Two Much Ego For One Place.

The sun, the day time, this was what he was talking about. Gabriel absolutely loved the smell of fresh air, the sun resting against his skin mostly. It was hidden behind a few clouds right now but that didn’t exactly matter. It was the simple fact that it was a hell of a lot brighter out here than it was inside the Titans Cabin, and there were also more people wandering around out here. Which meant that there were more people for him to have some fun with, straightening his collar on his leather jacket the six foot tall blond haired, sun glasses wearing, kid walked down the steps of the Cabin smirking at the glances he was getting from those passing by. The whispers that one could barely hear being passed from one Demi-God to the next as if he wasn’t there.

That mattered little in the long run, he’d show them all he was meant to be there that he belonged. Hell if they ever questioned him he’d just prove them wrong, bash their faces in, or sweep them off their feet before they even knew what hit them. At least that’s what was going through his mind as he walked into the center of the Cabin’s Courtyard, or what generally speaking everyone called the center of the Courtyards. It wasn’t truly visible as the center anymore now that there was nearly thirty Cabins. It was the area that the original twelve cabins used to circle around and it was still bustling with people. One such person had caught his golden eye however, and that was a buff looking male.

The guy was about six foot two give or take and was walking down from the Area Cabin steps looking as if he was going to take on the world. Which in a sense he was about to, just not the world he was probably thinking of. Gabriel was strong, he was fast, and boy did he love to get into fights and who better than some big bulky ‘War God’ kid to beat up? With a snap of his fingers a thin golden line etched into existence in front of the boy’s feet right before he took his next step, sending him tumbling down the steps and landing on his face at the bottom of the cabin. A roar of laughter erupted from the cabin’s courtyard. A smile formed on Gabriel’s face as he made his way over bending down next to the guy.

“Aww did someone get hurt? Do you need me to call your mum?” That set the boy off and he struggled to get up, obviously wanting to bash in the face of whoever made fun of him, but Gabriel was not having any of that. Having put away one of his Celestial Brass Knuckles he used the open hand to grab the boy’s hair and slam his head back down into the ground. “Now, now, watch your language there boyo. There are kids here and that was some naughty language. Be a good boy and I might let you up.” Little did Gabriel know he was starting to gather a crowd, and that the crowd was slowly parting like the red sea as a person made her way through it.

Stella had spent about half an hour dozing on a wooden bench painted silver in front of the Athena cabin, leaning back with her eyes shut and mind wandering with the drifting clouds overhead. Cirrus was gone up to Alaska to check out the snow, Tempest was taking a nap, Aidan was at New Rome with her idiot half-brother, the one Stella had clubbed over the head in New York several weeks ago and whom she had to drag back to camp for her sister's love. Ugh. That had been annoying -- but she couldn't be annoyed now, the weather was just so nice. The sun made the day relatively warm, but not warm enough to make people sweat; a soft breeze, akin to those of late spring going into summer, blew across camp and ruffled up her hair a little, cool on her forehead and bare arms. It was a leisure day for her -- no training, no sisters to bother, no enemies to destroy. She should do this more oft--

Annnddd no. Of course.

There was a shout from somewhere close by her and then a burst of laughter from kids around the courtyard. Judging by the way she could sense that there was a small gust of wind coming up from the ground, somebody must have fallen off the steps of one of the cabin's or tripped over themselves. She opened one eye to observe the potential carnage: Some buff Ares kid had fallen flat on his face into the dirt and was trying to get up, until some blond guy swaggered over and grabbed him by the hair and slammed him back down. People were gathering, murmuring or giggling at how oh so funny this scene was, making bets on who would win -- and Stella was immediately annoyed. She couldn't hear anything the boys were saying, but she was still annoyed.

She didn't bother to sit up from where she was -- she didn't bother to try figuring out if she knew either of the guys. She just knew that they were bothering her (indirectly) by making a scene, by being idiotic tough guys who didn't know when enough was enough. She hadn't wanted to start anything today, had just wanted to sit in the breeze and relax since that was such a rare experience for her, but since they had brought it to her.... Well, who was she to pass it up? She was the queen of starting trouble in camp, she could take on almost anyone at camp and beat them down mercilessly if she wanted to.

With a flick of her fingers, the demititan made the wind pick up a small rock behind her bench, almost a quarter the size of her palm -- and then with a flick of her wrist, eye still watching the two cautiously, she sent it flying at the blond boy's head to maybe get him to shut up (or, even better, go unconscious) and let the peace reestablish itself. Stella wouldn't miss unless the boy dodged; the wind knew where she wanted it to go and would follow its master's orders to a T.

The muffled response of the boy only made Gabriel grin even more, he had said something along the lines of eat my profanity. Which Gabriel ignored, simply because he was pretty sure he had told the big oaf that he should watch his language. Taking his knuckled fist he slammed it into the boy’s side, feeling the ribs crack and the flesh become soft from the blow, the grunting noise sweet to his ears. “Now then I told you to stop cursing, and it seems you have chosen to ignore me. Get up then.” He stood up switching the knuckle over to his right fist, looking down at the poor sod on the ground. He could tell the boy was pissed but there was absolutely nothing he could do to harm Gabriel and ow!

Something had hit him in the lower part of his back, right where his head would have been had he still been kneeling down in fact. Spinning around, the Ares kid forgotten, his eyes scanned the crowd that had gathered around to laugh or watch the spectacle that had been going on. “Who threw the rock?” All eyes seemed to drift away, look down, or pretended to be interested in something else. It was unacceptable, sure he fought dirty but he made damn sure the person he was fighting knew they were getting into a fight beforehand. Hitting a guy when his back was turned, focused on someone else, well that was adding a new twist into the dance. It made the tango for two into a riot for three, four, or five, and Gabriel didn’t like it when things didn’t go his way.

“Come on, not all of you are blind or deaf, dumb maybe but someone had to have seen something.” Fingers dancing by his side, blood pumping, he could burn them all if he wanted to. Torch the entire area, and watch as they burned down to ashes. No one could stop him, they wouldn’t get the chance, and all it would take was a blink of his eye or a flick of his wrists. The grumbling and shuffling behind him meant of course that the big oaf was finally standing up, so he slammed his elbow backwards into the boys gut before anything could be done by the bear child. They could finish that little dance later, he had a new one to focus on. One that someone else had started. He just had to find out who the chicken was.

"Yoohoo! Little boy, over here." The boy's voice was distant and faint, but the wind brought it to her fairly well -- unfamiliar, new. Stella had taken the effort to open both her eyes and wave mockingly at the blond boy, like some dainty southern belle from an old 1920s film to a close friend of hers. Everyone in the crowd had suddenly become uncomfortable when she heard him demanding to know who had thrown the thing -- and boy, would they piss their pants when they realize who had dared throw that tiny little rock at the arrogant brat angrily dancing around like a trained monkey to an accordion. Only the newest of the new didn't know who she was, and boy would they find out fast. "Yes, 'tis I. Hello, little boy, throwing a nice temper tantrum over there? Is it past your naptime or do you need a diaper change?"

The demititan's voice was mockingly high-pitched, like a person would act towards a young child or even a puppy or kitten, her slight Kansan accent becoming more prominent the higher she went. She loved messing with people's heads, their emotions; it made them so irrationally angry and clumsy that the mere sound of her voice would mess them up, give her a higher advantage over them and make it so much more entertaining to slam them into the dirt and step on their throat. It didn't always work, of course, but she had the skill and power to back up all her pride and all the mockery she inflicted upon their delicate little egos.

The blonde girl stood up slowly, turning on her heel to face the crowd as she smiled straight at the blond boy, eerily calm in the face of this potential brawl. Nobody could ever hope to defeat Stella, except for David the son of Gaea and the gods from above -- but they wouldn't give her the time of day, so she just took it as them not caring if she continued her reign of tyranny across the camp. With a wave of her hand, the wind picked up three rocks of varying sizes (the largest being the size of her palm) and held them hovering by Stella's head, ready to be thrown again in the blink of an eye. If she wanted to, she could throw the bench or even people at him -- but that was too much effort at the moment, she'd wait and see how this would play out.

Arms folded across her chest, perhaps the girl didn't look so formidable; she was a bit taller than average, lean and agile like a track runner, but that was it. It was always more of her aura of confidence, self-assurance and power, that threw people off; Stella knew what she was doing, and she was almost always guaranteed to do it well.

So it goes in the life of a demititan.

Little boy? Past his bedtime? A chuckle escaped the lips of the golden boy, turning towards the shorter blond female who slowly stood up off of her bench and faced him at last. She was decent looking, shorter than he was but tall for most females and that accent of hers was god awful, a sort of southern belle you’d see in the old fashioned black and white American movies. When the rocks picked up and started to circle around her hand the realization came tumbling down, so she hadn’t thrown the rocks in the natural sense and instead had used the wind to do it for her making her some kid of a wind god it seemed. With a laugh he stepped forward towards her “Ooo look at me, I can make things fly in the air I’m oh so scary.”

Snapping his fingers a small flame appeared above the two of them, thumb and pointer finger, which he floated in the air before turning his palm upward, the flame growing to encompass his hand. “I can play with the elements too darling, it isn’t that much of a game changer.” Flame going out he held out his empty hand towards her as he had gotten close now. Sure, he still wanted to fight something don’t get him wrong but it never hurt to know the person’s name you were about to brutally curb stomp into the ground. That and she had an air of power around her, and Gabriel respected power, if of course said respect was deserved. “The name’s Gabriel, son of Hyperion and you Miss Rock thrower must be some Aeolus kid or something am I right?”

Little did he know that he was perhaps meeting one of the most powerful people to ever walk around in this camp. If he had been expecting that well he would have changed up his approach a long time ago, he loved a good challenge though and could practically smell one coming from her. Figuratively of course, smelling someone was weird on its own, smelling someone to somehow know that they would be a challenging fight? Well that was just strange and unnatural on its own. Either way he took off his sun glasses and pocketed them, with his other hand, letting his golden eyes view the sunlight while he waited for her to shake his hand, reject, it or do whatever it was she was going to do.

Oh no, fire -- it wasn't like she had ever been attacked with that before! The demititan almost laughed, it was so cute that he thought his control of fire would be anything equal to her mastery over the wind and air and everything to do with the freaking sky. So he definitely didn't recognize her and vice versa; that was okay, introductions were called for and then she could stab him repeatedly and maybe even hang him up by the shirt collar on the climbing wall. The lava would do wonders for his complexion, she thought.

"Oh, so smart -- but no dice, Sherlock. It's Stella, daughter of Ouranos." Hyperion, huh? Another demititan had come to camp and she had somehow not noticed the buzz surrounding it. Well, that was perfectly fine -- he would be no match (haha, get it? match. fire.) for her in any sense of the word, especially with those flames he seemed to think were so powerful. She was no stranger to tearing oxygen away from the air around the flames and, with that, suffocate it to its death and sending its soul straight to the pits of hell; the demititan had had many a demigod to practice that on to great success. (However, she made it a point not to try tearing the air out of people's lungs because that was a lot less fun and she liked to dice up her enemies a bit before stomping all over their heads. Stella liked to call this being honorable; others liked to call this being sadistic.)

Or she could create a rain cloud, wipe both that smirk off his face and extinguish his firepower and pelt him with unnaturally large hailstones, that would be cool too. She had so many options; the air was probably one of the most versatile elements to manipulate, and thanks to her heritage she definitely exercised great control over this sphere of influence. Hoo boy, this Gavin kid was definitely going to get his ass handed to him.

The rocks were slowly orbiting around in a circle by her head, clinking together as Stella looked at the boy's proffered hand with haughty disdain. Shaking hands before a fight? Nah, especially not with this muscle idiot acting like he owned the place. She would show him the world and a bit more -- perhaps the Underworld was nice this time of year, who knows? He would when she finished mopping the floor with him. "Hands away, kid. First rule here, nobody ever shakes hands before a fight -- only after, if they're still attached to your body."

The way she said her name made it sound as if she was some big hot shot around here. As if she was the best thing sense sliced bread or some nonsense. "That name supposed to mean something to me air head?" He questioned dropping his hand and putting both of them in his pockets. He may have been a hot head, but this girl was even more arrogant than he himself was. It was brilliant and hilarious at the same time. She obviously was the type of person who relied on her powers to do everything for her and however good she was at whatever form of combat she used there was no way she was an expert at it; didn't matter how long she'd been at camp.

"Whatever you say, I'll make sure to remember that when your on the floor begging me for more." At the range they were at he knew any sort of long ranged attack would be useless, unless she could use the wind to make them faster but that was something to worry about later. When the last word left his mouth he exploded, or rather all the light around them sent out a flash not unlike that one would see from a flash-bang. Which is essentially was what happened, if Stella didn't cover her eyes not only would it feel as if hundreds of 200 degrees pellets were ramming into her skin she could also be blinded from the intensity of the bright light. This of course was quickly followed by a right hook, which of course his celestial bronze knuckle was covering.

Ha, what a riot. The little boy thought he could beat her.

Laughing as soon as Stella sensed the heat of his explosion in the air, she immediately willed herself away with the wind as she felt one of those little bullet things singe her shirt as she leaned back reflexively to avoid the blast (which was stupid on second thought, but natural to demigods, she supposed) -- unfortunately not looking away in time -- and reappeared on top of the Athena cabin, standing with her hands on her hips to reassess her situation and see how the idiot would try to follow up that little dramatic act. She estimated that, perhaps, he couldn't do that again for another few minutes: more than enough time for her to get in a few good blows and tire him out.

Her vision was blurred, but luckily she thought it wouldn't be much of a problem or last very long; she had gotten away quick enough that she thought she might have it fade soon, if past experience was much of a factor. And the winds would let her sense his movements anyway, so the demititan was fine if it came to closer-range combat.

He was a fire user, which was laughable; he was choosing to go up against someone who could control the weather and extract the oxygen from around his fire, but did he really know that? On second thought, maybe not.

With a wave of her hand, a large storm cloud, perhaps the size of two cabins together, began to form above them dark and rumbling and ready for her to use when she needed it: perhaps not yet, or perhaps now, whatever was fine. Whistling to herself casually, her sword Windbreaker appeared in her right hand and, thus, she waited for the boy to come after her however he could. Would he call her a coward for "running?" Probably. Was it better for him in the long-run? No. She could sense people leaving the scene and doors slamming, probably because two demititans fighting was catastrophic for anyone within a fifty foot vicinity who wasn't the least bit indifferent to their ultimate demise.

[ooc: lmao this was a sucky post]

He missed, the punch at least, she was gone before he could even hit her. Sure, he could see through the light as it never gave him trouble but it was still as if she disappeared. Kind of like his light speed travel almost but probably something with the wind or whatever. However, now that she was further away he knew things were going to get tricky as that was probably her specialty. Hit and run, stay away and don’t get hit while you suck the life out of your victims, or pelt them to death with objects. “Can’t stand to be close to me is it? I’m hurt really. I thought we were starting to get along.” He called out finding her up on top of the Athena Cabin.

Moving his fingers in and out, making fists and then uncurling them, as he walked over to the cabin. She couldn’t run for long, that’s not how the Dance worked. Everyone got to make their own steps but eventually everyone was in tune, walking the same line and doing the same waltz. It was simply how the Dance worked. Throwing his hand forward two arrows made of light went flying out at her, sure he wouldn’t be able to make any more light constructs for a while but they would hopefully do the job and get her off the roof or to move. Gabriel never used his powers to their full potential and this fight was no different, he was having fun with it. Testing her, attempting to goad her, he hated fighting people who didn’t fight back and if you poked the sleeping bear enough eventually it came out full force.

((mine ain't much better.))

Something cleaved through the air -- in a straight-ish line straight towards her. Arrows, perhaps? Something of the sort, but they seemed somehow warmer yet not on fi--

Oh, right. Hyperion, Titan of light and all that crap. Yeah, she had forgotten he existed or that this guy claimed to be a child of his. Was he telling the truth? Probably. But was he as powerful as her? Definitely not.

With a lazy wave of her hand, the wind redirected the arrows past their target and let them skitter onto the roof behind her, now rendered useless because apparently the guy had no common sense. Sending arrows at a child of any air god was probably one of the stupidest things Stella could think of doing in this godforsaken camp.

Her vision was getting better now; she could see his face a bit more clearly, wouldn't need to rely on sensing changes in the air as much for this fight. With a wave of her hand her storm cloud rumbled slightly -- and down came hail the size of quarters at the son of Hyperion, pieces clattering against cabin roofs and people and forcing many of them to run indoors or for shelter underneath cabin eaves. They fell in bushes and trees and, probably, would have hurt if Stella hadn't made sure the air would redirect the hail pieces away from her and at Gavin or whatever the hell the guy's name was.

And then there was the sound of faint crying as the hail fell; Stella looked.

A little boy had dropped his ice cream.

[ooc: yay for npcs i suppose]

Okay so obviously the arrows weren't his smartest idea ever but no one ever said Gabriel was the sharpest tool in the shed. When she sent them flinging away and into s roof he frowned and before he could do anything it started to hail. That's right the damned freaking started to make it hail, and Titans damn it the were starting to hurt. Running forward he disappeared only to re-appear next to Stella having used his light speed to travel there. Apparently the hail didn't harm her or she had made it so they didn't touch her because once he was in close distance to her he wasn't being pelted any longer. He closed his fist and was about ready to smash her face in when he heard crying.

Stopping he turned to look at the source and spotted a child who...dropped their ice cream. "Well...would you mind turning off the hail? I wasn't planing on that to happen." He muttered scratching the back of his head. Sure, Gabriel wasn't the nicest person in the word and didn't exactly care for others but the little brat didn't deserve to drop his ice cream, he was still probably all young and innocent and here they were ripping it away from them. Maybe he had a soft spot for kids, young ones who still had that innocence that was stolen from him, didn't mean he wasn't still a boss and could totally wipe the floor with the air head.

Funnily enough, Stella was a lot more disconcerted with the fact that the little boy had dropped his ice cream and started crying than that Gabe was close enough to hit her, but then again -- it was easy for her to disappear. He couldn't possibly hit her, and little kids crying because of some temper tantrum were probably a lot scarier than any demititan could be. She didn't know how to deal with them, which was infinitely more frightening than any battle could be to her: little kids were demons. (Just like Tempest, sometimes, if she hadn't taken her nap at the right time.)

Did she like kids? Sometimes. Not always. 10% of the time.

With a wave of her hand, the cloud stopped sending down hail and, twisting, dissipated and left the sky clear and blue as it had been before the fight. Snorting slightly, she kicked a piece of hail off the roof, landing with a rustle into a bush planted beside whatever cabin she was standing on now. Stella's vision had cleared now so that she could see clearly, with only minimal weird blinking to readjust her eyes to the lighting. "Neither was I. Little kids are demonic, aren't they?"

The little boy was sniffling and had taken it upon himself to sit on the ground, staring forlornly at what appeared to be strawberry ice cream with sprinkles. Perhaps she should go offer to replace it for him, wherever he got it; he probably hadn't gone out of camp for it.

“They certainly can be” he muttered looking down at the kid who was now sitting on the ground and crying about the lost ice cream. This was not what he had intended to happen, didn’t plan for things to go this way and he wasn’t exactly happy. Not only had their Dance been interrupted, not that air head was even good at it, but now he’d have to replace some kids ice cream or buy him something else. That was the only way the little brats ever seemed to be happy about anything. Back when he was little, well anything made him happy as he wasn’t exactly the most sociable kid ever but that was a story for a different time and day. Kneeling down so it looked as if he was riding a surfboard he pushed and rode down the side of the Cabin and doing a barrel roll off and onto the ground.

Standing up he put his sun glasses back on, so his eyes wouldn’t frighten the kid as that would only make things worse. He walked over to the little kid and squatted down in front of him sighing as he did. “So, uh you alright or whatever? Need another ice cream?” He didn’t know how to deal with kids, he didn’t do this kind of thing and he usually wasn’t the cause of this type of pain either. He liked to physically inflict it onto those that truly deserved it and as annoying as little kids were they didn’t deserve to be sitting on the ground crying because to big kids were throwing a temper tantrum of their own. Well, the closest to a temper tantrum at least and although neither of them would probably admit it, it was exactly what they had been doing.

Stella scoffed and leaped off the cabin too, landing safely and softly on the ground using the air to cushion her as gravity pulled her down. What a drag -- she had been going to drag his face through the mud, too. Aah well, less work for her and more leisure time.

The daughter of Ouranos turned to the bench she had been sitting on before and, gingerly, wiped off the shattered fragments of hail that had managed to hit it; most of them had not survived the impact of hitting the wood, and even left small marks in the wood. After that was finished, she sat back down. The courtyard was covered in pieces of hail, beginning to melt in the warm afternoon sun; nobody except her, George, and that little boy with the fallen ice cream (rest in peace, you wonderful dairy treat) remained outside, probably because they hadn't wanted to take the risk of getting pelted in the head too many times with pieces of hail. If she had wanted to, perhaps Stella could have made them bigger -- and risk accidentally blasting many courtyard fixtures and some cabin roofs to splinters, but those were all fixable. It was just that Mr. D would probably make her go on kitchen duty in recompense, which was always a drag.

The little boy rubbed at his eyes as he looked at the guy in front of him. He was really short, she noticed, and had a ruddy complexion like somebody who rubbed his or her face too much with their hands -- he had been like that before, hadn't he? Unless he really was getting emotional about his ice cream. Poor kid.

He sniffled. He hadn't been hit, but he looked really shaken. "Yeah. I tripped and my ice cream fell."