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Snippet #2816253

located in Camp Athens, a part of Camp Athens II, one of the many universes on RPG.

Camp Athens

None

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Wesley Preston Character Portrait: Daniel Vadas Character Portrait: Cherise Boyse Character Portrait: Liam O'Connor
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L I A M x O ' C O N N O R
o f x a r e s
#EB641D || Outfit || Woods w/Wes

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"She has been dealing with her brothers verbal and physical abuse for... years, I'd assume. And she's not crazy, or suicidal, or begging for help. She took it and accepted it, because to her, that protected other people. So, while it's not physical strength, it's mental and emotional. And you and I both have the emotional fortitude of tissue paper."

There was silence again. Everything that came out of Wesā€™ mouth made Liam sick to his stomach. In fact, Wes could probably pick up on just how quickly the aloof air around him began to drift into potent anger. It was all he could do to stave off kicking the Aphrodite child in the face. All that he could hear were excuses after excuses attempting to disguise Sloaneā€™s weakness as strength. No battered man or woman staying with their abuser is strong for not leaving. Thatā€™s just a really sick dependency, or some kind of weird self-esteem issue that the son of Ares could barely fathom.

Everything else that Wes said was heard, but heā€™d not respond to it right now. His teeth were clenched, the muscles in his jaw were pulsing. A vein or two nearly burst out of his forehead. As much as he tried to stay his physical aggression, it just came. It never fails to be aroused. He couldnā€™t help it. Liam didnā€™t truly want to hurt anyone while he was here (except for Sylas), but what Wes said irked him. Every word dripped with irritation that enticed the beast, and it reeled its head and showed its face as though there was nothing human to control it anymore. As if the only thought was painted in vivid red, and it was rage - anger, annoyance. To make things worseā€¦

ā€¦.It was absolutely enthralling.

He shifted quickly, lunging forward onto his knees to face Wes. Two large hands shoot out and grab at the collar of the manā€™s tank top, pulling him into the son of Ares to look that Beast dead in its eyes. Liam was there - he is always there - but this part of him was king at this very moment, and there was little that the man, himself, could do to hold it back. When he spoke, it was through gritted teeth - his lips curled in a near snarl as his breath was inches away from Wesā€™ face, "You call staying with your abuser strength? Mentally, physically, emotionally - thatā€™s not strength. Itā€™s weakness. We are our own people. We make our own choices. We donā€™t make choices because we fear what other people will do. Other people are not our responsibility." His grip became tighter, his knuckles paling as he continued. "She was strong the moment she left that fucking cabin - whether it was with me or without me. Leaving is the hardest part. That's when strength comes." He took in a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment.

"Men like me - like Sylas, we know that. We like women like Sloane - obedient, self-blaming, afraid that we might hurt someone else. Thatā€™s what we like." As he spoke, it was fairly obvious that he was speaking on experiences, perhaps even being in the same shoes as Sylas. Maybe not emotionally or mentally manipulative, but physically aggressive - taking what he wants from people that he could easily put in his place. Even battering women because - why not? They let him. So long as he never hurt anyone else. So long as maybe one day heā€™d change and not be that man. But men like him and Sylas? They never changed. Never.

It took a few moments, but he was able to calm the Beast down and settle. When he realized that he had the death grip on his half-sisterā€™s boyfriend, he loosened his grip and withdrew completely. "Donā€™t say shit like that to Sloane. I donā€™t want her going back to him because she thinks sheā€™s protecting anyone. I want her to stay away and live her own life. Sylas is his own personā€¦ she is not responsible for his actions." He flopped back down on the ground and threw his head back against the tree trunk with a heavy ā€˜thwapā€™. He went silent again and attempted to quell that hungry rage at the pit of his stomach.

Around that time, Rae and Sloane came about. He didn't bother to open his eyes when he heard his name, as his greatest weakness right now was rushing away from the scene leaving him to feel a hundred times worse than he did already. By this time, the air around him had settled to something less thickly laced with bitterness. It was calm again - like a storm that rushed in, tossed everything around, and then swiftly blew past to reveal a brightly shining sun. It came in quick, but the damage was already done. She'd likely only see what was left behind - whatever distress Wes must have felt, or the fact that Liam looked so damned defeated. Enough to be completely silent even as she called out his name.

"I donā€™t understand women, and I donā€™t care if I piss her off. I will always be honest with her and myself. That means that I will piss her off, and sheā€™ll probably stomp off and go cry about it somewhere. But if sheā€™s not with that brother of hers? I donā€™t care. I will figure it out as I go, but for now - my only worry is that she will go back, and if I have to be the asshole, I will be the asshole." His broad shoulders rolled in a shrug, and that was a concluding statement. An Ares child didnā€™t live to be told what to do and how to do it, and sometimes emotions had to be pushed aside for the better option. He could live with Sloane hating him, but he would make her crawl over his dead cold body before she went back to living the way she did.





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C H E R I S E x B O Y S E
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#fa8072 || Outfit || W/Daniel

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Naturally, Cherise tagged along with Daniel. She did ask for an explanation, so it would do her little good to deny him the opportunity. Honestly? She wasnā€™t that upset with him. Confused? Yes. Upset? Sheā€™s not all that sure.

When they came to a quiet clearing, perfectly sunlit and warming as the day progressed into the afternoon, she stood next to him and braced herself for the explanation. It would hopefully help clear things up so that she could focus on other things. Admittedly, sheā€™s spent far too much of her time wondering about what the hell was going on, and what she may or may not have said or done in a whole twenty-four hours.

Then Daniel began to recount the story of what transpired here, and Cherise could tell that there was anxiety in his voice and written across his face. As he unpeeled his shirt from his torso and displayed his scars, she stepped in front of him and stood so that they were face-to-face. She unabashedly stepped forward, closing the distance between them as they had done once or twice before. Small curious fingers gently ran over a couple of them, but then he shifted and caused her to withdraw her touch. She listened with the calm sympathy of a friend until he revealed something that clearly took her aback.

That he had died. He had truly died. Wide-eyed, she looked up at him, and she was horrified by the thought of what she imagined death felt like - looked like, even. "You died?" There was shock in her soft, almost whispering, tone of voice. This wasnā€™t something that one heard everyday, and she certainly hadnā€™t been prepared for such a revelation. She stood there quietly and allowed him to continue with his confessions, glad that she wasnā€™t the root cause of his misunderstanding - yet also a little guilty for making him relive what she was certain must have been especially damaging to him. Usually people just died, they did not have to deal with the consequences of coming back. That, and she was new to camp - she was hardly as affected by this as others must have been. She wondered what his sister must have gone through, or even his friends. There was a lot to think about, but very little included herself.

There were so many pressing questions at the tip of her tongue, but none were appropriate. Cherise just did what Cherise does best. She smiled her brightest and warmest smile and then stepped into him, throwing her arms around him for a reassuring and hopefully sympathetic embrace. There were no words to say when someone tells you that they died. At least, there were no words that she could find at the moment. It didnā€™t appear that his death was what he thought about the most - but that he didnā€™t know how to let her know. That must have bothered him a great deal, and she wanted to assure him that everything was a-okay in her book.

She pulled away, not her arms, but just tilted her head back and looked up at him with that smile of hers, "Well, thank the gods that you are here, Daniel. But for your transgression of withholding vital information, you must put on a blindfold while I shoot apples on the top of your head for training. Thatā€™s your punishment." Was that a jest or a sincere desire? Well, he was going to find out.

She wasnā€™t dismissing this whole ordeal, but it was a lot to unpack. It wasā€¦ unsettling in so many ways. Cherise also didnā€™t want to force Daniel to dwell on it. He needed to move on from such a dark time in his life, and sheā€™s content to leave it there. Explanation accepted - no further in depth talk necessary. The past was in the past. But sheā€™d keep it in the back of her head, just in case anything creeps back up because of it.

"Weā€™ll call it trust building," she chuckled at him, stepping away but grabbing one of his hands in the process. Sheā€™d drag him off to train, and if he so pleased, to find the others to join them. It was about time that the Demigods here did something other than piss each other off or make-out.