Call It A Hunch(Tagged)

One by one, Julius watched each dilligently, the way they held themselves, height, even muscle structure. He wasn't shocked to find that it was he who was the oldest, but he was slightly surprised when he caught himself wondering if the Norse woman might be stronger than he was. He dismissed the notion, he was a Son of Pluto, he didn't need to fear her, he bit back a smile, no, when the dead stir to fight at your whim, when the shadows could swallow you, and carry you away from a fight gone bad, what was there to fear? Death? He wasn't sure why, but when the same girl cringed at the smell of smoke, he was slightly annoyed, had she never fought or seen a dragon before? What would she have done when faced with such a terror? Ever the judgemental one, he already decided the Norse girl was, more or less, humble, no flaunting of her station, though it made him wonder if she apprecitaed her own importance. He carried his honor and burden of prophetic visions on his sleeve, and was proud of it despite the weight everyone seemed to put in his words. He bowed his head respectfully to Riley, pondering her display, perhaps he'd refrain from smoking near her again...or smoke closer next time, but the latter thought was brushed away, that was something Kyle would do, the war-monger.

Then came the kid, Egyptian, he didn't look like he would last long without a guard of some sort, not that that was bad, per se, just not the warrior type, perhaps puberty hadn't hit him in full force yet, or maybe he was naturally small. He struck Julius as shy, he could understand that, being the youngest of the group assembled, he had to be a worthy representative of his Camp...or...whatever it was he was representing. He repeated the same notion he'd given Riley, though it may have been more meaningful for Samuel than it was for the Norse Vanir. After all, it was two to two, boys to girls, and he'd already started off on the wrong foot with Riley with his nervous habit, better to keep on at least one of the Seer's good sides.

He glanced at Rachel, his heart froze again, and he mused on the observation that Romeo must've felt the same way Julius did now, swooning over his family and friend's enemy, but not his. He didn't freak out this time, however, he stood his ground. She was a mortal, of that he was sure, she didn't have the same aura as the former two, but held a power that was equally noticable, something that felt as old as the Gods themselves, a slightly discomforting image when looking upon a girl he'd lost his cool over not five minutes ago. Of the three, Rachel was closest to him while the Norse Vanir and Egyptian Prophet stuck closer together. While Romans and Greeks were similar, he knew very little of either of his other companions. He wondered if, perhaps, the Norse and Egyptians were similar, lending a logical reason as to why they were both stand-offish to the foreign affairs of Julius' or Rachel's Camps.

In his thought, he failed to see the idea forming in Rachel's eyes, he didn't even notice her moving until she'd grasped his hand. Julius wasn't the tannest guy, but what color his face did drain in a mini-moment when he thought his lapse in focus was about to earn him something unpleasant, like an assassination, but he found, instead, that she was confirming his hypothesis that the rift between Rome and Greece was purely perception, nothing that couldn't be worked past. His heard did start hammering in his chest though, and when his color returned it was nearly maroon. It took him a moment to process what she'd said, more still to form a coherent reply, and one final pause to realize he was breathing through his nose and that he was thoroughly enjoying it. He forced himself to return to the matters at hand, doing his best not to faulter when she squeezed his hand. He nodded once at Rachel, to her and only her, he chose to speak, "It's a pleasure." And with that, a grim mood fell over his features, death was something he understood well, and the word genocide struck a chord in his mind and he winced as a shiver ran up his spine, images of countless dead danced before his gaze, and he had to bite back a curse when he realized he was being plagued by his own hellish nightmares. He cleared his throat, speaking as clearly as he could given his own personal experience with death, and the vivid clarity of his nightmares, "The Oracle is correct, at least on my part. I have been having disturbingly realistic dreams of late..." He refrained from explaining anything in detail, his few, choice words seemed to be all he was willing to say until he knew whether or not the other two had come here to eliminate the enemy prophets as a gesture for their own camp, and perhaps extend the deaths of the Seers as a warning to the other camps: No one, not even your Seers are safe from us. And with that thought in mind, Julius fell into a morbid silence, his hand still appeared limp in Rachel's grasp due to him working on hiding his feelings. In truth, he was trembling lightly, whether from ADHD or fear he wasn't sure, all he knew is that what they said tonight could very well prevent a war from destroying them, or forge the alliances with which it is fought.

Word Count: 957
Tagged: Samuel Connors, @riley, @rachel