Don't Stick Me, Please {Eliot/Open}

[leland]

Swords were never Leland's strong suit. In fact, he practically did everything within his power to avoid picking one up. Some demigod he was, sitting here in the Dining Pavilion, avoiding Swords and Shields practice. He was tired of having to try to explain himself for not participating in class, which in and of its self was a monumental task. He could always feel the jeers and judgements of the other demigods. He was different, like he didn't want to learn to survive. He probably wouldn't last long in the real world once camp was over, he understood that. And the gods knew that he couldn't rely on Eliot forever, as much as he would have liked that. He just didn't like the idea of being stabbed and stabbing, he couldn't bring himself to do it. Violence, fighting... none of it was his thing. He was terrified by the idea of injuring someone.

He'd found himself playing with a pencil somebody had left on the table. Lunch wasn't for while still, so nobody would really have rhyme or reason for coming in the pavilion. But he couldn't stay in here all day, much as he would like that as well. He'd just wait until sword practice was over. He sighed, pushing the pencil away and taking out a spool of thread in his pocket. Setting it down on the table, he unraveled a length a string, wrapping it around his fingers. Strange obsession of his, but hey, it ran in the family. He bit off the string from the spool, tying the loose ends together and started doing string tricks, another small talent of his he rather enjoyed.

He sat at the table quietly, doing all sorts of complicated tricks and such. The string just seemed to coil around his fingers so naturally, so elegantly. He stared at the string as he worked it into complicated patterns, almost like watching it take a life of it's own. The sound of running and kids yelling drew him out of his mesmerized stupor. He blinked a bit, looking around to see if anyone had come to invade his alone time. Thankfully there were none and he sighed, taking the string from his fingers and looping it back around the spool, placing it gingerly back into his pocket. Folding his arms, he placed them on the table, soon after resting his head on them. He stole a glance at his watch, frowning that it still wasn't past time for sword practice.

---

Words: 418
Outfit: Some typical camp stuff.
Muse: Bleh
Music: N/A
Notes: Crappy starting muse. Such a bad start to this site. ;A;

[eliot]

Swords practice was over. At least for Eliot, it was. He hated dealing with the other demigods. Why he always attempted to partake in the lessons was beyond him. It never took a full five minutes before some kid opened their mouths and prompted a swift punch to the gut and a livid Eliot storming off to Gods knows where. It wasn’t just that but from the way they treated his little cousin, Leland...well, he wasn’t going to idly sit by and let them run their mouths. It amazed him how idiotic today’s generation has become. Everywhere he turned, Eliot saw only immature, juvenile delinquents that obviously didn’t know their place at all. What a hopeless bunch.

Eliot wandered around the camp, by himself, occasionally keeping an eye out in case Leland was around. Everyone knew Eliot had a terrible temper. His mother, Atropos, is the oldest daughter of the Night Goddess, Nyx, who supervised fate rather than determined it. She is the Fate who cut the thread of life. She was known as the "Inflexible" or "Inevitable" and cut the threads with her ‘abhorred shears.’ She worked along with Clotho, the youngest of the Fates who spun the thread, and Lachesis, the middle Fate who measured the length. He often replayed this little history of his mother and her sisters in his mind which reminded him of who he was. Of all the fates, Atropos was most likely the most dangerous. Her son Eliot, seemed to have inherited a similar demeanor. He was an ill-tempered, brash, intimidating young man with a constant need to sever or slice something. He just wasn’t one to be kind. And if others had a problem with it, that was fine with him. If they felt the need to judge, let them. What mattered to him the most was how he felt about himself.

He found himself walking over towards the Dining Pavilion area. Didn’t matter to him as long as there will be some peace and quiet there. A camper suddenly bumped into and spat out a rude, “Watch it,” as he glared at the son of Atropos. Eliot in turn, shoved the kid so hard, he fell on his back, landing with a sickening thud. “Shut it, kid, or you’ll find yourself without an arm or leg pretty soon.” he threatened dangerously. The demigod tried to hold Eliot’s gaze but eventually caved in and scuttled away. “Hmph. Imbecile.”

He continued his trek towards the Dining Pavilion, stepping inside hoping to find the place empty. And he did...except for one person. A boy with their head resting on the table. Eliot inwardly groaned and was about to turn and leave until he looked the boy over once more. He blinked, and realized that it was Leland who was sitting at the table. Eliot glanced around and behind him once, then stepped inside and silently approached his cousin. When he was close enough to touch the boy, he stopped right behind him. “Hey.” he greeted simply.

~*~*~*~*~

Word Count: 502
Muse: :V Bleh, Eliot muse is being so stubborn.
Notes: Yeah, same here, TS. XD We'll get there though.

[leland]

At least he was getting away from practice, he reasoned, even after staring at the wall for ten minutes plus. He breathed slowly, starting to relax slightly. He was far from tired or sleepy, he was a morning person, so he just kept staring at the wall and occasionally around at the tables, absorbing in detail. His fingers found their way back to the pencil earlier abandoned, before pushing it around and rolling it on the slightly slanted table. Blinking, he took another glance at his watch. He sighed a little bit, even though he knew it wouldn't be time to leave. He flopped his arm back down on the table, head still resting on top of the other, wristwatch in viewing sight.

Leland stared at the hands on his watch, hearing the tiny battery work to move the hands. Tick... tock... tick.... tock... He was momentarily entranced by the clock. It reminded him heavily of the clocks he everyday saw above people's heads. Some of them solved, most here at camp, not, and he wanted it that way. The watch wasn't exactly like the stopwatch-esque countdowns he saw, but it was time all the same. In his daze, he didn't hear or even notice Eliot until the elder cousin spoke from directly behind him.

So very typical of Leland, he was immediately pulled from his stupor and startled at the voice. Jerking his head up, he flipped around and gave an exasperated sigh, seeing the second party member. He pushed some bangs from his face and looked up at the elder. Usually, Leland was close to being a paranoid schizophrenic, but when it came to Eliot, his cousin almost always snuck up on him and scared him. Had he been paying attention, he might have felt Eliot approach, but as per usual, he wasn't and was by penalty, startled. He often times reminded himself of a deer, with his panic-prone, cautious, scared, and flighty nature.

Plink. He turned his attention for a moment to the pencil that had fallen from the table. He glanced down to it, before bending over to stoop and sweep it up, placing it back on the table where he'd found it as he stood up. Turning back to Eliot, he signed: Practice over so soon?

---

Words: 380
Outfit: --
Muse: Craptastic
Music: Strange & Beautiful, Tongue-Tied, Left Behind, You Turn Me Around by Aqualung
Notes: Hopefully that will happen. :V Aqualung helped boost my muse.

[Ryan Simons]

And how can the world want me to change?
They're the ones that stay the same
They don't know me
Cause I'm not here

~I'm Still Here, Goo Goo Dolls[/size][/font][/right]

A boy of fifteen began walking towards the Dining Pavilion. He really hoped that this place was empty. Then again, nothing ever worked out for him. The boy rolled his eyes. Stupid Camp, he hated it. There were to many friggin people everywhere! No one could have an alone moment because this camp was so full, at least one or two people were somewhere at any given time. The only alone part of the day he had, was when he sneaked off into the forest during the night. Even then he wasn't alone; he had monsters for company, although he hadn't really met up with any and he hoped to keep it that way.

He thought that others would think differently. It would be so much better if he just disappeared one day and someone found his body never to wake up again. Camp's dream, to get rid of the son of Ares. He rolled his angry grey eyes and continued up to the eating place. Knowing stupid demigod luck, combined with his own, there would be people there. He was the more independent, negative, I hate the world, antisocial type. The teen was mostly an outsider to everyone; he didn't have any friends, and never wanted any. If anyone ever cared to watch him, most of the time he was alone. If he wasn't, he was usually telling someone off, or in a fight with them, be it verbal or physical. Civil conversation was not in his vocabulary. Not much was; he had lived in Camp for three years, and had come to realize that he had grown up sort of sheltered and under a rock. Whatever, he didn't care. He was only here to become the best fighter he could and just try to live another day. Become the best fighter and live another day... away from everyone else.

Ryan neared the Pavilion, he could see two others. He growled and rolled his eyes. See? Point proven about how no one could get any alone time because of the over crowdedness of Hades on the gods dang run earth. The son of Ares growled and gritted his teeth. He had been approaching, so no way was he just going to turn around and leave. His stubbornness took over him. Even though there were two people here, which he absolutely despised, he was not going to back down now. He had made a commitment to coming here and he was going to stay here. Period. He walked straight past the two that were talking to eachother. Well, one was talking, the other was making hand gestures. Ryan rolled his eyes. Whatever. He took some salad and then just sat at any random table he chose, ignoring the ever changing fire entirely. Ryan was not going to sit at a fricken assigned table for his stupid parent (in his head he had none) and he wasn't going to give the gods anything either. If the others were any goody two shoes, let them tell Fish Face and Owl Brian, Ryan didn't give a dang.

OOC: Hope you don't mind me coming into the thread
Character Name: Ryan Simons
Word From the Character: -_- STUPID CREATOR! Stop making me meet people!
Mood: Angry, Stubborn
To: Eliot Kingsley, Leland Chevalier
IC Word Count: 522
Made By: Ellie Brigid at Olympian Prophecy

Legend:
"Ryan Speaking"
Ryan Thinking
Ryan's Story Thinking

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