Join the club (( Daelia and Darius))

((Set on the 6th of January))

The Seattleite knew he wasn't the current longest serving member of the Third Cohort, but he'd been given the responsibility of Centurion. Malik still wasn't sure why some of the obviously more qualified legionnaires from the First or Second hadn't transferred over, but what was done was done. He'd spent a lot of time debating, considering whether to accept the offer or not, spending a sleepless night illuminated by the moon streaming through the window, staring at the ceiling. It had never been his intention to stay here. He'd come here to find someone, and hadn't. He'd come here to experience the library, and had. It was time to leave, time to return back to the emerald city. Nothing was keeping him here, no loyalties, nothing that would incentivise remaining.... well, not quite true. Sarenrae was here, and he'd enjoyed the short amount of time he'd spent at Camp Jupiter. Things were… quieter here. You couldn't hear the sound of cars rushing by, or the blaring of sirens and alarms at random times of the night. Its absence felt like a hole. Every few hours he'd stir awake on edge, wondering what was wrong and what was missing, only to settle back beneath the blanket, enveloped by the calm of camp. Plus, he'd received that offer from NYU... he'd be able to do his research from the Camp library, and remain in touch with the professor via email. He'd only actually have to go into the city on rare occasions, perfectly able to fulfil his Centurion duties between research sessions, after all, it wasn't like he hadn't juggled a job through his Masters, right? Besides, when was an opportunity like this going to present itself again? All the knowledge he could ask for at his fingertips! There were tomes so rare that Malik never figured he'd ever get a chance to study from one in his lifetime. And they were just sitting there, casually aging at the back of the beautiful library. Could he ever forgive himself for not leaping at this chance? It was that, more than anything that swayed the Roman demigod, the prospect of all the knowledge he'd be missing out on was too strong to ignore. Malik was a firm believer that with knowledge came insight, and with insight came wisdom, something to guide his day to day decisions. Besides, what was waiting for him back in Seattle? His lease had expired, his friends had graduated and migrated away, there was nothing new to learn there.

When morning had rolled around, Malik had made his choice; there was simply too much going on here to walk away from. He'd agreed, and Praetor Emmanual had given him a brief rundown of what his duties entailed and a lecture on how the mechanics and structure of the camp worked; all of the core, basic stuff he'd need to know pretty much. However, it was a huge amount to take in, and Malik was one to know that he'd need way more advice before he started, and had approached Senior Centurion Linslee for advice. It had been enlightening to say the least, he'd gotten a lot of little tricks, little small hints and things that would add up and make his life, and the Third's, so much easier. It was still a lot to digest, and he'd taken notes... a lot of notes, and Sienna had helped as well! He wasn't going to be starting his PHD until September, so he had a few months to work things out and get everything ordered. First thing's first, get to know the Cohort. Get to know them on a personal level, establish that sense of rapport. It wasn't like the classroom environment that he was used to leading, these were a group of people who lived together and worked together. Most of all, trust had to be established.

His plan was to catch a few of the cohort before they headed to bed, lights out was lights out, and he was the one to be enforcing that now, but there was no reason they couldn't chillax before that. Pushing his way into the building, his mind awhirl with all the different things he was trying to keep track of, Malik glanced at his watch before flicking his gaze down the row of bunks. Seven thirty, still time. Letting his backpack drop to the ground, he let out a small sigh of satisfaction; the bag had been filled to the brim with books from the library and had been cutting into his shoulders. Grabbing the tattered pair of old clothes he used as pyjamas, he headed for the shower. Quick and warm, he was out again in less than ten minutes, his hair still damp, and made his way across the large room. When he'd accepted the position, Malik had moved all of his stuff to one of the bunks next to the door. He trusted the cohort, but no sense in blind trust, right?

Daelia was on her stomach, sketchbook out. She didn’t normally draw where anybody in the Third could observe her, but she was exhausted after a full day of solely training in the arena and desperately needed a distraction from everything. Since she appeared to have no natural talent in fighting with anything larger than a small dagger, she was determined to at least work hard enough to be able to use one in a fight against a monster and hopefully not add any more scars to her large collection. After coming from that last lesson that had killed her arms and informed her of muscles she had not realized existed, Daelia had immediately taken the longest shower she could without getting in trouble for wasting water, then gone to her bed where she had collapsed. To distract herself, she had taken out her sketchbook and oil pastels, which was a rarity. Daelia normally used charcoal to draw, but there was one image she had been dreaming about for a while and she had to get it out of her head.

As she drew the beautiful, sloping green hills with the loveliest blue sky and fluffy, white clouds, Daelia thought about the new centurion. She didn’t know much about him. Actually, she didn’t know anything and had hardly had a conversation with those in the Third. Perhaps that had to change. She thought she would have been jealous that someone even newer than she had been selected as centurion, but she had only felt relief. Daelia felt that she was the last person who should be given such an honor, especially one who had only been at camp for a couple months. And besides, she had never been a team player, which had shown itself even in primary school. She was always the one who had been stuck with a group during team projects and when the kids were allowed choose their group, she always chose to work alone. Then her mother died and Daelia really was all alone, not even by choice. Still, while other social creatures might not have done so well by themselves, she thrived. Of course, she had been living off of her mother’s savings, but she still did well by herself. Upon her arrival at Camp Jupiter, Daelia had been dismayed by all the team work she had seen just by walking across the camp. Of course she had suspected this would happen when she had heard it was a Roman camp, but she was still surprised by how much one Roman depended on another to get things done.

Daelia frowned as she drew the small flowers, using purple and white. They didn’t look quite right. Abandoning the purple pastel, Daelia rooted around in the kit until she found a quite diminished red one. Using this pastel, she nodded in appreciation. That was better. She wondered when she should meet the rest of her Cohort. It shouldn’t be that difficult, since they all literally lived together, but Daelia had pushed back the meeting so much, she didn’t know any of them. She had met several in other cohorts and even went to the Greek camp, but hadn’t met the people she was living with. She doubted they knew anything about her, maybe not even her name. Daelia knew the name of one other in the Third, Darius, but that was it. She did not even know the new centurion’s name. That definitely had to change. Perhaps the centurion would be arranging the meeting, save her all the trouble of organizing. That would be helpful. After all, if she were the one in charge, she would definitely make sure she knew everything about everyone in her cohort, especially the troublemakers.

What time was it? Daelia grabbed her satchel and stuck her hand inside without bothering to look. She was relatively neat when it came to things and everything should be in place. Her mother had been especially strict when it came to neatness and though they weren’t the poorest people in Dublin, they hadn’t been particularly wealthy, and her mother always believed in keeping everything right in its place. Daelia didn’t even know if neatness came naturally to her, it was a virtue her mother had drilled inside her head at a young age. Finally, her hand touched a familiar object and brought it out. Half past seven. She still had time before lights out. Daelia frowned at her painting. It was missing something. Ah. In her dream, there had been a river. She had no idea where this picture had come from, perhaps somewhere she had visited as a small child. Daelia sketched the path of the river, then filled it in with alternating shades of blue, and last but not least the current. There, now it was complete.

She jammed all of her art supplies back in her satchel, which she put in a larger backpack at the foot of her bunk. Then Daelia tacked up the painting next to her other illustrations, mostly charcoal pictures. The bright oil pastel stood out compared to the dark, dramatic charcoal, which made it stand out even more. She just wished she knew the significance of it. Just then, somebody passed her bunk to one near to the door. Somebody clearly didn’t trust their bunkmates. Then she recognized the centurion. Daelia might not know his name, but she definitely recognized him. She hastily sat up, but didn’t know what to do. Perhaps she should have planned this out, just so she knew how to act. Daelia cleared her throat to say something, then hesitated. When she was new, she forced herself in the habit of introducing herself as to appear friendly, and yet that didn’t seem like the right course of action here. Perhaps the centurion already knew her name. It would be embarrassing if that was true.

Standing, Daelia finally decided to cross over and talk to the new centurion. If there was any formal way to address a person of higher rank, she was oblivious. Daelia gave a small smile that was more nervous than friendly and said, “Hi, I’m Daelia. I believe you’re the new centurion?”

((Hey! Sorry this took so long, was giving Darius a chance to respond then things got crazy with uni))

Perfect! Daelia approached him. It'd make his stretching the conversation out more natural. True, it was only his third day at camp and the others had flown by in a whirl trying to pick everything up that he needed to know. He still didn't understand why they didn't just transfer a veteran over from one of the other Cohorts, but a job was a job and he wasn't going to complain. Malik was used to juggling work and research, and his time at camp wasn't going to be any different... except the extraordinary resources the Library had at hand. He also couldn't believe the Camp didn't have a Librarian. It was astounding that such an oversight could have lingered for so long. The books was incredible and to be neglected so! That was going to change, even if that was another job he'd have to do himself. Hm, it might even mean he wouldn't have to do all the outdoor training and could instead focus on research... Definitely something he was going to bring up with Elijah. Two, actually, three birds with one stone.

Grinning, he held out a hand in greeting. He'd seen her name and picture in the files but there was no need to mention that, some people around camp weren't totally cool with the strict, almost totalitarian, vibe of camp and he had no idea how Daelia felt about the matter. Perhaps not too badly otherwise she wouldn't have approached, right? It'd be something he had to find out, but not right now, that'd come later. Hey, yeah, that's me. I'm Malik. Pleasure to meet you. He took in the brown hair, the crystal eyes and the Irish lilt. He'd watched Brooklyn a week or so before he'd left Seattle and had loved it. The movie had brought him to tears of laughter and tears of sadness; in his eyes Saorise Ronan really deserved to win an Oscar for that performance. The film had been... so relatable. If his mum was still around, there would have been no chance he'd be staying in New York. As it was, Malik couldn't help but feel the movie had some sway over his decision to remain on the East Coast. Maybe it was the romantic inside of him that felt like he could build a new life here like she had, even though it was complete fiction and the country was not what it was sixty years ago. I hope you're not angry they chose me by the way. I didn't ask for the position. All I knew at the time was the Cohort was severely understaffed and needed the manpower. I'm new to all this and could use all the help I can get. It was all true and he gave her a warm smile, dropping into his signature slouch. It'd been born from too many hours tapping away at a laptop screen or bent over books in the weak light of his room.

He pulled a small energy bar from his pocket and offered it to the Irish girl; the kind of bar that hikers might take with them on a long trip where the energy didn't come in bursts but was slow over a long period of time. Daelia looked a little weary and it could help her stay awake a little longer but most likely wouldn't stop her heading off to bed when she wanted to. Okay, now transition. Time to get to know Daelia. Hey, I noticed you painting as I came through earlier. Hobby of yours? He couldn't say he knew much about the medium, and despite being a huge proponent of writing as a premium source of communication and entertainment had to admit that there were certain distinct advantages that could be gained from including imagery. It could allow more complex level of understanding to be effectively communicated in a way that writing never could. He'd still never go to an art show though, he was very much in the boat that the paintings were far better playing a supportive role than holding a spotlight for themselves.