Punching Trees

Quinn hated the cold. She hated seeing her breath and she hated her nose getting red. But Quinn was out there anyway. She ad to practice with her throwing knives. Not that she was bad, Quinn was really good with the knife if she says so herself. Quinn was just annoyed because of some dumb kids in the minor god cabin. They are the minor god spawns and they tease her? Sure there is probably no one else in that cabin that has Hesperus as a parent but that doesn't mean she should be ridiculed. Oh whatever, she could beat them into a pulp if she wanted to.
As she was throwing her knives she heard someone...hitting trees? Some people need to control their anger. She's not the one to talk though, the brunette can get really angry at times. But people urk her y'know.
"Calm it with the trees, Hulk." She called to the kid.

Jackson was inspecting the blood in his knuckles when he heard a voice. He turned around and saw a girl looking at him. She was nothing special in stature. She was kind of small, to be honest, but she seemed confident herself when she insulted him. She looked like someone who belonged in the Demeter or maybe even the Aphrodite cabin, but definitely not someone who should be challenging a Son of Ares. "Calm it with the attitude, darling." Jackson said, with a slight roll of the eyes. That's when Jacks saw the knife in her hand.

Ooc: I'm on my phone so my posts won't look as pretty

Quinn looked at him, "Excuse you." She muttered. Gerrard twirled one of her knives between her fingers. "Refrain from calling me darling, thank you." Quinn rolled her eyes at him. And then she started determining god parent. That's her favorite part of meeting people, guessing their god parent. This guy was rude, so Ares. Blood. Ares. Ugh great. Quinn was not a fan of the Ares children nor were they a fan of her. She picked up a strand of her hair, glaring at the boy.

Jackson didn't usually have the attitude that he had had, but he was so ticked off with his brothers and sisters that it'd brought out the Ares in him. Jackson looked at the girl. The knife in her hand was kind of scary, and Jackson's hands weren't in any stage to fight, so he realized he needed to calm down a bit. The girl was pretty, but didn't act like the pretty girls around camp did. He was curious to find out her god parent. Jackson smiled his irresistable smile at her. "Sorry, doll face, didn't mean to upset you. Sibling trouble, y'know." Jackson said, laying his British accent on thick. The nicknames didn't mean anything to him, just him being his usual self.

Quinn furred her eyebrows, who the hell does he think he is. Quinn is not going to fawn over a smolder and a British accent. She's not an Aphrodite kid for Hades' sake. "No I don't know." She said. The brunette didn't have any siblings, mortal or demigod. The girl dropped the knife on the cold ground. Then she pulled on her grey jacket. It was a thin jacket so she was still a little cold. Quinn thought that there was a weather thing at camp making it nice all the time. Apparently not. "Doll face is not a choice either." Quinn wanted to call him something back, but she was fresh out of insults.

Jackson was feeling especially Ares that day, and even though he knew he shouldn't, he was kind of enjoying watching her get angry. Jackson saw the girls knife on the ground. His quick reflexes going to work, he grabbed it off the forest floor. He began picking at the under aides of his nails with the blade. Now that she didn't have the knife, Jacks didn't fear her much. "You don't like British, huh? How about we try this instead? Jackson said with a strong Brooklyn accent. Jackson was born in England and lived there till he was 9 years old, and then lived the next 7 years of his life in the heart of Brooklyn, causing him to have an accent that was a strange mixture of the two. He was able to isolate one or the other with ease, though. "Let me take a guess, you're the daughter of some minor god of something totally lame, and you're the only one here. You're super pouty because you're stuck in the minor gods cabin, and you think you're so much better than the rest of them. You didn't want people to think you were just another pretty face, so you picked up something tough, like," Jackson held the knife between his index fingers, "knife throwing. Well, sweetheart," With a smooth flick of his wrist, Jackson threw knife, which flew about an inch and a half away from her head, like he'd planned, and stuck in the tree behind her. "you're not the only one who can play with knives."

Quinn looked at the kid as he took the knife. Oh no, she's weaponless. No, she ahs more in her jacket pocket. What? She's not going to take only two knives with her in the forest. Her face turned red.
"And let me guess. You're a muscle head son of Ares who has come here to take it out on someone who just happened to look at you the wrong way." Quinn took a breath. "And no. I did not just pick up knife throwing." She was mad. Like really mad. Quinn does not like when people bash her for her knife throwing. She's probably been knife throwing since she was five years old so he can go shove it.
Quinn turned around at the knife that was thrown behind her. Not bad, but she can do better.
"Listen sweetheart," She pulled out another knife from her pocket, "you don't anger a girl with knives."

"Oh, you found the one thing I'm truly afraid of. Tiny knives." Jackson said, with his normal accent and a lot less attitude than before. Jackson didn't have a normal life. He'd spent almost all of his life traveling from Renaissance Festival to Renaissance Festival. His step dad was a blacksmith in a traveling Renaissance group, so Jacks had learned the art of weapons yielding quite early on. He could weild almost any weapon with perfection: knives, swords, bow and arrows, axes, tridents, maces, anything. By the time he was 12, Jackson was the star of the show at the festivals, where he participated in duels of all kinds on the main stage. Thinking about his past calmed him down a bit. "I'm sorry. I'm not usually like this. My brothers are the meat heads, not me. When I get mad at them, I turn in to them. Kind of counterproductive, really." Jackson said with a chuckle. Now that he had cooled off, he was starting to feel really bad for being a jerk.

Quinn looked down, "You sure act like a meat head." She grumbled. Quinn pulled her hair back into a ponytail. Her hair was too long to function.
But if we're labeling people meat heads Quinn could surely be in the running for it. She did play a lot of sports and she was tough. But the daughter of the evening star could be nice sometimes. If she wanted to of course.
"Do you want to tell me your name or I could just call you Hulk for the rest of this conversation." Quinn tried to smile, but she still was pretty annoyed by him. She knows joking is something she doesn't often do, oh whatever. Time for firsts.

The corner of Jackson's lip turned up into a half smile. "I'm Jackson Kingston, but Hulk works too, if you like." Jackson was sweating, despite it being freezing out. Jackson slid off his jacket, revealing a tight red T-shirt that showed off his muscles, and scars, from years of weapons training. He hung his jacket on an eye level branch. Eye level was pretty high, since Jackson was a towering 6'4''. Jacks offered the girl his hand for a handshake, but seeing the blood on his knuckles, he pulled it back, slightly embarrassed.

Quinn chuckled, this guy was a foolish Ares spawn, "I'm Quinn." She told Jackson. She never included her last name in introductions. Her last name was weird, and it always appeared like it was spelt wrong on the computer. She was amazed at the boy for taking off his jacket. She was wearing layers of clothing. Not to mention yoga pants that do nothing to keep her warm. He must be warmer than she was. Quinn was freezing.
Plus he was a good couple of inches taller than her, making Quinn feel like she was a whole foot shorter. She was used to being the tall kid too. Sucks.

"Well, Quinn, where are you from? Have you ever been to a Renaissance Festival, and if so, how long ago?" Jackson thought he needed a major recovery from being a jerk before. The Renaissance ticket seemed like the best choice for the situation. He'd impressed countless people with it before, so maybe it would work again. Jacks walked over to the tree and pulled the knife out of it. He began twisting it between his fingers. He looked at Quinn. She wasn't exactly short, but everyone was short to him.

Quinn was startled by the questions he had asked her. The brunette doesn't like answering or asking questions too much. She didn't want anyone to get to know her.
If she would get too comfortable, they would leave. That's why Quinn had no one, partially.  Quinn raised her hand. "Slow down, Jackson." It was only three(two and a half?) questions the poor boy had asked her.
She'd grew up in Maine. The capital city too. But Quinn didn't really have an accent. Or maybe she did and she didn't notice.

Quinn took a deep breath. She didn't want to come off as harsh, even though the both already did that. "Sorry." She said quietly. She was tugging on her jacket, trying to pull it closer to her body. Oh well, the Ares kid will forget about this sooner or later.

Jackson was a bit startled by her reaction. People rarely rejected him of much. "I didn't mean to freak you out. I just have a somewhat impressive Renaissance Fair story." Jackson had continued playing with the knife, and he didn't realize it until he dropped it. It landed on its side on his shoe. Jacks flipped it back up in the air, catching it with ease. That's when he noticed how cold Quinn looked. "You could use my coat if you like. I'm kind of like a furnace, so it should be pretty well warmed up."

"No no it's fine," Quinn tried to smile to show she wasn't annoyed, "I uh, just don't like questions that much. But you can still say your story. I mean if you still want to." Quinn was flustered. She felt like she was making him feel bad, and she guessed that she didn't want to do that.
When he offered her his coat she thought that was really nice. She never really thought an Ares kid of all people would be nice to her. Quinn had let out a laugh. "That's real cute. Uh thanks."

Jackson smiled and grabbed the coat off the branch. He carried it ovet to her and held it open for her. "My story.... hmm well, I was born in England and lived there till I was 9. When I was about 3 my mom got married to Randy. He's really cool, to be honest. Well, he's a blacksmith in a traveling Renaissance group. I started weapons training with them when I was 5. The company moved to America, and so did we. I live 8 months of the year with my mom in Brooklyn, but the other 4 months we traveled with Randy and I did weapons duels on the main stage. I was fantastic. The people loved me." Jackson told the story with a smile. He sat down on the ground at the base of a tree. He patted the ground for her to sit down next to him.

Quinn managed a smile as she put the jacket on. It was big on her but that was okay. At least she was warm now. She listened to his story. "That sounds really cool." She told him. Quinn had never been to a renaissance fair before. But from what he had said it sounded pretty interesting. She followed him and sat down beside him. But he daughter of the evening star kept a distance, she didn't like no personal space.