In the meantime, Adrian meandered his way back towards the residential portion of the campgrounds, where he, alongside some of the other older demigods, had their own personalized living spaces. Upon first getting to the refuge all those moons ago, he learned that there was a spot already there waiting for him. It resembled a small rustic praying temple, commissioned by an "unknown benefactor". "God works in mysterious [i]fucking[/i] ways, doesn't he?!" He exclaimed that day, furiously looking to get the place redone. (Adrian was a bit of a spoiled asshole his youth, mind you. He's done much to grow into a more humble individual, and now favors to keep his spiting subdued and subtle.) 

Nowadays, his pad resembles something closer to a brownstone snatched straight out of Bed-Stuy. A replica much smaller than its counterparts, as it's missing a third floor, and a basement. Shorter than the main Victorian and the tree line. It was definitely a nice place to stay, just not one to find peace and quiet at. Around this time of the day, younger demigods from the surrounding houses would come out and play and frolic in the grass, making it a chore to concentrate.