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Curiousity (nearly) Killed the Cara ((Elijah)) ((PG-13))

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Curiousity (nearly) Killed the Cara ((Elijah)) ((PG-13)) Empty Curiousity (nearly) Killed the Cara ((Elijah)) ((PG-13))

Post by Cara Tue Nov 20, 2012 12:11 am

While the other Manhattanites used this break to catch up with their siblings, relax and stay OUT of trouble, Cara sat in the Treehouse, thinking of ways to cause the biggest uproar in Camp History. Cara knew, of course, that she'd never be able to top Travis and Connor Stoll's Golden Mango fiasco, but she wanted something similarly yet uniquely chaotic. Cara lay on her bed and stared up at the dusty ceiling, mentally mapping her escape route if she went for the 'replace-all-the-strawberries-with-shrunken-heads-purchased-for-ten-cents-a-head' plan. So far it seemed her best. Cara didn't have the right chemicals (or chemicals at ALL for that matter) to create a stink-bomb, gas-bomb or any sort of bomb. Cara found the Hephestian forges constantly guarded so she couldn't curse the swords or anything to explode in their new owners' hands. And she definitely lacked the drive to arrange another Pin-the-tail-on-the-Chiron party. Cara scrunched her eyebrows together and scrutinized the carefully carved and placed timber above her head. Something on her imaginary map was missing. Something important, she could feel it in her bones.

Cara sat upright, nearly breaking her back, making the spot where she'd been stabbed sting for half of a half second. Of course! Of course! The ROMAN camp! A wide and devious smile crossed over her face, and her fingers came together, tapping in a slow and hysterically excited beat. For a second, it floored Cara how much her mind could shift from battle and throwing people to the ground to making fire and cackling maniacally in the background. Pretty crazy for a simple daughter of Ares. Cara jumped from her bed and threw on her cloak hanging from the hook behind her bedroom door. Cara tore out of the Treehouse, slid down the ladder with only minor rope burns and took off out of the Woods and through the path. She passed the Armory and Arena and jumped down a slight incline, cutting her way across the path and to the Cabin Area. A few more minutes of running, right turns, left turns, doubling back, she made it to the Roman gate.

"Well damn," Cara said, hands on her hips. She stared up at the gate with about three or four armor-clad demigods pacing back and forth on the top, not really paying her any mind. Cara smirked. So these gloom-bots finally opened their doors, huh? And ANYONE could enter? Cara shook her head. Big mistake. Cara wrapped her cloak around her orange Camp Half-Blood shirt and strolled through the gate, the guards STILL paying her no mind. At Cara's first look of the place, her jaw nearly dropped. WHAT THE HADES?! HOW COME CAMP HALF-BLOOD DIDN'T HAVE ALL OF THIS NEAT STUFF! Camp Jupiter's paths were made out of actual stone, not dirt. Along these roads stood different shops, and, by the smell of some of them, they. Had. Food. And quality stuff at that! Was that a pecan pie, she smelled? Cara gulped down her sudden urge to raid the bakery. Either way, they probably didn't accept Drachmas.

No, Cara's destination was a bit of a ways where she stood. The Armory. Their Armory. Like Cara, some Romans had decided to be adventurous and took little strolls through the Greek side sometimes. And sometimes Cara got a glimpse at their weapons when a brave enough new kid shyly requested a haughty, always-ready-to-impress Roman. And their swords were made out of gold. Yep. Gold. Like... pure gold. Purer than pure gold. They looked kind of funky too. She only wanted to try some of these out. As a daughter of Ares, Cara was able to handle almost every single weapon (bows still stood as her one exception). But she had only tried Greek weapons... and the occasional broom. Cara wanted to test if her talents spread over the cultural gap.

Cara found the Armory no problem. Tall-ish building. Cool-ish looking building. What's more, not that many people stared at her! She entered the place, though, and everyone turned to look. The nineteen-year-old girl in a Halloween costume looking cloak with black hair and blue eyes. A complexion barely darker than theirs. But obviously out of place. She sort of slumped as she walked. She didn't hold her nose in the air. Cara thought about trying to imitate them but feared that she'd DEFINITELY be unmasked once she failed. Instead, she turned away, and crashed into a rack of golden weapons.

Cara
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Post by Elijah Emmanual-Wheelan Tue Nov 20, 2012 5:33 am

Figuring that, as he was now a Praetor, Elijah decided to look at some more traditional Roman weapons. He loved his imperial gold daggers, but a gladius might come in handy at some point. Although the boy knew he would have to add some extra training time into his schedule to work with the new weapon, Elijah was ready and willing for this. And really, Elijah knew he could do it. He had gotten excellent with his daggers in a short amount of time, Potentia and Ferocimus were made for him. Well, not really, but when he had picked them up in the armory, they fit so perfectly that Elijah couldn't leave them. The son of Discordia could only hope he could find a gladius that fit him as well as his daggers. Potentia and Ferocimus had felt so right in his hands that Elijah was sure they were there for him, and him alone. But a gladius? Maybe he should have dragged Calix along to help him with this. But that would have felt wrong, so Elijah decided to go on a solo mission to find that sword. The sword that worked for him as well as his daggers. With a soft sigh, Elijah bit his lip. This was not going to be easy.

Heading to the armory, Elijah took a deep breath. He was making a much bigger deal out of this that he should be. It was just a weapon. If Elijah failed to find a good gladius for him, he still had his daggers. And although he was pretty new to this all, the boy was damn good with them. Probably from training with them on a daily basis. And that was how he was going to get good with a gladius. Elijah was still a little glum at the thought, even though he knew he wouldn't have to give up Potentia and Ferocimus for a sword. It would be good to be well rounded with weapons anyway (although his attempts at using a bow and arrow were an utter failure). A gladius would be fine. Like using a dagger, only bigger, right? The son of Discordia sighed again as he entered the armory, heading for where the imperial gold gladius' were kept. They all looked slightly intimidating, most too big for the small and scrawny boy. Elijah doubted he could even lift some of them.

The boy tried anyway, going from sword to sword in attempts to find the "right" one. But there was always something...this one was much too long, that one was much too short...a couple, as predicted, Elijah couldn't even pick up. Finally, he got to one on the edge...as Elijah pulled it from its sheath, he saw it wasn't that impressive looking, just a standard gladius made from imperial gold. No fancy carvings or inlaid gold on the handle...well, it looked like a perfect fit for the son of Discordia. And as he picked it up, Elijah could tell that this was the gladius made for him. Slipping it back into its sheath, Elijah hung it around his waist, slightly off center so it didn't get in the way of Potentia. He figured he'd head along to the arena now, to work a little more with his daggers and start his training with his gladius. Humming softly to himself, Elijah started his way out of the armory...until he heard a loud crash. A loud, person knocking over a stand of weapons kind of crash. Drawing Potentia and Ferocimus (this was no time to practice using the gladius), Elijah made his way over to the crash sight.

A girl was there, an older looking girl that Elijah definitely didn't know...she had to be a Greek. "What in the Gods' names..." Elijah snapped at the girl. Continuing, trying to keep his cool, but knowing he was getting angry and probably radiating so, Elijah stared at the girl, weapons drawn. "What in the Gods' names are you doing?" the boy snarled...his anger mounting. Really, the son of Discordia didn't mind the Greeks. In fact, some of them were quite lovely. But he had been having some bad experiences with them lately, and he really didn't like the fact that a Greek was in the Roman's armory. It made absolutely no sense whatsoever. At least, it didn't to Elijah. And that made him quite angry. The boy didn't like things like this that were completely out of his control, and that involved other people who he didn't know. And the girl was wearing a Camp Half-Blood shirt...a Greek for sure. So what the hell was she doing in the Roman armory. "Who are you?" Elijah finally managed. "And what are you doing in our armory?" the boy wanted explanations...and now.
Elijah Emmanual-Wheelan
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Post by Cara Sat Nov 24, 2012 5:02 pm

The security in this place was impeccable too! Not three minutes passed after Cara's less than discrete entrance that one of the Romans stood in front of her wielding two golden daggers. So her eyes hadn't been tricking her. Real gold. Wow. It looked even shinier up close. Cara sometimes had crow days when shiny objects interested her much more than normal humans. But the style differences of the blade caught her attention as much as the color. The Roman dagger looked slightly stubbier than Bronze and Silver and wider in general. Hm. Did Romans slap people with their swords instead of actually fighting them? How weird. Never one to worry about consequences, Cara found herself bending down to look at her potential deathbringers instead of putting her hands up in surrender. They looked easy enough to handle, not much different than a Greek-style dagger. Maybe she had to put a little more weight on a backswing and amp up the control when it came to successive strikes. The Roman dagger could definitely carry itself to great distances and would throw Cara off balance if her powers didn't extend to Roman weapons.

Sharp words from her... captor, she guessed, turned her attention away from the weapons. She glanced up not too quickly to the guy holding her at fat dagger point. Cara unbent herself looking at the boy's weapons and put her hands in the air, then smiled a small smile. Now that she had a proper vertical look at this guy, the intimidation factor from his bark dropped. But really only a tad. His eyebrows came together in an epically angry face, and the way he snapped at her hinted to Cara that she didn't just invade the Roman armory. She invaded the Roman Armory with someone rather important inside. The beginning confrontation between her and him caused the rest of the Armory to grow silent. Hm. Looks like Romans could get gossipy after all. The boy repeated his question a second time, this time politely attempting and failing at a kinder tone. If anything the strain made him sound even more teed. Cara tried to look as unsuspectingly dangerous as possible, but when she raised her hands higher her dagger belt, with her own two daggers sheathed there revealed itself. Bronze, being the older of the two had a rather worn down sheath barely hung on the belt with a random piece of string Cara found one day. Silver's sheath was hand-made with fine leather, attatched with a shiny buckle.

For some reason, Cara's break-in affected this Roman greatly. Cara expected some harsh words, a smack upside the head with one of those abnormally wide swords, a lecture of how Romans were superior to Greeks (not), then finally a task to clean up her mess. Not this whole silent staring and suffocation. A bit of an overreaction just over some spilled milk Cara thought. Romans always seemed to take things way too seriously. They needed to learn to chillax and go with the flow. Cara was sure that no one kicked any Roman out of the Greek armory! Then again Cara didn't think any Roman caused as much of a ruckus as she did. Well. A first time for everything, right? She racked her brain for a response that would be least likely to get her placed in front of a firing squad. She'd gotten out of stituations much stickier than this, hadn't she? Lied herself to Olympus and back and made it without so much of a hitch. Or maybe she just dreamt that. So when asked for her name, Cara did the first thing that came to mind.

She lowered her hands and stood straighter. She tilted her head up and turned her nose in the air so she looked more Roman-like. Then... she killed it. "MY NAME IS CARAMUS MAXIMUS," She said loudly pounding a fist on her orange-clad chest. "I COME FROM THE... uh... TRICKTON LEGION AND HAVE COME TO JOIN THEE, BROTHER, IN BATTLE AGAINST THOSE SAVAGE GREEKS ANd yeah." Cara nodded with a big grin on her face.

((I'm sorry but you just have to love Cara ^^))

Cara
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Post by Elijah Emmanual-Wheelan Tue Nov 27, 2012 3:57 pm

Although he had no idea what was going on, Elijah felt the need to do something about it all. The girl who had caused the raucous seemed to be sizing up him and his weapons, which couldn't be a good thing. Obviously a rather dangerous Greek. Seasoned fighter, probably. Definitely not a good thing, Elijah was still getting used to his daggers, and could never take down a seasoned fighter in a fight. Especially...the way this girl seemed to be analyzing all the weapons made the boy wonder who her God parent was. She was definitely Greek, so Bellona was out of the question. A horrible thought struck Elijah. What if this girl was a daughter of Mars? Or rather, Ares? That would be a small disaster. For the son of Discordia, that was. Then, not only would she be a seasoned fighter, but a natural one, too. Okay, so maybe Elijah had been too quick to jump to anger. It was second nature for him, though...Gods...he had obviously walked into something far more dangerous than planned. Still, the boy held his ground. He didn't want to appear afraid, though his radiating had probably reached epic proportions. Surely the older girl could feel it. Surely everyone around them could feel it. "Bracchae," Elijah mumbled.

When the girl started speaking loudly, Elijah just raised his eyebrow at her. "Well, Caramus Maximus," he said through clenched teeth. No matter who this girl was, Elijah didn't like her making fun of the Romans. "You'd be a little more convincing if you weren't wearing a Camp Half-Blood shirt," the boy rolled his eyes. With a deep breath, Elijah wondered if he could make amends without a fight. The last thing he needed was for the Romans to find out one of the Praetors had gotten in a fight with a Greek. The son of Discordia especially didn't need Calix finding out, though the older boy was so...whatever, that Elijah didn't even know how he'd react. "Look, I don't know what you're doing here," the boy continued stiffly. "But just...bracchae," now what? Did he offer to help the girl clean up the mess she just made? Or just order her out of the armory? "Just get out before you do anymore damage," he finally decided on, anger mixed in with quite a bit of exasperation. Oh yes, he was radiating...and badly. The chaos in the air could probably be cut with a knife. Elijah kind of liked it that way...it made his life a lot more interesting, but at the same time he felt kind of sorry for the people that had to experience it.

The girl was grinning like the Cheshire Cat, and Elijah didn't like it at all. That sort of grin usually meant humiliation. And not to the person who had that stupid grin on their face. Elijah knew the grin well, he usually wore it going into a fight at school. And although he had been beat a couple times at school, that was really it...a couple. He usually had every right to have that grin on his face. But right now, Elijah was feeling rather serious. Oh Gods, maybe Calix was getting to his head. Now there was a scary thought. Breathing deeply, the son of Discordia had to remind himself he didn't want a fight. Not one he would probably lose. Except right now he would love to fight the smile right off this girl's face. Elijah knew he could at least hold his own in a fight, even if he could never win one with an older fighter, possible daughter of Ares. All these speculations were just that...speculations. The boy could be totally wrong...but he didn't think he was. He was good enough at making observations.

So instead of saying anything more, Elijah just sized up the girl, trying to figure out what her next move would be. He knew if worst came to worst, he had his little bag of "Dynamite de Discordia" in his bag and he could really make everything break out in chaos...but he wouldn't really want to do that sort of thing in the armory. It would probably be dangerous and cause a big mess. And Elijah really had to think about that one. He'd probably be the one cleaning up. So no chaos worse than his radiating. Waiting for the girl to respond, the son of Discordia crossed his arms. He knew he wasn't that intimidating, standing at a whopping 5'1", but for someone so little, Elijah definitely packed a punch...and was getting wicked good with his daggers. And although neither might win him this fight...well, hopefully there wouldn't be a fight at all.
Elijah Emmanual-Wheelan
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Post by Cara Sat Dec 08, 2012 12:16 am

The Roman continued to surprise Cara. After his quick and sharp reaction to Cara's rather fabulous entrance, she wouldn't have been surprised if he pulled those blades from his belt and (tried) to slash her to pieces. Cara lowered her arms by her sides in a natural manner, yet her fingers twitched like a magnet passing by closely, but far enough, from its counterpart so the attraction wasn't instantaneous. Cara gripped absently the fabric of her jeans as the Roman kept his face devoid of any extreme emotion. He looked annoyed enough. The next step up this dangerous ladder surely would involve a punch or two being thrown. Cara's fingers twitched again, swinging to her daggers and back again to hold onto her pants. The Roman muttered something under his breath: either in Latin or messy and too-silent Greek. Cara inclined her head forward and raised an eyebrow, asking silently, 'did-you-say-something'? She knew that that probably crossed the line, and expected a punch to come her way... not a labored sigh. Maybe Cara just really wanted to fight.

And the Roman was doing all he could to not initiate it. Cara heard the tightness in the boy's voice and saw the forced patience in his face. She blinked and looked down to her bright orange shirt. Oh. Yeah. Probably should have kept her cloak tighter around her. She looked back up with a sheepish grin, admitting the poor planning on her part. The Roman breathed in deep again, exhibiting an amazing amount of patience considering the amount of chaos Cara caused. Honestly, if Cara had to deal with Cara... she'd have punched herself by now. Respect, respect. By this time, no sound other than the pretty calm beating of her heart sounded throughout the Arena, and she felt all the eyes training on her. Well. Cara sure knew how to attract a crowd. Her smile flickered a bit, feeling much more egregious than she felt comfortable.

He asked her in that same polite, yet teeth-clenching manner to leave the Armory before she 'caused any more damage'. This brought the grin back to her face a little bit stronger. "Hey," she said, raising her hands, "Sorry about your little weapon's rack. I'm not totally out after you Romans, promise. We're all one in the same... in a weird way that no one really wants to admit." She chuckled and threw her cloak back, revealing herself in all her orange-y glory. "Cara Trickton, daughter of Are- erm. Mars, I guess. I come in peace." Cara made a little Spock gesture, reverting quickly to a serious face before smiling again. She didn't plan to leave that place anytime soon... Cara came for a reason, and she wasn't one to leave until she got what she wanted. It was a Greek thing.

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