Getting used to things (open)

Angeline stomped through Camp Jupiter, judging basically everything she passed. The teenager was only five foot eleven, but her boots added at least two or three inches to that height. She was tall, blonde, lightly tanned, and beautiful and Angeline hated it. Most people who saw her from the right side thought she was a super model… those who saw her from the left thought she was an ex supermodel who had been in a terrible accident. The teenager grumbled, glaring at people who stared at her for too long. She wasn’t a good person to mess with. Within an hour Angeline found herself extremely bored. She had found camp because her guardian’s dying wish was for her to be safe, but Angeline sort of missed the excitement that came with being outside the barriers of camp. She could handle most of the monsters she camp up against and when she couldn’t Angeline was fit enough to run until she thought of a way to best her opponent. She had won every fight she had been in; being alive was proof of that. Angeline’s scowl deepened. Boredom was something she wasn’t used to… this camp was full of emotions the teenager was not accustomed to dealing with. For better or for worse Gulliver had always kept Angeline busy and she never complained… but that was mostly because if the teenager complained she’d have to do pushups… gods, Angeline really hated pushups.

The teenager walked until she set foot in the arena. A smirk twisted onto Angeline’s face “there you are” she hissed with her thick gruff accent that she had inherited from Gulliver. Within seconds Angeline had drawn her pirate like sword and was racing toward the nearest dummy. The teenager exaggerated a battle cry, bringing her sword down across the dummy, spilling its straw guts. Angeline roared and spun around, attacking the dummy mercilessly. “No please have mercy upon me Legionnaire Cane!” Angeline said in a squeaky voice, talking for the dummy as she attacked. The teenager paused to giggle before continuing “Not in yer life!” Angeline called, reducing the dummy to a pile of straw. The teenager took a step back smiling to herself and wiping the sweat off her brow.

“Fierce one you are, Legionnaire Cane” Gulliver had used to say to Angeline after a long training session. The Roman demigod had been training like this since she was five years old, fighting and sparring was like a game to Angeline. “Yer so fierce you could probably rival the gods themselves!” Gulliver would say thrusting his war hammer into the air. “Really?” the smaller Angeline would asked excitedly, putting her sword away and looking up at Gulliver with wide eyes. “No. but if you train hard you can make yer mother proud” the large son of Mars would laugh at Angeline’s disappointed face and ruffle her hair.

Those were good memories for Angeline. It had just been her and Gulliver for as long as the teenager could remember. The old man had died a few years ago protecting her… that fool. Angeline stared at the pile of straw at her feet sadly for a moment before turning to the next dummy “prepare yer-self, dummy!” Angeline hissed through a smirk and gave the next dummy the same treatment, giggling like a little girl who had been given a puppy to play with. The sound of footsteps cause the teenager to stop. Her face twisted back into its usual scowl. “if yer not careful you’ll be next” Angeline huffed glaring forward, not looking to the person who had shown up.

Tacitus skipped around camp, not sure what he was going to do today but wanting to see everything he could get his eyes on. He'd spent a lot of time just looking at people working. He liked doing that for some odd reason. He'd spent some time just looking at the Praetor, Elijah. Tacitus turned the name around in his mind. Elijah was a very confusing person. He was chaotic, friendly, rude, mean, nice and so many other things that just clashed and conflicted. He was very interesting to watch, and a leader at that. Tacitus also wanted to be a leader one day, the very best of the best. He didn't even care what he'd lead, as long as he could have that power, people looking up to him in the way he looked up to people now. Tacitus grinned at the thought and quickly made his way along camp, away from the barracks he'd just studied intently, from the outside. He didn't have a cohort yet, nor did he have a clue when he was getting one. He didn't really want one, as the Principia was much more interesting to hang out at. He smiled as he suddenly noticed.. the Arena!

His mouth fell open and he ran as fast as his legs could carry him, coming to a quick stop. He took in front of the door, at first staring with open eyes before it turned into a delighted smile. He grabbed the door and pushed it open, walking inside carefully, looking around a little nervously. He closed the door behind him, trying not to make too much noise, as a pretty lady was busy practising. He checked if he had his notepad, just in case they'd start a conversation. He looked for a moment but the lady was very intimidating for such a pretty woman. She seemed very good at the fighting and she talked like a pirate! Were there still pirates these days? How come his parents had never told him? Or did other people talk like pirates? Pirates were awesome! Tacitus smiled when the girl looked at the attacked dummy for a moment. He took a few steps forward, wanting to start training himself. He had his lovely dagger he'd gotten from his dad with him and after seeing her fight, he was eager to get started.

Then she suddenly threatened him! Tacitus stopped dead in his tracks with a sharp intake of breath of utter shock. He took a few steps back with one hand up in defensive mode, the other quickly grabbing his note pad. He also took the marker out and quickly scribbled something on a note. He soon found himself holding the note out in front of himself. 'Sorry! You're a good fighter!' He'd written and now held it up for the pretty lady to see. He just hoped she wouldn't be mad at him and use him as training dummy. He didn't really want to be chopped to pieces, partially because he couldn't watch himself in that state and he suspected it would be painful. The boy shook the half formed imagine of the pretty girl standing over a mangled corpse out of his head and gave her a nervous look. He hoped she'd be nice and spare him but he wasn't too sure she would. Still, she was a pretty lady and a pirate, which actually brought that light of admiration into the eyes of Tacitus, even though it was mingled with nerves and a small amount of fear. Maybe she'd be kind and gentle to him? Or even better, teach him something about fighting! That would be amazing! He waited, although part of him started to get excited with the idea alone, being trained by somebody like her.

Angeline waited for the person to make a comeback. Gulliver had always retaliated when she threatened him. The teenager was still glaring down at the dummy remains for a moment before shooting a look at the person who entered. Her annoyed expression almost instantly changed into one of surprise. It wasn’t another teenager who was there like Angeline had thought. Instead it was a little boy and he was holding a… note? The teenager blinked looking down at the boy unsure what to do. The note read ‘Sorry! You’re a good fighter!’ Angeline glared and took a few steps towards the boy and squatting down so that she was about eye level with him. “I don’t respond to flattery” she grumbled. “Yer a strange little boy, aren’t you?” Angeline continued. How old was this kid? He couldn’t be older than eight… wow he was little. He looked kind of fearful… but that was probably Angeline had threatened him. The teenager reached up and poked his notepad with her index finger “apologizing when yer threatened is a sign of weakness” Angeline mumbled, quoting her old guardian.

“What’s with the little notepad for anyway?” the teenager asked poking the notepad again. Angeline grumbled and stood up again. “This is an arena for serious training, why are you, a little boy, here?” The teenager huffed, slashing her sword through the air. Angeline pretended to be annoyed again. Truthfully she wanted the little boy to be here. She wanted to show off her skills, the teenager had been training for so many years. Gulliver had never been impressed with Angeline, he approved at her skills but he never seriously complemented her. After he had died Angeline had been on her own. Sure the beautiful girl had done well on her own, but she was meant to be a social person, being alone was lonely. Angeline glared down at the little by, but there was no anger in her eyes. “If you must stay I might as well show you a few moves.” The girl sighed, trying to hide the small amount of excitement that she was feeling. This was an opportunity to show off her abilities as well as train another person. Angeline turned her back on the boy, hiding her gentle smile.

Show no feelings. It had been one of the main things Angeline had taken from Gulliver. Her guardian had never shown any of his emotions; the gruff man had been amazing at hiding everything he felt. His reasoning for this was that emotions got in the way, they made you vulnerable. Don’t get attached to anything. That was another thing that Gulliver had tried to teach Angeline. The old man had broken his own rule, he got attached to Angeline and that led to his death. The teenage girl had never let anyone get close to her after that. It seemed too risky. Angeline tossed her sword up and down, glancing back at the little boy. “What should I show you, eh, little legionnaire?” Angeline barked, sending her sword into the dummy next to her. Its straw guts spilled out a little bit causing the teenager to smirk.

The pretty lady obviously hadn't expected to see him there. Or maybe she'd just expected something else, something different. Somebody older. Tacitus was the youngest person at camp for as far as he knew, and that often led to people looking at him with surprise. Tacitus was used to it, and he didn't particularly mind. He was an oddball in so many ways. Legacy of Pluto, a mere eight years old and mute. The scar on his neck, right near his vocals, showed exactly what the trouble was. Still by some strange magic, the little boy had the option to speak. Pluto had given him that option. But Tacitus wouldn't use it lightly, he would treasure it. The power of speech was something many people took lightly. Too lightly. The pretty lady knelt down in front of him so that she was at eye level with him, much like Pluto had done upon claiming him. She said she didn't respond to flattery, something that Tacitus attempted to store in his mind somewhere. So no more flattering the pretty lady. But then again, was truth flattery? Tacitus wasn't too sure. She called him strange, upon which Tacitus shrugged. He guessed he was strange in a way, although maybe not in the way people expected. She soon added that apologising when you were threatened was a sign of weakness. Tacitus puffed up a little at that. He was not weak! He stood proudly and looked at the pretty lady with determination. He'd clearly received the message. It was one thing he was sure not to forget, it had made an impression.

When she asked what was up with his notepad, Tacitus scribbled a message on it. 'I'm mute. I can't talk so I use this.' He held it up to her with a slight shrug. His silence didn't bother him at all, as he didn't even remember the days when he could still talk. Those days were far behind him and he'd lost his voice before he'd known enough to properly talk. He's learnt writing at a very young age, in combination with sign language so that other people could communicate with him. His handwriting was surprisingly neat for such a young person. She asked why he was here, since the arena was for serious training. Tacitus once again wrote a note. 'I came to train. I want to learn to fight.' He showed her the notepad once again. He was determined to learn more, to know how to fight before he left camp again. To have that power and learn to use those he had as a Legacy of Pluto. As a grandchild of what he considered the most powerful God in the world. Not that he had anything to compare Pluto with, but the power he'd felt in that meeting with Pluto had been overwhelming. Delicious.

The pretty lady promised to show him a few moves, causing an exciting smile to appear on his face. She turned her back on him and started showing a few moves on the straw dummy in the arena, causing his mean thoughts to pop into his mind. The straw dummy once again changed into a person, holding his guts as they spilled out of his body. Not so tasty. What should he ask her to show him though? Tacitus wasn't sure where to start. He pulled his dagger and held it with a thoughtful expression at the pretty lady. 'Defence?' He'd written and now showed it. He figured attacking was no good if he couldn't keep himself alive in battle. If he could defend himself, he could survive. Attacking would come along after that until he could battle properly, like the pretty lady. If she could teach him the basics, that would be most delightful. She just had to be willing to teach, which she luckily seemed to be. He figured he was a very lucky young fellow.