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.
He could have preened like a peacock in front of her at her words. This was why compliments should not be paid to Isaak, as he tended to become insufferable because of them. He couldn't help himself, though, had anyone seen him? He was no Adonis it was true, and his six-pack was nigh nonexistent, but he had quite the face and a sparkling personality to go with it. At last, someone had recognised him for what he was: the awesomest. The flyest. The greatest. He had already decided Avery was his absolute favourite person ever, and no one and nothing was going to convince him to change his mind at all. GH's girlfriend had long since been forgotten, completely eclipsed by Avery's appreciation for him. GH's girlfriend who? Isaak's world was completely taken by Avery now.
Flawless, she'd called him. He was a diamond, was what he was. Flicking his head to the left once again with his fingers under his chin as he pretended to show off his own face, Isaak only grinned again, languishing in Avery's praise. "Tuh, you're too nice to me," he replied brightly, his voice not very genuine. Well, he did know his own value of course, so she was only saying the truth, but still, it felt nice to be appreciated. It didn't happen all too often, after all. He was half-tempted to get on his knee in a particularly dramatic display of being a knight, but Isaak did not fail to realise how much it mimicked getting down on one knee to propose. Was that why men got down on one knee? Did it go back to knighthood? Isaak may not have minded being someone's knight, but he most certainly was not going to allow any sort of implication of any kind of commitment. "I would gladly be busy on your behalf, my lady," he said instead, and rather enthusiastically.
With a gentle pat on the fingers holding on to his arm, Isaak began their stroll towards the gardens. He wasn't really the type to give his heart out to girls - did he even have one of those? He wasn't sure. Apparently he did, because he was still walking, obviously, but Isaak wasn't one for sentiment or emotional attachment, and he knew he was never in any kind of danger of heartbreak. "Don't worry, Miss Barringer," he said easily, referring to her provided surname, "you would need to spend but a few minutes in my company. I won't take up a second longer." Truthfully, she would probably need like a solid couple of hours, but she didn't need to know that. Isaak was going to pull out all the stops and really make himself shine. It would require quite a bit of effort on his behalf, of course, and while Isaak could be lazy about a few too many things, showing off in front of a girl was not one of those. He would give her a grands show of the garden, making himself both the wingman and the main man, hyping himself up because clearly no one else would do it for him. Oh, the woes of his life.
And then she had to ask about his cohort, and Isaak pretended it wasn't a pin in the balloon of his ego. He knew he wasn't some sort of super warrior, and it had never bothered him before that he was just a third cohort legionnaire. But would that make him any less of a demigod in her eyes? Avery was Greek - all she probably knew about the Camp Jupiter cohort system was that the Romans were sorted by their calibre of warrior with the first cohort having the most proficient legionnaires. She probably didn't know that recommendations were required for entrance to the 'higher' cohorts, and it was all just political and more about who you knew. Isaak was doing quite alright with him being in third cohort, at the very least; surely she wouldn't judge him by his ranking, right? "Third cohort," he admitted, trying not to let the defeat show clearly in his words, "but that doesn't make me a worse knight, I assure you!"
Isaak had never before cared about his cohort before, but he found himself ready to defend his position at the drop of a hat. He had never cared before about the politics of Camp Jupiter, but he was ready to berate it to defend himself if he needed. Perhaps it would be better to change the topic? Maybe that would be less likely to brand him a traitor to the Romans, because he most definitely was not one. "How about yourselves? Sorted by... parent cabin, from what I heard?" Isaak definitely found that strange. He knew he had half-siblings in higher cohorts, and some in lower cohorts; it felt strange to consider being in a cabin (he imagined it wooden and set in the woods) with only his half-siblings for company. Too much going on in one place if they would be placed in the same living quarters, that would be for sure.
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.
Isaak's smile was genuine and wide as he replied, "The pleasure is all mine." And he meant it, too; he always did love meeting people who didn't want to slap him or stab him or both. This girl was full of happiness and sunshine and bubbly energy, and Isaak could get on that level. There would be no judgy or mean bone in this girl's body, and Isaak really loved that, because there would be no way in heck she would be the first to reach for a weapon, right? She didn't even seem like someone who could get mad or get in a bad mood, and considering how easily Isaak could raise someone's ire, it was always better to make friends, get to know, or flirt with people who were happy and jokey. And he could make her laugh and smile, and not even in an evil sort of way! That was a big bonus for sure.
"Enemies-shnenemies," Isaak retorted, practically waving a hand in the air as he batted that thought away. Sure, he might have considered the Greek Hulk his enemy, but I mean, Reynolds was his best friend, and Reynolds was Greek. Isaak liked to think he didn't discriminate based on parentage, only based on whether or not one could appreciate the son of Mercury. Considering GH had decidedly not appreciated Isaak and had shown him as much with a fist to the face, Isaak felt he was definitely well within his rights not to like him. This girl, though? Surely no one could be her enemy. If there was, Isaak would gladly pound them to a pulp - in front of her, of course, so he could be all heroic. Maybe he should have some sort of fancy uniform when coming to damsels' distress? Just call him Super Isaak. "And besides, no one could be enemies with you, surely. Anyone who dares will have to face me."
He grinned again as he held out his elbow, offering it to the Greek girl in a very gentlemanly and suave manner, because that was who Isaak was as a person. What a pity the other Greek girl from a last night was missing out on seeing him at his peak. "I'm always charming, I promise you," he assured her, turning his smile to her encouragingly. "If you stick around, you can see for yourself." Undoubtedly, Isaak would be pulling out all stops to ensure he would shine his brightest light and at his best angle to impress this girl. He was sure she wouldn't have some ridiculous high standard like the other Roman girls, but still, when he went in on something, he always went all the way - with Isaak, it was all or nothing, and most of the time it was all.
So engrossed was he in immediately planning a stroll to the gardens and maybe around the aviary and maybe around the lake, and then to dinner, that he hadn't even heard any sort of second meaning to the girl's words. "Gladly!" he answered brightly. "It would only be my pleasure." He bowed slightly, one arm gently acting as his anchor as he bent his body at the waist, while the other was still bent at the elbow and offered to the Greek girl. "I can be your official tour guide to Camp Jupiter, Miss--?" Isaak turned expectant warm eyes to his new companion, eagerly awaiting for the girl's name. It would be something beautiful and sunny for sure.
Now that Astrid mentioned the laurel were made of the same leaves, part of Isaak wanted to reconsider the race. After all, he was so sensitive that usually even just a bad breeze would feel like it could cut through his clothes and his skin and flesh and sinew to reach his precious little soul inside. He supposed he could wear a hood, but that would definitely detract from the fancy wreath against his pretty hair. Perhaps it would be worth it, just for one afternoon, and then he could jackknife in midair and throw the wreath from his head without actually touching it. Besides, he could always go to Reynolds to fix his face if he ever got into any issues - the Greek demigod was always patching him up, anyway, one more day wouldn't make a difference.
He only grinned at Astrid's words about her being better than him, shrugging again as he finally finished his warm up. "Well, like you said, some of us have to live in delusions," he said loftily, now contorting his body slowly and carefully to help relax his muscles a little. He had to keep himself limber, after all, running wasn't the same as fighting. In armed combat, Isaak had to keep his weight lower in his body so he wouldn't be knocked off so easily by a particularly shield-bash-happy legionnaire; in foot race, it was about not having weight at all, or so the son of Mercury believed. Happy muscles were weightless muscles.
As he stretched, Isaak inevitably emitted more dying-beast groans, although they were a little less loud now that his body had gone through the warm up. Being fit was difficult; it was why Isaak tended to be lazy rather than try to fit in with the rest of the legion. Fitness wasn't a guarantee of charm or prettiness, after all, and if given the choice to be able to lift a boulder or pose legendarily atop it, Isaak would rather pose. With his exercises completed, he pushed his hair out of his face as he waggled fingers at Astrid, saying, "Being cute has always won me a lot of things. This race will just be another thing to add to the list." And with a confident smile, Isaak made his way over to his position at the starting line, taking a swig of water while he walked and making sure he was showing off his arm muscles and the angle of his jaw as he did so.
Isaak lived in many delusions, not the least of which was that he actually stood a chance against the daughter of Victoria, but he liked his delusions because they were about him and of course he was the centre of his own universe. He was pretty freaking awesome, if you didn't mind. And so when Astrid accused him of living in delusion, he only smiled winningly at her and shrugged, continuing on with his fantastic and self-prescribed workout. It wasn't as though his workout was hurting anyone else, was it? He'd only hit a probatio twice and that was a month or so ago, and even then the probatio hadn't gotten too hurt, or at least nothing a little ambrosia couldn't fix. Isaak hadn't even been too badly punished for it.
As the son of Mercury brushed off the leaves, Astrid's warning about ingesting them had him throwing her a filthy look as his became both more cautious and yet also frantic about the leaves, as though touching skin and eating equalled the same thing. Isaak thought he could be excused considering he was a gentle soul and he bruised like a peach; a poison ivy laurel leaf rash would ruin his good looks and then where would he be? He'd lose any chance of winning over the Greek girl because who would want a ruined Isaak? "You should keep your dang poisonous excretions to yourself, Astrid," he said testily, now paranoid and checking that his shirt fell over his shorts and none of the poisonous leaves had made their way inside.
Despite the centurion stopping in her warm ups and apparently taking the whole thing seriously, Isaak kept on going, although he tried his best to meet Astrid's gaze head on. It was a bit difficult considering his vision was all jumping up and down and a little sideways - no one needed to ask why, but the dance workout situation involved some head tilting too - but he wasn't going to look away. Looking away was a sign of weakness, and he wasn't intimidated in the least about the numbers the other demigod spouted. Instead, he just laughed, slightly breathless, as he replied, "Hey that was really good maths! At least you're better at that than me, right?" Isaak wasn't even sure why he was enjoying the needling, but then again, he was a fairly vain peacock. He needed to be legendary in at least one thing, and considering he had a natural advantage in this one area, Isaak had long decided this would be his field. He gave her a bright smile at her last words though. "Aw thank you! I think I'm cute, too." The son of Mercury even flipped his hair to the side again, eyes sparkling.
The smile on Isaak's face spread wider as the other girl actually laughed at his joke. The fact that she wasn't already threatening to chop him and his liver into tiny little pieces already made her a star person in his book. It didn't hurt that she had a great smile herself, all sparkling teeth and cute nose and brilliant eyes. The little ego monster in Isaak's chest preened a little that he'd actually brought out such a reaction from her, and it also sighed a relief that he hadn't found himself knocked to his knees already. Roman girls tended to be very unfriendly about Isaak's flirting - clearly, he'd ended up in the wrong camp. He'd have a word with his father about it if he'd ever meet him.
His eyes went to the weapon again, this time also sweeping across her shoulders - just her shoulders, mind, because he was still a gentleman and he could appreciate shoulders and necks and the shape of her jaw and her smooth skin and - not wanting to be caught ogling more than necessary, Isaak's head tilted slightly to the side as he confirmed, "Well, you're not wrong, it does look really good on you, too." He was pretty sure she could have any sort of weapon strapped to her back and still look good. Was that the Roman influence speaking for him? Eight hundred days of living with legionnaires had apparently skewed his perception of attraction to females with weaponry. That could be problematic considering said weapons usually found their way into his body. "I'm sure you'd look like Wonder Woman with any weapon, anyway." Isaak was not subtle in the least.
Absentmindedly, the son of Mercury bit down lightly on his bottom lip as the Greek girl teased him about going up against him in combat training. The angle of her face as she leaned her chin on her shoulder was entirely too enticing, and Isaak found himself rapidly losing braincells as he was distracted by this siren. Still, he managed to smirk at her goodnaturedly, pulling out a gladius and hefting a smaller shield. It was just going to be a practice run, right? Where was his sense of self-preservation? Oh, that's right, probably somewhere on the ground with his other braincells. As he led the way to a less crowded area but still within hearing distance of the arena - he was quickly forgetting why he'd wanted to enter the competition in the first place - Isaak flipped his hair showily before grinning and saying, "Alright, hit me."
Isaak didn't believe Astrid's words for a minute. Of course flapping his arms helped: at the very least, it lifted his weight for a few seconds, allowing him to move forward faster and better, and also, it helped work out his arm muscles, meaning he would be a tank faster. "You're just trying to cheat me out, Astrid Hawke, daughter of Victoria, centurion of fourth cohort," Isaak intoned, still continuing with his manic chicken dance workout. "But I will be legen-wait for it-dary and I will kick gluteus maximus in this foot race, just you wait." Completing his statement with a half-assed karate chop that only served to topple his balance, Isaak only grinned brightly at his number one opponent.
His blue eyes looked at the laurel leaves sprouting from Astrid's fingers, completely unimpressed. He was pretty sure he'd seen some of the fourth cohort kids coming out of their barracks with leaves in their hair - this was hardly anything new for Isaak. He swatted the leaves away with a cranky cat look on his face, before continuing on his workout, but not before giving Astrid a dirty look for getting tree debris on his clothes and his hair. If she had messed with his aesthetic, she was going to hear it when she had to crown him the winner.
Flicking a last errant leaf that had stuck itself on to his shirt somehow, Isaak only tutted and said sardonically, "Astrid, Astrid, Astrid. You know they asked you to give out the laurels because there's no way in heck you're actually winning a race, right?" Usually Isaak wasn't super competitive, but considering he had one chance of winning something and of course it was against one of the most competitive people in the whole damm legion, he thought he could be excused. He needed to get up on that stage and have a wreath bestowed upon him because he needed to impress the pretty Greek girl and to shove the hecking laurel up the Ares boy's nose and hope he choked on it.
Isaak's nose scrunched together at the mention of Astrid never having met her mother. He'd grown up amongst mortals, having only arrived at Camp Jupiter a year ago, and he didn't completely have his social niceties down when it came to the parent thing. He personally had never been bothered that he'd never known his dad, having lived his entire life without him - his father being a god or a normal mortal had made no difference to Isaak. He'd always been a pretty easygoing lad, and things like abandonment issues were just water off his back. He had plenty of other issues, of course, but serious emotional ones like that were ones he shied away from. His poor pretty brain wouldn't be able to handle it.
"Yikes," was his only reply to that, before moving swiftly on to the safer topic. He winced slightly at her choice of words, because cream was just not a pretty descriptor of anything, before he grinned again and shrugged, continuing with his chicken dance warm up. This time, he added a bit of sideways arm rotations in between the wing flaps, hyping himself up with every passing second. "We'll see, Astrid, we'll see." He wasn't completely competitive, himself, but he wouldn't be letting the one wreath he had a solid chance at winning just slip him by.
Then a thought occurred to him, and he turned speculative eyes to the daughter of Victoria. "Wait, so you're-- does that mean you'll end up giving the wreaths to the winners?" The son of Mercury flicked his hair as he laughed, presenting his beautiful profile to Astrid as he said loftily, "How does this angle look? I think this is my best side and the laurel will look just perfect on top of my hair. I will be taking a bath before the feast, though, so that my face will look perfect for the ceremony." And it would, because he was Isaak Nielsen and he never looked less than that for pictures. He should hang it somewhere, probably in the Greek cohort barracks above Reynolds' bed like some dictator. His proudest moment needed to be savoured by his best friend, of course. With that thought, Isaak mentally dusted off his hands, Reynolds' birthday gift sorted.
When the Greek girl told him that she didn't think amputating his finger would save him from being married, Isaak turned his head to Reynolds, his face a desperate picture as he waited for his best friend to tell him the truth. Because hoo boy, if amputating his finger wasn't going to work, he might need to run for the hills or the mountains, and then where would he be? He couldn't grow a beard, as obvious by the hairless chin on his eighteen-year-old face, and he wouldn't be able to deal with allowing the hair he did have on his head to get messy or grow uncontrollably - he'd forever look out of place on a mountain, if he even survived it, and anyone chasing him for his hand in marriage would be able to find him easily. Let's all face it, Isaak Nielsen did not hide very well.
Thankfully, though, Reynolds told him he most likely wouldn't be prime pick for an arranged marriage, and Isaak sighed in relief. It took an additional few seconds for Reynolds' words to sink in, though, and when they did, the other male demigod had already moved towards the girl for her own checkup. Still, Isaak muttered under his breath, "I could absolutely have an impressive dowry." Did it matter that he didn't even know what a dowry was? Not really, because once Isaak set his mind on something, he most definitely could get it. What was a dowry anyway? Probably a fleet of cattle or something similar, right? He could totally get that.
Also look, he didn't mean to call her a goat. He didn't even remember saying anything about a goat. Did he say something about a goat? His brain was in pieces right now. He was just about to defend his most holy honour when Reynolds once again stepped in, but instead of having Isaak's back like he'd expected, he was telling him to calm down. Offended, Isaak pulled away, lips moving as he muttered curses about his best friend's traitorship, again.
A hand touched his head again, gingerly wondering if he would be able to feel the imprints of hooves on his skull, when the girl talked about unicorns instead of pegasi and Isaak wondered if there had been a unicorn around. The mental image of him being gored on the horn made him feel slightly nauseous, even more so when Reynolds decided to comment about swollen brains. "My brain's not swollen," Isaak snapped back as an answer, "it's in bits and pieces; some of it's in the arena being trampled by unicorns." He glared at his best friend once more, but didn't even wait until he'd gone before he turned to the Greek girl with an attempt at a flirty smile and said, "So I'm Isaak, what's your name?"
Despite Isaak's usually happy-go-lucky ways and his slim frame not making him an ideal contender for weapons combat, of course he still signed up for the sport. He was still a Roman and he was going to bring pride to his legion and his cohort and of course himself. He knew he didn't really hold a candle to the other fancier, bulkier Romans he'd need to go up against, and he wasn't quite so bloodthirsty as some from the higher cohorts, but Isaak liked to think he could somewhat hold his own in a fight, even a little bit. Besides, he had been training some more to go a round against the Ares boyfriend of his current lady crush, right. Armed combat was another way he might be able to force a second round between them - probably a little more dangerous, but all was fair in love and war, apparently.
As the son of Mercury made his way over to the armed combat arena, idly thinking about how Reynolds would feel dealing with his cut face rather than beat up face, when a slightly different weapon caught his eye. Not a lot of Romans fought with axes, although he supposed some liked the whole lumberjack look of it. Most of his own cohort-mates preferred just the standard issue spatha or maybe a fancy sword, but an axe was not one he expected - as he paused beside its owner, Isaak didn't recognise the girl's profile and safely assumed she was Greek. Which explained... a little bit? He didn't know Greeks could be so savage as to want to use an axe?
A few seconds later and the girl's cuteness filtered through Isaak's mind. With a suddenly more loose-limbed countenance, Isaak grinned boyishly at the girl as he decided to strike up conversation. Was it going to be his smartest move, trying to hit on a girl with an axe strapped to her back? Probably not. Was Isaak Nielsen a particularly smart demigod when it came to girls? Definitely not. "Hey, love the axe," he commented lightly, eyes sparkling. "So are you the kind of girl who knows how to handle her weaponry?"
The son of Mercury groaned as he stretched, sounding like a dying beast while his joints joined him, cracking in harmony. For a second, he stood dazed as the blood rushed to his brain, before he grinned and started doing a little jog on the spot. That lasted for about five seconds, before it became a weird combination of dancing and elbow-thrusting and neck-spinning as Isaak decided he needed to warm up his entire body for the run. All that he was missing was some chicken sounds, and probably the suit, and he would be looking perfect outside of a chicken shop selling chicken products.
Not that Isaak knew or cared how stupid he looked. This was the one he actually stood a chance in, a proper chance to win something and restore some glory to his reputation. It didn't matter that he was born with a power that could eke him out over others; Isaak was a Slytherpuff through and through, and sometimes it wasn't about the journey, but about the destination, particularly in a foot race. What was he going to do, stop and smell the flowers? Not even a little bit.
As Isaak continued on with his warm up routine, he looked up to spot a familiar blonde head. It was Astrid, and his knowledge of her was limited to that she was a centurion in the fourth cohort - a lesser cohort, ha! - and that she was a daughter of Victoria, which instantly meant she was pretty much his biggest rival for this race. Gods dang it, did they not want to give Isaak a chance at all? The girl was dang competitive, came with the territory, he supposed. Despite it, though, the son of Mercury only gave Astrid a welcome smile. He was still a flirty boy and Astrid was still pretty. "Hey, Astrid! Got them Nikes on ready to fly? Does your mum find it weird that you wear Nikes?"
The whispered 'my hero' sent Isaak's smugness skyrocketing to new heights. If he'd known it would take a Greek to realize his full potential as a heroic person, then by the gods, he had gone to the wrong camp. The Roman girls never appreciated him, not his face nor his wits nor his personality - but then this one Greek girl had, within a minute of meeting him, had called him a hero. Isaak felt as though he was walking on air and he didn't even need his father's winged sandals. He felt like he could face any monster and take them down with a great roar and a well-placed spear through their eyebrows I mean Isaak was ready to take on the entire universe and come out victorious. He was a hero.
That feeling deflated slightly like someone had poked a needle through a balloon as the girl only gave him a kiss on the cheek, but he supposed it was fine. He was a gentleman, right? He could wear down her defenses eventually, and she would proceed to call him legendary and his life was going to be great. Even if she did end up moving on from him, he was sure just her word would be recommendation enough, advertising him like a beacon to the other Greek girls that Isaak Nielsen was a legend, ladies and gentleman. Besides, he needed to be a nice guy to get that sort of rep, right? This Greek girl hadn't chosen him because he'd been buff and taking down a horde of Hydra - he'd been chosen because of his pretty face.
A smile appeared on said pretty face as the girl introduced herself. "Isaak," he told her, hair flip following his words as he preened about being her pretend boyfriend. He was just about to extend his services for further pretend boyfriend-ing, or perhaps going on a proper picnic, when Avery then proceeded to suggest breaking up. A confused chuckle was forced out of Isaak's mouth, before he said, "Break up already? Sure I can't take you to a flower-filled picnic at the gardens before there are shattering of hearts?" He gave her his most winning smile, hoping to win her over for at least a little bit. Isaak worked best after some time, kind of growing on people like mold. Mold didn't appear after the first meeting, right? Isaak was basically pretty mold, and he needed time to manifest and take over a surface. But boy when he did, he was quite sure he could win her over, because no one could resist Isaak's charm - just look at Reynolds, the demigod camp's version of grumpy cat.
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."
Isaak made a disappointed sound as he tried to sit up to look at the finger he was holding up, but apparently his upper body was as heavy as a mountain - it was because he'd gotten so jacked from all the training and working out that he did to knock out the Ares kid to win the love of his lady. Regardless, the son of Mercury couldn't see which finger he was holding up, not sure he wanted to believe this girl that he was really only presenting his ring finger to William, waiting for a ring. "I never want to get married," he said vehemently in response to the girl's words. "You think if my ring finger gets cut off, I'll never have to?" Hopeful, he turned to look at his best friend, presenting his left hand as though he was actually waiting for a ring and not amputation.
As he listened to Reynolds prattle on some more about the lack of honour in fighting each other in combat, Isaak nearly nodded off, his body definitely very tired and maybe he should just sink into it, right? Like a cat against a really nice soft rug. Sleep was a rug. It was a nice metaphor. Isaak was glad he still had his brain intact. As Reynolds touched the side of his face and began working his magic, though, Isaak bolted into consciousness, before saying to no one in particular, "Dishonour. Dishonour on you and your... goat, and..." He turned to look at where the girl had sat, fully expecting her to have been replaced by a bovine, and was pleasantly surprised it was still her in her demigod form.
His reaching fingers had were only a short distance from her when she murmured something about not liking being touched and Reynolds decided to save his skin for him, pulling his arms back to his sides and telling him no. Which was a shame because Isaak had completely forgotten about his previous lady love and how he had trained so hard to get into a Hulk bulk shape to fight for her love in the arena. No, Isaak had been completely and utterly distracted by the siren with the blonde hair in the bed next to him. He would find a way to convince her she wouldn't regret him touching her, he just had to find a way to do it without, you know, actually touching her.
The female demigod's threat of bodily harm was a bit disconcerting, though, and Isaak turned to Reynolds with a very sad puppy look on his face, just in time for the other demigod to offer him an ambrosia square. Still with the sad look, Isaak leaned forwards to grab the square with his teeth, turning to look at the Greek with a hurt look even as he chewed on the god food. He lost sight of her as Reynolds moved in front of him and blocked his view of her, and Isaak took the moment to touch his head with both hands. "Ughhh, why does it feel like I had a herd of pegasi stomp on my brain?"
It was with a spring in his step and a jaunt in his shoulders that Isaak stepped out of the third cohort barracks. It was a nice sunny day, the birds were chirping, he had a snack at about 10AM from his little stolen stash under his bed, and now he was happily heading for the Mess Hall, already ready for lunch despite the still somewhat early hour. Isaak always liked to be first in for food, anyway, and he would gladly wait in an empty Mess Hall, twiddling his thumbs and absolutely not doing any of his chores as he waited for the food to come to him.
His happy contemplation of his stress-free planned morning was briefly interrupted as he saw someone out of the corner of his eye point in his direction. Isaak paused, trying not to look too deer-in-the-headlights about anything at all - there were any number of things he could be getting in trouble with any number of people, not the least of which would be his centurion about the stolen snacks - only to be met with a rather odd looking tableau. Two of the three figures were males, one of whom was a child of Mars who Isaak knew by face from the second cohort. The other male and the sole female were both Greek campers, and Isaak wasn't sure if liked being dragged into whatever the two boys were clearly already arguing about. He'd been under strict orders from Reynolds not to get his face bashed in.
But the girl was infinitely cute and pretty and she had been the one pointing at him. Cocking his head to the side, Isaak waited for the group's next move, and was pleasantly surprised when the girl came barrelling towards him, one arm sliding around his with whispered instructions to act like her boyfriend. Well, Isaak's time to shine had come. This was something he absolutely lived for. With a ready smirk, he easily pulled the same arm from out of the girl's grasp, instead wrapping it around her shoulders as he grinned at the other two boys over her head. With his other hand, he wriggled his fingers at them in a very smug goodbye, even as he led both himself and the girl forwards.
As they rounded the corner, Isaak turned his grin to the girl, pulling away because he was respectful and a gentleman and also because despite her cuteness and her being Greek, his body was still entirely within stabbing distance if she decided to go crazy on him about physical space. Despite the fact that, you know, she had been the one to grab him first. "We can always kiss in case they didn't believe you and come around the corner to check on you," he suggested brightly. So maybe he wasn't that much of a gentleman. But it wasn't as though he could pass up on such a perfect opportunity! Briefly, the son of Mercury wondered if he'd land himself in the infirmary again. That would really make Reynolds' day.
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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