Post by Deleted on Sept 10, 2013 22:12:45 GMT -8
To which one who listened to that song before would respond with 'Top of the mornin' to yah', however, the Satyr got no such response from Chris. Not today, anyway. He imagined few people thinking as deeply as he was would have even noticed, that was different in the case of this Demigod, he was aware, only giving a nod in reply. He hated the weight looming war put on his shoulders, stress beyond reason. This was just a nice spot to relax, and think, staring out at the ocean.
The beach truly was mesmerizing in the evening, sunlight shimmering across the water, throwing rays of red, yellow, and orange across the sky, a light breeze came off the water, his hair caught in it, swaying similarly to the grass in the fields above him that led back to the center of the Camp. He was dressed in an Orange Camp Half-Blood shirt, and simple jeans. His knees were pressed against his chest, arms resting upon them. He had a far away look in his eyes, he'd survived one war and now it almost seemed like someone else was pitting the Romans and Greeks against one another. Paranoia, obviously, no god, nor monster was twisted enough to want to watch children die, aside from Kronos, may his eternal soul rot in Tartarus.
But there was no excuse this time, no reason, that's why everyone was so edgy, one tiny provocation and the keg would blow, blood would be spilled just as it had every other time Romans and Greeks tried to co-exist. War...war never changes. And to see it first hand, like the Romans had, one might think avoiding it at all costs would be top priority, so then why was it that everyone seemed to be busier preparing, and building tension instead of trying to come up with a solution? Was it so deeply bred into them that fighting was all they knew? Fighting for love? For conquest and glory? For riches or to prove who was the best? Or was it because they all were hyperactive nut-cases who couldn't get along even if it meant the extinction and destruction of an entire Camp? Jupiter or Half-Blood? And why did no one's parents seem to notive? In fact...where were they? Egotistical, frowning upon the trivialities of mortal life? "Enough.", he said to himself sternly, "You're only going to make it worse." He knew that he was right, he didn't want to lose anyone else, not after what he had learned of Charlie, and Silena, or Zoë and Bianca, no more death, no more suffering, no more being used as pawns or playthings to 'higher' beings. He hoped Clarisse would understand, he had minor power, but he had the ears of three respected Cabin Leaders, right? If he could at least try to convince them that fighting was pointless...they might have a chance.
The beach truly was mesmerizing in the evening, sunlight shimmering across the water, throwing rays of red, yellow, and orange across the sky, a light breeze came off the water, his hair caught in it, swaying similarly to the grass in the fields above him that led back to the center of the Camp. He was dressed in an Orange Camp Half-Blood shirt, and simple jeans. His knees were pressed against his chest, arms resting upon them. He had a far away look in his eyes, he'd survived one war and now it almost seemed like someone else was pitting the Romans and Greeks against one another. Paranoia, obviously, no god, nor monster was twisted enough to want to watch children die, aside from Kronos, may his eternal soul rot in Tartarus.
But there was no excuse this time, no reason, that's why everyone was so edgy, one tiny provocation and the keg would blow, blood would be spilled just as it had every other time Romans and Greeks tried to co-exist. War...war never changes. And to see it first hand, like the Romans had, one might think avoiding it at all costs would be top priority, so then why was it that everyone seemed to be busier preparing, and building tension instead of trying to come up with a solution? Was it so deeply bred into them that fighting was all they knew? Fighting for love? For conquest and glory? For riches or to prove who was the best? Or was it because they all were hyperactive nut-cases who couldn't get along even if it meant the extinction and destruction of an entire Camp? Jupiter or Half-Blood? And why did no one's parents seem to notive? In fact...where were they? Egotistical, frowning upon the trivialities of mortal life? "Enough.", he said to himself sternly, "You're only going to make it worse." He knew that he was right, he didn't want to lose anyone else, not after what he had learned of Charlie, and Silena, or Zoë and Bianca, no more death, no more suffering, no more being used as pawns or playthings to 'higher' beings. He hoped Clarisse would understand, he had minor power, but he had the ears of three respected Cabin Leaders, right? If he could at least try to convince them that fighting was pointless...they might have a chance.
