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    1. ouTland01 5 yrs ago

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5 yrs ago
everyone thinks the mothman is pretty sexy

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lmaoooo
it issss how it isss
god bless
Llewellyn reels back in shock, eyes wide, and snaps his eyes to the monster. "What in the world is that-?!"
He's new. He's untrained and unarmed. He doesn't so much as know who his godly parent is.
He's so, so screwed.

After a quick mental analysis, Gabriel stands and moves back to Tony. He pulls a keychain out of his pocket; a little pewter-looking trinket the shape of a wolf's bust. He rolls it in his hand and it shifts to a shimmering golden sword, a hispaniensis gladius. The weight of it is comforting, and he can feel the way his father's combat gifts rush through his veins.
He speaks in a low voice, thick with a Scandinavian accent. "Keep going. Focus. I'll cover you."
Llewellyn smiles back, nodding. “I don’t see why not. Not like anyone’s policing the group. Come on!”

“Suit yourself. Don’t blame everyone else for not trusting you when you act like a tetchy dickhead, though. It’s not on them to cater to y-“ and feeling eyes on him, Gabriel snaps his gaze around to look; seems it was just the Irish kid. Huh.
He settles into a walk near the back of the group, footsteps fast but utterly quiet. He pushes up his sleeves and tucks his hands into the pocket of his hoodie, running his thumb over the edge of a little golden keychain.
Gabriel sees Damien leaving and sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Alright, kid. Fine. Don't be surprised when other people don't feel safe around you spinning your scythe over here, either, though. Trust is a two-way street. I'm going with my campmate. Good luck."
And he sets off after Damien, bussing a light jog to catch up.

Llewellyn nods, humming. "I'll come with. Sounds spooky, though."
He turns to Ivy, brows raising. "Hmm? Oh, I- no, I'm new, too. I'm following-" he gestures unhelpfully at Tony's retreating form. "I'm not sure what's happening. But following that guy feels like my best plan right now, so I'm doing that. Uh."
Gabriel looks over at the group with a bit of a passive glare, irritated. But he schools his expression back to something a bit more amiable and shakes his head. There’s something to be said about the orderliness of Camp Jupiter- something like this would be taken care of by now.
He rises and walks quietly over to Devan, standing a little way off. He speaks in that thick Scandinavian accent, lowly, a bit condescendingly, like reassuring a spooked animal or a child. “Why don’t you put that down? There’s no need to go waving weapons around. No one’s going to attack you.”

Lyn stands, edging over to the newcomer. He pulls his bun down in one smooth movement, running fingers through his hair, and reties it in a low ponytail. A nervous movement, maybe, or habit. “You’re a healer? What are you here at the camp for?”
Gabriel was minding his own business, frankly. Is that so bad? He had his head down and eyes forward, listening to the flow of conversation around him and nodding along politely. No input was needed, so he stayed quiet.
But then the griffin came and fucked all that up. Now look at them. Some kid's having a fucking panic attack in the corner.
And he's staring
Very
Hard
At the Irish kid.
He sheathes his sword and shakes his head, sitting back down with a huff.

-

Llewellyn doesn't know what's happening. The evening had been fine. Peachy, even. And then some kid had fallen out of the sky on a huge bird griffin thing. It's all so weird.
So he stays back, unclaimed yet, with the Hermes kids, and watches things unfold.
There's a guy quietly losing his mind a little bit away. It might be cause for concern, but there are enough people around him that Llewellyn might've just been getting in the way. He stays put.
ty!
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