Roman Punishment (Open)

Draco found himself doing push-ups, there was very little reason to ask him why, he was a Son of Bellona, his body was built for war, maintained by working out. He was harsh, hardly giving himself any room for error or complaining, he treated his routine like it have been assigned to him by Bellona herself. He grinned and bore it, allowing his muscles to howl in protest. He was wearing his full Centurion armor, the heaviest stuff he had, helmet and all. One would have thought he was mad, at this time of night, but he didn't feel like out-working everyone else so blatantly. He'd even surpassed all of Mars' Children, as far as he knew, which made him proud beyond reason. He didn't like being seen as Draco, Son of Bellona, the lesser War goddess, consort of Mars. No, he loved his mother, and his greatest desire in life was to bring her the honor she, and her children deserved. His grandfather, Timor was another he wanted to make proud, and by using the fear and horror inducing powers of his lineage, he hoped to earn the God the respect he deserved. He was vaguely aware of a person running the course, he had hardly thought it would be his Lyra, the girl was a daughter of another lesser God, she was one of his closest friends. If it was within his power, he'd bring her father respect too.

In the time he worked out, he usually counted how many sets he did, usually somewhere between five sets of two-fifty or one solid set of one thousand, two hundred, and fifty, tonight he'd lost count, and pushed up with shocking speed, back to his feet. He was panting heavily, pouring in sweat, and quickly unbuckled his armor to prevent himself from passing out. He exhaled sharply, wandering toward the obstacle course after a brief respite. In the moonlight, he could now make out the form of the girl, and then Hunter, Lyra it was, and he felt a small, warm smile appear on his face before recalling that Hunter was not part of his inner circle, merely a coworker, an acquaintance, for now, he did trust his fellow centurion with his life, but not with his secrets. He probably smelled terrible, musky, perhaps if he drifted past the Aphrodite Cabin, he might ensnare one of the women within. He chuckled at himself a moment, returning to the present, he stopped a few feet away from the two, letting a moment pass to be sure their silence was complete. "C'mon now, Lyra, you're not impressing anyone by standing there huffing and puffing like that. Hop to it, girl.", he said, it wasn't uncommon for Draco to push his friends, even if she was here due to her own actions. He gave Hunter a glance, nodding his head once in greeting before promptly walking over to Lyra, and taking a place on the balance beam.

Now, a normal person would use their feet, but as he started, Draco fell forward, arms extended to switch to a handstand, crossing the beam one hand after the other. "Your limits are mostly mental, break the barrier, and you'll find your capable of much more than your mind realizes.", he said. Why would he be doing a handstand while walking across a balance beam telling Lyra to keep going? That's what friends are for right? To push them to reach untold heights, and become all that they could be. He seemed to be in quite a good mood, which was common for Draco, at least one the surface, beneath boiled a desire for war, and the carnage it brought. That went without mentioning all the honor and glory, untold riches and spoils one gathered from battles, to carve a name through history as the mightiest warrior of their age. To stand beside warriors like Jason and Achilles, that was the beauty in bloodshed, it was the heroes and legends they forged, those worthy of remembrance. Draco intended to see Lyra to that pedestal, and was determined to be there right beside her.

Word Count: 688
Muse: Sick Puppies - You're Going Down
Tagged: @lyra, Hunter Morgan