Camp Half Blood

[shippingmath]

Welcome, Demigods!

"If you're reading this because you think you might be one, my advice is: close this book right now. Being a half-blood is dangerous."

[Basically, if you've ever wanted to throw your character into the world of Heroes of Olympus, now you can! Make them a Greek demigod! Make them Roman! Make them a Satyr if you want. Just make it so that they've always been here (If they have, all the better for them.) Post with a few options, or let people respond with their own! Have fun.]

Comments

[urnewkingbitch]

It is not.

Still, not surprisin' you're one of hers. I'm just ashamed that I didn't see it sooner. How's mom takin' this?

Gamzee Makara

[420]

[Option A]

[For anyone who cares to notice, there is pan flute music coming from a little into the woods. Which... is not very surprising or unique, not in a camp populated by quite a few satyrs. The quality of the music though --it sounds like the pan equivalent of elevator music-- makes it quite easier to figure out who exactly is responsible here. And sure enough, behind a few trees, in the middle of a small clearing, Gamzee can be found chilling the fuck out, as he would put it himself.

He ain't wearing pants. Of course, he ain't wearing pants. If you had ever felt how bad a fur-and-fabric wedgie could get, you'd understand. You'd understand. He's wearing a shirt though. A nice tie-dye shirt that seems to scream 'if lost, please burn or return to the nineteen-sixties'.

As stated before, Gamzee is laying down a tune. A lazy tune that makes the plants between his hooves wriggle and grow, unfurling leaves as they shoot up from between the grass and that is not a dandelion, damnit Gamzee.]



[Option B]

[Lay it on me I will follow you like fucking sister act.]

[urnewkingbitch]

No worries, I'll talk to 'em. I might not be one of Aphrodite's kids, but I'm on pretty good terms with the nymphs. Might be able to smooth it over.

[He hopes, anyway.]

[matini]

[Roxanne nods, expecting the response.]

Okay. Any chance for holiday visits from my favorite daughter? Or I suppose I could come over here to visit.

[cephalopodcounselor]

[She can tell it's a farce. It's painfully obvious when he's hamming it up.]

No. It's hardly my fault if you suffer from petrifying phantasms while you slumber. If anything you should blame Cthulhu.

[cephalopodcounselor]

And give you the opportunity to cause another scene? I'll come home.

[It's much easier to escape back to camp from home than escape from her when she's visiting here.]

[matini]

Oooo, don't be so mean, Rosie. I just want my darling daughter to know I love her. Besides, Mutini misses you, too.

[rued rose gosh]

[cephalopodcounselor]

[She rolls her eyes.]

You already flagrantly disregarded the rules by coming here, why didn't you go the extra mile and bring Mutini with you.

[matini]

Because I didn't want him to get eaten by the harpies or whatever else is in the forest.

[She smiles sweetly.]

[cephalopodcounselor]

Why would the bother with eating the cat when they could eat you? The cat's not the one flouting the rules.

[Rose returns the smile, though it's hardly sweet.]

[matini]

The harpies know better, and the monsters wouldn't care if it's a cat or a demigod who got in its way when it's hungry. And, like you, he's a gift.

[Unlike Rose, she can protect the cat better. She knows she can't do the same for her daughter as much as she'd like.]

[cephalopodcounselor]

Thanks for comparing me to a cat.

[matini]

Haven't you always been catty?

[She couldn't resist the pun, sorry not sorry Rose.]

[cephalopodcounselor]

Ha. Ha.

[Not amused.]

What a relief it is to everyone that you're not a comedienne.

[matini]

You're precious to me as well. More so than the cat, naturally, but. Well.

[Roxanne shrugs slightly. He's sometimes all the company she has.]

He's part of our family, too.

[cephalopodcounselor]

You're really laying it on thick today, aren't you?

[matini]

I do have a reputation to uphold as a daughter of the love goddess.

[In all honesty, though, she's not quite sure why she's feeling sentimental lately. Perhaps it's her version of a midlife crisis.]

[cephalopodcounselor]

And I have my reputation to uphold as a daughter of the goddess of magic.

[A beat.]

I don't want to know how you managed to get knocked up by a goddess, so please spare me the details.

[matini]

[She can't help grinning, maybe a touch evilly.]

The lovely and bewitching Hecate is the goddess of magic, so it shouldn't be terribly surprising. The secrets to how she gives birth to her children when she's partnered with another woman are hers to tell, though.

[cephalopodcounselor]

Thank the gods you went with the boring answer. I might have had to resort to self-immolation if you'd said anything else.

[matini]

Dear, if you really wanted to know, you could always ask her. I'm sure she'd tell you how the miracle of life happens.

[cephalopodcounselor]

I know how the miracle of life happens. I found a book on the subject at the school library when I was in first grade.

[matini]

Goddesses tend to be different. Just ask the Athena children.

[cephalopodcounselor]

Yes, I'm completely aware of how they are literally her brain children, as expected of the maiden goddess of wisdom. However, Hecate's realm also includes crossroads and childbirth. If anyone should be upheld to the standards of normalcy when it pertains to the act of creating children, it would logically be her.

Sandor Clegane

[lionsdog]

[Off in one part of the camp, by himself, there's a young man. He's near the trees, almost in the woods, hacking the ever-loving hell out of a straw dummy with his sword. Some dryads watch him from the tree line, their expressions worried, clearly afraid that when the dummy falls apart he'll turn his sword on their trees.]

[For now, though, all his attention is on the dummy and completely eviscerating it, muttering curses under his breath with each blow.]