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.
The previously prone form of the male Praetor moved at the sound of her voice, and initially, Mila was relieved. She was sure she would be copping a lot of flak, intense posturing, and multiple rounds of threats if she had been the one found next to an unconscious legionnaire, not in the least because it was Dareios. The Romans had been suspicious of the Greeks from the moment they had arrived, and while Mila could understand their hesitation to welcome the demigod refugees, the daughter of Poseidon was still miffed that they would judge the whole camp based on the actions of one or two individuals. There were children as young as ten or eleven with them, for Poseidon's sake. No child deserved that level of suspicion and coldheartedness.
The relief of finding Dareios alive and conscious began to melt slowly into irritation as the Praetor spoke disgruntedly towards her. As he sat up quickly, Mila found herself losing her balance as she sought to put distance between them with the same speed, and she landed on the cool forest floor without too much grace, wisps of her blonde hair swinging past her face as she practically fell backwards. That, however, was only second to the annoyance at hearing that lofty Roman tone directed towards her. She had put up with it in the main camp areas as she had tried to remain diplomatic, tried to be a role model for the other Greeks to always show their best face and best attitude even when dealing with passive aggressive Romans, but she found her patience trickling.
"Begging your pardon, Praetor," she responded, ice creeping into her tone as her eyes flashed. Mila was not in any sort of mood to be diplomatic. "Us Greeks are encouraged to look after fallen demigods; I wasn't aware it was expected of Roman legionnaires to just continue past bodies lying on the ground." As the male demigod continued to talk, Mila's patience waned completely. While she could take rules and laws and authority's orders and carry them out to the letter, disregarding completely that it marked her as a 'stick in the mud' and 'boring', she did them because she agreed with them or at least agreed with their purpose. The daughter of Poseidon had had to think of others for so long, it was practically in her second nature to assume responsibility of others. She could accept that she had broken a rule here. What she didn't stand for was being berated like a child. "Do you speak of all dead demigods in the same way? Or is it only the Greek ones because the survivors are taking refuge in your home?" Mila asked, tone hard sarcasm but also genuinely scandalised. It was all so fine for the Romans to act all high and mighty, all hoighty toighty about survival rates, but imagine if their roles were reversed. No Greek demigod would give Roman refugees this level of sass about their deceased fellow campers.
The daughter of Poseidon stood, brushing off dead leaves and twigs from her trousers and pulling her hair back from her face. She did not offer a hand to Dareios, the Praetor standing on his own a second or so after her. Escorted back to the barracks like some misbehaving kid was not high on Mila's list of priorities, but neither was the attitude she was receiving from an annoyed Praetor who she felt by all accounts and purposes should be explaining why on Gaia's green earth he was on the ground anyway. "Please treat me with the same level of respect I treated you, Praetor Dareios," Mila said bluntly, gazing straight into the Praetor's eyes and delivering her words without inflection. If he was going to treat her like a child, then she would treat him the same as well. Mila was a fan of treating others the way one wanted to be treated, and she would gladly treat him the same as he was treating her. The daughter of Poseidon made to walk back towards Oreius. "No need to escort me back to my barracks; I'm sure you have plenty to do, falling then lying on the ground in the middle of the forest as you were."
Finally, the praetors had allowed Mila's idea to come into fruition. For the last few weeks, she had lobbied to assign demigods to go on rescue missions for any stragglers from Camp Half-Blood. Mila had been all too aware that there were still many Greeks missing, and her concern for her missing camp-mates had grown by the day. Some of the missing were very young and / or vulnerable, and it itched at her that she was sat comfortably in Camp Jupiter while there may be children out there being hunted down by monsters, or lost and confused and unable to find their way to camp. Despite what any Roman might say about 'survival of the fittest', Mila knew it was highly unfair and she had to do something about it. In fact, she was pretty ready to go out and do it herself, regardless of what any of the Romans thought, but it seemed that compassion had won over the Roman management. Mila wondered who or what might have been the cause for the change of heart, but in the end, it didn't matter. She had gotten what she had asked for, and she was pretty ready to go the very next hour.
Unfortunately, the Romans had decided to spend the rest of the afternoon and evening needing to plan the logistics of the rescue operation, and so Mila had spent the time checking and rechecking weapons, tack, and grooming Oreius repeatedly to the point that the pegasus threatened to bite her if she tried to pick his hooves one more time. That was when Mila decided it might be time to go to bed. She had retired, sleeping fitfully, and was the first out of her cabin before the sun was even out. She was beyond ready to just get out there and go. She didn't know where to start, or how to find any of the lost ones, but she was going to go around and around their designated area until she found someone or Oreius dragged her home. Mila had a funny feeling the latter would become the reality.
As she waited outside the border, Oreius' hooves clattering on the concrete path towards Caldecott Tunnel, she glanced around impatiently. She had been told to wait at this spot at this hour and that she would be having some Roman demigod as her companion - pairs, they had decided - but they were late and Mila was beyond antsy. Another five minutes, she would give them, and then she would go on with or without them. Mila felt she was plenty capable of going by herself, and while she could see the merit in sending demigods in pairs, she also felt they could be covering a lot more area if they were sent out individually. But she was not going to be fighting the praetors, not when they could so easily retract the assignment and not let anyone out of camp at all. Mila would take what few wins she could get, but that would not excuse her late partner. With a bit of a huff, Mila blew a strand of blonde hair out of her face as she glanced around again for her Roman partner.
The dark hair and familiar profile of the Roman demigod from the chariot race was the first thing Mila saw when she walked into the Mess Hall. She hadn't been able to see her after the one race, the other demigod brought to the infirmary and Mila had been unable to follow after her to ensure she was fine because she had to help with the next race. Besides, it was hardly a good display of sportsmanship and equality as a referee if she showed up in the infirmary to check in on one contestant, right? The next stage of the races with the Roman demigod had not been on Mila's shift to referee, and the daughter of Poseidon had actually been pulled away to help with an injured horse, and had therefore missed the Roman girl's next race or two. But she hadn't won the Game itself, which Mila thought was a bit of a shame, as she had definitely held her own.
Now, though, it was Mila's chance to say something. The daughter of Poseidon wasn't even sure what it was about this Roman girl that drew her, but she wanted to say something. Mila liked to think she was a good judge of character, and this girl seemed like a good person despite the initial rather hostile meeting they had. Besides, Mila had since learned not to take Roman hostility against her heritage personally; there was no point. The Romans may be hasty in their judgement and suspicion, and Mila knew nothing but time would help heal that rift. The Greeks were after all unexpected guests in Camp Jupiter, and they had to build trust with their hosts. That didn't mean Mila was going to allow them to just bully the Greek kids around, of course, but Mila would take their frustration with the Greeks with a grain of salt. It was fair enough, she supposed, as long as they didn't actually antagonise any of the Greeks unnecessarily.
And so it was that Mila decided throw caution to the wind and extend an olive branch that may possibly be rejected. It was fine if it would be. Mila herself was not an overly extroverted or friendly person, so she could understand if the Roman demigod chose to disregard her, but Mila recognised good sportsmanship when she saw it, and this girl was definitely a good and clean player. "Good job on the race," the daughter of Poseidon commented with a slight smile upon arriving at the Roman girl's side. She ignored the other Romans seated at the table who looked up from their meal at the unexpected arrival of the Greek girl at their table. Instead, Mila kept her eyes on the legionnaire she was speaking with. "You treated your horses with a bit of respect and didn't push them into danger. That's a win in my book." It was probably not what the Roman girl wanted to hear, but Mila felt she should know that she had received the respect of at least one Greek.
As the daughter of Dionysus passed by with her own pegasus, Mila smiled, happy to see that Draco was healing faster and better than predicted. Injured horses and equines were just as painful to the daughter of Poseidon as injured children. One of the first things she had done when camp had started to burn was to free the horses from the stables. Maybe her decision to do so had cost demigod lives that she could have saved instead, but Mila didn't want to dwell on that. At the end of the day, she could wallow in guilt and shame all she wanted, but it would not bring anyone back. It would not take away the pain and the horror and the wounded bodies and minds of the survivors. All Mila could do now was be there for the ones who had survived, to support them and care for them. They were all they had left now.
Draco called a greeting out to her before he was stabled, and Mila smiled warmly in his direction even if he couldn't see her response. Regardless of how Mila and Sera may interact with each other as demigods, Mila would always have respect for the other girl, purely because of how much Draco loved Sera. It was clear in his words and his movement and his mood, and Sera's love for her pegasus was just as obvious in the sheen of his coat and the flutter of his feathers and the way they looked at each other despite not being able to understand each other the way Mila and Oreius could. It was a testament to the daughter of Dionysus, and Mila could get behind that.
"He does look plenty better," Mila agreed as she turned her attention back from the other pegasus to his rider, offering her an assuring grin before turning back to the task at hand. Oreius was now standing perfectly still, as though now in the mood to show what a model equine he could be. The pegasus was very slaphappy, most of the time mischievous and sassy when it was just the two of them, other times quite prim and proper when other horses were around. Mila knew being 'hand-picked' by Poseidon to look after her had gotten to the pegasus' head, but she only shook her head fondly at Oreius' antics. No one needed to know he had only been picked because he had been the only one around at the time. "I'm good, thank you for the help though. This one's being the model pegasus now so I'll be done a lot faster."
As Sera joined her in the corral, Mila continued on her task, although it was clear she was paying attention to what the other demigod was saying. "Yeah, it's been alright," Mila hedged. She wasn't usually a fan of sharing her fears with just anyone - she had always felt as though it was more her job to listen. She wondered if Sera would only talk to her if she offered some deeper insight into her feelings, but Mila needn't have worried. Her lips turned down at the corners as she turned her eyes to the daughter of Dionysus. "I'm sorry to hear that," she said genuinely to Sera, even though she wasn't too sure on the exact details of Sera's mortal parent. It didn't matter - regardless of what it was, Sera was not happy about being near her again. "Will she try to contact you if she knows you're here?"
Mila worked down the rest of the one side of Oreius' body before going around the other, taking her time on how to answer Sera's question. Truthfully, she hadn't met anyone interesting at camp; all the Romans had been far too keen to disregard her the moment they saw her orange camp shirt. Instead of making friends with the Romans, Mila had instead found herself reforging bonds with the Greeks, becoming closer with her own family. "Not really, but I'm sure it's nothing a few team-building and ice-breaking exercises can't fix." Was she being a bit too optimistic about it? Maybe. But she didn't want to disparage their hosts, no matter how unwilling they were.
She was smart, Mila had to give her that, although the daughter of Poseidon had had no doubt about that from the start. She always tried hard to not make snap judgements about people from a first meeting, especially as short as the one they'd had, but Mila liked to think part of her job as cabin leader was to try to understand other demigods. Sometimes this meant figuring out their personality based on a first meeting, especially if those demigods were in panic mode about the new lives they would be living. It meant trying to be a sympathetic person, but not in a way that would deemed as patronising - it meant trying to be an older sister to the younger kids, but not to older ones. It meant trying to gauge boundaries or how best to tackle issues that arose, it meant trying to read and understand how a person worked. Mila had pegged the Roman girl as a go-getter from the moment they'd talked to each other, and so Mila wasn't surprised in the least that the other girl had hung back specifically to allow the other two chariots to become distracted by their own squabble.
Mila was hoping for a somewhat clean round, and she was mentally urging on the girl to squeeze past the others so she could win and the whole affair would be over for the next few minutes. But even Mila could tell from her vantage point that the margin for error was too great to risk it - what she hadn't expected was for the driver of one of the chariots to fall bodily and hold on to the reins as he tried to stay in his vehicle. Mila's eyebrows furrowed as she fought to concentrate, trying to understand how that had happened, when she saw the odd shadows on the demigod's legs. It might have just been a trick of the light...
But before the daughter of Poseidon could ponder on it longer, the Roman girl seized her chance and pushed her horses on, her targeted chariot acting as an anchor weight for the other. Mila winced again at the sound of the horses confused and panicked thoughts as the reins pulled back on them, while the other demigod's horses were just as confused and panicked about the change of weight again. Mila had been so focused on them and ensuring that neither the horses nor the demigods had been too badly injured, that she had missed a dagger flying after the Roman girl as she sped on ahead.
It was only when the race was called that Mila sought out the winner. The dagger looked like it was in deep - nothing too serious, considering daggers in bodies were the least of Mila's problems this morning. That was, until the Roman girl did the not-smart thing and actually pulled it out. Gritting her teeth, Mila directed Oreius' descent in the Roman girl's direction, alighting from the pegasus' back the moment his hooves touched the ground. In one smooth movement, she had reached out to support the Roman girl, saying lowly but urgently, "Come on, let's get you to the medics." Luckily for both of them, there was a medic station set up just to the side of the hippodrome - as the bloodiest of the games on offer, it obviously made sense to have healers within the immediate vicinity.
Mila knew the fates and fortunes of the campers participating in the chariot race - and really, in any sort of game involving demigods - would always change quickly, what with everyone in the competition having preternatural abilities and powers. Considering these were the kids of gods lifted straight out of mythology, no one's destiny was ever set in stone, and in sports like these, things were always bound to be flipped a few times on its head, and it was always anyone's game.
And so it was that she wasn't entirely surprised to find the Roman girl, who had been in the lead just moments before, was now at the back of the pack as she had been affected by the wayward power, too. Mila's heart went out to the poor panicked horses, and if she could, she would have flown down in an instant to calm them; as it was, she could only watch from above and try to find them later, maybe give them a sneaky sugar cube or carrot for having to deal with today. To be quite honest, Mila was probably going to be hanging out as much as possible in the stables for a few days to try and give every horse some attention and compensation for having to drag chariots in a fight that wasn't theirs.
The daughter of Poseidon was flying just a little in front of the Roman girl, so it took Mila more than a few seconds to realise that one of the other chariots had been crippled. It was the one closest to the Roman girl, one wheel now loose and wobbling, much to the consternation of its driver. Mila couldn't help but smirk as the other girl pulled forwards at once, easily ditching her sidelined opponent; she knew she should probably be backing a fellow Greek - and the only one currently in this round - but Mila couldn't help herself from silently egging on the Roman girl to win. She didn't know what it was about her, perhaps her tenacity, perhaps partly the no-bull attitude Mila had sensed from their minute interaction together.
A glint of metal brought Mila's attention back to the two leading chariots as they both screeched around the second to last turn of the race. She watched with pain in her heart as the horses whinnied, their hooves scrabbling desperately in the loose sand of the hippodrome, kicking up dirt and causing chaos as their drivers locked together in a bitter fight. The panicked cries of the equines clashed horribly with the screech of metal and clang of weapons as the two lead chariots tried to eke the other out of the race. They were getting desperate now as the edge of the race loomed.
As the sun was briefly dimmed by a cloud, Mila fought to keep her eyes on the squabbling demigods, trying to see through their chaos to ensure neither of them was mortally wounded. It seemed as though the spokes of their wheels had gotten stuck to each other's, the two chariots hurtling forwards together like a large misshapen beast, the horses trying their best to keep going forward while clearly panicking about the combined weight and odd balance. Mila was so focused on them that she had briefly forgotten the Roman girl, and only re-included her in her calculating gaze as the other girl entered her field of vision once again, catching up with the other two.
Because her eyes had been fixed on the Roman girl's chariot, she had seen every event that happened in the space of thirty seconds - the lost sword, the whip, the attack, the second rush at the other Roman demigod's chariot. Then there something strange happening, like a weird shiver going up Mila's spine despite her distance from the others. And then she saw it, the strange dance of the shadows, obviously different and clearly manipulated despite the tangled forest of moving darkness as the chariots and their drivers and horses maneuvered expertly around the field. Mila saw the Roman girl had had her arm outstretched, and the shadows attack the other chariot, so clearly they were her doing, and that was when it clicked that the Roman girl was clearly some child of an Underworld god. Considering the strength of the umbrakinesis as the other chariot toppled to the side, Mila would guess the Roman girl was a child of none other than Hades. She would definitely be one to keep an eye out for - not for dirty tricks or cheats, but because her power had more potential to cause a lot of havoc.
As the Roman girl sped on, clear path ahead of her, Oreius shifted suddenly to the side with an indignant and ringing whinny - a wayward spiked flail from a scuffle behind her had missed its intended target and had flown haphazardly into the air towards her. Mila looked behind her and noticed the Greek chariot had caught up with another two and they were all now trying to knock each other off. She glanced at the Hades girl's chariot and she seemed she'd be fine for a bit longer, so Mila pulled Oreius up a little so they were now flying above the knot of chariots.
She had just gotten into a comfortable vantage spot were she could see the Roman girl in the horizon while keeping her main gaze on the three right below her when a bolt of magic rebounded off a shield and slammed into her side. Oreius had to careen sideways again, this time away from the being directly above the chaos. Ears ringing from the use of audiokinesis, obviously meant to debilitate its target's senses, Mila's eyes were watering from the impact on her eardrums. Oreius was yelling at her, asking if she needed to pull out, but she wouldn't back out of her responsibility, not now. The pegasus snapped one last snarky remark at her before pulling them back into the action, the Greek chariot now gaining on the Roman girl as it left the other two behind him locked together by the wheels. Teeth gritted and lips turned down in a scowl, Mila wiped away the reflex tears and concentrated again on the race.
And then they were off, and Mila focused on the task ahead of her, Every race lasted far too long in her opinion, and aside from keeping up with them, she needed to keep her eyes peeled for any cheating or any serious injuries. She wasn't the only referee for the race, of course, because there would be no way in heck only one demigod would be able to accurately referee groups of five chariots all thundering down the track and trying to push each other off with weapons or powers. She was lucky no one so far had really used a lot of their powers, it had been a lot more relying on their chariots or their weapons - abilities probably used too much focus and effort, both of which were hard to get by when you had people on all sides trying to knock you off. Once again, Mila was thankful she wasn't actually participating.
Oreius' powerful body surged forwards, galloping alongside the Roman girl's chariot for a few metres before spreading his wings and taking off into the air. From her vantage point, Mila could already see a couple of demigods boxing another one, working together for the moment to put the third behind them. To her annoyance, it had been a Greek camper being pushed behind, but Mila hoped they'd be able to take the momentary loss, surge forwards later on when the bloodbath at the front was done, then thunder on into victory. She resolved to keep an eye on the flag, looking behind her momentarily to remember the colour and insignia even as Oreius kept pace with the front of the herd.
Her momentary lapse of focus costed her a second of missing whatever had happened between the two chariots that had worked together before, but with a loud bang, the one on the right had one wheel snapped cleanly in half and it hobbled over to the side of the racetrack - Mila could see its driver aiming an arrow for the first chariot but the other driver ducked and it missed him by a few inches. The first driver was now aiming for the chariot of the Roman girl, both of them nearly slamming together as they reached the first turn of the racetrack. Oreius banked hard, his wings spread straight on either side of them as his legs cantered in the air, Mila's blonde hair streaming behind her and at one point getting into her face - the daughter of Poseidon raised a hand hastily to pull her hair out of her eyes, the blue orbs locked determinedly on the two chariots at the front of the pack.
Another round of racing, another set of demigods laying possibly their lives on the line for the sake of glory. Already, Mila had seen a chariot flip over, a few broken limbs bent the other way, and a little too much blood for so early in the morning. It had made her feel a bit sick inside, especially seeing the younger ones racing against more experienced - and sometimes Roman - demigods, but she knew she would only be doing good work by being out on the field herself, refereeing. At the very least, she could catch any cheaters; at the very most, she might be able to save a life. It was rather fatalistic of her to be thinking of the worst possible scenario considering this was supposed to be just a game, but the chariot races at Camp Half-Blood had already been filled with disaster waiting to happen, it was only going to be all the worse at Camp Jupiter.
Oreius, of course, had been completely unfazed by everything. He liked to tell her it was because he was a godly being, to which she had lightly flicked a finger against his withers and told him to get his head straight. Godly being. Sometimes she didn't know if her father had cursed her or blessed her with such a sassy and smart-mouthed, hoofed, winged friend-slash-protector. He ruffled his wings now as Mila returned them to the finish line, his gait slow and smooth and not at all in a rush. He could probably tell his rider was still feeling a bit dismayed from the last round and was needing a few moments of peace.
They were just about to bypass one of the chariots lined up when a demigod acknowledged them with an unwelcome, close-ended question. Oreius snorted at the attitude, but Mila only patted him calmly. The Greek demigod must have taken the Roman by surprise - for she was surely a Roman. Mila had taken care to get to know at least more faces from the Greek camp since they'd all been made to share barracks together, and also because they were all that they had now. Despite the Roman's attitude, Mila was content to give her a pass for now. The other girl must have just been feeling the stress, and while Mila couldn't empathise, she could at the very least sympathise.
"Nothing," was Mila's reply, no trace of sass or sarcasm in her tone. She would have offered some kind words about the chariot race being nothing to worry about - even though it was plenty to worry about - but that was best saved for people who might appreciate it. Romans for sure would not appreciate any kind of sympathy, especially from a Greek like her.
The daughter of Poseidon turned her gaze to the chariot by the demigod, clearly the vehicle she would be driving later. It was simple, sturdy, not a lot of places where tricks could be hiding, although Mila wouldn't be surprised if the chariot was just as nifty as any child of Hermes' or Hephaestus'. The horses, at least, weren't too shifty or nervous, all of them calm and still looking straight ahead despite Oreius' strutting by them. They did have one ear pricked back to listen in on their conversation, though, and Oreius at the very least was gladly giving them something to listen to.
The sound of a whistle caught Mila's attention, and she spotted the familiar sign for getting ready. With a sigh, she turned Oreius back the way they'd come. "Good luck in the race today," she said, smiling slightly. A peace offering, an olive branch extended. She didn't have to go too far, only a few paces, the demigod's chariot to her right as it stood at her end of the lineup. As the drivers got onto their chariots, Mila leaned lower against Oreius, ready for the pegasus to bolt at the same time as the competitors.
She was still looking at Erik - her lips doing their best not to grin too wide and give Erik the idea that she was possibly thrilled at playing this game - and so she caught his very subtle one-finger gesture. No, not the rude one; the demigod was just scratching his eye. Mila's jaw actually tilted forwards as she replayed the gesture in her mind, wondering if he was meaning to tell her what he was meaning to tell her. "Was that...?" she asked out loud, unsure, before laughing again and saying, "Okay, okay. I get your hint, Mr Spymaster."
So Erik had chosen chariot number one, and Mila was familiar with this build - Greek, from Hephaestus cabin, and with a familiar face readying to drive the steeds. It wasn't exactly the flashiest, but Mila felt a burst of admiration for Erik. He'd chosen Greek, and she didn't know if that was because of loyalty or because he truly believed they could win, but she was very proud of him that he did. Much better than her, right? Turncoat at the first instance. Mila could have scolded herself for that one.
"Alright, you're on," she told him, grinning brightly and giving him a thumbs up, just as one of the Romans gestured her over and Oreius followed the directive. Placing both her hands back on his neck, Mila leaned forwards to steady herself against Oreius' gait, calling over her shoulder, "See you later, Flynn!"
As she came closer to the competitors, Mila was glad that the Hephaestus chariot was actually looking a little sturdier than it had looked from afar. The horses' ears flicked towards her and Oreius, their heads turning to acknowledge her briefly, and Mila felt another surge of pride and loyalty towards her own campers, her own family. There was an edge of vindictiveness as she sincerely hoped Erik would win, if only it would mean the Greeks could edge out a victory. A Greek didn't have to win the Games, of course, but any kind of victory in any round would feel good. A savage grin graced her lips, blonde hair flipping over her shoulder as she locked her body ready for Oreius to gallop and take to the skies at the sound of the signal.
And not a moment too soon - a second later, she had to fight against the force that threatened to push her off Oreius' back as the pegasus started, his strong legs keeping up easily with the racing chariots. Instantly, the chariot she'd selected to win pulled ahead of the others, and Mila kept her eyes on it specifically as Oreius pumped his wings and took to the air. From her vantage point, she could see 1 in the middle of the pack, and Mila worried for the driver that she couldn't see but was undoubtedly fighting to not lose his place.
Mila grinned at Erik's retelling of his adventures. She couldn't imagine what it would be like to run that fast. She wasn't a particularly good runner herself, but to be able to run as fast as Erik or any of the other Hermes kids, to have wings at your ankles and to still be able to see obstacles and judge distance and know where to go at that speed - it sounded crazy. It wasn't that she would give up her own heritage or her own powers, but it was definitely interesting to think that there were some kids who could do that. Then again, Mila supposed some people wouldn't be able to comprehend that she had daily conversations and inside jokes with a winged horse.
The smile on her face twisted a little into a smirk, heading about the 'Flynn Family policy'. "Oh, I'm very sure your business is very reputable, Mr Flynn," she teased, the emphasis on her words only slightly sarcastic. There was a light in her eyes as a laugh played around her mouth, glad for the easy exchange of humour. "I'll believe your advertising - you've sold me. I'll remember to place my first bet with you."
The idea of competing in the chariot race on behalf of the Greeks did sound quite interesting, although the whole competitiveness of the Games wasn't particularly comfortable for Mila. Besides, there were always better chariot drivers amongst the Athena cabins. The Ares kids were ruthless, the Hephaestus kids were extremely talented with their traps and tech, and the Hecate kids were always full of surprises. Winning a chariot race didn't rely purely on actually guiding the horses, especially amongst demigods - the ability to multitask driving the chariot, defending from attacks while also simultaneously trying to get the others out of the race was pretty intense. Mila had participated in her fair share, of course, when she had been younger, but she'd never quite gotten the thrill of it.
Waggling a finger at Erik, Mila only laughed and replied, "Uh-uh, Erik. Don't sell me up too much, now. I'm not sure I can live up to the expectation." The blonde demigod only shook her head at the promise of surprises from a chariot named the RoadMaster 2000. She wasn't sure if Erik was just pulling that name and concept from somewhere, but she wouldn't be surprised in the least if the Hermes cabin had conjured something with that name. It would be a thing to behold in a chariot race if it was real.
The mention of placing a bet had Mila turning her head to gaze over the assembled chariots again. It looked like they were about to get ready for the race, and the daughter of Poseidon gently bit on her lower lip. She really shouldn't bet on a race when she was a ref, right? "Uhh, not sure if I'm technically allowed to do that, Erik..." Hesitantly, she glanced again over her shoulder, torn between wanting to have fun and being a good role model. Technically, underaged campers shouldn't be betting at all. How old was Erik again? Shaking her head again, this time at herself, Mila decided to throw caution to the winds and take a step into morally ambiguous territory. "Alright, but only if you keep it to yourself, d'you hear me, Flynn?"
Sighing at what could be a momentously stupid idea, Mila studied the competitors. Oreius was telling her about the steeds, which ones were extremely nervous and which ones were collected enough despite the growing din of the gathered demigods. Deciding to be sneaky about it, Mila looked at Erik as she tidied her blonde hair over her shoulder, three fingers of her hand up to show her choice. It was a Roman chariot - blasphemy on the Greeks, she knew - decorated with cloth in shades of blue, its driver holding on tightly to a longsword that shone green in the sunlight. That would be a nasty blade, and Mila knew that despite the simple trappings, the chariot and its driver held more surprises.
Mila could only shake her head slightly in amusement. She'd never interacted too much with Erik while they had been at Camp Half-Blood, so she only knew the basic information about him. Aside from the usual Hermes traits, Erik also apparently liked to talk his mouth off, and while Mila had only been subject to that a number of times in their old camp, she found it rather endearing, particularly now. After all, who else would be going on about the conversion rate of drachma versus denarii? Only a child of the god of commerce, for sure, and amongst those, apparently Erik only trusted himself with the bookie job. Mila found herself entertained by his antics.
"Run into any walls yet?" she asked lightly, the mental image of Erik slamming into a wall a la Roadrunner style making her eyes flash with mirth. It was probably mean of her to even think it, but considering the jovial personality of the son of Hermes, Mila thought he'd probably just brush himself off before continuing on his day. Mila for sure had had trouble with her own powers when she'd been younger, and even now was comfortable with using only as much as she dared to use. Struggling against something as supernatural as god powers was difficult and not something that should be laughed at, but Mila was in a light mood and Erik surely wouldn't have minded?
The daughter of Poseidon knew of Hawke, of course. Mila had made a point to get to know most if not all of the Centurions and Praetors, considering her own leadership position amongst the Greeks. She wasn't the best at diplomacy and had always been fairly introverted, so she hadn't actually spoken to Hawke. Still, from what she'd heard of the daughter of Victoria, she was not only fast on her feet but also very competitive. Mila could appreciate Erik's bet being on the Roman girl. She only smiled as he winked at her, not completely understanding how odds worked - never been a gambling girl - but entertained by his confidence. "I'd have bet on you," she told him, grinning as she did. "Of course, if I'd lost, I'd have made you pay me back."
It was a strange feeling, for sure, to be laughing and joking with someone at the side of a race track in the middle of the Roman legion, more so because Mila didn't usually do that anywhere anyway. Still, her smile was easy as she told Erik, "I guess you'll find out next year." Oreius snorted at the mention of Half-Blood Pride, apparently getting behind the idea and telling Mila as much, but the blonde demigod only laughed at both her equine and Erik. Maybe it was a male thing, this camp pride, although that couldn't be right considering the number of female Roman legionnaires who had signed up for the combat games. "I think you're selling my skills too well, Erik. Is this going to be your trick to get a good cash out for next year's games?"
There was a loud clamoring from behind her, and Mila turned to look at who was causing the commotion. She wasn't surprised in the least to find it was someone she knew: Erik Flynn, son of Hermes, general troublemaker and now apparently a bookie. She watched him over her shoulder for a few seconds, before rolling her eyes slightly and, with a burgeoning grin, turned herself and Oreius around to go talk to the wise-cracking boy with his sunnies and gum, yelling at her about losing his money.
Humour and wit weren't Mila's strong suits. She'd always been too serious to be able to easily crack jokes and share humour, and her limited cabin size meant she didn't often have a lot of company on her downtime, anyway. Sometimes, she used to watch the Hermes cabin and all the boisterous adventures and pranks that came with that territory, and sometimes she would feel a pang that she'd never had such a huge family. And then she'd remember that the whole camp was her family, and she'd remember her next chore or responsibility, and off she went to do it. Mila had never really had time to make fun friends.
Now, though, Mila felt a bit of a closer bond to the other Greeks. They had all survived something together. They had all lost something together. Some had lost more. Everyone had different ways of dealing with their grief, while some didn't grieve at all, or at least in public. Everyone needed laughter, and she knew Erik could definitely provide plenty of that. "Should've checked with me before putting my name up on the board," she called back to him as she made her way over to the stands. The chariots for this round were still organizing themselves - glancing back, Mila noted one of the legionnaires was gesticulating furiously and pointing at a wheel - so she had a bit of time to talk with Erik before the race started.
A bout of laughter bubbled from Mila, a rare feat considering she had very few reasons to laugh these days, before she replied, "And how about you, Erik? Upstanding son of Hermes himself. Are you competing?" Another camper could have taken his words patronizingly, especially the bit about being a role model for the younger campers, but it was true enough and Mila had never hidden that aspect of herself. It had never bothered her that she was seen as a bit of do-gooder. She eyed the boy's checkbook and pen contemplatively before continuing, "Are you betting on yourself for the foot race? What odds would you give?"
Another chuckle sounded from the female demigod, shaking her head slightly at the boy's antics as a few of the legionnaires around them turned to look at who had dared use sarcasm to describe their legion. No one needed to know that the pegasus agreed wholeheartedly with Erik, and had said so out loud in no uncertain terms. Sometimes it was a blessing that there were only very few demigods who could actually understand the winged horse. "You know I'm hardly competitive enough," she told the other demigod, as a hand absentmindedly patted Oreius' neck. An uncharacteristically mischievous grin appeared on Mila's lips. "I will if you will, though."
Mila had been dreading today for the past week. Of course, the idea of camp Olympics and a welcome feast and the lantern tribute had sounded perfect for everyone to get together, get to know each other, and maybe start working on the obvious rift between camps. But while she had full faith in the Greeks being able to hold their own in the Olympics, she hated the idea of them being beaten by the Romans. The legion was ruthless, their soldiers even more so, and Mila strongly disliked the unnecessary violence. They were already fighting monsters, did they really need to fight against each other? The Olympics held in Camp Jupiter were unlike the combat or chariot racing the Greeks did in Camp Half-Blood; Mila thought the bloodthirstiness of the Romans had something to do with it.
And so she had refused to sign up for any of the Games, instead choosing to referee and watch the competitors. Not that Mila thought the Romans would cheat - she just felt better being someone who could support all the Greek participants. Maybe if the younger ones saw her watching over them as they raced around the track, they would feel a bit more confident and even fight back against the Romans.
Oreius twitched his tail and adjusted his legs, his wings ruffling slightly. As usual, Mila rode him with no bridle or saddle, completely confident in their combined ability to keep her seat on his back. At least there weren't any magical equine allowed in the chariot race - Mila shuddered at the thought of falling chariots and gored campers.
A chariot rolled up beside her, taking their place at the starting line, and Mila pulled herself back from her worries. Orieus shifted as though he'd sensed her sharpen her focus, mind back on the game, and turned so they were both facing the competitors as they lined up at the start of the track. The daughter of Poseidon watched them closely, eyeing their chariots and weapons, wondering what tricks these demigods would pull for their round.
No matter how much Oreius complained - and complain he did - it was Bathe The Pegasus day. It was something Mila and Oreius had fought about for years, although Mila liked to think and say that Oreius only fought with her to keep their lives interesting, while Oreius assured her it was most definitely not the case. When she had been younger, he had been far more accommodating about bath days, but the older she'd gotten, the more he'd resisted, as though he was regressing in age. Even now, despite the bucket of apples she had promised him - Are they the golden apples of Hesperides? Then no, you can't make me - the danged pegasus was giving her far too much attitude to deal with so early in the morning.
"Would you please act your age?" she told him with no real heat in her voice as she chased him around the little corral, wielding a brush, the water that had previously been in the bucket also following along in the air behind her. They probably made quite the image, and any passing Roman camper would probably have laughed at the sight of them, but Mila was only focused on getting the troublesome pegasus. Oreius only whickered indignantly at her jab, continuing his zigzagging path out of her reach.
Deciding she couldn't catch him physically, Mila decided to go for a stealth move. Not wanting the pegasus to guess her plan, the daughter of Poseidon kept running after him, but her mind calculated where he would turn next and--with a harsh movement of her arm, the bubbles of water that had been floating behind her zoomed forward and crashed against Oreius' flank. Within seconds, he was drenched, and Mila took advantage of his surprise to catch up with him, immediately setting to work brushing his wet hair. Affronted, the pegasus whinnied, You're a cheat, Lyudmila Ivanovna!, before shaking his mane and soaking the demigod from head to toe.
Swear words in Ancient Greek flooded from Mila's mouth - no little children around, she felt she could be allowed - but before she could retaliate, someone poked their head around the stables and asked her if she was alright. It was Sera, one of the Dionysus kids who'd been at Camp Half-Blood for nearly as long as Mila had been. The two of them had never really meshed well together considering their different personalities, but ever since Camp Jupiter, Mila's sense of family had grown exponentially. She waved at Sera with her free hand, the other continuing to get the soap lathered on Oreius' back. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just Oreius being feisty as usual." The daughter of Poseidon received an irritated huff of breath in her face for that one. "How's your morning going?"
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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moved at the sound of her voice, and initially, Mila was relieved. She was sure she would be copping a lot of flak, intense posturing, and multiple rounds of threats if she had been the one found next to an unconscious legionnaire, not in the least because it was Dareios. The Romans had been suspicious of the Greeks from the moment they had arrived, and while Mila could understand their hesitation to welcome the demigod refugees, the daughter of Poseidon was still miffed that they would judge the whole camp based on the actions of one or two individuals. There were children as young as ten or eleven with them, for Poseidon's sake. No child deserved that level of suspicion and coldheartedness. 
