Loose Triggers (Charlie)

Strangely, Violet found the arena to be one of the more comfortable places in camp Jupiter. There was so much going on around her, so many sounds and sights, that she couldn't focus on just one. So, she forced herself not to even try. What resulted was a young daughter of Ceres sitting on one of the benches arena-side, contemplating her own inner thoughts. With so many distractions around her, she forced herself to tune out of her surroundings, and today, she thought of home.

In her hands, a photograph. It was a picture of her, and her dad. Damon Clarke was a big man, standing at 6'3", with broad shoulders and a strong core. He sported a buzz-cut, a little bit of stubble and, almost always, a pair of aviator shades. In the photo, he wore a khaki t-shirt and cargo pants. A wide cheesy grin adorned his lips, and he had a burly arm wrapped around his daughter. Around her. In this photo, Violet was about 16. Her hair was dyed purple, and she was wearing a pair of protective glasses and earmuffs, as well as a baseball hat. In her hands, a Glock 17, the first handgun, the first gun, she had ever used. She'd first used the Glock on the day that photo was taken. Her dad had always liked heading out to the shooting range to clear his head, but it was only when she turned sixteen that he finally agreed to take her with him.

She remembered the rush she had felt when she first fired the gun at a target. The loud bang was heard faintly though the earmuffs, and her hands jolted with the force of the gun. Sure, her aim had been all off, but that was all part of the fun. After unloading her first magazine, her father scooped her up into his arms, assuring her that she'd learn to aim over time. The daughter of Ceres had been overcome with laughter.

Those were the days. Days like those were rare. Most of the time now, Violet was off at camp, and Damon was off serving with the armed forces, making a difference. There was never a day she didn't miss him. Which was what brought along days like this. When she would just go somewhere, anywhere, sit down and look at photographs of her dad. Sometimes they brought tears. Today, that was not the case. She knew she'd see her dad again soon, and she'd cherish every second of it.

One of the pitiful things about both the Greek and Roman armories was that guns weren't allowed. Why they weren't, Charlie wasn't even sure. After all, there were various inventions in both camps which were up-to-date with mortal world technology. She had come to the Roman armory hoping that the other camp would have different rules about weapons, only for her hopes to be dashed. Just like the Greek armory, the Roman armory had a vast selection of melee weapons, ranging from the kopis to the odd katana or two, but the most advanced projectile weapons were bows and crossbows. Charlie rolled her eyes as she inspected an Imperial Gold bow decorated with purple gemstones. She had never been particularly fond of archery, and was annoyed by the fact that both camps were such traditionalists sometimes. Guns were more practical, especially if they crafted guns with silver bullets in order to fight those pesky wolf monsters. She supposed she would have to bring it up with Chiron, though she doubted that the old centaur would warm up to the idea of Celestial Bronze guns. 

As she walked around the armory, Charlie continued to inspect the weapons, ignoring the only other person in the room. Once or twice she tried to observe the girl, but the girl wasn't really doing anything. It looked as if she had a photograph in her hands, but Charlie couldn't tell from where she was standing. Perhaps the girl was studying blueprints? From what she had heard about the Roman camp, they were usually trained to use the standard gladius, pugio, and pilum, which probably meant that all those fancy weapons had to be earned. After all, what was the point of legionnaire-style fighting if everyone had their own ways of taking down monsters? That difference was precisely why the Greeks and Romans didn't usually work together in the first place. Aside from the fact that they have had bad blood since the Trojan war, the Greeks' individualistic fighting style would not suit the military strategies of the Legion. Charlie picked up a pugio with a Latin inscription on it, translating the text in her head as she stared into the dagger. Just as she looked into the dagger, it had the reflection of the other girl for a moment, and she was able to catch a glimpse of what's on the paper in the girl's hands. It did look like a photograph, but of what, Charlie couldn't tell. Despite her curiosity, she decided to let the girl have her moment. It wasn't like she came here to have friends anyway.

She eventually gave up on searching some of the closed drawers, which she had thought would contain some guns. 'No guns, no glory,' she sighed as she walked around the room, amused by the wordplay which used a popular English phrase. No guts, no glory. 'Not even a BB gun in sight. Unbelievable.'

It wasn't too long before Violet pocketed the photograph, standing up once more. She'd come to the armory as she thought it would be her dad's favorite place in camp. All of the antique weaponry, the children of Vulcan hammering away in their forge. The action outside in the arena. Alas, he was not here, so Violet would have to enjoy such sights alone.

Or rather, not alone at all. She had been joined in the armory by another girl. She looked around Violet's age, and wore an outfit akin to something the daughter of Ceres would wear herself, normally. Today, she sported something a little more comfortable, given the sun that was beating down on camp that day.  A blue checkered shirt was draped over her shoulders, and she was wearing a black t-shirt with denim shorts. A circlet of daisies sat on her head. She'd made a habit of wearing floral accessories ever since being claimed.  Violet watched the other girl for a second, noticing how she seemed unimpressed by the array of weapons hanging from the walls and sitting on shelves.

Then, just before leaving, the girl muttered something about guns. Violet hadn't heard anyone talking about guns ever since she'd arrived at camp, and in a way, it drove her a little crazy. She hadn't been able to talk to anyone about guns ever since arriving at camp. She'd been a little scared to bring it up in conversation. Some people had very strong opposition to gun ownership across the states. Not that she blamed them. It didn't matter too much to her now, as she'd found someone who, possibly, had an interest in the weapons her father taught her to use. Just before the other girl walked out of the room, Violet spoke confidently, though a little nervous that the girl would not hear her or would ignore her, leaving the girl in the armory alone, in her awkward silence.
"You shoot?"