening bodily harm usually ranked pretty high up. Additionally, just to make sure Reynolds definitely couldn't go through with his threat, Isaak also leaned himself sideways on the bed, trying to be subtle about it. Pride of Rome.
The son of Mercury continued studying his face as Reynolds first leaned back against the sink, then began moving around and cleaning up after himself, probably. Isaak was faced by his own face - everything around him had dimmed and blurred into the background. There were very few things that mattered to Isaak as much as his face; that was just how the cookie crumbled. He only tore his eyes away from his reflection when Reynolds came closer, and Isaak eyed the alcohol and whatever else with weary suspicion. Reynolds was going to add more things to his face? Was it going to hurt? Was this how he was going to get Isaak's glare permanently on his face, like promised?
"Easy," Isaak said confidently, even though his tone was not as assured as his words - which the Roman demigod blamed completely on the proximity of a bottle of medicinal alcohol - turning his eyes back to the mirror and adjusting his face to check it out in multiple angles. "You'll be there with me, having my back like you should've been today." The 'duh' was implied in Isaak's tone, and he didn't even look at his best friend as he said this, completely expecting this and nothing less. Also, Isaak was going to hit the Ludus and bulk the heck up because the Olympics were a couple of days away and he was going to get his own back, in front of an audience of all the Romans and his lady love. Win some honour back, right?
As Isaak turned slightly, his left hand holding the mirror to better catch the light against his cheekbones, Reynolds grabbed his now free right hand. It was a testament to Isaak's trust in his best friend - as well as Isaak's vanity, one could suppose - that he didn't even look away from his reflection, not bothered in the least that someone else had his hand now. He only turned to look when the sharp smell of alcohol hit his nostrils. There was no pain, but expecting it had Isaak scrunching his face. His eyes flew to Reynolds' face, not sure why they were having this conversation; they didn't usually have such introspective chats, considering Isaak could hardly take anything seriously. Still, Isaak supposed he could see where this was coming from - they had been best friends in high school, after all, and now they were demigods. What sort of universe did they live in, right? "No," he said simply, uncharacteristic and actual sincerity in his face as he kept his gaze on William. "I would have told you, Reynolds. I never kept anything from you."
William watched the other boy preen and gawk at himself in the small mirror. He had never, to his knowledge, ever been that absorbed by his own appearance. Occasionally he would be asked to comb his hair neater or dress nicer, but that was as far as things went. He quite literally could not care any less about his looks beyond a general tidy appearance. His internal thoughts moved from his grooming habits back to Isaak as the other boy seemed to rebuff his attempt at a prank. That made something like Isaak: five, William: two-hundred and seventy three. If anyone was counting.
The other boy was still distracted by his looks as William made his way over, supplies in his hand. As he began to speak, a small grin came across William's lips. He had never in his life met anyone like the son of Mercury. He had just taken a beating that left his nose broken and skin split open. Yet, the confidence and bravado was clear in his voice. As if losing the match to the son of Ares had all been a part of his grand master plan. Perhaps it was, William could never tell.
The grin wavered between staying as is and breaking out into a full smile as Isaak let him in on his plan, hinging on none other than himself being there. Along with his plan however, he continued on, accusing William of not being there for him that evening. William's face scrunched in irritation for just a moment. Without missing a beat, William thumped the other boy, right smack middle of his forehead with his finger. "I saved your rear end tonight." Holding one finger up to make a point before dropping it as he met the other boy's eyes. "What happens to your plan if I'm busy? Or perhaps knocked out? You know I have to sleep in the same barrack hall as they do right?" He wasn't truly worried, nor honestly cared about possible retaliation. He had been picked on only a handful of times in his entire life. His height had been his saving grace before he had learned to use his powers. Once he learned what he could do, people tended to give him a wide berth. You couldn't attack someone if you couldn't stand straight, nor upright, nor a whole host of other maladies that he had learned how to wield to his and Isaak's defenses.
William had carefully taken his friends hand, pouring the alcohol slowly over the wounded area. He had gauze applied carefully to catch the run-off under the boy's palm. As the liquid came out, Isaak's eyes flashed to his and William looked up with a start, thinking that he hadn't done a good enough job numbing the nerves. That worry disappeared just as fast as it had come though as he realized the other boy was reacting not to the germicide but to his question. His friend uttered out a one word reply and William had been just fine with that. He kept his eyes trained on the wound though as Isaak elaborated. William began dabbing the area clean and dry with a cotton ball. "I thought so. I would have told you too, for what it's worth." The words were casual. He hadn't meant to make either of them uncomfortable. It had just been a case of his curiosity getting the better of him. He moved from the other, throwing away all of the used supplies.
William then got a tube out of one of the drawer, squeezing a dollop of cream onto a q-tip before moving back to the other boy. "Simple Neosporin." Not that the other would have asked or cared. He carefully moved to Isaak's hand again and dabbed the wounded area, still willing the nerves. "How's your head feeling? Do you have any lingering pain?" He was happy with the way Isaak's wounds looked. They weren't terribly deep and if he had to guess, they'd be gone within the next 48 hours. After applying the cream, he tossed the q-tip away, opening the drawer in the middle and grabbing a band-aid out.
William moved over to the other boy, opening it up and sticking the bright pink, Hello Kitty branded band-aid onto the other's wound. A small grin was on his face. "Good as new."
Isaak's careful study of his healed face was painfully interrupted by a painful thunk of a hard finger right in the middle of his forehead, as though his face hadn't gotten enough of a beating tonight. His poor, beautiful face, just so harassed by all these Greeks. While Isaak knew Reynolds was not the type of person to be jealous of him, the son of Mercury still vindictively ruminated in thoughts about Reynolds poor behaviour. Some kind of best friend he was, right? He'd barely managed to keep the loud and offended ow from escaping, although there was no keeping the dark look to himself - Reynolds deserved another evil eye from Isaak for that maltreatment.
Rubbing at the sore spot, Isaak only removed his hand from his forehead to peer at it some more in the mirror, wondering if he'd now have a round bruise formed on his skin in the aftermath. He was sure Reynolds wouldn't offer to fix that, considering he'd been the one to put it there in the first place. Oh, poor Isaak's pretty face, just marred by scars and violence. Curse the Greeks for the pain they put him through and the humiliation they served on him by marking his perfectly moisturised skin. "They're more scared of you than you are of them," Isaak muttered begrudgingly. It was true, though - perhaps it was because Reynolds was creepy quiet most of the time, like that kid in the back of the class that drew violent doodles about stabbings and blood. Isaak had had one of those in the back of his own classroom - the son of Mercury had ensured he'd sat far away from that budding psychopath.
Perhaps his head had lost one too many braincells that night, but Isaak found himself surprisingly... okay about that odd moment of vulnerability and seriousness with Reynolds. That didn't mean that Isaak wanted to frolic in the gardens holding on to Reynolds' hand and singing about their friendship or writing poems about their lives together or anything that like that, of course, because Isaak still had his pride of Rome reputation to uphold. Besides, the Ares kids wouldn't be able to take him seriously at all if he and Reynolds braided each other's hair and made daisy chains for each other, right? But still, that momentary lapse of Isaak's bravado in the presence of the one person he trusted the most in the world didn't feel too bad.
Of course, though, after Reynolds said that he wouldn't have kept it a secret either, Isaak only returned to studying himself in the mirror and pretending the moment didn't happen. They'd both had a bonding moment, probably one of the most serious ones since they'd both been children and Isaak had cried about whether or not Elise Matthews would say yes to going to the dance with him. That was enough emotional introspection for the night; his face was once again his main focus. He hardly paid attention to whatever Reynolds had decided to dab to his knuckles, only looking up when Reynolds asked him about any lingering pain, which Isaak was very happy to say, there was.
"As a matter of fact, Reynolds," he began in a snippy tone, "there is! It's right in the middle of my forehead in the shape of your fingertip, actually!" The sarcasm dripped from Isaak's words even as he gave his best friend another glare. He couldn't yet see if it was going to leave a mark, but Isaak had already decided it had - a mental and psychological and emotional one, right there on his skull. He would never forget it. His dark glare turned withering at the bandaid Reynolds had decided to gift him, glaring at the offendingly pink and cute strip before trying to murder his best friend through his eyes alone.
Like hitting the restart button on a computer, that small act of thumping his best friend in the forehead seemed to reset his train of thought. His friend's concern moving from his plan of evasion back to himself. Which, to be fair, did tend to be Isaak's factory setting. If William hadn't known Isaak so well, he would have worried that he had hit the other one too hard. Isaak was taking precious time rubbing the small area, his eyes narrowed at William. Unfortunately for the other though, William was well accustomed to his friend's dramatic antics. William could only offer up a ghost of a smile in return to the death glares.
Isaak spoke up then, his words causing a small chuckle out of William's lips. "That's what you said about those dogs that were behind the fence that we jumped over in high school." And they had very much not been more scared of the two of them. The two boys hadn't had much of a choice in the matter at the time. They had needed a quick escape and the fence with large dogs had been their only option but the words hadn't been true then and he suspected they weren't true now. At least not entirely. There were plenty of other kids from Apollo with similar gifts who had their rears handed to them on a weekly basis. Sure, his gifts gave him an advantage, but he would never assume that they gave him invincibility.
Their small moment of vulnerability had come and passed by without too much pain, a fact to which William was thankful. He wasn't good with emotions. He had been told on numerous occasions that his face looked lifeless and constantly bored among the people that he was around. A fact that hadn't bothered him. Yet, with Isaak, small moments like this came and went as naturally as breathing to the son of Apollo. They had never had to make a big deal of things before and he was thankful that they still hadn't changed. He didn't want to think about the alternative where his friend would suddenly demand him to talk more or ask more questions or droll on and on like the others around him did.
As he sat back, watching Isaak carefully, the other boy commented about his forehead hurting and William laughed. "I think you'll be fine." William pulled the gloves off of his hands, tossing them into the receptacle and washing up. He carefully washed them before grabbing a paper towel and drying off, turning back to the other boy. "I think your ego is bruised, maybe even more than your pride. Which is probably healthy, at least in your case." He still had a smile on his lips, albeit a small one, as he turned and regarded the other for another moment.
He looked healthy enough, and certainly well within the Roman standards of health to which William was still getting used to. When he had first arrived in the Greek camp he had marveled at their level of pain tolerance, at the sheer will they had to continue fighting despite their damages. The Romans had blown all of that out of the water. The Greeks were impressive, but the Romans were marvels. Not that he would ever tell a single one of them that fact. "Come on. I'll walk you back to your bunk." A small joke coming out of his lips as he began to walk towards the door.
Ave, demigod! Over the next month, all new threads created may be attacked by the Fates at any time, unless specified in the subheader. All random events will be based on prompts from the randomizer. Please refer to the event guide #2 for further and more detailed information about your character's possible fate.
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grip and was pushing him along, but if the son of Mercury had been hoping for something sympathetic, or maybe a show of support for his cause to win the lady's love and maybe a punch to the gut on someone from his own camp, Isaak was sorely mistaken. He almost stumbled as Reynolds practically dragged him out of the Mess Hall. The hissed directive to keep moving was only met with an offended whine of, "What the heck? You're supposed to have my back!" Isaak supposed he could understand William's reluctance to step up against his own cohort - after all, he had to sleep with them - but Isaak had thought years, nay, decades, of friendship trumped anything like having immortal extended family.
