Training and Stuff

While you could say Ryan was a calm kid most of the time, it wasn't apparent when he was in the arena. While he normally ran a CB dagger for CQC incidents, the 17 year old was currently trying his hand at swordplay, swinging a borrowed xiphos like the untrained madman he was. While most people the age of 17 at the camp were there since they were 12 or 13, Ryan had just arrived earlier that summer thanks to his now dead satyr friend. Like the other new arrivals, his Hellenic Period swordplay skills were not that good; in fact they sucked. But that xiphos felt eerily at home in his hands, as too did his dagger and that bow he picked up in Ohio. He didn't know why, but he wasn't complaining; he just swung that sword.

Wearing a red, black, and grey plaid button up shirt, navy-colored blue jeans, some black Adidas skate shoes, his black Casio watch, and some armor that looked like it had been pulled straight from antiquity thrown hastily on top of all that, he didn't exactly look like a seasoned veteran of the arena (let alone the demigod lifestyle) either. It was almost comical seeing him hack and slash at the targets with such crudeness, if it weren't for the fact that he had a sword and wasn't in the mood to be laughed at.

One of the few things l could say for certain for George: He enjoyed training. Strived for improvement. Even when he didn't manage to produce resutls, practicing was never a waste of time and the Arena was one of the best places at Camp Half-Blood. Even though his time at the forest combined with frequent training had made him fairly good at fighting monsters -given the mere time he was at camp-, he never stopped trying to get better. After all, that's what the dummies were for, right? Right.

Though one thing Georg edidn't really appreciate was when a place in camp was crowded. Luckily it seemed that the campers were so fixated on puberty and trying to be couples that this was never a problem. For instance, at the moment he arrived, George saw only one other person. Older, athletic but not really muscular, taller. Hadn't seen him around though. Well, granted he spent most of the time away from people. George decided it'd be better if he just minded his own business and attacked his dummy.

Feeling fatigued from training, Ryan decided to give the dummy a break and get some water. On his way to the spot by the entrance where he had left his bottle of water, he accidentally bumped into another camper coming to do probably the same thing he was. "Hey, my bad man." It was his (Ryan's) fault, not really looking where he was going.

Annoyingly enough, his fellow camper didn't watch where he was going and bumped into George. George hated physical contact, let alone with a taller sweaty dude. Anyway, at least he apologized. That was good. "I-it's okay really." George mumbled as he turned his attention back to his dummy. And back to training. And improvement. And fighting. Which made him relaside he hadn't fought anyone since that Chiara girl had humiliated him by using The Force to control his sword. Though in a fair fight he was quite sure he had gotten better.

Just as he reached the water bottle, Ryan realized something. The other guy's voice. Something about it was familiar. A certain nasally accent with a few, but just enough, changes from how one is supposed to talk. Could it be? Another one? Bulls**t. Fat chance. Why would ANYONE want a kid from THERE? But he had to be sure...
"YO! OTHER GUY! What's your favorite kind of pop?"

Important Info:

OOC: Thank the Gods of Olympus for that OOC in the end. I would have asked you what you meant cause there was no way you'd meant music :P

BIC: As George was minding his own business, the other person, who had went to the entrance to drink some water, decided to break the sound barrier to ask George what his favorite... pop was. To be fair, George hadn't bothered to pick up on his accent before. Now it did start to seem vaguely familiar. But scatch that. Pop. So he was from THE place. Great. Just... great. "Uh... i-it's V-Vernors (l liked the name.) " Yeah, last thing he wanted is the guy to approach him and start talking nostalgically about home- he HATED the place.

Ryan nodded. So he was right, another one of the Gods wound up in Michigan in the 90s. Why they decided to go there was well beyond him, given that anyone with a brain would avoid the snow-covered winters and orange-barrel construction filled everything else like the bubonic freaking plague. But another one decided to give the mitten a chance it seems. "Vernors, eh? Aren't you just the perfect Michigander." He decided to walk over to the other guy, who looked like he was uncomfortable. Sticking out his hand to be shaken, he said "Ryan Michaels, Detroit Area. And you are?"

Yeah. Another one. Great. After the guy probably confirm George's origin he walked to him and introduced as Ryan Michaels. Of course after commenting on his pop preference. Yeah. Then Ryan extended his hand for a handshake. After staring at it for a couple of seconds he shook it. "George Wilson. Cabin six." The guy was oddly friendly. Not that this was necessarily a bad thing.

"Cabin six, eh? So that makes you one of Athena's kids, right?" He inquired. Of course, the guy's parent didn't really matter to Ryan; he just saw this guy George as that other guy in the arena he bumped into. "I'm located in five right now."

George nodded to confirm that he was an Athena kid. Not that he was thrilled about the fact. Usually Athena kids are actually... smart. Contrary to himself, in George's opinion. Anyway, the guy said he was from cabin 5. Right. Ares kid. No need to care about that, right? lf he was part of those bullies it would have probably already shown in his behaviour.

Ryan noticed that this George kid wasn't talking. "So, not the social type, or are you just wondering if I wan't to fight you or something? Because I don't really want to. Unless you want to, but then you'd have to throw...er...swing the first sword. But only if you want to."

Ryan observed that George wasn't social. Good for him. Ugh, wait, no let's be actually polite and whatnot. "Uh, k-kinda. A-anyway, l guess t-there is no reason to fight." So, an Ares kid not willing to fight. George was sure he had seen everything this world had to offer by now.

"Dude, what's with the stuttering? You seem more skittish than a deer right now." Seriously, it was like the guy had seen a ghost or some s***. It's just a conversation.

George was perfectly aware. He hated his stuttering. And it wasn't even a medical condition. Occured randomly. Higher likeliness when nervous. "It's nothing. Ignore it. D-does it bother you or anything?" Not that George actually cared. Or maybe he did. Last thing he wanted was be discriminated for that trait of his.

"No, it's fine. I was just wondering if you're nervous or some s***." Oh my gosh, this guy is freaking WEIRD! Like, 'Oh hey, must ignore the obvious stuttering'. Is that even possible? It was so painfully obvious. Ryan took a step back. He didn't know exactly why he did, he just did. Maybe it was the stuttering or just the overall weird that was going on. 'Think, Ryan, think. How can I make this less awkward?' And then it hit him: change the subject! "So, uh... What kind of sword are you using?"

Obvious lie was obvious. Then the guy stepped back. Of course. George was terrifying. Or just awkward and a freak. More likely. Way more likely. So much more likely that it was basically the answer. Once again he didn't really belong. Yay. Amazing. Godammit why do people have to be so difficult to read and bear with and understand?! Right, no need to get angry, just, relax. "Uh, it's the first sword l found on the armoury. I-I have no idea how you'd c-classify it."

"That's cool. Um... how's it cut through stuff? Is it like going through warm butter or...like...cold butter?" He really had nothing to go off of. And the kid seemed to be picking up on his thoughts. Something with his voice sounded a bit like a combination of stressed and angry.

That. Butter. Analogy. Pathetic. Yet so pathetic it was funny. The guy seemed desperate to carry on a conversation. Perhabs due to their common hometown or whatnot. Still though, the butter analogy was so freaking bad, George couldn't help but smile. Even a little but whatever."Y-you're not good with people either, l-l'll guess." he said trying to sound something between a smartass and actually synpathetic.

The guy started to smile. Good. Very good. It was starting to get normal now. Somewhat normal, at least. "No, I'm usually fine. So...uh...um...s***...uh...what kind of music do you like? You seem like an EDM kind of guy. Or a rocker. Or...like...a jazz fan or something..." Jazz? As if anyone but Mr.D and that centaur guy would maybe listen to jazz. Or the Apollo cabin. This was going nowhere...

Right. So it was his fault that things were awkward. How nice! Well, to be fair he kinda already knew that. And that was one of the things he hated himself for. Anyway, let's focus on the bright side. The topic, after a little demonstration of were things were, switched to music. Thouhj George didn't know what EDM was he replied unaffected. "Black Sabbath, Sex Pistols and Judas Priest." Best thing if the history of music. George couldn't even listen to what was on the radio nowadays. "You?" he asked as friendly as possible.

Oh, so the Athena kid was a headbanger. Stranger things have happened. "Me? I'm into house, dubstep, indie rock, 80s hard rock, modern alternative rock, country, and many more genres. I'm all over the board really."

"So...you can listen to anything? That's admirable, music has been reduced to a pretty bad state." George observed. Hey, no stuttering for two sentences in a row, yay! Less pathetic of him anyway. That was good, the other guy seemed surprisingly nice for an Ares kid. Or maybe George believed way too much in stereotypes. "H-how come you haven't taunted me or m-made fun of me,or whatever like the other Ares kids?"

"Why? Do you want me to?" Ryan didn't think that was the case. Of course he was curious as to why he was relatively kind, it's not like any other Ares kid would have kicked this kid's a** by now if the stuttering was anything to go by.

"Why would l? That's a c-completely illogical q-question. I-it's just weird." Really weird. Ryan didn't seem fond of him yet didn't do anything about it,,even though he was bigger and stronger and anger was in his genes. Probably a nice change, but really weird nonetheless. Carrying on conversations was more uncomfortable and only a little less painful. Then again he wanted to try and become more social, to the point where he'd be as close to a normal person as he could be.

Now Ryan was getting a bit mad at the kid. Weird? It's weird to not go around all pissed off and s***?!? He wasn't going to stand for this. "So it's weird for me to be kind to you, a guy I just met and don't even know? What kind of f***ing logic is that!?!" Ryan's anger became apparent in his tone. "And you know what, I don't give a s*** if you're an Athena, and you want to know why? It's because for the past seventeen years of my life I lived in a world where nobody gives a flying f*** about who your f***ing parents are. I know that sounds insane to everyone here, but it's true; outside the borders of camp, NOBODY GIVES TWO S***S ABOUT YOUR PARENTS! AND EVERYONE HERE JUDGES YOU UPON THAT! Like SERIOUSLY, this is way worse than it was out there! I was NEVER prejudged back home but once I came here, EVERYONE F***ING LOOKS AT ME LIKE A FREAK WHEN I DON'T PUNCH THEM IN THEIR F***ING FACE THE FIRST TIME I SEE THEM! DO YOU EVEN KNOW WHAT THAT'S LIKE?!?"