Not A Speck of Light is Showing +Open

[moros]

Night time. Moros had to admit that he was grateful for it. If he was forced to endure yet another moment of chipper camp sing alongs or games of tag he was going to have to shoot one of the Apollo kids with their own bows. It was a horrible thought and not that he minded having it but it only crossed him mind because he was all out of sorts. He was the god of doomsday and he most definitely did not at all belong in a place like he was at. They might as well have named the place Camp Happy Days, he felt like he was in a re-run of the Brady Bunch. He really abhorred that show. With the exception of a few minor relationship spats he was left helpless with nothing but giggles and grins. He had strongly debated his mortality by noon.

Fortunately the sun had gone down a moment to soon. The only thing that annoyingly lingered was the glow of the Artemis Cabin. Decidedly he didn't mine to much, as much as Olympians annoyed him the Goddess of the Hunt wasn't a particular nuissance to him. Unlike the rest of them she was more like him. She did what she had to and stayed out of everyone else's way. Doing what they were supposed too. That was half the reason that Moros had showed up at the gods forsaken camp in the first place. There somethings going on that just couldn't continue to happen. Certain cards were in play because they were meant to be. The trouble was, some one was dealing out more cards and that just wasn't allowed.

Moros hated the Fates but that didn't stop him from doing their dirty work. He was doomed to know how things would end and endings changed when people messed with things they shouldn't have. Moros didn't like change, especially when he wasn't the reason for it. So in his twisted little mind he devised a plan to undo what ever this person had done and slowly cause their plan to unravel. Doomsday was his thing and he was going to be damned before he let anyone mess with that. Especially if it was one of those pansy gods who thought they were special for being the spawn of Olympus.

The men that sat atop their polished thrones were pure idiots and most the women were foul and vain. There were three or four perhaps he didn't hate but even they had their moments. In some ways they were the reason for his bitterness and so they were deserving of his hatred. Though some of them were also innocent. Either way, some one was walking on dangerous ground and he would not have it. The perpetrator would pay.

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[Azrael Everett]

Azrael rocked back and forth in his hammock. Cabins were never his thing, reminded him too much of summer camp. He snickered at the thought. Using that as the sole reason as to why Azrael did not occupy the cabin of his father was weak. The real reason was that Azrael felt like an outcast even in a crowd of people, he always felt a lone. It didn’t help that his stupid demi god inherited gift was deadly. Like seriously deadly. He never used it on anyone except monsters but it wasn’t like he could control it every time. It was constantly on and he would have to concentrate hard to just dull the effect.

Unable to sleep, like most nights since his arrival at camp, Azrael took to starring up at the dark canopy of the forest. He was fully capable of handling himself so the monsters of the forest didn’t bother him. Well, sometimes they bothered him but he took care of them easy. It was never the monsters on his mind but that certain daughter of Hermes, Avery. He had seen her and Ryan the Ares boy come back from their quest bruised, bloodied and broken. They had lost the third half-blood on the quest and two of them blamed their individual selves for the death. Azrael knew how heavy guilt sat on a person’s chest when it came to death.

Azrael wasn’t fully over Katrina’s death and he was sure he never would be. You don’t just forget the first person you love. And while Azrael had begun to blame the Gods for the death of the daughter of Aphrodite, he knew he was still to blame at the same time. He promised to protect her and get her safely to camp and he couldn’t even do that. Azrael sighed and shut his eyes as the image of Katrina was replaced once again by Avery Reynolds. She reminded him of Katrina in so many ways but she was different in many more, and it was the differences that Azrael loved. Loved. Love. He didn’t know what that word was supposed to mean or how to relate it to another person and he sure as Hades didn’t want to place it with Avery for fear that she would soon die after his feelings started to grow. That and well, she was a little young for him barely over the age 18.

“Gods Az, get over yourself.” He grumbled placing his hands over his face. Azrael hadn’t been able to stop thinking about Avery and worrying about her since her return. Even though he hardly knew her Azrael didn’t want anything bad to ever happen to her again. But knowing the stubborn nature of that girl, she had a whole world of bad things coming her way. Half of which Az was certain she would go looking for. He smirked sadly wondering if she would ever let him by her side when that bad trouble came her way again.

Azrael sat up alert after something made a noise to break his thoughts of Avery. Assuming it was another creature out to try and kill him—wishful thinking—Azrael climbed out of his hammock and slid his boot son his feet. He tried to peer through the darkness with only the light of the moon and that blasted Artemis cabin acting as a genuine night light. It caused glares and more shadows making nothing in this forest trustworthy. Azrael cracked his knuckles and put his hands out in front of him ready to tackle or wrestle with whatever came his way. When nothing charged after a minute Azrael snorted and called out into the thick night.

“I thought you freaks knew by now not to try and sneak up on me, it’s never ended well for those who tried.” Azrael strained his eyes thinking he saw something, or someone. The shadow looked human but Azrael couldn’t be sure. He stayed on guard though, no one in their right mind came out here at night except for Az and his brother Dan. “Whose there?” He bent his knees slightly ready to pounce. “Hey buddy, are you deaf I just asked you a question. Show yourself!” Az’s voice echoed through the night bouncing off the trees. He was beginning to wonder if he should have stayed in his hammock and just ignored the sound.

WORD COUNT//733

[moros]

Moros was not in the mood for idiots just then, especially demi-god idiots. For what ever reason some of them believed that they were actually the most fearsome things he would encounter and they we fools for thinking so. It was one thing to be tough in the face of other campers or a monster who was usually to stupid to know how to kill you. Moros was neither and though he usually didn't mess with what was meant to be, there were those select few people who were meant to be ended by him. For a moment Moros' anger halted as he found himself wondering who would actually want to sit in the middle of the forest at night and alone none the less. Not that it was all that horrifying put they had a slight mortality issue. If it's a son of Ares I really might have to destroy him, Moros found himself thinking. For what ever reason they were always the most annoying campers to him when it came to bravado. Apparently a sufficiency at violence allowed them to actually believe they were invincible. He wondered how many dead demi-gods regretted that now. A fair share undoubtedly death had always had a way of humbling people.

It took a moment but when Moros actually registered what he had said everything changed. Had this little rock in his shoe actually just called him a freak? He considered it for a moment trying to remain his composure. He had said you freaks which suggested he meant campers and Moros was most definitely not a camper. It wasn't a son of Ares he decided. They would never really warn anyone, no matter how stupid a choice it was. Moros some how was able to disregard his threats, he was used to people talking with out realizing what they were saying. This kid was persistent though and it was doing nothing for Moros' attempts to behave himself. He wasn't really obligated to be good by any higher power but things ran much more smoothly with out interruptions. His purpose usually was just to urge people in to certain directions that would ultimately end in their demise. He had met a few gods and goddesses who told him he was weak for never really taking action. Those insults often ended badly for their children. Moros was more laid back then most, but he didn't take well to insults.

It was quickly evident that this boy who insisted on knowing who he was had never gotten that message. Buddy had caused his control to break and asking him if he was deaf, well that just threw Moros over the edge. Silently Moros moved towards the idiot who thought it was a good idea to taunt the things that go bump in the night. As he drew closer Moros couldn't help but to think this kid looked familiar though he wasn't sure why. Someone around him had probably died, which didn't really narrow anything down seeing as everyone Moros encountered had some sort of death in it. "Boo," said Moros in monotone once he was standing in front of the boy. He eyed him for a second, seeing if he could remember what he had to do with anything. Then a twisted sort of smile crossed his face when he realized this was a son of Thanatos. "Well this makes things so much more interesting." It was more of a nonchalant comment, as if he could have been talking about anything in the world. Part of Moros was tempted to push him over the edge before the boy was able to say another word.

In fairness, the boy had insulted him first. That was about all the convincing that he required, he didn't take well to insults. "How's Katrina?" he questioned calmly, no longer smiling from before. Moros didn't know about their relationship per say, but he knew enough of how it ended to know she was more then just a friend to this boy. In the back of his mind Moros found himself thanking Thanatos. Having so few children made it so much easier for Moros to deduce what tragic story goes with which. The other boys was interestingly tragic, but more or less had a happy ending. This kid, Azrael he recalled, things just kept getting worse for him. For a moment Moros wondered what would come of him but what he ended up seeing was far more satisfying then any son of Thanatos' death.

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[Azrael Everett]

Azrael momentarily glanced over his shoulder and when he looked back there was a kid standing in front of him. The fact that he hadn’t been there before made Azrael jump; it wasn’t the cliché “boo.” His breath caught in his chest for a moment. He clung to his heart and glared at the kid. “Geez, trying to kill a guy?” Azrael was a bit relieved that it wasn’t a monster or whatever that was wandering around in the dark. Still this kid was a few monkeys short of a full barrel if he thought walking around in the woods after curfew was a good idea.

Azrael did a sort of double take though the longer he looked at the kid. His brow furrowed confused and slightly concerned about the evil smirk the little jerk had on his face. Azrael rolled his shoulders back and stood up tall, but they appeared to be around the same height. He surveyed the boy in the darkness. The following comment the weird freaky mysterious guy in the dark made raised a slight alarm in Azrael’s head. He realized that he had never seen this guy around camp and there was something in the way he said it that made Arzael think twice about him being just any old demigod.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” He growled. “Look I’m not exactly in the mood for whatever game you’re trying to play. If you want to become puppy chow for some hellhound or birdseed for a harpie be my guest. I’m not protecting your—“ Azrael froze. Every muscle in his body tensed. Katrina. How did he know about her? It wasn’t just the mentioning of her name that caused the reaction but the fact that Azrael had no idea who this guy was. Though now he had a sneaking suspicion. There was only one way he could know about Katrina. He was a God, no one in this camp knew about her.

His hands clenched into tight fists. It was a shame he was a God, it meant that he would not be able to kill him. Azrael didn’t care what kind of God he was; a line had been crossed at the topic of Katrina. He was obviously toying with him to see how far he could push Azrael. He didn’t know this God but he already hated him and it showed in his eyes even in the darkness. Trying to push the memory of Katrina aside Azrael spoke, “Who the hell is asking?” He failed to keep the emotion from his voice. It was obvious that he was bothered, a whole lot by the topic. Azrael felt his stomach do a tiny flip as the image of Katrina’s dead body flashed through his head. “I wasn’t aware that the Gods actually cared to learn her name. After all her mother did a piss poor job of protecting her.” As did I. He thought bitterly. Azrael scoffed, “What do you want besides sneaking a peak at me while I’m sleeping. Creep.” It probably wasn’t the best idea to pick at a God but Azrael could care less at this point.

WORD COUNT//530