Post by Heather Landon on Feb 28, 2012 5:04:01 GMT -5
Stab, stab, whack, chop, poke, slice… Heather was in the Amphitheater again, brutally slaughtering thousands of invisible enemies with names. “Here, Dad, that was for the time you forgot my birthday…” Whack, whack! “And that’s for you, Paul, for abandoning me to him.” Stab, stab! “And this--” Whirl, slice, chop! “Is for you, Mum, for ignoring me and then ruining my life!”
Breathing somewhat heavily from her effort, the bitter teenage demi-god sat down to rest on the many hard metal benches that lined the amphitheater, brooding on anything and everything that had gone in her childhood life, the things that shouldn’t have happened, the things that should have happened…
It wasn’t a very happy preoccupation.
Again she leaped up with a sudden cold fury and started angrily yelling at the invisible people who seemed to surround her with mocking faces, simultaneously chopping them to bits with her wieldy, borrowed sword.
Her fighting skills were just passable; she had no sense of offense or defense. The only redeeming trait about them was their wild, raw power that spoke of an impossibly strong will that would do anything it took to win.
But at any rate, brooding and slashing at invisible opponents was just one thing that had her occupied. Two other facts found her there too. First, there was the matter of the place itself. Since most – no, all – of the campers generally went to the Arena to train, which was the official area to do it, the Amphitheatre was almost always empty except for the occasional lonely soul who wandered in or when there was some big event going on. So Heather had the huge vicinity to herself and her harsh thoughts.
And then the other reason she was in the Amphitheatre was because it had appealed to her. The vast, empty, abandoned-looking but magnificent piece of architecture felt exactly like her, appearing simple yet really complicated, abandoned by the crowds of half-bloods that had once thronged in its midst, and of course, completely empty except for her. Or so she thought.
Flinging herself down onto the floor, the dark-haired half-blood closed her eyes as a satisfying feeling of utter fatigue swept over her. She had told one of the other more inquisitive campers, when asked what she was going to do, that she was going to train.
Heather hadn’t minded giving that bit of information away, since it was highly unlikely that anyone would ever find her throughout the huge camp grounds. Anyways, she had trained, in a way, and gotten a good deal of frustration out too. Killing two birds with one stone. That was one of the things that her father had always said, on the rare times when he visited her and had an over-formal, serious dinner with his only child.
How she hated that phrase. She hated every word he ever said. She hated him.
A black cloud passed over her brow as the memory of all those pain-filled days came back to her. The anger, the hate, the bitterness, the frustration… they had never really gone away altogether. They always came back to bother her no matter what she did to run away.
With a heavy sigh, Heather got up and again began to half-heartedly stab the air, almost wishing that someone would come along who would duel with her, no questions asked.
Words: 561
Muse: Good! So feel free to write a short reply if you want to. I’d just really like for someone to reply.
Notes: Heather is brooding on her childhood again; someone should get in there and make her lighten up. I left an opening for whoever’s character to have asked the question, or someone could just make an introduction for themselves.
Tags: Rev/Ossac
Breathing somewhat heavily from her effort, the bitter teenage demi-god sat down to rest on the many hard metal benches that lined the amphitheater, brooding on anything and everything that had gone in her childhood life, the things that shouldn’t have happened, the things that should have happened…
It wasn’t a very happy preoccupation.
Again she leaped up with a sudden cold fury and started angrily yelling at the invisible people who seemed to surround her with mocking faces, simultaneously chopping them to bits with her wieldy, borrowed sword.
Her fighting skills were just passable; she had no sense of offense or defense. The only redeeming trait about them was their wild, raw power that spoke of an impossibly strong will that would do anything it took to win.
But at any rate, brooding and slashing at invisible opponents was just one thing that had her occupied. Two other facts found her there too. First, there was the matter of the place itself. Since most – no, all – of the campers generally went to the Arena to train, which was the official area to do it, the Amphitheatre was almost always empty except for the occasional lonely soul who wandered in or when there was some big event going on. So Heather had the huge vicinity to herself and her harsh thoughts.
And then the other reason she was in the Amphitheatre was because it had appealed to her. The vast, empty, abandoned-looking but magnificent piece of architecture felt exactly like her, appearing simple yet really complicated, abandoned by the crowds of half-bloods that had once thronged in its midst, and of course, completely empty except for her. Or so she thought.
Flinging herself down onto the floor, the dark-haired half-blood closed her eyes as a satisfying feeling of utter fatigue swept over her. She had told one of the other more inquisitive campers, when asked what she was going to do, that she was going to train.
Heather hadn’t minded giving that bit of information away, since it was highly unlikely that anyone would ever find her throughout the huge camp grounds. Anyways, she had trained, in a way, and gotten a good deal of frustration out too. Killing two birds with one stone. That was one of the things that her father had always said, on the rare times when he visited her and had an over-formal, serious dinner with his only child.
How she hated that phrase. She hated every word he ever said. She hated him.
A black cloud passed over her brow as the memory of all those pain-filled days came back to her. The anger, the hate, the bitterness, the frustration… they had never really gone away altogether. They always came back to bother her no matter what she did to run away.
With a heavy sigh, Heather got up and again began to half-heartedly stab the air, almost wishing that someone would come along who would duel with her, no questions asked.
Words: 561
Muse: Good! So feel free to write a short reply if you want to. I’d just really like for someone to reply.
Notes: Heather is brooding on her childhood again; someone should get in there and make her lighten up. I left an opening for whoever’s character to have asked the question, or someone could just make an introduction for themselves.
Tags: Rev/Ossac
I'll reply soon
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