Arriving at the Titan Cabin (Shade and me)

Water, drenched golden blond hair falling down in front of his perfectly tan skin. Hundreds upon hundreds of cold drops raining down on his skin as he breathed out letting the feeing sink in. As much as the toned young man hated what water did to his power he had to admit it felt good. When your body was twenty five percent scar tissue and of bruises the cold sensation you could only get from a shower or a cold lake felt amazing. He had blocked off the entire bathrooms and of course after about a good ten minutes the pounding on the door became too much for him. Shutting the water off he moved the hair out of his face and opened his eyes. Their golden glow illuminating the dark room a tad bit, he stepped out of the shower and grabbed a towel.

Drying off most of his body he threw on some dark jeans, light weight black Adidas, and a white muscle shirt. Yawning he walked towards the door and moved all of the stuff out of the way of the locked door "Cut your crap, not like any of you ever really use the showers to shower anyway." He muttered as he opened the door and shoved his way past the group that had gathered around. Or at least the first few, after realization sunk in of who exactly it was that was coming out of the bathroom the group of Demi-Gods started to back off; it was as if he was Moses parting the Red Sea. Except instead of the Red Sea it was a bunch of whiney little Demi-Gods who were probably a little randy.

From there, after getting into one fight with some Thanatos kid which ended with said kid getting curbed stomped, he made his way back to the Titan Cabin. Yet, low and behold he was not the only person who was currently on their way to the cabin of the rejects. The Cabin of the Damned and Mistakes, as he liked to call it at times. Although, if he was being honest it was better than the one in the forest he had heard so much about. "You lost or something?" From the looks of her she was probably some war God kid or some underworldly kid. Even if this was supposed to be her Cabin she wasn't anyone he had seen before, and with how little of them there were he figured he had met all his bunk 'mates'.

Apollo? Who the bloody hell did this sod think she was, and walking into the Titan Cabin she had another thing coming. "Apollo btch? Really? You're one to talk you War God punk." He called back at her as he light traveled into the cabin right next to his father's statue, leaning up against it. He watched her with interest. She was attractive in that punk rocker type of way and she was obviously a fighter by birth, but he sure as hell wasn't going to give her any slack. However he could only laugh when she dropped her stuff down on one of the many empty bunks in the pretty open cabin. She was either really lost or her parent was a Demi-Titan.

Which if he was being honest was pretty far fetched. Three new Demi-Titans in the span of the same month, let alone two weeks and all of them the same damn age; something didn't add up. "So. Who's your mom or dad then?" He was interested now, a new Demi-Titan that looked like she could put up a fight was interesting. Crystal put up a fight in her own way, but it would be useless on the battlefield; this girl however had spunk and he wouldn't mind Dancing his favorite dance with her. If however she really was what he believed her to be and that was still to be seen. What he did know was that he didn't like surprises and not knowing who it was he was sleeping in the same room with. Those two things could get you killed, didn't matter who you were.

“Damn right. Took you long enough to figure it out.” He said ignoring the fact that she had blatantly ignored him asking who her Titanly parent was. Not that it really mattered all that much but Stella and that Wolf guy had told him once or twice that Demi-Titans had to stick together or something, which although he could see the advantages in this didn’t mean he wouldn’t pummel them if given the chance. In fact Gabriel would fight anyone who he could get his hands on, or was willing to. Hell he’d even fight someone if they didn’t want to fight but if he was being totally honest, and as this was all in his head right now he was, that wasn’t anywhere near as fun. When Dancing the Dance of Death with someone else it was usually much more thrilling when they too were fighting back.

He could tell from the sort of air of confidence she gave off that she was a kindred spirit or whatever the saying was.  She was a fighter, someone who didn’t take orders well and loved being on the front lines for whatever her own reasoning was. Probably was way different from his actual reason for fighting, but more than likely it wasn’t too different from one of the hundreds of lies about his past he had told. He was brought out of his own mind however when she talked about the child of Kronos thing and he could only blink looking at her dumbfounded. “Me? Running behind anyone like a fudging” the word fudging wasn’t used, but let’s leave it that way for the children, “lap dog? You must be out of your damned mind.”

Standing up he got off of the statue and walked a few feet forwards and over towards her. “I do however bet when you meet Stella you’re going to be her little lap dog. Probably even more so than Wolf is.” Laughing at the sight he was getting in his mind “Oh yea, I can see it now cupcake. You’re going to gravitate to her like Mary’s little lamb.” Sure, she didn’t strike him as a follow the authority type person, much like himself, but he also had a feeling unlike him she didn’t try and challenge the top dog and didn’t mind sitting second string as long as she got whatever little respect she deserved. “But I digress, its all just speculation. So, let me ask again who is your parent?”

He was going to comment on who Stella was and how they were so much alike, or even on something entirely related to that part of the conversation. He swore he was but then she said something about hiding in this camp and not fighting or something and how they didn’t deserve something or another and he about lost it. “What the bloody hell are you talking about? I only got to this hell hole of a camp like last month, as for fighting you ain’t seen nothing.” He swore taking off his muscle shirt revealing his toned and obviously in shape upper body but what really and truly stuck out were the scars, the bruises, and the cuts and or stab wounds.

“I’ve been fighting longer than you could even conceive the word. I grew up in the fighting pits back home. Shipped around from town to town like trash, fighting is all I know. So jump off your high horse, talking about things you know nothing about.” Sure, it was a bit much and he wasn’t sure where it came from; perhaps his competitive streak or maybe it was the fact that he didn’t like the way she thought she was better than him just because she fought in something or another. If she really didn’t like it here, didn’t like the three square meals a day, knowing you had a place to sleep at night and didn’t have to do so with a knife tucked under your stomach than she could go back to her more than likely fancy ass family.

However he pulled his shirt back on and answered her question, ignoring the statement made towards his father. He’d never met the guy and having heard that he was stuck in some tree was actually funny in his opinion. “Gabriel.” Yes like the angel, yes like the character from that dumb show he’d never seen before but apparently was so amazing. He actually found it quite funny, his mother named him after an angel from Christianity and he himself had nothing to do with that religion in fact his mythological line was completely different still having to do with blinding light however. “Gabriel McAllister, and your name? I’d rather not call you westy all the time, and calling you btch is a disgrace to female dogs everywhere.” He grinned at his own little joke, didn’t mean it obviously but hey she got wiled up almost as easily as Stella.

“You think these are from monsters? Really? You must be blind.” Knife cuts, bullet wounds, things of that sort decorated his body but monster claws or fangs were nowhere to be seen.  “These are from people, Demi-Gods, and things of that sort. I’ve lived on the streets my entire life I fight to live. The Dance of Death is my muse. Each scar is a trophy, a fight I won. Not once have I ever used my full power, full strength. None of them deserved it and none of the people here bloody deserve it. So let’s get things straight Thea” the name came out of his mouth almost venomously “I call myself a Demi-Titan because my pops just so happens to be one. Not because I owe any loyalty to anybody; and I sure as hell don’t call myself one because it makes me better than everyone else like you seem to think miss perfect.”

He’d seen her kind before, rich little snob that had enough of mummy and daddy dearest not giving her everything she wanted so she felt the need to be a little rebel. It made him want to gag, she’d never known any sort of pain in her entire life probably and probably couldn’t fight anyway. People like that didn’t deserve respect and they sure as hell didn’t deserve his respect. The only thing she had going for her was she apparently had ‘fought’ in some ‘war’, probably all a load of shiz if you asked him and more than that she probably never even saw the battle field.

Oh she was a riot. She honestly believed that he was crying to her about his wounds? If anything he never cried about his wounds they were what made him who he was, His wounds were what made him the man he was; the fights were what made him who he was. Chuckling he covered his mouth trying to hide the noise but it didn’t do any good. “You are funny if you truly believe that.” Shaking his head at the question of whether or not they had pizza he grinned. “Oh we do, but I don’t believe you’ll be getting any. Anytime soon.” Stella would kill him if he burnt down the cabin but the reason was worth it. He needed to show the noob what was what.

Breathing in through his noise he breathed out of his mouth and noise and out came a stream of golden fire. Fire under his control that streamed out from him and to the bed the female was sitting on. He wasn’t entirely sure how much damage six hundred and something degrees was going to do to her but it could burn iron and that was all he needed to know.  He had no intention of killing her, just getting her pissed off, angry. He intended on getting her to fight so he could see just what type of person she really was. Because in his mind it was during the Dance of Death that people showed you who they truly were.