Snippet #2692657

located in Camp Half-Blood, a part of Camp Half-Blood : The Wrath of Ouranos, one of the many universes on RPG.

Camp Half-Blood

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Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Reagan Davenport Character Portrait: Beckett Castellan Character Portrait: Cassidy C. Daly Character Portrait: Maya J. Braeden Character Portrait: Lexa Abernathy Character Portrait: Ezra Blackwall
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# 9 6 0 8 4 9 // O U T F I T
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# 5 C 2 8 3 6 // O U T F I T
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She could really use an aspirin right about now. Or five... Maya hasn't been at camp long enough to get used to its inner workings. Her internal clock still ran on Oregon time and, for the most part, her brain still awoke in the morning confused about her whereabouts. Logically, she knew it was the stress that was keeping her anxious and yet she couldn't fathom attributing her every nervous twitch to just the camp. She had never been around so many people in her life before, and it had begun to take its toll long ago. Sisters, her hometown, was small enough that everybody could name one another without a second meeting; here, she was struck by the fact that she would probably never learn everybody's name or faces if she was being honest.

To say it's disconcerting is a huge understatement. Camp activities were a stretch for her as well, she knew that participation was key to her success here but at the same time she almost felt nervous at the prospect of facing the other campers. Most of them had been here a while, from what she could tell, and that put them at an advantage over her that she didn't quite know how to handle. All she knew, was that the hour between now and capture the flag would be the longest of her life. Nerves had already settled in her gut but she distracted herself with a book that had been her last gift from her father before she had skipped town with the Satyr that brought her here.

That was a trip she didn't want to think about. For the third time in as many hours, she curses her parents for keeping her isolated for so long. It's bad enough that she scared most people off with her quiet disdain, she didn't need the added familial baggage. As the time drew closer she figured she'd better change out into something more suitable - armor had almost been out of the question until she realized the ineffectual nature of running around in a t-shirt and jeans. She had tighter, more form-fitting athletic wear that she pulled on and decided that she would figure out what she needed later when it came to defensive wear.

-*-
Cas didn't consider himself an easy sleeper. When he woke his better moods usually didn't kick in without a little outside help. Namely, Reagan - he couldn't stay mad at her for any sudden awakenings - and Coffee if it was on hand - which he was sorely lacking at that moment. He really, honestly didn't want to drag himself out of bed but the insistence of her tone was enough to get him rolling. Plus, he was too easy to notice missing here. He both loved and hated that simple fact. When she prodded he waved a dismisive hand in the air and mumbled about staying in bed for the rest of his life.

"Cas! We have Capture the Flag in an hour." For a moment, Cas didn't answer. Barely cracked an eye open to watch her turn and flop back onto the bed. He was almost tempted to just close his eyes and nod off again. "Or are you already scared to get your ass kicked by me... Again." He bit the end of a laugh out and smiled at her, "Big words for someone who hasn't won yet." He waggled his brow and finally started to emerge from the bed. His legs were stiff and sore already; he knew at the end of the day the soreness would dissipate, only to return in full force tomorrow. He should have stayed in shape over the summer, but Cas is nothing if not lazy at the best of times.

Cas kept would keep optimism alive until later - he hadn't won a single game of capture the flag against her in all the years he had been there with her. Which begged him to question whether that was his unwillingness to conspire with his own team or his more than willingness to slack off when it came physicalities. Without anger to fuel him he had no actual drive to fight - well, there was some drive. A flame of a fight in him that was burned out whenever Reagan was near. Her presence acting as a calming force that fought against his inner demons. He usually put forth his bare minimum of effort, but today he was thrumming with energy - nerves really - that left him rising to the challenge despite himself.

"Just you watch Ray." He was moving towards the drawer he kept his clothes in, in all his time here he had barely stepped two feet into Hermes cabin. Much to the apparent confusion of most people. He spent his time split between camp activities and the Poseidon Cabin, where Reagan was. "I'll be the one doing major ass-kicking this time." He teased. Without a single speck of modesty, he started shedding clothes and bundling up into an outfit that screamed homeless hipster instead of a warrior. Oh well, he couldn't win every battle.

"We could always make it more of a challenge," He grinned then, fully dressed and starting to settle into a more wakeful mood. Rare enough as that was he blamed it on being at camp, he was more than happy to be in a good mood here than he was anywhere else in the world. "Wanna make a bet?" He was giving the reigns to her on that one, interested in her response.