Alien Watching (Elijah Emmanual, PG-13: L)

As Miran saw it, open grassland was an open invitation for crop circles. Especially bastardized, almost-but-not-quite, Spock shaped ones. It just so happened that they were also against the rules.

Who knew?

Rules, though, were absolute and official Bullshit. Capitalized and everything. Rules were for suckers who never learned how to fly by the seat of their pants in a world that had a near unhealthy obsession with the Bird Philosophy. Which was, in short, to push all the baby chicks out of the roost and those that crashed and died...well, they died. Rules were a pretty enough concept, she knew. Nice to look at in a picture frame in some fancy art gallery amongst the many mulling elderly. Just, not so much in actual theory. Not when you're suddenly tumbling out of the nest, the only place you've ever known, and all fifty something of those protocols will not save you from the hard forest floor below. Life was tough, Miran thought. Distantly, in graveyards across the globe, thousands upon thousands of old and decayed poets nodded their rotting heads in agreement.

This could've been why she defaced the Field of Mars with her hot pink pair of hand scissors and, in part, it was. In another part, though, it wasn't.

In another part, it was anxiety.

The fact of the matter was this: Miran had moved from her home to New York and, consequently, Camp Jupiter only a few weeks ago. Miran had discovered an entirely new world full of monsters and gods and was bodily tossed into the fray only a few weeks ago. Miran discovered that it was pretty damn hard to try to fit into a community that had already puzzled itself together long before she came along, just a few weeks ago. This rapid change in pace without any chance of a cooldown intimidated Miran more than she would like to admit. It was like going to college as a freshman. New, exciting, nervewracking, and without any possible chance of going back. That is, unless you wanted to risk the wrath of ye old Asian parents and ye old belief in academics: "Education is like a rocket. One misstep and you will sputter out and die. Thus, you will be lost in the throes of intellectual space forever and that is why you should study. Sure, Miran had been in foreign situations before (once, she ended up at a party made entirely up of Scandinavians who only spoke French and wore (and probably breathed) cravats) but under most circumstances, Miran had found a way to adapt. Adaptability was, after all, a function of any species living upon the Earth. It only occurred to Miran once she arrived at Camp Jupiter that some species had died out because they were too late on the uptake. This, Miran thought, was a damn steep uptake. She really wasn't sure she'd be able to overcome it.

Such excuses, though, were not acceptable to any legionnaire even willing to listen. Especially legionnaires that were willing to listen to the girl who sat down in a field and cut the vague outline of a Vulcan's nose into the grass in order to pick it and laugh. Mostly, Miran found, it was just cause for laughter. She'd only cropped out Spock's side profile when the legionnaires discovered her. She was sitting upon a sloppy mock-Spock crop circle and they weren't even sure if Probatio would help her case.

Neverthelss, Miran was frog-marched to the Principia. Two hands around her wrists and two more pushing against the small of her back. Some time ago, the legionnaire on her left had cast her a sympathetic look and tried to good-naturedly remark that he preferred Data more. It wasn't even a comfort nor was it quite as good natured as the poor man had hoped for, something he found out when Miran threatened to take him on with no hands so as to demonstrate the superiority of emotionally stunted Vulcans over emotionally stunted androids. There was only room for one clichéd archetype here and Miran would fight buddy-boy with only her eyes and partially immobilized torso to prove that. Bring it on. Unfortunately, they arrived at the Principia sooner than a scuffle could start. Fortunately, Miran didn't get her ass handed to her by a tiny boy probably quite a few years her junior. No amount of passion for Star Trek deuteragonists (or, arguably, protagonists) she may have had could have saved her from that kind of humiliation.

"Why Spock, though?" The legionnaire on her right had asked. Miran hadn't answered but she knew well enough that she didn't pay homage to the character just for how many tears he made her shed during weekend binge watchings. It was more so about the frightening similarities between her and the estranged alien. Miran had never been estranged before. Now, it scared her.

They passed through the Principia's entry gates and walked into the building in solemn silence to a set of double doors. At least, most of the walk was in silence. Miran did try to break it with a death metal humming cover of Mary Had A Little Lamb but that proved to apparently also be also against acceptable social conduct when she was met with twin glares. Maybe it was just that society had no idea what fun was. Maybe the youth today had no respect for music. Whatever it was, Miran ended up being bitter enough to tap out morse code for "you are more phallic than Chris Brown, please remove yourself from within my vicinity and my vicinity's vicinity" through her footsteps. Or it was, at least, what she thought was morse code for "you are more phallic than Chris Brown, please remove yourself from within my vicinity and my vicinity's vicinity." she'd only had two lessons on it so she wasn't quite sure. Her vengeful train of thought was broken by the sudden groan of the doors opening, her escorts pulling them wide so she could step through. Politely, Miran shot them both a dazzling smile. Neither looked particularky impressed.

What did look particularly impressed, though, was Miran.

The Principia, as it turned out, was super hella swanky. In Miran's own words and humble opinion. Smaller than expected but still grand, the room was clean and furnished fancily enough that it made the barracks feel like the slums. In the middle of it all was a long desk, a bit too big for its resident occupant who sat perfectly in the center of the room. What an aesthetically pleasing feat. The symmetry was almost enough to make any OCD person automatically content and at home. It was as formal as a teenage-run fantasy camp could get. Miran had to admit, she liked it. Again, though, she was broken out of her reverie when both of the legionnaires nudged her purposefully forward, nodded at the boy, and left.

"You know, this place is nice enough for me to really want to reclaim my Roman roots and lay siege to it. Invicta and all that. I'd conquer the heck out of this." Miran coughed. "That was a compliment, by the way. And in no way indicative of a midnight invasion."

Grinning, Miran strode forward to hold out her hand. Wiggling her fingers in a friendly gesture, she continued. "Hello, my name is Miran Kim. You may have heard about me already, you may have not but I'm the one who trimmed a crop circle that could also double as an alien head into your fields." She paused as if she had to mentally remind herself to add the next part. "And I sincerely apologize."


((I will admit. I have absolutely no idea what the Principia looks like canonically.))

After nearly four years at Camp Jupiter 2.0, Elijah had thought he had seen it all.  Things had changed so much over the years, and having gone from a under-the-radar legionnaire, to a Centurion, to a Praetor, the boy had seen and experienced so much.  People had come and gone.  People had come and stayed.  The boy had becoming exceptionally talented with his two daggers, and had a good amount of control over his Discordia powers.  Pranks, paperwork, relationships, fights...Gods, it seemed like so much.  How had all of that even fit in four years?  "Braccae..." Elijah mumbled under his breath.  Because, of course, there had to be something that came up that he had never even thought about.  Some new legionnaire just had to go and throw something completely new at him.  As if things weren't crazy enough, between running things smoothly, and keeping Jack healthy, something that included the son of Discordia being a complete rock for his fiancé...even if that meant breaking down to River every day.  Professional, personal, and the complete absurd.

Of course.

A crop circle.  What the fuck?  Who would even do something like that?  Of course, Elijah couldn't deny the fact that the new legionnaire had gone with Spock tickled his fancy.  As a closet sci-fi fan, the boy had spent way too much time trying to figure out his favorite Star Trek character.  Spock was definitely at the top, especially just concerning the original series, though The Next Generation had Wesley Crusher, one of Elijah's first fictional character crushes.  Yes, he was a little excited about this, but he knew he had to contain that with Miran Kim, the legionnaire who had gone all out.  First and foremost, with this type of meeting at least, the small man had to be a leader of the Roman Legion.  He had had no luck finding any rules pertaining to this sort of thing, and figured he could let the girl off with...well, something just like a warning.  It was obviously something not to be allowed, and Elijah had to make that clear.  Maybe once he stepped out of his Praetor shoes, he could have a good Star Trek talk with the girl.  Gods knew there was no one else to talk to about it...at least, not that the boy knew of.

Deep breaths.  Nothing too insane...the last thing Elijah needed was to frighten a new legionnaire too bad.  And it wasn't like this was some sort of serious offense.  Someone had discovered the whole thing, and sent word to the Praetor right away, with the added bit about some legionnaires bringing the girl in straight away.  It was one of the things the small man hated about the Roman Legion...people could get so stuffy.  He was more laid back about most things...especially this sort of thing.  It was a joke, nothing that required a severe punishment...at least, that was the way Elijah saw it.  Better face him about this than Calix, though.  A great thing about the two Praetors was they balanced each other out nicely.  And the small man always figured that the cases that came to each of them were the ones that were meant to.  In all fairness, the small man had no idea how Calix would handle crop circle girl, but it was obviously meant to go to him, not his fellow Praetor.  The Gods knew what they were doing...something Elijah definitely knew by now.

Of course, whatever he expected, Elijah was pretty sure it wasn't this.  The girl that was brought in was completely unsuspecting...a young Asian girl who was roughly about his size, though probably a few inches taller.  Of course, everyone was taller than the Praetor who barely cleared five feet.  Legionnaire Miran Kim.  Gods, the boy really needed to get better at checking in with new legionnaires.  It would probably prevent this sort of thing...well, maybe.  Most incoming Romans weren't any trouble.  They were Romans, after all.  But there were always the odd ones out.  Jack, even as a son of Venus, would probably make more sense as a Greek.  Even the son of Discordia didn't feel he was a good fit sometimes.  He was missing the extreme order that most Romans fell into, though that was quite possibly thanks to his mother.  Nothing that needed to be worried about right now, of course.  Now was a time he had to be a good Roman...and a good Roman leader.  "Gratias tibi," he said in Latin to the legionnaires, nodding at them for their dismissal.  Gods, he hated this part of the job.

The girl started to speak, and Elijah feared a headache would come on in no time.  This was definitely going to be a strange case.  "There wouldn't be much point to that," the boy raised his eyebrow, though he had to fight a smile.  Legionnaire Kim would definitely be shaking things up.  "Praetor Kiril and I's rooms are right around the corner.  And my fiancé is usually in, and oftentimes Praetor Kiril's girlfriend.  We'd catch a midnight invasion in no time," he couldn't help the half-chuckle that escaped his lips.  "I've certainly heard...and believe me, on a non-professional level, it's much appreciated," beckoning the girl forward, Elijah held out his hand.  "Much obliged, Legionnaire Kim.  I'm Praetor Elijah Emmanual.  Let's discuss this thing and figure out how we can avoid future trips here due to troublemaking," yes...get that out of the way.  There were much more interesting conversations to be had.

If Miran had expected anything of the Praetor of Camp Jupiter it would not have been a dark, brooding, midget and yet here she was. Face to face with the vertically challenged “angry poetry is my thing” male in question. Miran was not the type to judge, not really, but she was the sort to completely lack a brain-to-mouth filter and it showed. In particular, it showed right then.

”Oh, wow you’re tiny!” She exclaimed in awe. ”Everyone must hate playing limbo with you, huh?” Another thing most people immediately took note of about her was that Miran had no perception of personal space and so when she completely disregarded the boy's outstretched hand in favor of walking up to him and excitedly gesturing as to how much taller she was than him, hand enthusiastically laying flat and travelling from the crown of her head to the space above his...well, it wasn't a surprise to say the least.

Miran was a rather petite person herself but the boy’s height transcended even her small stature. Although, not by much. Still, years of always being first in line for picture day (tallest to shortest) and having her friends habitually play the “where’s Miran?” game made the discovery of an even smaller human being somewhat revolutionary for her. It wasn't just his height that intrigued her either. By now Miran considered herself somehwat an expert on being the pain in the ass to authority figures everywhere, official and everything. It wasn't out of malicious intent, of course. She just sometimes got excited. Excitement, as it so happened, lead to some pretty bad ideas on her part but in retrospect how was she supposed to know that schools were, in general, not open to putting up unathorized posters around the building; especially photoshopped ones of dogs in crowns and John Cena wrestling the Earth. As she had been told, self expression was appreciated. How could anyone fault her for that?

The point was, besides the Praetor being a teenager and an apparent punk hobbit, he was definitely different. He still had the same exasperated slump of his shoulders as most of the others and he still seemed about two seconds away from throwing himself out the window at any given moment but his smile was more amused than anything and his posture relaxed. When the two legionnaires were dismissed, Miran couldn't help making a face after them. Suck it.

"Well, Piru Singh once defeated the Pakistani army alone with half of his clothes and half of his face in plain sight without the element of surprise. I could be just as much of a slightly unhinged badass, surely. Without the terrible moustache, even." She mimed shooting a machine gun. With the appropriate (and inappropriate) sound effects of course.

"Right?" Miran perked up at Elijah's inadvertent (or perhaps just subtle) phrase. "It was an improvement more than anything!"

Miran pursed her lips at the swift change from agreeable to scolding. Ah, yes, she was there because she was in trouble wasn't she? She'd almost managed to forgot that. Damn. She could easily agree, of course. She's lied plenty of times before. Or she could smile sweetly and refuse because she knows herself and herself is two parts off kilter and two more boredom; not the best combination. She didn't want to seem petty, though. Something told her it would not be received well. Another part of her truly didn't want to cause trouble, necessarily. She just got so caught up sometimes, had so much in herself, that it all spilled out. She could never contain anything. Excitement, secrets, she wasn't fit for all of that. "Well, what do you propose? I, personally, suggest a rewards system to encourage better behavior...but that's just my opinion."

By the way Legionnaire Kim was looking at him, Elijah was pretty sure she wasn't expecting the person she saw.  It was definitely a look the small man knew.  In all fairness, the boy didn't look very...Praetor-ish.  Between how small he was, the 'dark punk' type style and the perfectly done makeup, the son of Discordia probably looked more like a legionnaire getting into trouble than a camp leader.  By now, he knew the looks he got in that respect...and he worked hard not to let it bother him.  Of course, Legionnaire Kim had to take it up a step by vocalizing it.  "Yes," he sighed, "I'm tiny, I know," of course he knew...it was a bit frustrating that it be brought up by a total stranger...and one he was needing to penalize.  Gods, this girl was...as she came to stand next to Elijah and measure his height, the boy knew this was going to be a challenge.

Of course, Elijah had to keep his cool.  He wasn't getting angry or anything, just a little frustrated.  In some ways, the small man felt like dealing with Legionnaire Kim would be a lot like how people had to deal with him.  Only in a professional way, of course.  It was fine...the small man could do this.  Over the years as a Praetor, the boy had seen a lot.  On his cockier days, Elijah would say he had seen everything.  Either way, he had become a damn good leader in his time as a centurion and then Praetor.  He had definitely had tons thrown at him, and ended up figuring it all out just fine.  Legionnaire Kim promised to be a handful, but again, Elijah had faith he could tackle, and solve, things appropriately.  Reading people, using smarts, relying on his brain's unique way of working...these were the things that made Elijah so good at what he did.  And of course, he just had to put it all into practice...he had done it many times...and it had yet to fail him.

So Elijah just kept going, dealing with the legionnaire's obvious eccentricities.  And in some ways, the Praetor really admired the girl before him.  She seemed confident and unashamed...a bit change from the legionnaires who were typically brought to Elijah.  "Between me, Calix, and Calla, you really wouldn't get that far," the small man couldn't keep the smile off of his face.  Well, a partial smile.  Gods, he shouldn't be encouraging this.  "But you;d be fine if it was just Jack.  Don't tell him I said that," sure, Legionnaire Kim didn't know what any of that meant, but it was just one of those things that came out.  Elijah was good at that, especially when what he was speaking didn't necessarily match what he was thinking.  In all honesty, the son of Discordia would rather befriend Miran Kim than have to scold her.  She definitely got points for creativity and sheer insanity.  And in most cases, the boy would befriend someone like Legionnaire Kim.  Maybe that meant he should hurry through the official stuff.

"Improvement or not, I can't really say it's allowed...however," Elijah raised his eyebrow.  "There's really no precedence for this, which means I have to really...figure it all out," in some ways, the Praetor wished this had been something simple.  Though he also supposed that meant he could give his verdict and punishment and then move on to the personal side of things.  With someone like Miran Kim, the boy knew a personal relationship would be great.  The two would get along, without a doubt.  Besides, it seemed like the girl could use a friend...especially a friend like Elijah.  Someone who could show her the ropes and keep her out of trouble.  The bad kind of trouble, anyway.

Staring down at the girl, Elijah took a deep breath.  What could he do about this, anyway?  The fact was that it was a victimless crime.  Hell, a Ceres kid could go in and fix it all up in a minute.  "Tell you what," the boy finally started, leaning forward.  "I don't really have any grounds for punishment.  No one got hurt, no permanent damage done...etcetera.  But next time you get the urge to do something like this, run it by me first...I'm holding you accountable in advance," Elijah didn't even want to think about Miran Kim standing before Calix like this.  As much as Elijah loved his friend and fellow Praetor, he wouldn't understand a situation like this.  He probably wouldn't understand anything Miran would likely be able to get herself into.  "You don't want to end up in front of Praetor Kiril.  Think we can make it work like this?"