Why so Serious? [Camille/Uriel]

[Camille Devraux]

Sweat glistened on Camille's forehead, and her eyes glittered as she glanced down at the skinny Apollo boy. He hadn't put up much of a fight, especially considering he was up against a girl... a daughter of Aphrodite, in fact. Slashes covered his arms and legs, but a huge gash was practically swallowing the back of his left calf. Blood was quickly streaming down and soaking his socks, but that didn't wipe the smirk off of Camille's face. Instead, she laughed as two of his sisters picked him up and carried him out, only glaring back at Cami once before they made it to the door.

It felt good to be beautiful, smart AND a decent fighter. At least, compared to the rest of her sisters. Today she didn't even try. Her skin was perfectly clear, so there was no need for foundation, and mascara would just be sweat off, anyway. Even with her control over make-up, during her manic state, she wouldn't even think to fix it. So today, she was going make-up-less. Her blonde hair was pulled back into a tight, French braid, but a few wavy tendrils had found their way out and were starting to stick to her cheeks.

Her eyes scanned the arena for someone else with the guts to challenge her. Only someone who truly outmatched her... or someone who was a complete moron... was willing to fight the sadistic "French Bitch," as many campers called her. Her eyes sparkled when they stopped on a small daughter of Ares... probably around the age of sixteen. "Come one, my dear," she spoke, smoothly. "I'm sure you would do well. After all, battle is your forte." She smiled, invitingly, and placed her hands on her bare hip. The clothing selection for the day was easy to move in, yet still showed off her "good genetics" that she received from her mother. The Camp Half-blood T-shirt had the sleeves ripped off and it was cut off just above the waist, revealing her flawless midriff. Her cargo pants and tennis shoes were comfortable, but the Capri-pants showed enough of her calves to emphasis her leg length.

Just as the girl was about to agree (after all, who could argue with an Aphrodite girl gifted with Charmspeak?), another girl interrupted. "Back off, Camille. Haven't you picked on people enough? I mean, what would you do if someone walked in here and did to you what you do to everyone else? Huh?" Camille glanced up at the Athena girl and smirked at her.

"I thought Athena kids were brighter than that," she hissed. "After all, who at this camp is anything like me? It's no mystery that your writhing makes my arms tingle. The fact that I can take out a child of the War god, despite the fact that I'm a daughter of the Goddess of Love, makes my heart beat harder because of my accomplishments?"

"It's not much of an accomplishment when you're just a bully, Camille..." the Athena child started, but Camille's glare shut her up.

"Perhaps you would like to give it a try," Cami challenged, but she didn't bother putting any charm into her words. Just anger. "Or, maybe one of your other siblings? If you can find anyone who isn't afraid to take me out like I do to others, then send them out."

[Uriel Camael Mikhail]

The Russian agent /demigod was at battle stance r, he was holding a Mosin Nagant. And he was right in front of the arena, though not in it's circle His left eye was shut tight, on the Iron sight of the rifle, his right eye stared on. Holding the smooth barrel. While his finger played on the trigger. There was his target. The dummy. He had better shots than this for gods sakes. Like that three hundred yards shot at The Russian-Georgian border. But whatever. Mikhail was tired of bringing so much destruction everywhere. Thank gods he could shoot dummies though. He didn't like the idea of sniping campers at this distance. Too easy.

The moment he pulled the trigger, the bullets demolished the head of the dummy. Each shot ripped through the thick hide of the dummy. Until it was no more. The dummy looked destroyed. And of course, that proved that he haven't lost his touch with his gun. A small sigh escaped his lips, and he wiped the sweat off his forehead. Mikhail c couldn't help but wonder; why was there an argument on the other side of the arena? though he didn't care. Even if his sister was included; meh. She can handle herself. if he wanted him to save her poor behind, then she needed to clean his weapons once in a while.

He could see her talking to some hot chick who acted like one of those James Bond girls who was supposed to shoot him but instead got on her knees. Weird. Uriel didn't mind that at all. The man leaned on his rifle, placing the butt of the gun on the ground and looking at the scene with an amused face. Only then did he heard her last words. He didn't hear his sibling words cause; he didn't care. His nice heightened hearing worked if he cared enough to listen. And this time, he did. A small unimpressed frown went on his lips. Well then. What idiocy. One of her siblings? he happens to be there. So, being the gentleman that he was, he aimed the rifle at the top of her head. Pulling the trigger. Bullets whirrled pass her head, demolishing the dummy right next to her. And if she turned to him, he'd see Uriel in a Camp half blood shirt, which seemed small for him; since it showed the outline of his rather well defined physique. And his tattered jeans. Sighing, he nonchalantly placed his rifle on the ground and dropped it right there.

And at his back was a white scabbard of the katana. A small Ancient Greek on the body. Uriel pulled it off and hung it by his shoulder, walking towards the arena, an unimpressed look on his face again. He didn't even give her a chance to react, he pointed the tip of the katana on the sheath. Directly at her face, and he uttered a phrase. Enough for everyone in the arena to hear.

"Clear my damn arena."

And they rushed out, right at the edge of the arena, watching him. Uriel leaned on his sword and spoke. "Let's make a bargain. Whoever wins gets one request that the loser must do. Deal?" He shook his blonde hair and gave her an amused "Hello new meat, let me introduce you to the second longest sword I have." look.

[Camille Devraux]

Camille felt as if a quick gust of wind flew past her. The small hairs on the back of her neck raised just a bit as one of the practice dummies seemed to explode beside her. Her heart jumped a bit, but she stood still and had yet to turn her head. The little girl's eyes had widened and she was now staring at where the wind had seemed to come from. "Did you just try and shoot her?" the Athena girl stuttered, surprised. Camille turned her head in the same direction and smirked.

"Shoot at me?" she questioned with a small laugh. "No, something tells me that if he wanted to hit me, he would have." She stood up and leaned against the post next to the bleachers where she was standing. "Isn't that right, sweetheart?" Her voice was smooth, but it had a taste of venom at the end. To be honest, she had never been shot at before. The closest she had come was an Apollo child and his bow during their battle, but that wasn't the same thing as a gun with bullets.

All of the kids around her seemed to scatter, as if they feared this man more than her. She didn't know if she should be jealous, or if this was a breath of fresh air, but either way, this kid was stepping over the line. He seemed around her age, and he was definitely a good-looker. She looked him over, her smirk never leaving her face. There was no telling who's family line this kid came from. He had the archery (or gunman) skills of an Apollo, but he seemed much more violent than those balls of sunshine.

For some reason, that really turned Camille on.

She stood, watching as the boy advanced towards her and shoved the end of his sword in her face. Her smirk widened at his challenge. Especially because he said it without so much as a spark of emotion. The remaining campers behind her scattered like rats at his demand. She, on the other hand, gently pushed the butt of his sword out of her face and straightened herself. Even when she stood straight, she was almost a foot shorter than he was. He was almost... intimidating.

Intimidating... she couldn't use that word to describe many people. Even many of the larger sons of Ares and Hephaestus feared her because of her lack of self-control when it came to violence or revenge. However, he didn't seem to know who she was... or what she did to those she defeated. For once, she was looking forward to this battle... her first challenge in quite a while.

"Oh, a bet? How interesting," she mused, getting closer to the tall, mysterious blonde . He was watching her now, his arm resting on his sword. She had never made a bet on her skills before, but what was life without taking chances? "Winner gets one request from the loser. Sounds like an exciting wager. Of course, when I win, who knows what sort of thing I might request from you?" She ran the blade of her sword across her finger, gently. "Though, you'll never know until you lose, yes?"

She walked around him, careful to brush his shoulder with her chest as she passed. "I suppose we had better get started. My fans are waiting." A few snickers came from behind her, and Camille smiled, raising her sword.

[Uriel Camael Mikhail]

When she walked around him, it was as interesting as a Vixen wolf circling the Alpha Wolf. It was pathetic but amusing he guessed, He tilted his view to the people watching. He felt like a gladiator. Which was bad. But of course. just to possibly humiliate her in front of them. Make them know that he was the only one that could boss them around. Uriel twisted the katana, he didn't even remove it from it's scabbard. When she brushed her chest on his shoulder, he was seriously tempted to behead her right there. But he knew well not to. That was a cheap win. So, without further adieu, he complied at the little Frenchie's request, stepping to the side, his foot parallel with each other, and the katana hanging by his shoulder to his other one. He knew they had different fighting style; for once;; with this weapon, he didn't do clanging with swords much.

So he needed to rely on speed. Hmm. hard considering this girl might be fast. but he had extreme reflexes, he was fast as well. After all; Uriel didn't do skirmishes much. he was more of the light weapon guy. One who'd clang sword once, retreat to the shadows as fast, then just look at you weakest spot before disarming you. And yes, I meant that literally. Cutting your hand off. It was horrible, though. But now, the people would've noticed his grip tighter on the handle of the sword. The cold leather against his skin was familiar. Even though he just got the katana. She looked nice, he guessed. Maybe if he could cut her shirt down. Now that would be a sight to see. Although he didn't like degrading women during battles. So he'd refrain.

Finally deciding, after a few moments of coldness, he placed his sword down, aimed at the ground in a side ward motion. He'd have to see whether she was good first; Uriel thought. His brain registered every possibility, the coldness of the winds souring passed him. He looked like he was staring down a foe with discontent. While in truth, he was thinking of what to do. He always did. he calculated and tailored every move. When he sword fought, it was as if he was playing chess, he stroked stroked and stroked up until you never see his attack coming, and it ends with your head down the ground. That was how he rolled. And now, his knees bent, and then....

The Russian assailant sprinted. Extreme speed coming into play. His feet was light. Years of training, they were coordinated to work that way. But he didn't even unsheathe his sword. Within a few seconds, he reached her side, whacking at her waist with the still covered sword, while his body squatted down, so he could easily interpret what she was going to do next and dodge. His foot was also ready to sweep right at her if she tried to do anything funny. While this was a futile attack ,he was testing the waters; whether she was worth it or not. Hopefully she was, his sword rarely tasted blood now.

[Camille Devraux]

The fact that her opponent just stood there was slightly unnerving. Camille was used to Apollo kids who tried to fight from a distance and Ares who charged at her as soon as the match began, but she had yet to take on an Athena child, though she expected it to be a lot different. Camille wasn't an idiot, but she wasn't granted with the natural gift of strategy. What she knew, she learned by doing, and she could already tell that this was going to be difficult.

Luckily, she was already warmed up and her manic state made her adrenaline run faster. She was quick and relatively strong, compared to the other Aphrodite children that she'd grown up with. If she could keep up with what this Athena boy was doing, then perhaps it wouldn't be so difficult for her to take it step by step. Even thinking this, her stomach was doing flips. Perhaps it was the way he was eyeing her, as if he could see right through her clothes... and directly into her soul, of course. What are you talking about? You have no soul, bitch, she told herself with a low chuckle that only she could hear.

Finally, the boy seemed to move, but it was to sheath his sword. Camille's eyes narrowed, considering that he had given up, but she highly doubted it. It was all in the way his eyes spoke to her. Stared her down as if he were ready to slice her up and eat her. What was he playing at?

She was about to say something, but he charged her, She stood firmly, watching as he ran towards her with his sword put away. Her feet remained planted as he ran right past her and swung at her with a covered sword. Was he trying not to hurt her? Because she was a female? Did he know of her parentage and had decided that she wasn't worth his blade?

Camille decided to take the hit from the blade. She didn't need to let her guard down for a small bruise on her bare stomach, but she wasn't going to take what she figured as safety precautions lightly. When it smacked her, she barely felt the pain. She slid her foot back so that she was facing him once again and brought the hilt of her own sword down upon his shoulder, just inches from his neck. She moved with grace, and the entire assault was done in one fluid motion. It was going to be difficult to get a decent swing when he was so low to the ground, but striking a spot so close to his neck might have made him rethink his position.

[Uriel Camael Mikhail]

It hit. Uriel could hear the wood carving of the sheathe hitting against her skin. While the impact caused a smack, it wouldn't be enough to take her down, for sure. Uriel calculated the precision of her move, what would be her next steps. His mind worked like that. It was like on autopilot during combat, aiding him in it's way. He loved it for doing that, honestly. But what he didn't expect was the way she swung the sword right at his face. While most would try to gain distance, she was willing to play dirty with him. Nice. But he wasn't all to comfortable with this position.

Right as the blade swung, he slowly tilted his head back, but at the expense of the blade hitting his exposed shoulder. The pain was bearable and was none too uncomfortable. But he was still wounded. As if on cue, Uriel's body shot back from it's sitting position, as if an unknown force shot him back, but it was his agility. He laid right on his back, at the arena, before raising both his legs and doing a fast kip up. He for once showed athleticism in this match. Shows that he wasn't afraid to go agile rather than brute force. His hand wrapped itself on the sheathe of the katana, his eyes staring right at her. Daggers of snakes were as if being thrown out of is eyes and wrapping themselves around the woman.. That was how he gave his evil look. A cold blank stare. Soon, his eyes traveled to his shoulder wound, where blood was still coming out, and the tattered mark of the cloth was seen.And for once, emotion was seen. other than apathy. A small frown. His free hand touched his shoulder before grabbing hold of the sheathe and pulling it free, slowly.

The blade shined right at the ground. Silver and Celestial bronze mixed. The moment he moved his sheathe out of the sword, it felt as if something not right was surrounding the blade of the long Katana sword. One would think he was a cross between a mighty samurai and a buffed up college uni student. But he's way way more dangerous than that. Both of them. He ran a finger across the long blade, before twisting the sheathe in his left hand, stabbing it to the ground for safe keeping. The winds once more blew the streaks of his blonde hair away from his face, and as if an acrobat, Uriel jumped on top of the scabbard. And left his left foot bent behind him. He looked like a flamingo; on top of a long scabbard stabbed to the ground. And enough talk, Uriel jumped towards her, soaring in mid air, doing a front flip before landing right behind her. Holding his sword with his right hand , he twirled and slipped on the arena floor, , jumping and spinning in mid air, before dropping down towards her, full weight, whilist holding the sword, aiming to cut her from her shoulder down to her waist from above as he descended down.

[Camille Devraux]

Camille figured that the man wasn't used to people like her. He seemed a bit surprised, the way he shot away from her from such an odd position, and she smirked. One girl gasped at Camille's move, as if it was something that she shouldn't have done, but she didn't expect anybody to understand HER tactics. Fighting fair was nice, but if it meant her dying, well...visser être gentil.

Her eyes didn't leave him as he hit the ground on his back. It seemed as if her blow had hit him hard enough to take him down, but she knew otherwise. It would have caused a lot more damage if it had that much power behind it. Whether it was because of her or not, he seemed to roll back into a proper form, James Bond-style. His dark, angry stare only made her smile widen. She could tell things were about to get serious, especially when he unsheathed his sword, again.

"Pourquoi si sérieux?" she taunted. "It's as if you had never seen your own blood before." She used her shoulder to push a blonde strand out her face, but it stuck to her cheek with sweat. She was definitely going to need a shower after this. When she watched her opponent, he seemed angry. That only made her feel even more manic than she usually did. For once, she had real competition, and she was the most entertaining thing she had ever seen. He even did flamingo impression in the middle of battle.

She couldn't help but be interested in his show-offish moves. She didn't know that they were necessary, but she was still rather impressed. He had good balance, great speed, and admirable strength. She was quick and agile as well, and was, barely, able to keep up with him. His strength, however, was going to be greater than hers. When her attacked, he wasn't truly going for an offensive attack. She watched him, her eyes darting back and forth, staying on him as closely as she could. It was almost dizzying, how fast he moved, but she managed to keep him in sight until his final blow.

Her sword lowered and she stepped to the side, not wanting to put her strength to the test. If she hadn't dodged, then this man was going to have hit her in the same place that she had gotten him... but with a lot more power. He was no longer playing with her... this was getting majorly serious. Unfortunately, she wasn't able to dodge the attack completely. He managed to cut a long, deep cut into her arm. She bit her lip, trying to ignore the searing pain, but once it died down, she smiled, enjoying the sharp sting. Her arm grew warm and she, like him, looked at her wound. However, instead of frowning about it, she touched it with her fingers and wiped it on her tongue, smiling an inhuman smirk at him. A really young Apollo girl stood up and left, looking as if she were about to pass out from the tense atmosphere, but Camille didn't pay her much mind. She was NOT going to lose this battle.

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visser être gentil-Screw being nice.
Pourquoi si sérieux?-Why so serious?

[Uriel Camael Mikhail]

When the sword slashed across her shoulder, a small unamused look was on Uriel's face. Not enough. She should've been halved by that strike. But she was actually good, and effortlessly blocked his critical strike. No matter. He had a lot up his sleeves. And he was willing to use it in any way possible. The assailant just kept staring at her. Holding the katana sideways. A small step was heard, he was slowly walking, as if to distract her. His eyes glowed brighter. French. She was speaking French. he had his fair share of French enemies. Specially that bastard who was his first kill in a mission ever. Dennis Claude. renowned Drug Cartel. He remembered how he shot him right at his head. Well his accent was enough to spike his anger. This bitch's antics just made him laugh.

Now he understood some French. And he wasn't an idiot; Mikhail knew she was taunting him. And with his favorite character nonetheless, Joker. You see, Uriel was a Russian agent. And in his time, he watched hundreds of films. One that did manage to peak his interest was The Dark Knight. While Uriel never exactly had free time, he always made time for leisure. And like others, Mikhail fell in love with this certain character, The Joker. It captured the Russian's interest simply because he reminded Uriel of himself in so many ways.

Cracking his neck, Uriel placed his hand on the ripped cloth of his body, peeling his entire shirt off with a whack. Sweat dripped down his exposed body as he grabbed on to his sword even further. Sure; this was exposing his body for attacks; but Uriel didn't rely on stealth and being that fast all too much ; he believed in a certain principle. Be hit and hit back harder. And this katana wasn't going to cut that principle. He had two main weapons; The katana for stealth, and slick. And his other weapon; for brute force. A scythe. Uriel had it made in the forges, and it was the best he had. Uriel jumped backwards and placed his hand in front of him. drawing out a small cylinder in the back of his pants. at his touch, two bronze poles extended from each end. And on the top pole, a sickle-like blade extended. And the cylinder morphed into the handle of the scythe itself. A small smile crossed his lips; and Uriel charged, still with extreme speed, throwing the katana to it's sheathe. And as he charged, he twirled the scythe in mid air, and slashed down with the blade, towards her. The scythe making a wooshing sound as it descended down on her. But right as he was about to go into range, he threw the scythe towards her, making it spin around and head towards her; as if using it as a boomerang, and Uriel landed on the hard surface; immediately running towards her, Aiming to deliver a hard spear tackle right at her gut. So now she had a scythe heading to chop her body off, and a two hundred pound Russian about to spear tackle her down.

[Camille Devraux]

There was time to breath as the Russian boy retreated for a moment. Camille was breathing rather hard, but it was more-so from adrenaline than exhaustion. He was slightly disappointed that his attack had little effect on her, she noted, but it was obvious that it wasn't going to phase him for more than a second. What she truly found strange was his slight laugh at her words. What was he laughing at? Her accent? Her appearance? Not that either of those things bothered her, but she couldn't help but wonder.

And now he was stripping.

Camille raised an eyebrow as he peeled off his shirt. He was definitely a looker, that was for sure. The sweat didn't make him look any worse, either. Though, for once, Camille wasn't all that attracted to him. Perhaps it was because he seemed to have such a dominating nature, and she preferred submissive men? Camille smiled anyway.

"Should I be doing the same?" she asked with a small snort, but didn't move to remove anything. A few of the campers had managed to sneak their way out of the practice arena, but several had moved higher into the seats, watching the entire scene unfold, interested in which of the evils was, truly, the greater.

Camille noticed that her opponent was having a change of weapons, and she waited, patiently to see what he had up his sleeve. When she saw the scythe (or was it a sickle? No, definitely a scythe...) she rolled her eyes. "Oh mon Dieu, si ce n'est pas le porteur de mort lui-même!" she gushed, sarcastically. "What an interesting weapon choice. Have you considered a cape and a hood?"

She frowned as he advanced, his speed still picking up. How was he not tired after all of that darting around that he'd done up to this point? She steadied herself, but didn't expect the two handed weapon to be launched at her. Her eyes widened and she managed to block it with her sword and redirect it around her, but she still ended up sliding backwards on the ground with a heavy man on top of her... this time being completely non-consensual.

She grunted as her bare back scraped across the dirt floor. Her sword flew from her hand, and she muttered French curses under her breath. "Dieux vous maudisse!" she growled, thrusting her foot upwards. What was once a battle now seemed to be a hand-to-hand match, and she wasn't above throwing shots under the belt, pour ainsi dire.

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Oh mon Dieu, si ce n'est pas le porteur de mort lui-même- Oh my God, if this is not the bringer of death itself!

Dieux vous maudisse!-Gods damn you!

pour ainsi dire.-so to speak