Azriel had to usher not just one but two children from the Greek camp out of the forge. They had been looking for firewood or something else of the sort to keep a camp fire burning for hours. As in a true, gather around the fire and roast marshmallows camp fire. As if this place was a joke. He had tossed them out, quite literally onto their rear ends before making his way through the sea of orange to his barrack, changing out of his work shirt. Not only were the Greeks a complete and utter messy intrusion but they had also brought along Shana. An old unrequited love that had waltzed into his life only to break his heart all over again. Needless to say, Azriel had not been in a good mood as of late.

He wasn't what anyone would call a people-person before the Greeks had come into camp. Since their arrival, however, he had been a nightmare to get along with and he knew it. He was snapping at probatios, losing his patience when it came to working with others. He found the irritation and the urge to incinerate things coming much too quickly for his liking. So he had set aside the rest of the day to leave Camp Jupiter's borders and take some time to see his family. Spend a little time in New Rome. A freedom only allotted to him because of his years of service and lineage. A small perk that he knew he needed to take advantage of.

So he changed out of his dirty work clothes and into a clean set. A simple purple camp shirt and pair of jeans. He had barely stepped outside of the barracks when someone bumped into him. He caught the orange shirt a fraction of a second before the offender spat out a warning to him to watch out. Without giving much thought to anything at all, he leaned into the anger that was set off like a burning fuse to a bomb. He shoved the female. Not nearly as hard as his instincts wanted to, but enough to hopefully cause her to fall or at the very least stumble. "Watch where you're walking Graecus."

Azriel watched in utter annoyance as the girl who he shoved fell. If that didn't sum up the whole mass of Greeks then he didn't know what would. All talk and no substance. All mouth and no muscle to back it up. It was pitiful. No Roman girl would keel over from a simple shove. He had been ready to meet fire with fire, but with the Greeks it was more like fire with fizzling flame. He knew he should probably leave the situation entirely. He knew his mother had made his favorite meal and it all was waiting just outside of camp's border's but he couldn't walk away. He had a terrible week that only surmounted to him being cast off and throw away like yesterday's garbage. He couldn't find it in himself to just walk away and leave the rude Greek to her own company.

She stood, straightening herself in front of him, as if something like that was supposed to make him feel afraid. As if he hadn't already demonstrated how utterly easy it would be to send her to the infirmary. She spoke of him regretting his actions if he touched her again and he laughed, "Are all Greeks this stupid or is it just you? Let me give you a piece of advice." He had crossed his arms in front of his chest, and was now leaning over to her as if he was actually giving her something to take heed by. "If you don't run around acting like a petulant child ruling the playground perhaps you won't have to worry about the real adults in charge knocking you down a peg." There was no humor to his words. There wasn't anything to joke about in his advice. There was only honesty. She had been the one to strike like a viper with her words. If she was upset at the result of those actions she needed to take it up with herself, not him.

And as for fire. He and fire got along just fine. The girl summoned flame and Azriel made sure his face was as bored as the rest of him. "Is that supposed to intimidate me?" The flame was pathetic, just as small and useless as the female before him. All show and no substance. "I bet you're a real hit at birthday parties." Because the only thing that pathetic flame would intimidate would be a birthday cake candle, at least in the son of Vulcan's eyes. "Now, are we done here?" He raised his eyebrows, waiting on her to say something to him.

Had Azriel not been on the verge of a very violent explosion, he might have found her words hilarious. The girl tilted her chin and stood up as if she actually had a fighting chance against him. As if she hadn't just gotten knocked down by the barest collision against him. He amassed that of course she didn't know to be scared of him. Their camp clearly didn't value training and strength. She might not be afraid of any Greeks but it showed just how ignorant she was that she spoke out loud of not fearing Romans. She uttered that everyone crumbles and though he didn’t reply, he did roll his eyes at the sentiment. She was so utterly wrong he found himself wondering if he was being pranked. If perhaps one of his siblings had paid the girl to annoy the Hades out of him for fun.

The girl moved to him and spoke something he couldn't quite catch. He knew it didn't matter though, not as he felt his features begin to change. His ears growing warm before feeling foreign. He had been on the receiving end of this before. Magic. She was a dammed witch. Azriel felt the anger surging. He had no problem with the children who descended from witch goddesses. He had no issues with them using their magic to their defense. To strike when it wasn't warranted, to attack with a magic force thinking that consequences were above you however, made him want to burn her to the ground. Thankfully, for this girl, she was immune to flame. That didn't exactly mean he was powerless though. Azriel clenched his fist, the anger making his skin hot to the touch.

Then she struck him, her fist colliding with his face. She glanced his nose, the brunt hitting him on the cheek but it barely registered. Azriel struck immediately, grabbing her by the throat and pushing her backwards, hard against the barrack wall. It wasn't enough to satisfy the rage though, not by far.

He opened his mouth to say something but he couldn't form words, that small fact not boding well for the girl. He instead slowly began to raise his arm, her throat still in his grip as he began to move so her feet weren't touching the ground. A trace of flame was coming off his skin and had she not been immune to fire, the tender flesh around her neck would be seared. He kept his eyes laser focused on her. The witch would either remove the spell or take an involuntary nap, the choice was hers.

Azriel was purely thankful that the witch hadn't cursed his entire body to turn into, well, whatever she had cursed him with. He couldn't exactly tell from his current vantage point. There were no mirrors around and it wasn't like he had given her time to mention. His ears now felt massive and long though so perhaps something along the lines of an elephant? That was his closest guess. He mused though that if she had changed more than just his ears, he could have just sat on her and made her change him back. As it was, physical strength was currently his best retort.

He noted the surprise and shock in her eyes the minute he made contact. A pleased feeling washed over him as she tried and failed to get out of his grasp. There were a hundred things he wanted to say to her, but knew no words could actually come out so instead he allowed himself the pleasure of watching her struggle against the weight of the consequences that she was now bearing.

The witch fought against his grasp and he almost began tightening his hold on her. Thankfully, for her sake, he caught the words that came out of her mouth before he did so. Azriel released his hold, letting her go immediately. He didn't try to soften her fall nor catch her if she stumbled. He only watched in pure heated anger, his eyes taking immediate notice of the skin around her neck.

The marks were clear that he had burned her and he felt half a moment of sympathy for her. He had thought, because of her little candle trick earlier, that she was immune to flame. Now, it was clear that she was not. Perhaps if he had known that he might have tried harder to keep his anger in control. He might have tried just a bit more to keep the flames at bay. Then again, if she hadn't acted like a child none of this would have happened in the first place. Turnabout was fair play afterall.


Azriel grasped his hands at his side to keep from immediately grabbing her up again. Though he had just let her go, if she refused to make good on her promise, he'd happily return them to her neck. Anger was coursing through his blood and he couldn't tell what was godly gift and what was purely reactional from her stunt anymore. He didn't look away from her, refusing to take his eyes off of her. It would only take a second for her to enact another spell on him or try to run away and he didn't plan on allowing either of those to happen.