It was like static, a swirl of grey-blue smoke centered on the tips of his fingers. The air hummed around him, his skin glowed, and for a split second, he could see the outlines of the veins and muscles in his fingers. Then the mist faded and died, taking with it the blue glow and the thin bubble he had conjured around himself. Gaspard tried to ignore the smell of brimstone hanging in the air, as he scrawled his findings down in near-unintelligible writing.

[i]'Mana Field sustained for 5 minutes, 16 seconds.'[/i]

Carelessly tossing the ballpoint pen aside, Gaspard gave his fingers an experimental flex. He'd had no idea just how much work went into learning magic. He had been expecting something Harry Potter-esque, a swish-and-flick, and voila, a fireball up your ass! Instead, it had taken him almost a whole week to sustain the spell a for solid five minutes and a bit. He was making decent progress though, better than he'd be doing on his own, at least. Camp Half-Blood was certainly an improvement over that dusty, old orphanage.

Scanning over the Ancient Greek inscriptions one last time, he made an elaborate hand gesture over the leather-bound grimoire. Barely a second later, the book slammed shut with a resounding thump, iron clasps locking into place. Runes etched on the surface of the book glowed a faint violet, assuring that no one apart from Gaspard would be able to open it. Stowing the tome back underneath his bed, he suddenly remembered something. The camp was getting some new arrivals today, wasn't it? Hopefully, this was going to be interesting.

When he exited the stone cabin, Gaspard felt a fresh breeze flow through the air. He wasn’t some crazy, agoraphobic recluse, but as soon as the wind whipped his hair into an unruly mess, he immediately regretted leaving the cabin in the first place. Thankfully, he was always prepared for such a situation. Fishing a rubber hair-tie out of his pants pocket, Gaspard quickly pulled his dark locks into a ponytail before it got even more out of hand. As he gave himself a quick once-over, he realised that his outfit was a tad ridiculous. With his blinding, psychedelic-printed muscle tee, washed-out jeans, ratty sneakers, and jangly, beaded accessories; Gaspard wagered he look like a cross between a hippie and a circa 2007 scene kid. He had half a mind of going back inside and changing, but the thought was pushed to the back of his mind when he saw something out of the corner of his eye.

Following the movement, the son of Hecate noticed a sizeable crowd huddled near the Hades cabin. For a split second, Gaspard was unsure as to who these people were, but then it clicked. [i]Ah, must be the fresh meat.[/i] He took his first step towards them, crooking an eyebrow in amusement when he heard a voice resonating above all the rest. Gaspard wasn’t quite close enough to clearly make out what the voice was saying, but it sure as hell didn’t sound pleased. At that very moment, he began plotting. Not anything sinister, of course, just some [i]mostly[/i] harmless pranks. Messing with people was one of the great joys in his life, and he wasn’t going to pass up a chance to give the newcomers a proper welcome.

Gaspard slowed to a stop just a few feet away from where the group was, leaning against a wooden post as he surveyed the gaggle of teenagers. He had to suppress a scoff when he saw who the “tour guide” was. Erin Chase; the infamous Skeleta, Justice, daughter of Hades, etcetera, etcetera… How they got her to agree to show the new kids around was beyond him. Instead of silently judging everyone like he always did, the demigod decided to change it up for once, just to keep things interesting.

“Having fun?” Gaspard asked the Counseler. It was a rhetorical question, but mostly good-willed with just the barest hint of mockery. The look on her face was already answer enough.