Silence is Golden ((Elijah))

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Silence is Golden ((Elijah))

Post by Guest on Thu Apr 11, 2013 6:24 am

Tacitus walked toward the Principia, his one hand clutching a piece of paper, his other firmly locked in his mothers hand. Morgana led her young son toward the Principia while an impatient father waited just outside camp in the car to carry him and his wife away. Three months, that was how long Tacitus was set to remain at camp. The little boy was looking forward to it, as his father had often said hero's were made at camp. Tacitus thought his father was a hero but Collin usually just laughed as his son started making up stories about his actions, ruffling his hair. Tacitus was happy, all in all. Still, this camp with all the serious people did spook him a little bit, and he looked around nervously as he clutched his paper. He made his way to the Principia, his mother suddenly stopped. "You're going to be here for a while now little Tacitus." She started. "I think it's time you start learning to talk on your own. I'll leave the introduction to you. Do you have your letter? Your sign? Your nametag?" Tacitus nodded mutely at all the questions his mother asked him, holding up the objects she mentioned to show he hadn't forgotten them. His mother smiled at him warmly and hugged him. "We'll see you in three months." She said. Tacitus nodded and gestured to his mother. I love you mum. His mother smiled, tears in her eyes and kissed his forehead before walking off again.

Tacitus himself took a very deep breath, let it out in a strong huff and knocked on the door. When the door didn't open instantly or after a few moments, the young boy opened the door a little and peeked around the corner. Two little blue eyes at a fairly short height looked into the Principia. Soon enough his two hands wrapped itself around the door, pushing it open to stick his head through. He still didn't see anybody. No leaders, no Praetors. His sign, reading the exact rank he was looking for, was stuck through the door. He was asking an empty room if any Praetors were present. He wrinkled his nose and checked behind him before sneaking into the Principia, closing the door behind him. He silently walked in, curiously taking in everything around him. The place wasn't as clean and neat as he had imagined it to be from the outside. He wondered why that was but figured today was paperwork day, as paper was strewn everywhere. It was a little odd that one of the desks appeared a little dusty though. Tacitus sneak around toward the back and found two doors. He silently opened the first, peaking into a darkness before being greeted by the sound of snoring. The boy chuckled soundlessly before closing the door. He walked over to the next door, carefully cracking that one open too.

When he looked in he saw somebody in there, with their back turned to him. Whoever this guy was, he was short. Not a tall guy. Tacitus quickly remembered the little amount of manners he did keep and closed the door softly before knocking on it. He took a few steps back and waited for the door to open. His sign was held in front of his chest so that the questioning 'Praetor?' was clearly visible. His name tag almost felt like it was burning against his skin as the cold slip of metal that held his name. His eyes looked nervously as the door opened. He held his sign up a little higher and gave the boy before him a questioning look, pointing at the sign. He could do this! He could totally do this. Talk to the non-snoring boy standing before him. He took another deep breath and smiled nervously, pulling the letter from his mother out of his pocket and handing it to the short man. His mother had written a letter, explaining a few things about Tacitus himself and his situation, as well as the reason they decided to leave him in the good care of camp. They had been in a hurry so this had been the best possible way. Tacitus waited for the Praetor to act so he himself would know where he stood.

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Re: Silence is Golden ((Elijah))

Post by Elijah Emmanual-Wheelan on Thu Apr 11, 2013 10:28 am

Everything was dark. Too dark. Every birthday should be a celebration when you're a demigod, someone had once said to the boy. You've survived another year! "Yeah, well, congratulations to me," Elijah whispered darkly. "Where is Lúth to speak bitter words with hidden messages? Calix...you're probably sleeping again. It's too dark, isn't it? River, I've pushed you away, haven't I? Jack...you've made me see the monster. The soulless monster I am. And I'll never see you again. To tell you I'm sorry...that I was just trying to prove I could live without you...but it's getting harder and harder to breathe," tears threatened to spill, but Elijah took a deep breath. He had promised Lúth no more tears. Why should a birthday matter now? It never had in the past. Of course, in the past, there was never anyone to celebrate with. This year there truly could have been. His sister, his best friends...Jack, even...if the boy had looked at himself a little closer a little sooner. But now there was nothing, no one. Perhaps he would just go over to the Second Cohort Barracks. See if River was around. Sit, talk for a bit. It was a nice day, so perhaps they could go for a walk. Elijah could attempt to explain it all. But where did he start...and where did he end? Could this be it, staring at books on his bed, knowing one was missing and he'd never see again. His first workbook...ordered online from a college's website. How he had begun to delve further into Latin. Figuring things out, learning, scrawling answers where they belonged and frustrated comments in English on the side. Before he had learned to give frustrated comments in Latin. Something so personal, with so much personal information, now in the hands of someone who would probably burn it to completely rid himself of the memories it held.

"A birthday," Elijah snorted, look at the assortment of books before him. "I have survived for seventeen years..." he rolled his eyes, stuffing the books into his bag. Yes, he'd go visit River. "And to another lonely seventeen more," he said sarcastically, about to sling his messenger bag over his shoulder. But then there was a knock on the door. A soft knock. Who knocked that softly anymore? "Calix?" Elijah ventured. No response. Not River, she would just let herself in, and certainly not Jack. The older boy's knocks were loud and enthusiastic...this was something unfamiliar. With a soft sigh, the boy opened the door, confused when all he noticed was something at the bottom of his peripheral vision. Looking down, Elijah saw a young boy, no older than ten standing before him, a nametag on his chest and a sigh held in front that simply said 'Praetor?' Blinking, the son of Discordia looked at the boy. "Tacitus Kapsetakis..." he murmured. "A first name of ancient Rome and a last name of Greece. Already in a pickle, aren't we? Tacitus...please tell me this means you don't talk. I can't deal with that right now," Elijah rolled his eyes as the young child handed him a note. 'Praetor?' the sign stared up at Elijah tauntingly. Reading through the note, the boy took a deep breath. Three months with a mute kid. A mute kid basically under his care...Calix wouldn't be resurfacing anytime soon...and what Cohort could Elijah send him to where someone was able to watch over him. River would kill Elijah for doing that to her. Stephanie would have been great if she wasn't going through all that cleansing and training stuff now. "Yeah," Elijah said to the boy. "Praetor Emmanual. But my under ten deal is to just call me Elijah. Don't forget I'm in charge, but I guess I'm..."

What? What was he? Some sort of caretaker now? Getting everything done on his own, running the Legion on his own, and now taking care of a child. It was only a matter of time before Elijah followed Calix off the deep end. Rubbing the bridge of his nose, Elijah looked at the child, his 'Praetor?' sign still raised. "Seriously, you can put that down now," Elijah frowned. "We got it. Praetor Emmanual speaking, Tacitus Kapsetakis silent. Remember, under ten deal, I'm just Elijah. Put the sign down, then show me with your fingers how old you are," where was any of this coming from? The Praetor couldn't take on anything else, and he knew it. Fourth? No, that new guy Dante was there. He was completely off his rocker. Third? Big no. Second was probably his best bet. But River would end up taking on a lot of this. Maybe Ember, though Elijah didn't know her too well. Second seemed gentler, not so rough around the edges. Perhaps that was his best bet. "Tell you what, Tacitus, I think I'll let you stay with the Second Cohort," 'Praetor?' Was this part of Elijah's job description, anyway? "We'll figure something out, okay?" he revised his statement. A strange mix of irritated and nurturing feelings were being stirred up. He didn't want to deal, he really didn't. But he couldn't just throw the silent child to the wolves. 'Praetor?' The sign was torturing Elijah. Who he was. How he was supposed to deal and handle things. Dignity, diplomacy, all that. Everything that came so naturally to Calix, but Elijah struggled with daily. Being torn in every direction, and the boy could feel it. He had survived seventeen years. He could handle a kid that didn't speak for three months.

Snatching the 'Praetor?' sign from the young boy's hands, Elijah knelt slightly to look Tacitus in the eyes. It wasn't that bad, the child was short, but so was Elijah. "Tac," he said, with a roll of his eyes. "I'm going to call you Tac. In Latin, 'tac' means 'touch'...drastically different from Tacitus, which, although a name, means 'silent' or 'mute'. Your parents named you pretty aptly, I guess," with a soft snort, Elijah held up the 'Praetor?' sign. "I'll keep this around. Perhaps it'll remind me that I'm the one running everything at the moment. We'll call it a birthday gift, how about that?" the boy sighed in frustration. He had never been good with kids. They tended to run. And at this point, Elijah could tell he was radiating pretty badly. Sometimes it was hard to tell, what with everything else going on. At this point, the boy was pretty sure he was radiating most of the time. Truly, the most useless 'power' ever. Discordia...seriously, what good had it brought him? An unwanted kiss and a horrible feeling that had settled over camp for days. Nastiness, a temper, keeping people away. Looking back down at Tac, Elijah raised an eyebrow. Somehow the boy was tugging at something in Elijah, something that made the Praetor feel...a little more normal. "Today, I'm seventeen," he snorted. "A small number, but you can't show it on your fingers too easily. You're under ten, I'm assuming. So, Tac, the Legion's newest Legacy and all that...ten or under you can show on your fingers. Let's see it, and then I'll figure out what to do with you, alright?" a child. What in the Gods' names was Elijah supposed to do with a child?

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Re: Silence is Golden ((Elijah))

Post by Guest on Sun Apr 14, 2013 10:53 am

Tacitus waited a little impatiently for the guy to open the door. He wouldn't knock again, as that'd be rude. Not to mention the guy might well be dangerous. Well, he certainly had one of those dangerous guy aura's hanging around him. Much more than the sleeping guy in the other room, the snoring one. Secretly, Tacitus considered snoring good for sleep, mainly because both his parents snored like a bunch of unleashed chainsaw. Tacitus himself didn't know if he snored. He was fairly sure he didn't talk in his sleep though. He couldn't even talk in real life, so he doubted that would happen to him in his sleep. Tacitus watched the door as it opened, the guy he'd seen the back of before now standing in front of him. Tacitus looked up nervously, holding his Praetor sign up so the guy could see it. He was a little nervous, as this meeting could decide a lot about his coming three months here at this camp. He wanted to make a good impression but was rather clueless on where to start. So all he did was stand dumbly holding up his sign. Tacitus wasn't exactly wishing he could talk at that moment, mainly because he didn't even know what he'd say. It happened a lot to the young boy. The few times he considered wishing he had his voice back were the moments he didn't even know what to use it for. He looked and looked, motionless and speechless as he eternally was.

A broad smile appeared as the Praetor mentioned his extremely unusual combination of names. Greek and Roman in one, combined and conflicted. He actually had relatives in Greece. Strangely, his father was a Roman Demigod, born and for a while raised in Greece. Well, until his dad got taken away from Grandma. Teen mother or something. Tacitus had never bothered to remember the details. He just knew his dad's parents hadn't been able to take care of him because they were too young, so Colin had been given up for adoption. Tacitus usually just zoned out when his dad told him the story. He wanted ancient hero's or just monsters and fights, not stupid stories about the grandparents neither he nor Colin knew. He had often enough signalled his father for silence when he wasn't pleased with the chosen story. Perhaps Tacitus was a little spoiled on some fronts. Not that the young Legacy cared. He felt like he had every right to shut his parents up. He never bothered them with needless talk after all. He considered that a perfectly good excuse. Or rather, an excuse to make sure he could let himself get away with it. It was a perfectly good thing, reason case.

Then Elijah suddenly asked his age. He had to show Elijah how old he was. He was allowed to call Elijah Elijah! That thought was absolutely wonderful! The young Legacy was allowed to call the awesome Praetor by his first name. He certainly liked that. It was fabulous! Tacitus almost forgot to drop the sign. But he did, he carefully put his sign away and held up eight fingers, one for each year he'd lived. He'd turn nine in October. Halloween! The boy loved his birthday, all the people in the scary costumes with blood and gore everywhere! He guessed his rather odd obsession came from that tiny little detail of his birth. Being born on the day the veil between the worlds is thinnest could have such an effect right? If not that, maybe all the people in their scary costumes could put something crazy like that in his brain. Not that he told people about his tiny little problem, no. He'd just worry them needlessly. Besides, for all Tacitus knew, he could still freak out at the sight of a mangled body. Not that he expected it, his mind actually drifted trying to imagine it before the boy shook his head to clear his mind again.

When Elijah said he'd be placed in the second cohort, the boy looked around, shrugged and placed his bag in a corner of the room. This was second? Because he didn't want to stay around people that were all older than he was, scary in a way. Second cohort? He scribbled a short note and handed it to Elijah. 'This is two?' He asked the Praetor. But soon enough Elijah said something about a birthday. Tac (as he was now called) stopped moving, looked at Elijah for a second and sprinted for his little duffel bag. He started rummaging around in it, looking through some of his toys. He finally found some of the tiny cars and figurines he played with from time to time. Between all the mess of his toys he finally found something he deemed worthy. A tiny little figurine of a Roman soldier. He managed to hide in his hands properly enough so he could walk back over to Elijah and hold it out to him as a gift along with a quickly scribbled 'Happy Birthday Elijah Praetor.' note. He no longer had his sign but at least he gave a much better birthday gift than a sign his mother had made for him. No, the Roman soldier was better for sure. It was Tacitus' favourite but Elijah would care for him, so he could give the figurine as a proper birthday gift. He totally could do that. Now all he had to do was wait to see what would happen next.

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Re: Silence is Golden ((Elijah))

Post by Elijah Emmanual-Wheelan on Tue Apr 16, 2013 1:00 pm

This wasn't going to be easy. This was going to be one of the furthest things from easy Elijah could possibly think of. A child. A child that didn't talk. A child that didn't talk and was still looking at Elijah like the Praetor was a pretty cool guy despite the fact that he was sounding like a pretty big jerk at the moment. Wasn't this the sort of thing that he was supposed to find out about before it happened? A letter from the parents (before they left their kid on camp's metaphorical doorstep), a sign from the Gods? Staring at Tac for a moment, Elijah sighed softly. "You know, I hear Mercury's using a cell phone these days. Not sure what the number is, but I'll find out for you. Hand it off to your parents so the next time you visit, we can get this all sorted ahead of time, and..." the boy trailed off, taking a deep breath. He shouldn't be talking this way to a kid! He shouldn't really talk this way to anyone, but it was basically the boy's nature to talk and act this way. He could remember the way his dad used to yell at him...someday you'll have kids and I hope they treat you the way you treat us...blink that thought away (and quickly). Seventeen felt a little young to be a "single father", even if Tac wouldn't treat Elijah the way the son of Discordia had treated his father and step-mother. Hopefully. Eight fingers. An eight year old running around a Roman Legion. Would Elijah have to start making up flyers? If you see an eight year old boy anywhere near the armory, throw him over your shoulder and bring him directly to Praetor Emmanual. "Eight...almost to the double digits, huh? Just a couple more years to go. Then before you know it, you'll be staring down two decades with nothing but a long line of poor, maimed people to your name..." trailing off again...more things he shouldn't be saying to an eight year old! "Kidding, Tac. That's just me. You'll be fine. But you let me know if anyone ever picks on you, okay? Beating the bracchae out of one more person isn't going to make a difference in the long run."

Eight. Seriously? What kind of parent would do that to their kid? Sure, Legacies were a little different in some ways...Calix was a Legacy, but for him, that had meant growing up in New Rome with his mother and Senator father. Elijah didn't think that was the case here. Deciding to test the waters a little (Calix knew Latin pretty well, so maybe Tac knew some too), Elijah frowned slightly. "Novistine Latine? Scin ut dicam nunc? Si intelligas, aetate scriptis, Tac," the boy said clearly and slowly to the boy. A total shot in the dark, but something to attempt. Even if the boy didn't speak, Elijah would find life a little easier if Tac understood Latin. Why? Who knew, honestly...but Elijah did feel more comfortable speaking Latin (of course, it also brought a pang of pain to his heart, thinking of how badly he had obviously hurt Jack when Jack showed up wanting a Latin lesson). A moment of reflection...he hadn't slept much last night, insomnia was the worst, the crying didn't help anymore. At this point, the most Elijah could hope for was a birthday miracle. Not that he would get one...when did anything like that happen to someone who didn't even believe in birthdays? Of course, the feeling had been there briefly...a tugging...Tac making Elijah feel a little more normal. Tac wasn't Jack. Elijah wasn't unhealthily falling for Tac (obviously...he didn't want to go anywhere near that thought again), but Tac was bringing up feelings. Normal. In his heart, Elijah knew he would never get to be with Jack. Time again and again had proven that. Maybe Tac was his "birthday miracle". "Volo adhuc praeponitis Jack..." the boy mumbled under his breath.

It took Elijah a moment to notice that Tac had set his bag down in a corner of Elijah's room. Furrowing his eyebrows, the boy watched the child scribble a note on a piece of paper and hand it to him. For an eight year old, Tac had very legible handwriting. Blinking for a moment, Elijah had to read the note over again. 'This is two?' Oh, Gods, no! Tac couldn't stay here with Elijah! But what else could the Preator do? Stick him in a cohort and watch Tac either get torn apart or coddled over? Not only would Elijah be murdered by the Kapsetakis', he wouldn't feel too great about himself, either. With a deep breath, Elijah watched Tac carefully. "Tac, this isn't the Second Cohort...this is my room," he finally said blandly. Another deep breath...it was looking like his roommate for the next three months was going to be a mute eight year old. Well...it could always be worse, couldn't it? "Gods, just tell me what I did," the boy sighed. With a slight smile, Elijah looked back to Tac. "We'll find you a sleeping bag, okay? You can set up camp here. It'll be like...Praetor Emmanual's Floor Cohort. You get your own Cohort, and I get to make sure no one gives a hard time. But don't think of me as your babysitter, okay? You can be my...protege for now. Until we figure out whose divine blood you've got and, if we have a Legionnaire who can help you out a little, you'll become their protege. Do you know what protege means, Tac?" Oh Gods...Elijah didn't want to have to start vocabulary lessons, too. The tendency to speak with larger words could become slightly problematic here.

When Tac looked at him and then dashed to his bag, Elijah's brows furrowed as he tried to figure out what he had said to start any of that. After a few moments, Tac came back over to him, hands cupped around something and an obviously hastily scribbled note (the handwriting was a little more difficult to read)...'Happy Birthday Elijah Praetor.' Looking up, Elijah saw Tac holding up a small figurine of a Roman soldier. For a moment, Elijah had nothing to say. He stared at the child with wide eyes, trying to comprehend what was going on. It took a second before Elijah realized that the child was giving him the figurine as a birthday gift. The shocked silence turned into disbelief. When was the last time anyone had given a birthday gift? Sure, his dad and Jody would give him a gift card and tell him to use it on anything but makeup (which was what he ended up spending it all on anyway), but that was more of a 'we really don't know what to do with you at this point, here's a gift card'. But this meant something. Too much, and Elijah knew he didn't deserve anything of the sort. Taking a deep breath, Elijah knelt to look at Tac again. "Hey, Tac..." he said softly. "That's probably one of your favorites, huh? I don't want to take one of your favorite from you, birthday gift or not. He's yours...but if you'd like, you can put him on the desk. That way I can see him all the time, but you can still play with him, right?" the son of Discordia couldn't even explain how touched he was. A child. An eight year old child who didn't speak. Life could always be worse.

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Re: Silence is Golden ((Elijah))

Post by Guest on Fri Apr 19, 2013 12:57 pm

Pluto Transitus – Ever Changing God of Wealth and the Underworld

Pluto had always had little interest in the affairs of his children, never mind his Legacies. However, as he stood idly in Proserpina’s garden with a neutral expression and a blunt gaze, looking out over the Underworld which he controlled, his thoughts went to one of the sons who he had...yet to claim. Although it was obviously in the god’s interests to claim the individual, Pluto had preferred to not break the bond or the oath which had been set up after the World Wars, although seemingly respectful of the oath, even Pluto could not contain his endearment towards other women other than his wife. He was not as foolish as his brothers though, as he refused to claim his children until the time was right and unfortunately for Tacitus Kapsetakis’ father Pluto had not deemed it wise to claim the man as his son. But soon this would change, Pluto had felt the presence of the young Legacy near the new Camp Jupiter, and he felt that now was the perfect time. Although incredibly reluctant to return to Camp Jupiter after what the deity had done to Lúthien, despite the fact that the girl had deserved it. Soon the god was sucked into a dark vortex and landed abruptly at the doorstep of the Principia, glancing over his shoulder to make sure no one spotted him. His clothing had now changed to a black suit, with golden cufflinks at the end of the sleeves, though his tie was bright silver, he was the embodiment of wealth.

This was risky, Pluto would be so close to Calix, but perhaps the boy would be asleep...or gone. He hoped he would just be able to claim his son and leave without too much hassle, but that was most certainly wishful thinking. The god’s pale hand grasped the Principia door and flung it open, his dark aura swarming into the room, though his silver tie radiated some brightness into the now dark room. The deity glared into the room and soon found his eyes falling on Tacitus. The boy was small, very small indeed. Possibly the youngest person at camp for all Pluto knew. But there was something about him, almost as though he was more intelligent, or maybe just more capable of greater intelligence than the vast majority of the rest of this Camp’s members. He wouldn’t need to have much to beat the ludicrous Praetor Calix, that was for sure.

Luckily however, or maybe not so lucky depending on how one viewed this situation, it would not be Calix that Pluto would have to discuss with today. Instead, Praetor Emmanuel stood with Tacitus, and Pluto gave a small grin, though this quickly faded. In Pluto form, the deity had many differences to his Greek counterpart, he was not as dark and mysterious, and he was associated more with wealth, hence why the room quickly brightened after the god’s initial burst of darkness to announce his presence. Pluto soon walked with heavy feet down the Principia, each time his dark shoes hit the floor it vibrated. His dark eyes locked on the tiny Praetor’s makeup strewn and utterly weak face. Pluto chuckled.


“How touching.” The god interrupted, if he really meant it was for the listener to decide. Pluto gave a cautious glare in the son of Discordia’s direction, narrowing his eyes slightly, warning him to stay where he was. “We may be hostile towards each other, Emmanuel, but let us not discuss those negative opinions of one another here.” The god gave a semi-dark smirk at the Praetor and slowly moved down to his knees to face Tacitus’ face. He never had been brilliant at this father business and the main thought going through the deity’s head now was ‘you’re bowing to him, why?’ Soon he dismissed this thought, this was his son’s son...and he was Eight years old.

“If this makes much sense to you, and I know this whole new...place...is scary, but I felt it necessary to inform you now. I am Pluto, god of wealth and the Underworld, it was no coincidence that you were born on Halloween, dear child.” The god stood, knowing just how much pain this news would bring the Praetor, and how much happiness it could potentially bring Tacitus.

The god then directed his gaze at the Praetor, a dark fire in his eyes, the Latin slipped out of his mouth like a toxic gas. “Te protecturum esse post eum, Emmanuel.” The Latin was for emphasis, and he soon dropped it. “You will do so without hatred.” Pluto’s voice was serious, and with Tacitus’ safety at the heart of them. He did not know if Elijah would accept this burden, but he hoped he would seize the sensible option.

It was then that the god slowly placed his hand into his suit pocket and retrieved a coin from it, handing it over to the Eight year old Legacy. “I understand that you are a mute, and I am afraid I will not be changing this. However, this coin will help you in the future. Should you ever need any assistance against the more raucous and irritable individuals that live here,” The god then looked briefly at Elijah. “, then simply squeeze this coin and you shall find the difficulty of speaking shall be lifted for some time.” The god then nodded solemnly at the boys, though it was mainly directed at Tacitus.

“If you dare have a grudge against this boy for his ancestry, then I shall not think twice about having you...” The god looked at Tacitus slowly and then back to Elijah; hopefully the Praetor got the message. “Tacitus, you will be singled out for your family ties, but remember this if nothing else. Not all those associated with evil are evil themselves, your life is a path that you and only you alone can walk through. No matter who tries to influence you. And now I must bid you goodbye. Do well, Tacitus.” And then the god was swept away by darkness, his last action a warning glance at the Praetor Emmanuel. It was done.

((Congratulations, Tacitus, first Pluto claiming! Hope you like the gift. :3))

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Re: Silence is Golden ((Elijah))

Post by Guest on Mon Apr 22, 2013 3:27 am

Tacitus listened very intently to everything Elijah said, attempting to store most (if not all) the information in his tiny head. He frowned at a certain point. Mercury had a cell phone? Cell phone of the Gods, how awesome! His bright blue eyes twinkled in excitement and he almost started bouncing up and down at the idea, even more so when Elijah said he'd try to get his number. How awesome would it be to call a God? Tacitus had never met a God and he didn't even know which God was his grandma or Grandpa. All he knew was that they had a son and that son was his father. That calmed Tacitus down a little. He was supposed to spend three whole months without his parents. The thought made him rather sad, as he loved his parents and didn't like being away from them. Luckily Elijah distracted him, told him he was almost in the double digits. At that the young boy nodded soberly, a wise expression on his young face. Double digits, double the trouble. Somehow the images that Elijah's words conjured up in Tacitus' mind next weren't the most pleasant. Then again, what would one expect at the world maimed? Maimed didn't mean broken noses, jaws or bruises to the young child. Maimed was cuts and disfigurement. The type of thing that left scars like the one he had on his neck. The one physical bit that showed the boy couldn't talk. He was lost in thought, watching mangled bodies pass by in front of his eyes before he managed to shake them off. Elijah Praetor must have had a hard past. He walked up to Elijah and patted him on the arm, as he couldn't reach all that much higher, even though Elijah himself wasn't all that tall.

As Elijah suddenly twitched to Latin, Tacitus felt his nose scrunch up. It was the language his parents always used when they didn't want him listening on their conversations. Still, the young boy was starting to get the hang of it a little. He suspected Elijah asked him if he understood Latin, something he didn't quite catch and something about intelligent and writing. He figured Elijah meant something like a compliment on Tacitus being a good writer of sorts? Or that he was smart for being able to write so well? Tacitus wasn't quite sure so he shrugged and wrote another short note on his note pad. 'I know very little Latin. Would like to know better.' He held the note pad up at Elijah so that he'd be heard, in his own way. After that Tacitus wasn't sure what to write or do so he just stood there silently. When Elijah mentioned a Jack (with Latin that Tacitus really couldn't place) Tacitus looked at Elijah interest. It seemed that this Jack Person was very important to Elijah somehow. It didn't make much sense to Tacitus but he scribbled yet another couple of words. 'Who's Jack?' His note asked the Praetor, his face somewhat apologetic as he hoped he wasn't being rude. Being rude would be a very bad thing at a first meeting.

So it wasn't second cohort. It wasn't even close for as far as Tacitus could figure with Elijah suddenly talking about making him his own cohort. Well that certainly was interesting! His very own cohort where he would be like, his own leader! He didn't care much about it being a low rank or not having anybody else in the cohort with him. To him, his own personal cohort meant he could spread his toy soldiers on the floor and command them like a centurion. He'd be the centurion of his very own cohort! Tacitus understood it was just to give him a place to say but he really felt all honoured that Elijah Praetor would do that for him. It showed just how awesome the guy really was. When he started talking about Tacituss being a protege the young boy instantly got his serious thinking face on. Protege.... protected. Tacitus was fairly sure it had something to do with taking care of him in some way that was something with protecting without it being babysitting. Like some strange mix between a nanny, a bodyguard and a mentor to an apprentice. All in all, Tacitus would be some sort of important to Elijah Praetor and he'd have somebody to take care of him without constantly being watched like a baby. It was about time he started learning some things for himself hough. So when Elijah asked if he knew what it meant, Tacitus nodded soberly in response. He knew what it meant, or what it was by approximation.

Elijah Praetor was right of course. It was one of Tacitus' favourites. That didn't matter to the young child though. He had wanted to give Elijah something valuable. He realised the Praetor didn't play with toys any more and that the gift probably would have been considered stupid if it hadn't meant something to Tacitus himself. To give something you yourself value meant you cared enough to not be selfish and give something that matters to you. A different kind of value. He thought about it for a moment though. If he could still play with it, that would be nice. He'd have it for the time he was there and he'd leave it behind when he went home again. A very good plan. He set the figurine down on the table and scribbled another note. 'It's still yours.' He held the note up with a very determined expression on his young face. The message was clear enough though. It was a gift, and he was to keep it. On that note, Tacitus wasn't sure what to say or do any longer. He'd made his point and he didn't know if there were other things he needed to know. He looked behind him at the little figurine that now stood proudly upon the desk of the Praetor. A true soldier of Rome, and Elijah was his leader. He idly wondered if he needed to ask about the snoring guy in the other room. It wasn't common to sleep at these times, was it? Tacitus wasn't sure if he'd manage but it also made him wonder why all the others he'd seen on the way didn't sleep. He wrote another note and held it up, pointing to the door. 'Is he sick?' He asked.

Before he ever got an answer to that question though, a wave of darkness swept over the room, disappearing swiftly. A man stood in the doorway with a very impressive suit on. Golden cufflinks, a silver tie. He must have been like, a billionaire. Maybe even more. He looked extremely wealthy. The man glared around the room and somehow, that glare impressed Tacitus on another level than he'd expected. He wasn't scared, he was entranced. He stood there, unmoving and watching the strange man with fascination. He was inhuman though and a power went out from him that made Tacitus shiver in anticipation. That power was delicious! If he only had a fraction of that, a tiny piece of such a power, he would have felt so proud of himself. Power and a presence that was simply overwhelming. This man was somebody great. For a brief moment, he wondered if he was expected to bow. The man obviously was of a higher rank than Elijah Praetor. Tacitus didn't know how that was possible, but it obviously was. This man proved it.

He didn't like Elijah too much, or the other way around. Tacitus wasn't quite sure who hated who in this situation. The two appeared to have some kind of negative history at least. The dark man was now close and knelt before him to look him in the eyes. Tacitus looked the man in the eyes, very curious about what this man had to say to him. The man spoke and Tacitus felt his skin crawl, as if something large was about to happen. He introduced himself and said it wasn't a coincidence he was born on Halloween. Tacitus blinked a few times while a small smile grew on his face. This man was Pluto! This was a God! But wait! How did he even know about his birthday? He hadn't even told Elijah he'd been born at Halloween. Had this man read the file his mum made for him? Pluto stood up while Tacitus had a very confused expression on his face. What was going on? Pluto had come in here just to tell him he'd been born on Halloween for a reason? And to yell at Elijah? But that made no sense at all. After that Pluto mentioned something about protecting? Protecting without hatred. Tacitus really didn't understand any of this and was starting to get extremely confused. That wasn't usually a very good sign for the young boy.

When Pluto handed him a coin, things suddenly seemed to make at least some sense. Or rather, as much sense as it could make to the young boy without knowledge of claimings. Why would a God give a child a gift unless he cared, right? So Pluto cared about him in some funky old way. That was AWESOME! He didn't understand why but his eyes were now focussed on the coin, flipping it, turning it and studying it. So he could talk with this huh? WOW! That was amazing! He had a coin that allowed him to talk for a while. His parents would be so delighted to hear that! He could tell them about everything if he was fast enough. Tacitus had to resist the urge to squeeze it right at that moment. He didn't have to talk after all and he didn't want to abuse the gift or use it too often. It had to remain a special feat. He did scribble a note which he held out to the God. 'Thank you, Grandfather!' It read, as Tacitus had just heard Pluto mention his ancestry. That had to mean Pluto was Grandfather! Tacitus was the grandchild of one of the most powerful Gods ever! Tacitus found himself to be smiling a near permanent smile as he was starting to buzz with energy. This explained like, everything!

As Pluto said his parting words, Tacitus nodded to showed he understood and waved his Grandfather goodbye. After that he looked at the coin with a large smile, stuffing it in his pocket and smiling at Elijah with utter joy. He finally understood why he kept thinking of mangled corpses. Why death was ever so often on his mind. Why those mean thoughts intruded upon him. Everything seemed so much more logical now. He smiled and when one particularly disturbing image popped up in his mind, the young boy didn't even mind too much. He was the grandchild of Pluto, God of the Underworld and Wealth. But wait, did that mean he could get rich? Like, earn a fortune? Oh, he had a fraction of that power Pluto carried! He could be a leader! People might single him out but he was sure he could have the power, be the leader he desired to be! He could rule the world! Okay, maybe not that much but he could totally make some of those dreams and desires come to life. He could be great like he dreamt he could be. He'd need to practise a lot but he could totally manage to be somebody. He could be a hero like in the story books. It was wonderful.

He suddenly hugged Elijah, just after his grandfather disappeared. He was starting to freak out in the best possible ways, jumping around the room, smiling and laughing and almost dancing. He hopped up and down in near soundless joy. He felt so happy and elated at knowing his grandfather all of a sudden. His father would be so happy and proud to finally know who his dad was! Tacitus smiled and looked at Elijah. 'Isn't this wonderful?' He asked the Praetor with a very large smile on his face, subconciously switching to sign language in his surprise. He was overjoyed and had forgotten the fact his grandfather hadn't exactly seemed to get along with the Praetor. Not that it mattered to Tacitus, he'd been claimed which was the most important to him. He finally calmed down a little, standing in front of Elijah with a huge grin on his face, hoping the Praetor would share in his joy. The time here at camp had just improved greatly, as he finally knew who his Godly ancestor was, and that the day he’d arrived. He felt proud in knowing this, and he would do whatever he could to make Pluto proud. His grandfather.

((Feel free not to match the length. Over 2100 words, WIN!))

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Re: Silence is Golden ((Elijah))

Post by Elijah Emmanual-Wheelan on Wed Apr 24, 2013 11:24 am

This situation was sticky. This situation was beyond sticky. Elijah couldn't deny the fact that he had enough going on without having a child to take care of. Really, the boy was a Praetor, not a babysitter! And it would have been really nice if he had been told beforehand that this would be happening. Perhaps Tac's parents sent word to Calix...that really wasn't too likely, but if it was the case, the older boy didn't deliver the message. If he had gotten it in this strange scenario Elijah was cooking up in his head. But it didn't matter at this point. Tac was here, Tac was under Elijah's care, and honestly, the Praetor was already getting quite attached to the child. He was a total enigma, innocent and charming, but there was definitely something more going on in his head. And although the son of Discordia wasn't sure what it was, he had a feeling it wasn't quite as innocent and charming. "All in time..." Elijah mumbled as he felt Tac patting his arm. When Tac was claimed, whoever by, things might get a little easier. Hopefully it would be by someone who had already claimed a child. That way, Tac could spend his time with a different mentor and Elijah wouldn't have to worry so much. Maybe Trivia...that would be nice. River would be great with Tac, and Elijah would be confident knowing that the child was in good hands. Unfortunately, the eight year old didn't have the same feeling as River...it was pretty unlikely Tac was a Trivia Legacy. "Bracchae," the boy whispered. He really wasn't sure who Tac could be descended from...his grandmother or grandfather, the note had said. Only one generation removed...whoever was Tac's grandparent, their powers would still be quite strong in him. Lost in his head. A note. 'I know very little Latin. Would like to know better.' Elijah sighed. "No Latin, then. I'll teach you more, alright? I'm pretty good with it," how did one say that they were fluent in a language without sounding arrogant? Would a child even be bothered. "I'm fluent," Elijah added, a bit sullenly. Jack...a should have been lesson that Elijah had ruined, and effectively destroyed any chance he might have had with Jack in the future. A note. 'Who's Jack?' Jack...a pain in Elijah's heart as he tried to work out an answer.

"Jack is...someone who..." yes, Elijah couldn't even complete his thought without feeling tears burning at the corner of his eyes. "Jack is someone special who I'll never see again..." or get to hold or get to kiss or get to love..."Jack is someone I care deeply for who's...who's gone now..." that was it, nothing more. Nothing more that the boy could handle. "Don't worry about that, okay? Just remember that if you care deeply for someone, treat them the right way. Show them how special they are to you. Don't push them away," Elijah finally finished softly. Elijah solitarius. Forever. He knew he was speaking more, trying to explain something about Cohorts and proteges to Tac, but the boy's brain was so far away. A Latin book...the one that had marked the beginning of Elijah's journey to teach himself the language he held so dear. Gone forever with the man he wanted so badly. Needed so badly. The man he should have expressed his feelings to rather than spout verbal abuse at him constantly. What did it matter now? The Latin book was gone forever...along with Jack, the man Elijah should have allowed himself to fall in love with rather than deny his feelings for and continuously push away. There was no one left. Elijah solitarius. A birthday miracle that would never come. And Tac...a child that had arrived, perhaps to pull Elijah out of his hole. To make him a human again. Maybe this was a blessing in disguise, not the extra burden Elijah was seeing. He just had to change his thinking...see things a little differently. Gods knew he was quite good at that anyway. Chaos was chaos, and he'd keep going. Shame Tac wasn't a Legacy of Discordia. That would have made things so much easier. A note. 'It's still yours.' What? Oh, the soldier. Elijah smiled slightly. "Tac...I'm truly honored by your gift. It means a lot to me that you're willing to give him to me. You play with him until the moment you leave, and then I'll take care of him forever, okay? I promise he'll be safe with me," Tac...Elijah's possible miracle...it would be nice to have that still with him. A memory to hold forever.

A note. A note that Elijah barely had time to process, let alone answer, before the air in the room changed and a darkness swept by. The Praetor went rigid. He knew that feeling. It was the feeling that had lingered when he ran to find Lúth, only to realize he had been too late. A feeling that sucked the air from Elijah's lungs, filled him with rage and hatred and anger and depression and loss and so many other things the boy had no words for. A feeling he didn't want to feel ever again. And a man standing in the doorway. A God standing in the doorway. Completely unmistakable. Pluto. Elijah wasn't sure if he wanted to run and get sick or find a way to hurt the God. The sheer chaos of his emotions was making the boy shake...the indisputable radiation, heavy waves of chaos rolling off his body, coming from every fiber of his being. The boy knew it wouldn't effect the God, but it would definitely effect Tac somehow...control, control...but control wasn't an option. Radiating...radiating so badly it hurt...so badly Elijah could feel his energy draining quickly...so badly the boy just wanted to collapse. But he stood firm. Rigid, but firm. "Business is business, I suppose," Elijah spat at the God. So let him die. It could be worse. Pluto wasn't here for him, the boy quickly realized. Pluto was here for Tac. Pluto was Tac's grandfather. Chaos was chaos, and business was business. Words to Tac, back to Elijah. Deep breath. "I have no hatred for him, Lord Pluto," he mumbled angrily. The God was mocking him. An exchange, of sorts. He took Elijah's sister and then Tac appeared. Mocking...some sick joke...radiating so badly he wanted to collapse...keep standing...keep your ground. Speaking to Tac again...Should you ever need any assistance against the more raucous and irritable individuals that live here...a glance towards Elijah that made clear the implication that Pluto had Elijah in mind there. Don't fall, don't collapse..."I have no hatred for him, Lord Pluto," Elijah repeated, shaking hard. "Escambium...te accipio sororem meam et relinquere observationum mearum in Tac!" the boy spat angrily as the God disappeared. Shaking...radiating...falling...breathing...breathing! The God was gone, and Elijah all but gasped for air.

Tac...the child had no idea. Pluto as his grandfather or not, Elijah didn't hate Tac. He couldn't hate Tac. Tac was...Tac. He had no say in his divine ancestry, and he had no idea what Pluto...what Hades had done. How the God had torn Elijah apart. The note Tac had scribbled so appropriately before Pluto had appeared. 'Is he sick?' To pretend he hadn't seen the note. Calix wasn't sick. Calix was a shell. All because of Pluto, Tac's grandfather. "Escambium," Elijah mumbled. Tac was smiling at him, and as much as he wished he could smile back, Elijah couldn't move. If he moved, he fell. He wanted to congratulate the child, express how happy he was that Tac knew. If he moved, he fell. If he spoke, he fell. Feet firmly on the ground...shaking, swaying, radiating. Tac would feel it any moment now, if he hadn't already. It wouldn't be hard for the child to sense something was wrong. A hug...Elijah still couldn't move...but Tac was elated. And Elijah was confused. Slowly, as not to fall, Elijah shuffled backwards until he felt his bed behind him and he sat. Sitting rigidly, resisting the urge to curl up in a ball with all his might. He had to stay strong...though the son of Discordia highly doubted he looked strong, between his rigidity and the waves of chaos still radiating from his body. At least he could breathe again...deep breaths, trying to relax with each one. It wasn't working...and he'd have to say something eventually. Watching Tac...the child's joy. Excitement. What in the Gods' names was Elijah going to do now? There were no children of Pluto floating around! Maybe a child of Hades on the Greek side, but Elijah couldn't just send Tac that way without a second thought. What was left? Who was left? "Escambium," Elijah mumbled quietly again, feeling his body curl slightly inwards. And words...he had to try. "Congratulations, Tac," he finally said softly. What was left? What more was there to say? "Reliquum tacet."

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Elijah Emmanual-Wheelan & Devin Casales & Izzy Abney
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Elijah Emmanual-Wheelan
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Re: Silence is Golden ((Elijah))

Post by Guest on Wed May 01, 2013 8:39 am

((Warning, this is where Tacitus get's nice and disturbing....Call it PG13 to be safe >.> ))

Elijah Praetor said he'd limit the Latin, which was a great relief to Tacitus. Tacitus didn't mind the Latin but it was hard for him to speak in a language he didn't understand. On that point, Tacitus was limited to writing so he had to be sure he didn't make mistakes in vocal sound to paper translations. He had the risk of writing things completely different from what he meant, merely by a spelling mistake. People truly under appreciated speech at times. Tacitus knew that like no other. Elijah Praetor was fluent though, fluent in Latin. That would be great, as Tacitus was likely not to learn anything wrong and actually comprehend it sooner. Still, he doubted he'd started speaking in Latin himself, as English was much easier for the young boy. He scribbled another note and held it up. 'Thank you Elijah Praetor, for teaching me Latin.' The young boy had written and he held the notepad up with a happy little smile. He'd soon know more Latin and understand all these things people said under their breath or just mumbled without thinking. New doors would open for the young Legacy and soon, he'd be a lot wiser about the things going on at camp. After all, who minded his or her Latin near a boy of only eight years old. A legacy of eight who probably didn't understand a word they said? Exactly, nobody would, as it was no use at all.

Jack Sir was a very confusing subject for the little boy. Elijah Praetor spoke of Jack in much the same way his mother spoke of his father just after they had a fight, only Elijah Praetor sounded a lot more sad. Almost as if things wouldn't be fixed between him and Jack Sir. Tacitus looked at Elijah with sad and serious eyes. 'Mommy says love is more powerful than anything. She says it's like a roller-coaster, one hell of a ride that leaves you dizzy and disoriented. She and daddy fight all the time but they always make up afterwards.' Tacitus considered it a lot of words but he felt the message was important enough to take a lot of words. Tacitus used his words sparingly, as he needed more time than others to give them a voice of their own. It could take a terribly long time to say anything when writing and so Tacitus didn't say anything unless it was worth taking a very long time to say it. It kept his words limited but at least he was sure not to fall into idle chit chatting on paper. He simply didn't have the patience for it, although he expected and hoped for that to build in the course of his years. Elijah and Jack, they'd work out right? People who loved each other got together and Elijah clearly cared about Jack a lot. He would make sure to keep the people he cared about close, like Elijah Praetor had told him. He'd listen and remember that lesson. Then Elijah promised he'd take care of the figurine, the toy, the soldier. Something that was important to Tacitus. It somehow made Tacitus feel like Elijah would take care of him in much the same way he'd take care of the toy. He'd be safe and sound within the confines of camp.

It took a while for Tacitus to realise something had changed when Pluto had entered the room. One moment the mood had been relaxed and without any tension and the next everything went to pure chaos. Pluto seemed to have shielded it somehow, at first. Soon enough though, the God had left and Tacitus was left alone with Elijah again. At that moment Tacitus had felt it, the chaos coming from the young Praetor. Elijah had said he had no hatred for Tacitus but why would Pluto think he did? What was going on that Tacitus didn't know about. What could possibly make Elijah hate him just because Pluto was his grandfather? Tacitus didn't know but he also decided he didn't care. The chaos was thick though and it made Tacitus nervous. Thoughts started forming in the mind of the young legacy. Bodies, a lot of dead bodies popped up in his mind. Broken bodies, some weren't even complete. It was slightly disturbing to see the various bodyparts strewn over the floor, blood splattered on the walls as if Tacitus had walked straight into a horror movie. Either that or some crazy sort of zombie apocalypse. Either way, it was rather disgusting and Tacitus had trouble locking the images out, more trouble than usual. The chaos, the destruction in his mind. Tacitus frowned and fought the images but they remained as the man near him radiated chaos. The chaos fed of the images in his mind, almost bringing them past that gate so that it seemed that the walls of the Principia were covered in blood. Tacitus took out the dagger his father had given him.

Tacitus looked at Elijah, confused and worried. 'What is this?' He asked by another note. He was getting more and more confused and felt like running away from the other boy but at the same time he felt like he had to support the Praetor somehow. What to do? What to do.... Tacitus put his dagger away, shot one of the corpses in his mind a look, shook his head and walked over to Elijah Praetor. Elijah calmed down a tiny bit though, and between some Latin murmurs, he congratulated Tacitus. It made the newly claimed Legacy very happy and gave him just that little strength to push the mean thoughts and images back to the darkness of his mind. He sat down next to Elijah and patted the man on the arm. 'It's okay. You'll be okay.' The worried and questioning face almost turned his statement into a question. Keep fighting and fight those mental images. Whatever had happened in that meeting between Pluto and Elijah wasn't very clear to Tacitus but it was clear enough that something had happened. Something was just unclear. A small trickle of imaginary blood dripped down the face of the Praetor and Tacitus closed his eyes, rubbing them for a moment before opening them again, sleep evident in them. He was getting tired and he was quite overwhelmed by everything that happened. He yawned a little more and looked at Elijah. 'Sorry, tired.' popped up in a note soon after. He looked at Elijah, still wondering if he needed to leave or something.

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