Home
Gallery
Search
Register
Log in
![Panic Station [finished] Empty](https://2img.net/i/empty.gif)
by The Arena was by far one of Chiara's favorite places at Camp Half-Blood. The tall white walls stretched vertically, set with columns and niches in which stood statues depicting various war gods: Ares, of course, Athena, Eris, Deimos, Phobos, Kratos, Alala (easily recognized with her open mouth and knitted eyebrows), Enyo, Polemos, and a bunch of minor spirits like the Hysminai or the Makhai. All this splendid decorations and statues made Chiara feel perfectly at home.
Today, the Ares cabin had sword fighting training with half the Minor Underworld Gods cabin, which included children of the various Underworld rivers (Cocytus, Acheron, Pyriphlegethon, perhaps even Lethe, who knows), but worst of all, Thanatos and Melinoe offsprings. Of all the demigods at Camp, the children of Thanatos and Melinoe were those Chiara hated the most. Not only was she unconditionally prejudiced against them, she was also feeding a special type of hate and loathing for them.
To cut a long talk short: she was extremely happy to be fighting against them today, so she could give their asses some kicking.
The seventeen-years-old daughter of Ares was wearing a black tank top that read 'Punk's not dead' over a pair of khaki camo trousers whose ends were stuffed into her heavy yet efficient combat boots. A punk belt set with spikes was wrapped around her wide waist, and a blood-red bandanna was holding her unruly red curls back, which gave her kind of a commando air. Her knives were sheathed around on the right side of her belt, her sword on the left (since she was right-handed), and her boot knife was clipped to her left shoe. She hadn't taken her black leather jacket (which turned into her Myrmidon armor) because she didn't feel like she'd need extra protection during the training; other demigods had come in full battle armor, but not Chiara. She'd feel better either way beating those despicable kids into a pulp without any kind of protection.
She pushed a rebellious red curl behind her ear with her freckled hand that was half-hidden by a fingerless leather glove, like her other hand. The curl came again, and she was briefly tempted to cut it off, but instead she just stuffed it inside her bandanna. She may have washed her hair the day before, it still smelled vaguely of lavender and lemongrass. Her skin, though, had as usual the scent of bergamot and ginger, it was kind of her signature fragrance.
The assigned demigods of the Minor Underworld God cabin arrived shortly after the Ares cabin did; when they came into the building, Chiara's siblings had already started to warm up, running around the sanded area, making press-ups, wrestling, and exchanging some blows with their weapons.
When she saw their opponents arrive, Chiara smirked and stopped fighting against Sherman, one of her half-brothers.
"Look at that bunch of f**gots," she loudly said, and her siblings chuckled.
Today, the Ares cabin had sword fighting training with half the Minor Underworld Gods cabin, which included children of the various Underworld rivers (Cocytus, Acheron, Pyriphlegethon, perhaps even Lethe, who knows), but worst of all, Thanatos and Melinoe offsprings. Of all the demigods at Camp, the children of Thanatos and Melinoe were those Chiara hated the most. Not only was she unconditionally prejudiced against them, she was also feeding a special type of hate and loathing for them.
To cut a long talk short: she was extremely happy to be fighting against them today, so she could give their asses some kicking.
The seventeen-years-old daughter of Ares was wearing a black tank top that read 'Punk's not dead' over a pair of khaki camo trousers whose ends were stuffed into her heavy yet efficient combat boots. A punk belt set with spikes was wrapped around her wide waist, and a blood-red bandanna was holding her unruly red curls back, which gave her kind of a commando air. Her knives were sheathed around on the right side of her belt, her sword on the left (since she was right-handed), and her boot knife was clipped to her left shoe. She hadn't taken her black leather jacket (which turned into her Myrmidon armor) because she didn't feel like she'd need extra protection during the training; other demigods had come in full battle armor, but not Chiara. She'd feel better either way beating those despicable kids into a pulp without any kind of protection.
She pushed a rebellious red curl behind her ear with her freckled hand that was half-hidden by a fingerless leather glove, like her other hand. The curl came again, and she was briefly tempted to cut it off, but instead she just stuffed it inside her bandanna. She may have washed her hair the day before, it still smelled vaguely of lavender and lemongrass. Her skin, though, had as usual the scent of bergamot and ginger, it was kind of her signature fragrance.
The assigned demigods of the Minor Underworld God cabin arrived shortly after the Ares cabin did; when they came into the building, Chiara's siblings had already started to warm up, running around the sanded area, making press-ups, wrestling, and exchanging some blows with their weapons.
When she saw their opponents arrive, Chiara smirked and stopped fighting against Sherman, one of her half-brothers.
"Look at that bunch of f**gots," she loudly said, and her siblings chuckled.
Last edited by Morgan Landry on 12/14/2014, 3:51 pm; edited 3 times in total
