Victor Shellman

30

Male

Homosexual

Caucasian

10 Years Service; 8 Years in New Rome

Great Falls, Montana

"You'd think a kid straight from Mercury's loins would be a handful, but you're just a delight," Mary Shellman would often say and Victor would simply stare at her. And stare. And stare.

But of course, Victor could not do as other kids had done. They could play with each other and talk of silly things like being a mechanical man or spellcasting witch with a wand. They could tell stories of their siblings or their days filled with mundane whimsy and loving parents.

Victor's stories weren't half as interesting from their standpoint. Because Victor had to grow up a lot sooner than other children. He had learn how to be quiet and vigilant, cautious in all the right ways and reliable to a fault. He had to be caretaker. He had to be independent. Where children of his age were finding out their interests and taking a more carefree approach to life, Victor learned how to clean up after his mother's messes and entertain himself with whatever could be found around a dingy, dirty motel room.

Life forced Victor to grow up fast and in doing so, he solidified who he was rather quickly. Nurtured by a forced hand, Victor ended up a very quietly diligent man who went above and beyond his abilities not for reward or praise but because he needed to and he often did so on his own. He's a man that sees something needs to be done and does it. Does it quietly.

Though this is often met with surprised delight, Victor's learned how to be rather disarming in his social interactions. Usually, this comes with weaponizing 'incompetence' or feigning ignorance. If there's one thing his mother has taught him well, it's how to lie to the authorities, of which he tends to have a stark distrust of. People with too much power often times have no idea how to use it selflessly, an observation he's made on numerous occasions from adolescence to adulthood.

For those he considers peers and friends, Victor is a subtle and easily pleased man that's more than amiable and able to hold a conversation despite his own introverted desires for solitude. For those unable to look beyond his subtle abilities, Victor's a bit of a boring man if a bit nice to look at for a moment. This tends to assist him whenever his desire for pleasantries ends, though it doesn't often work on his equals or folks with greater perception.

While Victor has his quirks and tends to be more of the 'gets approached' rather than 'approaches' type of person, he does his best to be a pleasant person. He does just a bit more to be what he thinks is a good person and, in spite of his occasional feint of apathy, Victor tends to do too much, too often for people he cares about. It feels ingrained into him, at this point. Like a barbed hook stuck too deep in his flesh.

Underneath it all, maybe there's a man who actually enjoys smiling. Who likes sounds like a child when he laughs. Who's definitely not a morning person, but somehow wakes up earlier than everyone else, usually on the couch where he fell asleep. And maybe he would be a morning person if he actually climbed into bed every night. Who enjoys the rain and an open book. Who could recite poetry to the man he loves and tell scary stories to a group of friends who definitely wanted at least an hours worth of sleep. Or maybe watch his mother give him a tarot reading before laying out on the damp grass to watch the stars.

Maybe. Life if full of maybes, Victor finds.

TRIGGER WARNINGS FOR DRUG USE, DEATH, CHILD NEGLECT, AND SELF-HARM [will denote which bullet points have them; if I miss any let me know!]

⤜ Born to Mary Shellman in Great Falls, Montana. Mary, a daughter of Trivia, served her time in the Legion and a few years in New Rome before leaving for the mortal realm. She'd suffered greatly during her time at Camp Jupiter, having been thrust into adulthood in her teens despite wanting to experience more of her life; thrown into 5th Cohort; was the soul survivor of what was supposed to be a 'routine' quest.
⤜ [DRUG & ALCOHOL USE] Upon leaving, Mary lived a nomadic life, able to use her abilities to mask her fading scent from monsters as she wandered the world on a whim and quite a bit of drugs. Begrudged by a life in the Legion and wrecked by horror and trauma, Mary spent most of her time partying and drowning herself in many unsavory concoctions. She was a troubled woman, unable to get the help she needed, especially knowing exactly what she was and what she could do
⤜ [CHILD NEGLECT] At some point, Mary had her first child unknowingly to a god, Ares, who she named Lawrence. Lawrence himself was a troubled boy and had no idea how to deal with the mother he'd been given, often left alone in crumbling motels or left unattended at bars. He lashed out frequently, got into fights at school should Mary ever remember to enroll him, and suffered greatly from severe ADHD, normal for his kind, but exacerbated by a mother ill equipped to handle him. It hadn't taken very long before Mary left him to find his own path. While he found his place at Camp Jupiter, eventually, it, as things do, ended in tragedy.
⤜ While Victor was conceived with the knowledge of who his father was and already having experienced a son—still experiencing a son, Mary was still unable to deal with the all consuming fear that hovered above her daily. She couldn't be sober. She couldn't take care of another child, but she had to. At least this time, Mercury didn't quite leave her to her own devices, but she still denied him much. She had conditions and, however illogical they seemed, Mercury was required to keep to them. He could only offer help from the shadows and without revealing himself to Victor. Her fears were irrational, that a deity would leave a far greater scent on the boy and endanger them both. That she knew what she'd do if there were ever a choice between herself and her son and she wasn't prepared to test that theory.
⤜ [CHILD NEGLECT] Early on in his life, Victor quickly came to the realization that he would have to be the adult in his relationship with his mother. That, despite being far too young to take care of even just himself, he had to be the one to care for his mother. For a child, that quite literally shattered Victor's world and yet he did what he could and he kept doing what he could for far, far too long. Cleaning up after Mary, learning how to use the microwave and eventually the stove and oven, making sure his mother wasn't dead and learning how to read and write despite not being able to attend school as often.
⤜ Without his knowledge, Victor was given many gifts by his father to aid in his and his mother's survival, much of it came in the form of delivered groceries and many nights paid in full wherever they stayed. Occasionally, Mercury would leave a stuffed toy on the stoop of the motel door. In particular, there was a turtle stuffie that Victor grew very attached to and often told stories to when attending to his mother's needs.
⤜ Victor didn't know it at the time, but understands now, since Mary is a child of Trivia, she mostly got by through her manipulation of the Mist. It made navigating the real world a little bit easier, even if she wasn't always lucid. She'd forget sometimes, though, and sometimes Victor would have to scrounge around prior and stockpile and lost money to cover the cost of their stay at whatever motel they'd find themselves in. She'd sometimes use the Mist to allow them to stay at fancier places (usually for Victor's birthday), but she was ever a paranoid woman and feared her use of it for something way above her station might attract unwanted attention.
⤜ There was only ever so much that Mary could do when lucid, but one thing she made sure never to miss every morning was masking her and her son's scents. Though she knew that when the time came, Victor would eventually leave. He'd find out, she knew, and by then her ritual would cease to work on him. Before that could occur, Mary piled her son into a stolen car she'd hotwired the night before and drove from a small town in Nevada to Oakland Hills, California. On the way there, she informed Victor of what was happening, of Camp Jupiter, his father Mercury, and the life he'd be forced to live. Victor remembers her staring at him through the rearview, mouth open, unable to say the words he knew she wanted to. It was too late. And, soon, he'd find it would always be too late.
⤜ Victor's initiation into the camp, his training with Lupa, and the first few years of his newfound life were rather uneventful. At least he had one thing to thank his mother for. If nothing else, Victor was well prepared for the work he they required of him and often times did so without being told otherwise nor saying anything either way.
⤜ What caught Victor off guard in the sudden whirlwind and upheaval of his life wasn't the sudden mysticism of it all nor the quietly growing powers simmering beneath his skin. It was a boy. A boy with short cropped blonde hair and the kind of smile you have to squint to see. For some reason, he found that smile aimed at him again and again and again. Sometimes the world does its best to harden you. For Victor, turmoil felt like normal and this, whatever it was, between him and this boy felt like dropping into a pit of snakes already coiling around his limbs and his body and his heart.
⤜ There are moments in his life that Victor can look back on where often thinks to himself: perhaps that was the person I was meant to be. Life with Nathaniel, who he called 'Quiet' whenever Nathaniel smiled at him (despite being so small, it was always so loud to Victor), felt very much like an epiphany. Like an, "Oh! This is what the world is supposed to look like." Perhaps that's what made losing it all so... harrowing.
⤜ Their tenth year was wholly uneventful. It was routine every day. Training, eating, training, chore work, training, relaxing, maybe some kissing, maybe something else here and there. It was normalcy in a world definitely the opposite. Every day Victor felt his guard slipping, like he could just enjoy this. That after this year, it'd just be the two of them in a tiny villa somewhere in New Rome just enjoying their days. Perhaps there's a valid reason nurses never mention how quiet of a shift it is.
⤜ [DEATH] A quest gone wrong. They had been isolated from the rest of their group, just the two of them. He was bleeding out, dying, and Victor couldn't staunch the flow. Too many wounds. Nathaniel pressed something into his hand then, pale as it was in the moon light. It was solid, colder than Nathaniel's fingers, metallic. "Marry... me, Vic?" there was a pause. Silence. "I don't think I got much time here... y'know," and then a kiss. "Don't ask stupid questions." And then he was gone.
⤜ Sometimes people disappoint in surprising ways. Perhaps it was selfish of him to feel disappointed when they lowered Nathaniel's body into the ground in the plot behind the home that they were supposed to grow old in. Like, "Oh, your husband of two seconds died and now you don't get to have a happy pie life anymore," as if it was just a splinter in his finger. Maybe that's what compartmentalization was or something. Or diminishing? Deluding? It didn't matter with him in the ground.
⤜ [SELF-HARM] His mother told him it wasn't healthy to be alone after a loss that great. She was correct. He still refused company. He refused company for a good, good while. He especially refused company when he'd woke up one morning with a letter on his kitchen counter with a caduceus staff seal gluing it shut. He refused company when he scrapped and scrapped and scrapped at the final line of his tattoo until it bled, until it scarred over, until it bled again. He'd figure it out eventually. Right now, he just needed to blind himself with his own grief.
⤜ It felt like time moved a lot quicker when he had no one to distract him from his thoughts and his duties. He'd attended college just to have something to do that wasn't Legion related. He'd gotten a degree in Ancient Literature with a minor in Creative Writing, attended for his graduate to eventually start teaching at the college. It made ends meet, at least physically. It's what he continued doing for the foreseeable future, meandering along a pitiful existence trying to look for something that might need his attention. Might need him and his ability to move mountains and oceans just to feel like he helped. Feel a bit more like a person.
⤜ Present day, Victor contemplates leaving New Rome to live a nomadic life. There's nothing really stopping him, but there's comfort in the familiar and there's a grave he can't quite leave behind in his backyard, however morbid it is to have your dead husband fertilizing your garden.

Mercury, just Mercury.

There comes a time when a person realizes the root of all their troubles. Their trauma. Their hurts. Their quiet sufferings. Parents are the great arbiters of hope and disappointment. A mixed bag of truths that, as one grows older, it becomes harder and harder to lie about.

"My mother's a deadbeat, but I love her." But I love her. But I love her. But I love her. Over and over again, yet sometimes it's that 'but' that stings the most.

"I don't know my father, but I love him." But I love him. But. But.

Sometimes, a person grows tired of the excuses made in another's stead. Even nine unassuming years doesn't feel enough to mend what wasn't even there to begin with. Victor doesn't know his father. He doesn't really care to. It's not a burning hatred or a simmering rage. It's a simple but poignant apathy.

Perhaps, were he younger, there could've been something there. There could've been talks and stories. There could've been quiet moments beside a fire. Could've beens don't do much in the face of grief. Victor knows it in the avoidance of his mother's gaze not once, but twice. He knows it in the absence the following morning. In the grey toned light of their—of his room.

Even in this, there's still the letter on his kitchen counter. Still there every day, unopened, untouched. Dust on the caduceus seal keeping it shut. Always catching the light from the window. Always catching his eye when he thinks for too long, too hard in the early hours.

Sometimes, Victor thinks, it's a lot easier to project than it is to truly know.

⸙ Thieves' Cant - Messages, codes, languages all unravel to Victor's ears, eyes, and mind whether they be dipped in magic or simple tools of communication. The benefits of being a son of a messenger god of thieves, after all. All the more reason to have a fully stocked library if language has never been a barrier. On the other side of the coin, Victor can also easily speak and communicate in languages and code he has seen or heard.
⸙ Psychopomp - Being that Mercury is technically a chthonic god and psychopomp, Victor, though he cannot travel with them to the underworld, can send off souls to their afterlife. Helpful for hauntings, of which he has done a few, sometimes under the table and without the proper paperwork. However, unlike other children of the more Underworldly Underworld deities (Pluto, Proserpina, etc.), Victor's a bit limited in what he can do with the dead. This is pretty much it and, while he can speak to them during this moment, he cannot really speak to them at will any other time.
⸙ Endurance - It would make sense that a god of Mercury's caliber, his children would also inherit his unimaginable speed (to a degree), but Victor's never been the fastest of his ilk and wouldn't want to be either way. Perhaps it's this disposition that kept any godly quickness from manifesting. What Victor did inherit from his sire was an unimaginable endurance. Victor's stamina may often times seem endless to his peers (though it is quite finite as he is still half mortal) and, while he cannot traverse great distances in little time, he can stay the same sprint speed (that of any top level runner) for at most a week, should he push himself to his absolute limit.
⸙ 'Mundane' Camouflage - An invisibility of some sorts, Victor seems very unassuming to his peers. This ability is actually what first landed him in the 5th cohort. At first glance, Victor seems unbelievably mediocre. He's just kind of there. Nothing special. No greatness or potential. He's simply a regular demigod—forgettable in every way. Folks with a greater perception, however, whether it be enhanced through their lineage or through magical/mystical means are typically able to tell Victor's not actually what he appears to be. He's a bit of a snake in the grass and he quite likes to keep people thinking he's absolutely not worth a second glance. (First glances at Victor are typically met with an immediate lack of impression, but his own colleagues and peers are typically able to look past his 'camo' so to speak. The situation with the augur putting him in 5th cohort was definitely a fluke)
⸙ Lucky Find [Minor] - Victor's never been the type of person to rely on dumb luck, but it does sometimes follow him around. Being the son of the god of merchants and trade has its perks. This is what mostly got him through life with Mary should she ever simply forget to utilize her own abilities. It mostly allows him to find lost things easily and this includes money. In a day, Victor could easily find the equivalent of 5 to 15 dollars or find a small lost item. As a kid, he'd stockpile this money in case of emergency.
⸙ Deal Breaking - While non-magical deals tend to have physical ramifications (usually a punch in the face), magical deals tend to be a little trickier and often come with incredibly fatal and terrifying consequences (selling one's soul, binding a person to servitude, etc.). Victor has the uncouth ability to break magical deals and, if the deal isn't of godly design, he can break another person's deal without invoking the fatal legalities that binds himself or the person he's assisting. It, however, doesn't quite stop the person from getting potentially murdered, BUT if they sold their soul to some nefarious creature they can at least rest knowing they'll not be trapped for eternity. This has come in handy the most out of his abilities, oddly enough. There's an untold amount of people who sign things without reading them first, especially the younger demigods. (This ability is very much dependent on the strength of the contract and, occasionally, how airtight the legalese is. He cannot break contracts of creatures or beings exceptionally more powerful than he is, but he does get a sick satisfaction from punching a bit above his weight, just not way above)
⸙ Locality Tracking - Being the god of travel and roads, Mercury gifted his son, at birth, the ability to know his location exactly. That's all there is to it. It's quite a bit more useful than it seems.
⸙ Directional Sense - What made Victor one of the most useful Legionnaires to have on a quest is his undeniable ability to know where the nearest pathway is, whether it was a highway or a simple desire path made by frequent footfall, Victor knew where it was and where it went. Combined with his self-tracking ability, Victor seems almost impervious to ever being lost. Physically, at least.
⸙ Value Sense - Through touch, Victor could deduce an objects value, typically what it would go for within vicinity of someone willing to buy (if there were none nearby, he'd get an idea of its cost on eBay, though real money currency conversion with ancient money did tend to be somewhat difficult). It made him very annoying to merchants who tried to upsell him cheap knock offs.
⸙ Vehicular Adaptability - Though dependent upon size and complexity, Victor has an uncanny knowledge of how to operate most vehicles he is on, in, or currently riding. Being a somewhat selfish person, Victor tends to keep this ability under wraps simply because he enjoys saying, "Beginner's luck," anytime he miraculously pilots something his ability allows him to. (Vehicles that he cannot pilot are space shuttles, commercial airplanes, military planes, yachts, or cruise ships. He can pilot anything similar to a car and small planes and ships. Fun fact: Victor can expertly ride a unicycle)

Trivia, the three-way Roman Goddess of crossroads, magic, and witchcraft

⸙ Forager's Luck - It could be argued that an ability of this type might fit a plant based deity's kid more, Victor's specific (preternatural) talent focuses on finding specifically plant and animal-based ingredients suited for alchemy and witchcraft. If needed and when, he knows exactly where to find something should it be within a 5-mile radius.
⸙ Curse Reading - While Victor cannot manipulate curses (or cast/dispel them without the proper ingredients or rituals), Victor can tell whether an object or a person is cursed and with what. If he takes at least a day's worth of focusing, he can tell where a person or object attained their curse if it is within a 30-mile radius.
⸙ Minor Hypnokinesis - Though unable to fully put even a willing person to sleep, Victor can at least aid someone, and even himself, to a bit of restful sleep. Mostly, though, he's able to keep a willing person under restful sleep for as long as they are willing. They usually have to give consent and a timeframe before falling asleep, otherwise he can't do anything.

Former 5th and 3rd Cohorts.

Former Legionnaire

Old Reliable
There is nothing more bitter than the need and desire to put your whole, entire faith into someone who can only ever truly disappoint you. And to keep doing that over and over and over again knowing full well that the only person he can ever rely on is himself. Because people die. People don't know how to take care of themselves. People cannot operate without another person's guiding hand. People close to him cannot seem to do anything but die, lie, or leave. So why should he ever put his life in another person's hands when the people he cares about most either spiral into death or depravity?

Victor can take care of himself, so that he can take care of others. He needs to. He needs to be the one person that doesn't end up disappointing, otherwise how else will they survive?

⸙ Calamus - An Imperial Gold enchanted pugio. It's disguised as a denarius with the image of his father engraved on it. The enchantment allows Victor to transform the dagger within 5-10 seconds of releasing it, allowing him to flick it for a surprise attack.
⸙ Gallus - an Imperial Gold hasta that can be both disguised as a compass with a rooster on the tip of the arrow and a walking stick/cane. It has the uncanny ability to look a lot shorter than it actually is.

⸙ Still keeps the turtle stuffie which he named "Girsh" as a kid. He keeps it on his bed and, yeah, sleeps with it at night still.
⸙ While he doesn't have regular pets, Victor keeps multiple terrariums (and plants, in general) in his home. He quite likes fungi and has a few mushroom colony terrariums in his office.
⸙ Even though he has no desire (or won't admit to it) to see his father, Victor sometimes writes notes to him that he tosses in the trash or burns. Occasionally, if a bit tipsy, he'll often lean against his balcony and quietly tell Mercury his thoughts.
⸙ His mother gave him a necklace with rhodonite attached to it for healing purposes after the loss of his husband. He keeps it on his nightstand now after having moved it from his foyer to his living room to the bathroom and then to the kitchen. It might not do exactly what it says on the tin, but he knows his mother enchanted it at least with a spell to sooth him whenever he holds it.
⸙ Writes poetry and short stories every few days.
⸙ After some pestering from his students, he holds a book club meeting every Saturday evening at 8 PM. It's currently being held nearby Ceres's Garden as he looks for a more permanent location.
⸙ Despite his personal issues, Victor loves his mother and would do just about anything for her. He kind of understands now the hell she must have gone through. It makes him a hypocrite, but he does truly wish she sought out help.
⸙ Victor doesn't actually know much about his own brother, Lawrence, just that he was 8 years older than him (Mary was 22) and that he died before he was sent to Camp Jupiter. Mary had a private funeral to mourn him; they cremated him at her request and allowed her to keep the ashes.
⸙ Victor isn't a singer, but he does sound mildly pleasant whenever he does sing. It's rare and he likes quieter, more melancholic songs.
⸙ He calls his late husband, Nathaniel, 'Quiet' because any time he'd smile at Victor, he'd shush him and whisper, 'Quiet.' He'd had his reasons but never explained it to Nathaniel.
⸙ Wildflower and Barley by Hozier
⸙ The Moon
⸙ Hermes (as a kid), Hecate (as an adult)

Thomas 'Tommy' Harker

27

Male

Aromantic Homosexual

Caucasian [Cajun]

10 Years Service; 7 Years in New Rome

Thibodaux, Louisiana

The quiet patter of raindrops on a windowpane, an undercurrent of fire crackling blending in with the soft slide of paper on paper. Everything so typical of a cozy, sleepy evening. Tommy fits the bill. An ever warm presence, content to just exist in a moment. On the verge of shutting his eyes and falling to the smooth warmth of a restful sleep. It's how Tommy approaches life, as if it is meant to be taken in, slow, lethargic, and with a meandering thought rather than the lightning urgency of real life. It's this "one glove fits all approach" that got Tommy in trouble a few times whether that be in school, with partners, or the ever present authority figures. Even in those situations, Tommy takes things in stride. Things happen and the only thing in Tommy's control are his own emotions.

Beyond that, Tommy has a myriad of interests and quirks. He's a tidy person despite everything, with a deep care for comfort and for making others feel that same comfort. In that, he's a very touchy person and will be glad to cuddle up beneath a tree with just about anyone willing, especially folks he considers friends. He has a strict boundary on what is platonic and what is not, concerned first and foremost with consent even in friendly touches. While Tommy is flippant about a lot of things, he does take boundaries incredibly seriously. Not a lot of people like being touched or don't feel comfortable with their partners being touched in certain ways. Tommy's alright with that.

In that sense, Tommy's a very reliable person to talk to. Maybe not a person you wanna ask to do or be anywhere at a certain time (he'll be late; that's a constant), but if there's anyone willing to listen, albeit half-awake, it's probably Tommy. His ramblings and musings are usually sound, if a bit on that 3 A.M. high on lack of sleep vibe side. Tommy cares in that very placid, almost lucid way where he'll lay there and offer a bite of whatever he's eating while attentively listening kind of way. It makes him very amiable and easy to talk to, easy to pour secrets too especially, knowing he's got his mouth shut and won't ever judge (outside of specific cases).

And boy does he give a mean back rub. But why wouldn't he? He's a licensed masseuse with special touch based powers.

⟢ His mother, a tall woman with hair that fell to her knees like dark willows catching wind, told him when he was tall enough to reach her hip that his father was a busy man. That she loved him for as much as she could but love sometimes isn't enough. He asked her if his love was enough for her; she said, "Always." There aren't many universal truths, but Tommy attests to that one.
⟢ They lived in a glass home in Louisiana, somewhere in near his place of birth, but off in the wild, dampness of the land's bayou. It felt almost incomprehensible that a house like this could withstand the environment that wrapped around it. Tommy, however, felt no such fear or questioning. He was an easy child who simply smiled when his mother explained to him that their home was very special. In a very special place, given very special permissions.
⟢ He loved when the rain would wet the glass and the vines that surrounded it. He loved the damp smell of his home and the perpetual green that shone in the yellow-orange sunrise that tickled his eyelids. Of all the things that surrounded him, though, Tommy would miss the gradually shifting music of the swamp that lulled him to some of his most restful sleep.
⟢ His mother met a man, tall, lanky, with severity in every jut and edge of his face. His nose wasn't particularly long, but it looked sharp. Like it'd popped his eye whenever the man bent down too close. His teeth were a perfect shade of porcelain white that hurt to look at. He wondered why his mother would marry a man who hardly ever smiled.
⟢ They left the bayou soon after their marriage. Tommy remembered packing up that day, remembered that his mother had to carry him out. He felt tired, but not in that cozy sleepy way. Walking felt entirely too hard and his eyes burned. Whimsical glass home wrapped in ivy and nestled into the vibrant greenery warped into a stark red French Quarter home with too much concrete and metal and very little in the way of natural decor. The strip of green grass on their stoop felt manicured and synthetic and the one tall tree stood lean and gaunt before his new home. The richness of Louisiana culture never hit their home in the same way it would others, whenever Tommy would pick in through curtains or doors that burst open to a myriad of scents and noises melded together in a way that brought warmth to Tommy's bones. His door opened to the dullest of greys and a quiet that burned a hole in his ear.
⟢ Living in a glorified greenhouse, Tommy felt at peace in the darkness. With no city lights to pollute the sky or peak out through the foliage, when the clouds covered a darkened moon, Tommy could tell no difference between opened eyes and shut. Here, though, the darkness felt claustrophobic. Instead of the warm cover of night he was used to, this darkness felt like crawling through a crumbling tunnel. But he made do. If anything, Tommy was very comfortable in tight spaces; nooks and crannies he could find and cozy up in with a journal or a nice book. Back home, his mother would often find him curled up in places she'd least expect. In those spaces, it felt like the world could shed off all pretenses and share its quiet secrets. Here, it was much the same, but the secrets weren't the kindest.
⟢ [EMOTIONAL SPOUSAL ABUSE] When his mother could drop her facade, she told him why she'd married Howard. That sometimes people hide their truth because they know, deep down, how terrifying that honesty could be. Howard presented himself as a severe man, that much wasn't an issue. He was kind and had a dry humor that, above all else, made Jasmine laugh. Sometimes, that's enough to make one ignore the subtle ways someone raises the hair on the back of their neck. It made Tommy wonder at the power some people hold over others physically and supernaturally more gifted than they are. Howard tore Jasmine down piece by piece, forced her reliance on him, made sure she couldn't leave as easily as she wanted to. Tommy never knew the extent until he was older, but he heard the sharp whispers in his hiding spots, the sudden whiplash of an angry, biting, insulting man to someone apologetic with a voice that dripped with honey. Jasmine assured him, though, that he never hit her. That, somehow, Howard knew that would be a fatal mistake.
⟢ On occasion, Tommy would sometimes see a man standing across the street, lit by a lone streetlamp and staring directly into his window. He'd wave and Tommy would wave back. He noticed the man would smile, not the kind he was used to, the kind he'd see in his own reflection. This smile felt bitten back, weighed down. And when Tommy blinked, the man would sometimes disappear.
⟢ [CREEPY CHILD] A boy can only feel so powerless at the face of his own mother's misery. It's something that burns inside, simmers like a frog quietly boiling in its own pot of water, oblivious to the rise in temperature. Tommy, very gradually, stopped sleeping. He'd sit in bed for hours at a time before he quietly carried himself to his parents' bedroom. At first, it was just a few minutes, Tommy would stand by his father's side and watch him sleep. The rise and fall of his chest, the huffs of air that pushed past his nostrils, the way his face sunk into itself. Minutes became an hour, became hours. He'd stand there, sleepless, walking ever closer to the edge of the bed. Until the night just before his 10th birthday. That night he stayed standing at the foot of the bed until his mother woke.
⟢ [DEATH/POTENTIAL MURDER] Somehow Jasmine knew. There was a shadow cast upon her son's face when she caught the dim shine of his eyes—a statue in a graveyard. Some sick, twisted version a La Pietà at the foot of her bed. She didn't bother shaking the man beside her awake, even when her eyes flickered down to see his steady breaths. She knew. So she hurried to pack her things, grabbed whatever bags she could find and stuffed them full for both her and her son. They fled.
⟢ Tommy never knew the extent of her mother's strength. He remembered her digging in their garden, carrying heavy bags full of what looked like more dirt, built with her bare hands fences and posts and an entire shed. This strength, though, felt different when she wrapped her arms around him. When she hefted him up and barreled out the door and almost into the man that stood there waiting. He escorted her to a car of deep, deep black, handed her the key, and grabbed the bags to stuff inside while she buckled Tommy into the back. He remembered him holding Tommy's door open, quietly exchanging some unspoken words before he bent down to press a kiss to Tommy's forehead. That's the first time he saw the man smile without the weights at the corner of his mouth. They left him there, left that too quiet home, left the street that felt too vibrant for a man so severe, and left that same man to rot in his own dreams.
⟢ The trip to California was mostly silent. To this day, Tommy never quite knew what his mother was thinking in that moment. Sometimes he wondered if she were frightened of him, but he remembered her eyes in the rearview staring back at him. Concerned. Worried. Like what was coming was a lot worse than what happened to them here. She only ever explained the hour before they arrived in Oakland. The demigod stuff, the Romans, Jupiter, the powers, everything.
⟢ His mother never came with him through the tunnels, but he knew she'd be there after Lupa. She'd be waiting for him after that long, grueling week, biting her lip and staring at the ground. She'd confessed when he was older that she still regrets not preparing him better, but that revealing everything before his time might have made life harder for them, especially alone out there in the wilderness. He never blamed her, still doesn't.
⟢ Life as a legionnaire was, oddly enough, never quite so eventful for him. He only ever rose ranks from 4th to 3rd cohort simply because he never truly cared for the responsibilities entitled to his station. Mostly, he did what was expected of him and nothing more. Despite this, his colleagues often preferred working with him. His presence was often soothing even when he kept them from sleeping during particularly long night shifts. Maybe that was his god given abilities, or perhaps Tommy was always the soft pillow someone could rest their head on or the warm blanket shielding them from the chores and tedium of the day.
⟢ When he graduated from service in the Legion, it was a rather unceremonious thing. Tommy picked a home right next to his mother's (who lived in another glorified greenhouse on the outskirts of New Rome) and took up higher education. From there on he'd open a little shop in Ceres's Garden called 'Torpor and Trifles' that acted as a place of comfort and relaxation for veterans and legionnaires alike. He's a professional masseuse and physical therapist (the latter of which he got his degree in). The store front looks mostly like a cozy lounge and spa, while the back has a lot of physical therapy equipment and dedicated spa rooms where he provides a massages and some other fancy spa things (hot rocks and the like!)

Somnus, God of Sleep

Aloof in nature, Somnus doesn't find himself visiting or talking much with either Jasmine nor Tommy. Still, when he does appear, often in the dead of night with but a wave or in Tommy's dreams, there's a perpetual warmth there. Tommy sometimes remembers half-awake moments in his childhood staring up at a dark figure bending low, hands curled over the messy edge of his blanket to pull it snug beneath his chin, then quietly fastening the stuffed sheep snug in the crook of Tommy's arm.

Occasionally, Tommy wishes he could know more of Somnus, both of his nature and of him as a father. However, Tommy's very content with his relationship with the god. Despite the fleeting nature of his visits, Tommy always feels a sense of peace, of acknowledgement there. Like he knows of Tommy, cares for him clearly and, honestly, that's enough.

☁︎ Hypnokinesis - Depending on the size, strength, and will of a creature, Tommy can induce sleep. He's been shown to do so indefinitely to things and people much, much weaker than he is (like his stepfather, or a non-magical animal), however this isn't something he can do to his peers or those more powerful than he is. For those of similar strength, Tommy can induce drowsiness and lethargy, though this usually comes at the cost of his focus—in battle it's much harder to do this, but Roman training is not a thing to scoff at. On the other hand, Tommy can also keep others from falling asleep, as well with the same stipulation. For those willing, however, it becomes as easy as breathing for both keeping awake and putting to sleep. With his training in the Legion, Tommy can utilize this power in bursts for magical enemies and those similar or tougher than him: in essence, he can knock someone out for a quick second. This is more costly in relation to his energy and used too much it can and will backfire (he's put himself to sleep this way overexerting it on a nasty group of basilisks trying to eat half his questing group; despite the danger present, it looked kinda funny watching ten or so basilisks and Tommy tumbling to the ground at the same time). At max Tommy can keep someone equal to him asleep for 4 days and awake for 2 with no negative side effects; his quick burst of forced sleep is 3 seconds max.
☁︎ Dream Walking - Usually with permission, though Tommy can attempt to brute force his way into dreams (this can be stopped and the person typically knows), Tommy can exude his own dreaming consciousness into another person's dreams. It's mostly useful for messages, but sometimes he likes to hang out with people he enjoys inside their dreams. He cannot harm a person or influence them to do anything against their will in a dream. The recipient will always remember this specific dream. And yes, he has done not safe for work stuff with guys in dreams before. Everything in a dream is at the whim of dream logic, too. This also works in groups, though he's only tested it with 4 people so far. He does not know the upper limit, but suspects it's 5 or 6. When dream walking with more than 1 person, they all have to be within a mile of each other.
☁︎ Dream Medium - Being the son of a chthonic god has its perks in relation to the dead and being able to speak to dead people in his own dreams is one of them. This can work in tandem with dream walking, but he's only ever been allowed to take up to 2 others with him to 'Dead Dream Walk' so to speak in his own mind. The deceased person has to be willing, and he has to fall asleep with an item they possessed in order to invoke their spirit. Has Tommy ever done anything untoward with a ghost man before? No... well...?
☁︎ Illusions - Taking a bit of the dream world into the waking world, Tommy can form auditory and visual illusions within 50 feet of his sightline or in a 20-foot radius. The former he has to keep within his sightline, while the latter he can maintain even in his sleep. This occasionally happens without him knowing while he's sleeping, as well, usually just small things like creating a windowpane that looks into a rainy forest, echoing the dim rumble of thunder or like soft clouds that puff around him. If he's not focusing on them, they are rather easily dispelled by others, but used in combat he can distract opponents rather thoroughly. When focusing particularly hard on one illusion, Tommy can add tactile sense to it, though is unable to harm or cause pain to anyone with it (like if he were to make the illusion of a purring cat rubbing against someone's legs, they might feel the softness of its fur).
☁︎ Cozy Comforts - Tommy exudes a faint aura of comfort around him that he can intensify with focus. For people it can be rather different (at their own subconscious or conscious will), but most common is the simple soothe of a comforter fresh from the drier and the soft give of a bed one's grown accustomed to. He can amplify this to allow people the full moment of relaxation for as long as they are willing and within his vicinity (it's large enough that he can move around his business freely and still allow people inside to feel it from opposite corners).
☁︎ Cloud Touch - Honestly, this is probably what makes him an absolutely amazing masseuse. Tommy can instill the feel of comfort through touch, causing muscles and joints to relax. He has had trouble with people who have somewhat addictive personalities because it works as an intensely good pain reliever. He uses it to aid in physical therapy to dull the pain and allow folks recover from especially nasty wounds they've had treated and healed. He's noticed that sometimes even fully, magically healed wounds can still produce physical responses that impede in a person's ability to move. This helps soothe that.
☁︎ Umbrakinesis [Minor] - Manipulation of darkness but to a much lesser degree than other chthonic children. Tommy's is more about visibility than it is using darkness and shadow in tangible ways. He can bend the dark a bit to help conceal people, especially at night. Less effective during the day, at least outdoors. As an extra of this ability, Tommy has incredible night vision.

Ceres, Goddess of agriculture, fertility, grains, and motherhood

☁︎ Floral Genesis[Limited] - The sudden creation of flowers, however Tommy can only ever create a field of poppies. It's a small plot that can only be made in proper ground and it's not that useful, but it's neat at least. Being that this flower is a symbol for his father, the poppies that Tommy creates and the seeds they produce don't come with the awful side effect of opioid overdose. The seeds themselves can't germinate, however, and therefore are only recreated through Tommy's power. Sometimes this occurs if he falls asleep on a patch of ground.
☁︎ Plant Identification - One of the many things Tommy adored doign with his mother at a young age was learning what plants were, their properties, and what they were used for. As he grew older, however, touch became all he needed to know most information behind a plant (mainly their properties, how they affected other living things, and the genus). It's great for aiding someone who might need to know what something could be useful for, but that was more so when he was in the Legion. Now, it's just a neat trick.
☁︎ Seasonal Resilience - A big reason why Tommy's typically able to wear sweaters and heavy layers in the summertime mainly has to do with this ability. It's like the opposite of Seasonal Affective Disorder. He always seems incredibly comfortable no matter what season it is. He could go out in shorts during the winter, if he wanted to, which he doesn't, but still.
☁︎ Fertility Boost - Yeah, that's about right. It works on both plants and people through touch. For people, it has to be a consensual thing. Tommy finds it very nice to help couples who've had difficulty conceiving, especially if they're unable to see anyone else at the time for assistance. Fun Fact: one person commissioned him around Tommy's first year in New Rome to help him win a giant plant competition. Tommy didn't know it wasn't for personal reasons (sometimes people just want big watermelons. Watermelons are great, so how could he blame the dude?) and the guy got banned from ever competing in any agricultural contest ever again.

Former 4th and 3rd

Veteran Legionnaire

Too Little, Too Late

Some people have a very bad sense of timing. Tommy's got this particular issue of not considering how truly serious something is until it's quite literally too late to make a difference. Sometimes, these situations are very much out of his control and have nothing to do with him (he feels guilty for not helping his mother sooner when he was just a child and couldn't have done anything outside of what actually happened, which he had no control over). And sometimes, it really is within his control, but he rose to the occasion too late for it to many anymore. Timing is everything and Tommy doesn't quite have the best grasp of that concept yet.

☁︎ Quietus - A composite bow made of oak with decorative mistletoe. The arrow tips are Stygian Iron that are barbed. The wood of the bow is enchanted by his mother to repair itself if somehow broken. Quietus is disguised as a bracelet around his wrist, half of it is a metal band and the other is leather where it's tied together.
☁︎ Placidus - A gladius made of stygian iron that can be retracted into a keychain that looks like a sheep sleeping in a squishy looking cloud.