Meeting with a Friend

The was just barely off of the horizon as Conan walked out of the Ares cabin. He stretched hearing as much as much feeling his bones creak and pop. He hated the beds in camp but that was just a small complaint. Already camp was nearly in full swing, only the late risers like the sleep god kids,  or the night god kids. The Apollo, Aphrodite, Demeter, and Hermes cabins were totally active. He could see demi-gods, Satyrs, and nymphs starting their daily routine. As he looked across the courtyard he saw one of the few Hephaestus kids that Conan actually liked. "Yo! Malcolm!" Conan called down to the Hephaestus cabin, which was just on the other side of Cabin #7. Conan didn't even wait for a response, before walking to meet his friend.

Malcolm had gotten out of his bottom bunk which was a tad bit to short for him and was headed out to warm his body up from the sun's rays. Today was fairly nice to far. Malcolm didn't have any nightmares of jumping down from cliffs so he felt better about today. The six foot three African American demigod step down from the steps of his factory styled cabin and heard his name being called, looking around for a quick second, his eyes landed one of his close friends walking toward him. "Ah, Conan!" He walked toward his shorter friend and smiled. "Good morning."

Conan held his hand up in greeting as they got nearer one another. He shrugged, still trying to get the stiffness out of his shoulder. Conan was fairly typical for an Ares kid, he was a decently tall at five and a half feet, muscularly defined from training at both home and camp, and his hair is close cropped short brown. He wore a typical Ares outfit of white shirt, dark blue jeans, and black combat boots. His variant though is a camouflage fatigue vest which held his celestial bronze flashlight that turns into his sword at the push of a button. Conan liked Malcolm mainly because while he was gentle he had the strength to rein Conan back before he shoved his foot to far down his own throat, or someone else's. "How's it going man?" Conan asked once they were in easy earshot and he didn't have to shout.

Malcolm was very fond of Conan. Whenever Malcolm needed to test out a weapon, he could always go to him to test it out for him. His outfit consisted of a purple tank top with cameo shorts and tan boots. Malcolm almost looked like a drill sergeant; if only he had on a hat. "Nothing much really, going to head over to the forge for some work." Like the majority of the Hephaestus kids, Malcolm loved to work in the forge of camp. His toned body spoke for that fact. "How about yourself?"

Conan smirked when Malcolm said he was headed for the forges, everyone could have guessed that. However the return question interested Conan more. "Actually, I was going to come looking for you." He said as he turned, indicating that they can walk and talk. "Lately I've been thinking that I'd like to ask you to help me make a shield. Preferably one that can change form into a wristband or a bracer, something like that." He continued as the moved along. There were younger kids milling about and Conan growled at a few who had bumped into him.

Malcolm cocked his head to his side some, a smile still on his face. "Hm...sure! Yeah, I can do that for you, Conan." He started thinking of the designs he could use to make the shield. He had to make sure it was personalized just for Conan. He smirked when Conan growled at one of the little kids who bumped into him.

"Hey, I think I know that one." He chuckled lightly.

Conan grunted in response to Malcolm's statement that he may have known one of the brats that Conan growled at. "Well if you do, tell 'em to watch who they barrel into." He grumbled as they continued walking. Though the promise of a new shield, one that would no doubt be perfectly customized for him, raised his spirit and made it impossible for him to stay mad. He genuinely enjoyed assisting the Hephaestus kids in making weapons, main because he got to play with most of the prototypes of the weapons. Plus, he felt that if you knew where and how the weapon was made and by whom, you could actually draw more out of the weapon than you normally could. Because of this Conan usually insisted that he at least be able to watch and it was made, if not actually help in someway.

Malcolm rolled his eyes teasingly and head toward the forge, resting his hand on his friend's shoulder. "Stereotypical Ares kid." He smirked and continued walking.

OOC: Now off to make le topic!