Just the messenger (Daelia)

Sarenrae had managed to settle into Roman life, for a part. She adamantly refused to take part in any violent things and had a running thing about being allowed off guard duty in exchange for more hours in the medical ward of the camp. People got a lot of injuries and only eating godly food simply wasn't going to cut it. With her current and soon to grow medical experience she could actually provide help in a way that most hospitals would, which could even be healthier in the long run. Apart from that she wasn't sure how well Legacies would be able to stand the godly stuff. Their connection to the Gods wasn't quite as strong as that of demigods after all. Sarenrae pondered this most of all as she walked over to the barracks of the third cohort to deliver a message. 

Now that she finally had contact with her sister again things seemed to be looking up a little. Not just that of course, as Sarenrae felt the dreaded approach of the trial of her former lover and murderer come closer. She was terrified but wouldn't let it get in the way of daily business. Today that business simply consisted of delivering a message to the third cohort. She had peeked and found they were just schedules for guard duty and figured she'd hand them to the centurion of Third and then head back.

As she knocked and opened the door only one girl was present there. Sarenrae gave a slightly awkward smile. "Uhm, hello I'm Sarenrae. I'm here to deliver something to your centurion? Do you know which bunk I should be dropping it on?" She asked curiously as she stepped into the barracks. It was of course exactly what she had expected. The Romans were masters of making things look uniform, also known as rather boring. Sarenrae already had half a mood to paint her bunk in the barracks but she figured that wouldn't go down too well with the more traditional Romans so for now she'd settled for poetry and posters. It was something. She looked at the other girl after her moment of being lost in thought about the barracks. "Sorry for zoning out. I got a little distracted."

((eeeh, I hope this is okay!! <3))

Daelia sat on her bed on her stomach, charcoal pencil in hand and frowning at the piece of paper in front of her. She was sketching another picture to decorate her bed, having nothing else to do. The day had already been very disappointing in the arena, having been made a laughing stock for what felt like the hundredth time but was only actually the fourth. She was keeping track. Daelia had attempted to learn how to use a broadsword once more only to fail miserably within the hour. She understood that it took much longer to learn the art of swordsmanship than she was willing to invest, but she also felt that if she was to be any good with swords, it should be a skill that comes naturally like most demigods. Daelia thus came to the conclusion that she had yet to find the talent she would use in the camp. Therefore the drawing. She had already hung pictures of different landscapes: the view of Ireland from her bedroom window, farms she had seen while on the run, a particularly lovely beach she had seen once with her mother. Daelia was now working on drawing the woods she had seen recently in winter, with the pines covered with snow, trees without their leaves yet somehow still hauntingly beautiful.

As she shaded in the drawing, Daelia reflected on other talents she might be able to use or learn in the camp. She could try archery, though she somehow already knew how awful she would be at it. Daelia already knew how lousy she was with swords and lances. Wrestling, no. Even reading Latin didn’t come as naturally as it should have, according to other campers. She should have been able to read at least a few lines by herself, but every time she tried, it was like trying to read French or Greek for that matter. Daelia sometimes even wondered if she was a demigod at all, because it seemed that every skill she should be able to do was something out of her reach. The only thing Daelia could do was art, as she found again and again. The pottery she made was outside, and while it was pretty, it was useless. What was she going to do, throw vases, plates, and cups at the monsters?

She sighed and drew the light coming in through the canopy of the trees. Daelia always thought a charcoal drawing looked much more dramatic than any other painting. She admired these specific pictures more than da Vinci’s masterpieces. They required no materials at all, not even a beautiful charcoal pencil, just a stick with a burned end and some scrap paper. The shading was exquisite and easy to master but in the end, the drawing looked just as masterful as the Mona Lisa, if not better in Daelia’s opinion.

Daelia finished her drawing and tacked it up on the wall in a messy array with the other drawings she had made. Though she was forbidden in painting the actual wall or bed, she liked decorating the wall in a sense of individualism, to give the bunk a feeling of home that Daelia hadn’t had for years. This camp would be different than the other places she had stayed at. It’s not like they would kick her out for drawing some pictures. They were completely within her right, as far as Daelia knew.

Her attention was drawn to the door as a girl, no a woman, entered. Daelia hastily stowed her art supplies back in their rightful place as the visitor looked around and saw her. She quickly stood to greet the newcomer. A message? For the centurion? Daelia cleared her throat and said, “No, sorry, the Third doesn’t have a centurion. Can I take the message?” That sounded good, but not quite enough. She wanted to sound friendly, at the very least. It wouldn’t hurt to make some allies, or maybe even a friend. It had been so long...maybe it was time. “I’m Daelia.” She stuck out her hand to shake the other girl’s hand.