[right][color=darkgray][i]The night was cold, but her embrace was warm. Swaddled in soft cotton there wasn’t a tear from golden eyes. Always watching, silently curious. His bright eyes asked questions of her that even a goddess couldn’t refuse. She couldn’t stay. The Fates tended to frown upon immortals who tried to hold a mortal love. She looked at the photo on the dresser. Walt’s warm smile creased across his face looked on at the pair of them. Their story could only have one possible ending anyway. As she looked on, the lines on his face became more pronounced to her divine immortal sight. A sight which could easily see the cracks and weaknesses in an enemy’s formation needed little help to see the cracks and flaws from the cruel effects of age, even now, in the man. But what she could do, was give her son the best chance possible, even if she couldn’t give him a present mother. There was no need to dwell on finding the words; Athena found them naturally as she started to talk. To let the infant know about the world as it stood now, and the demands and requirements of him in the future. The night she imbued young Pallas with wisdom. He never forgot a word from then, or since.[/i] [/color][/right] [hr] [color=darkgray][i]Pallas swung his bag around his shoulders onto his back, as shoes and seating squeaked with the end of his last class.[/i] [color=white]“Hey P, you wanna--!”[/color] [i]He was already gone, slid out the door amongst the crowd, weaving through the slow moving students. He had a full card, and an extremely varied courseload at Columbia University. Advisors had repeatedly gently tried to prod him into a more specialised pathway, whilst his grades were fantastic across the board, his course selection risked his degree becoming so broad that it would be useless for whatever he wanted to do when he left the school’s protective walls. He always listened, but calmly and respectfully told them he would not be taking their advice, without any reason or argument provided on his end. Afterall, how do you explain that the piece of paper at the end would have no value whatsoever, when his time in this level of learning came to a close? That his selection was the result of a pursuit of knowledge for knowledge’s sake. And with his classes at a close, he was now racing away from campus to make his next appointment. He’d privately found a small dojo which trained armed fighting techniques and bushido only fifteen minutes from campus. With classes starting twenty minutes after his final for the day, it didn’t leave much time – particularly if he didn’t want to draw too much attention to himself whilst getting there. He cut down a back alley and felt a vibration on his hip. It stopped him in his tracks, but his excitement elevated despite his stoic exterior. He dared to let a wry grin crease across his face as he pocketed the phone, and turned around to go back to his dorm after leaving the two-word message on Read.[/i][/color] [center][h2]It's Time.[/h2][/center] [hr] [Center][img]https://i.imgur.com/ZRIi89Y.jpeg[/img][/center] [hr] [color=darkgray] Pallas steadily advanced through the winter wilderness. He came fully prepared for the weather with teal and yellow polar-level snow-wear, including boots. He tested branches, and poplars as he advanced through the forestry. A well placed kick to the base, paired with tearing and twisting from the top and he could have a makeshift staff – a weapon he was well versed with utilising – in seconds. He kept silent, and watched the sight lines. Both for his own defense now, and in consideration of how defensible the camp which would be his home for the duration, would be from ‘external forces’ and potential paths to approach. It was for this reason as well, that he chose to do a full lap of the gated camp, before returning to the front gates. It was true that they were imposing in size for a mere mortal man. …it was also true that there were more things in this world than mortal men. Pallas understood perfectly, even if he was yet to personally make first contact with any such things, his mother aside. Finding that the terrain made such a trek around the camp impossible – the camp itself was coastal and held a beachhead, he had to settle for two arcs around it’s exterior to the sands on each side. He looked out to sea with a furrowed brow, taking it all into consideration, before returning to the entrance once more. Approaching the gate’s security device he removed a glove and used the fingerprint pad, and the gates creaked open before him. Darkness had fallen upon the camp by the time he’d completed his recconoitre. But life hadn’t left this place. It didn’t take long for him to hear talking, laughter and the sounds of some kind of party in full effect. Meet and greet? An opportunity to run an eye over new demi-gods like himself? He felt a little exposed. Like a cold chill ran down his back. No… he didn’t. In fact, he felt… unseasonably warm? Divine magic. A small exhalation from his nose in recognition of what he was experiencing. It would have come out as a plume of visible air, if not for the warmer local temperature within the gates. He’d never experienced it from another, but he had little doubt that was what it was. He found himself a little impressed by the subtle functionality. All too easy to lose yourself in the power that came with their genetic dispositions and exert reckless shows of force, he presumed. That wasn’t what he was experiencing here though. It was just enough to take winter’s bitter chill from the air. It didn’t even prevent the snowfall. But he was starting to find himself a little uncomfortable, as the Gore-Tex jacket he wore now leaving him somewhat overdressed and on the warm side. He decided he should stow his pack, before trying his luck in social situations with the progeny of the pantheon. He pushed on through the camp before coming to a map board that gave the layout and offered locations of cabin accommodations. Slim pickings. Of the limited options though, he quickly came to a strategic decision. A cabin protected on the lee side of the front gate by the arena, and tucked back from the open beachhead. Closest remaining cabin to the armoury, and in convenient proximity to most amenities for training purposes. He selected his cabin, making use of the map’s magical properties and watched as his name covered his selection. The name that took his cabin made his decision for him. On the trek here he’d wondered how to refer to himself. “Pallas” or “Paul”. Back home and growing up, he’d always gone by “Paul” outside of the walls of his home. For their protection, as his mother had warned. Now that he was in this place, which should it be? If he went by “Paul” was he hiding something? If he went by “Pallas” was he big-noting? The name by Cabin 18 read “Paul” though. So for convenience’s sake, and to prevent confusion… Paul it would be. He pushed on through the camp, running a passing eye over the closed Hall, infirmary, practice range and armoury. He rounded the immense arena and picked up his pace to a slow trot. He found his cabin, and not turning the lights on. He opened the door and dropped his bag inside, before locking up and starting to walk back around to where the party was. He removed his jacket and tied the sleeves around his waist. He walked past the stables, and for a brief second pulled up; his head tilting, as he thought he had heard some strange grunts, groans and whinnys beyond the equine usual, before deciding it either wasn’t likely or worth the effort of checking and continuing on his way. Besides, the big blonde guy coming this way was probably onto whatever it was... He continued on into the clearing where the party was spread out and in full force. [i]How to approach this....[/i] As far as he could tell, he was the last to arrive. The group had him at a disadvantage, with everyone at least being somewhat familiar with at least somebody else. He hadn’t eaten, and that much would be easily apparent as the most recent to make the trek to the camp. Eating would at least give him some measure of socially acceptable excuse to keep quiet, or to take considered time with his answers between bites. Grace while he still got his bearings. The irony. Grace from the demi-gods through eating. The thought brought a wry crease across his face, as he considered his approach. There were quite a few tables, two with conversation in mid-flow between a man and a woman. A dog at one, and not the other, one of the few variables. Along with the fact that at one table the man and woman were sat across from one another at the table closer to the campfire, rather than side by side. Whilst the expression of the large man sitting across from the woman held as aloof, something about his body language made it abundantly clear that passers by would not be welcome. It gave him pause about sitting at the other table as well. An irritating third wheel was not the first impression he wanted to give off within this camp. Alternatively, there was a third table with a man talking to two women. And he could tell from the smirk across the man’s face that he was trying his luck, possibly both ways. Possibly to mixed reviews if their expressions were anything to go by. No. Last thing he wanted was to be some girl’s social refuge when he was still trying to figure things out himself. And back on the third wheel if the guy felt at all bent out of shape about it. He still didn’t know enough to throw himself into those kinds of situations at this stage. Grab a plate, stand and eat? No. That made too big a statement in the other direction. "Unsocial". Which of course, was exactly what he was being, but he didn't want the fact to be broadcasted around the camp this early on in things. Bonfire seating. Makes a ‘I’m willing to be sociable’ implied statement, whilst also giving me a place at the moment in solitary. To observe. And if past camps are anything to go by, people will move to the campfire later on in the night. Perfect. Meet people on your own terms, whilst still giving time to just watch and figure things out for now. Because for now, everybody’s by the bar. No, thank you. More than anything, he knew that in a place like this he needed to maintain full control of his faculties. He grabbed a paper plate by the food and started to assemble himself a gyro from the food on display. There was a lone girl sitting at the bonfire. Seemed quiet, or at least enjoying the moment of peace. He felt comfortable he could ‘thread the needle’ though, with the social obstacle. Keep not too distant that it seemed like he was avoiding her, but not so close that it would seem odd to not address her or say anything. He perfectly timed a bite as he passed, to coincidentally dodge eye contact. Found a seat clear of the fire’s smoke plumes, and turned away from the girl before running an eye over the campsite in a full 360 degree vista. He let ignorance and wonder be his cover, as he continued to avoid eye contact with the other person, hoping that the weight of silence would set and make it more difficult for the inertia of the conversation to be overcome. He took another timed bite, further allowing the surface tension of the silence to solidify, before running his eye across his fellow campers at the distant bar. [i]Well, that one’s Dionysus’ kid through and through… couldn’t be any more clear if he wrote it on his head.[/i] Another bite. [i]Although the green paint… he practically had written it on his head.[/i] So it was a cheap ‘gimme’ guess anyway, by his coun--. [color=0054a6]“The crowds too much for you? I’m not much of a solitary person by choice, but there’s something calm about being by the fire and removed from the chaos, don’t you think?”[/color] The voice came through, sombre in tone, yet still warm by its nature. In spite of everything. Pallas froze mid-chew, as if movement would have made him suddenly visible. Lamb and garlic sauce dropping to the plate still perched in his lap, as he peered out of the corner of his eyes at the source of the voice. Finding his eye contact, a weary half-smile dared to break through dark clouds. Whether she were more tired, or saddened by something remained to be seen. He thought of an answer whilst he finished chewing. Something to justify his less than social behaviour. [color=daa520]"It's a lot of 'new' for one night. Might as well start a fresh year as well."[/color] That... sort of... made some kind of sense. In a completely cringeworthy way. If nothing else it demonstrated why someone like him might stick to less talk and fewer social interactions... [/color] [center][sup][img]https://i.imgur.com/9qIY4OK.jpeg[/img] [color=808080][b]interactions[/b] [color=2e2c2c]....[/color]|[color=2e2c2c]....[/color] Ocean [color=2e2c2c]...............[/color] [b]mentions[/b] [color=2e2c2c]....[/color]|[color=2e2c2c]....[/color] Blair and horses (or somebody similarly hung and whinnying), Heath, Sylar & Anissa, Sloane & Duke, Fiona, Nell & Morne, Bax [color=2e2c2c]...............[/color] [b]collabs[/b] [color=2e2c2c]....[/color]|[color=2e2c2c]....[/color] Ocean dialogue and descriptors c-o- [@Palindrome][/color] [img]https://i.imgur.com/9qIY4OK.jpeg[/img][/sup][/center]