Not impressed yet. (Open)

[Deleted]

Angharad was miserable that the Romans had to rely upon the Greeks to provide them refuge in the latter's camp.  What she hated the most was being vulnerable--and vulnerable in front of the pack of Graeci who she mistrusted and resented for their history of hostility!  But in this case, it had not been the Legion's fault for this weakness.  No, it had been inevitable and completely out of their control (with all due respect to the goddess Discordia, or course, chaos was a natural aspect of life but one that Angharad tried to avoid at all costs nonetheless, again, with respect toward the goddess herself), and they had to do what was practical for survival.  Angharad personally would rather die in battle than surrender and succumb to living a fate she despised and resented, but she wasn't as selfish as to want to pull down the whole Legion down with her.  She cared for the Legion's survival, and she grudgingly understood why they had to stay in the Greek camp for shelter.  It really wasn't worth dying over, to be honest, but it was the case that if given any chance to leave she'd run off as if she were evacuating a burning building.

She could go on and on from now until the day she had great-grandchildren about what she utterly disliked about the Greek camp.  It was messy, lacking in order and discipline, and had no coordination whatsoever.  To her, it was like a village consisting of random civilians allowed to behave...randomly! It was appalling to see that they ran around aimlessly wherever they pleased like ants in an all over an anthill.  It wasn't like freedom to roam around was missing in the Roman camp, but at least the Praetors held morning musters and kept a hold of its Legionnaires and reigned them in from being too liberal.  She was pretty sure there were plenty of Greek campers who couldn't remember the faces of their fellow campers, because of the lot of them could go pleasure themselves however they wished without needing to acknowledge their comrades.  Don't get her started on how lax in behavior the Graeci were.  They didn't salute, they laughed loudly like drunken sops, they simply were more focused on leisure and fun then power and strength.  Don't get her started on the concept of having a litter of cabins based on parentage! It was so impractical and was a waste of space and the resources used to build the cabins.  There were gods and goddesses who had few children, and their cabins stood idle.  While, in the barracks, they used fewer buildings and amply housed the Legionnaires in their respective cohorts.

Generally, though, it was still livable, even if all of this was below her standards.  She did acknowledge that there were the basic similarities between the Romans and the Greeks.  Although, she was inclined to think so poorly about them because she didn't like them in the first place and was more than happy to find fault in them.  And yes, she actually did find fault in them, because all that she criticized them for was genuine disapproval.  But she did exaggerate a bit because of her already jaundiced bias toward them.  She did what she could to respect them as a separate culture, and one that corresponded with Romans despite their strife.  She did find herself amongst kindred, war-loving spirits in the Ares children.  Admittedly, she was beginning to feel a tad bit accepting of the children of Ares over the other Greaci.  That was also why she was heading to the armory to view the weapons.

From what she heard the children of Ares say, the armory stored all the weapons you could imagine, and individual ones with ancient histories to them.  That peaked her interest, because weaponry was her life.  She loved weapons and needed them as much as she needed air.  Angharad had been expecting to see an armory that was neatly stored with brilliant celestial bronze weapons hanged on walls and placed orderly on racks--that much, she would give the Greeks the benefit of the doubt.

However, once the brunette took a step into the armory and glanced around, she found her beggaring belief.  Oh, how she should've known! It shouldn't be a surprise, and there was really no need to feel disappointment when they were always like this.  The armory was strewn with weapons--almost all of them piled on top of each other like an assortment of junk.  There were categories of weapons separated accordingly, no doubt, but there was still plenty of improvement needed to make it look completely proper.  She would've just rolled her eyes over an annoyance, but this time she was rather outraged.  She loved weapons, and it pissed her off to see them treated with such a lack of dignity.  The Graeci ought to keep better care of their weapons, but she didn't expect that they had the capacity to.

Heaving an exasperated sigh, Angharad walked over to a table and picked up a random dagger lying around, eying it with what was almost like pity.  "Such blatant disrespect for vital, life-saving tools that we depend upon for our very lives," she muttered irritably in Latin.  "These Greeks are beyond hope."  That, too, she said in Latin--probably for the best.               

[Deacon Jacoby]

It had been a rather long morning for Deacon. Not that any other morning would have gone much better, but sometimes he just couldn't stand the number of pranks that came out of the Hermes cabin. There was very little humor in making a spectacle of another person, especially not your own siblings. It was like they valued humor and comedy over anything else, and they were bad at it. Despite Deacon's disdain, he could still here the rambunctious laughter of the other campers as they watched a member of Hermes cabin run around in just a towel, looking for his pants which had been stolen by his sister.

Although Deacon was not a violent person, he understood and appreciated the logic behind practicing his war skills. After all, his mother Athena would expect him to be a top strategy provider and he couldn't possibly disappoint her. With this in mind, he made his way to the armory with the intent of grabbing a sword and taking out his frustrations on a dummy. He had barely reached the door before he heard someone speaking inside. He couldn't tell if they were talking to themselves or if they were in the middle of a conversation with someone, but he could tell they were speaking Latin. Unfortunately for their intentions, he was one of the few kids in camp that knew Latin. After all, he was a son of wisdom.

He shook his head, the owner to the voice had to be Greek. There was really no other explanation for the words. He was also convinced that they were alone in the room. With this knowledge, he didn't hesitate to open the door a smirk, "You shouldn't blame an entire culture for the actions of a few ridiculous children." He said, making sure to speak Latin so she would know he understood what she had been muttering to herself, "It would be rude."

[Deleted]

Angharad had just finished muttering to herself in Latin when she heard a voice coming from behind her--a voice that was speaking Latin, the tongue of the Romans.  He was countering her insult at the Greeks, telling her that it wasn't the culture's fault for the neglectful nature of the campers.  She did, of course, comprehend the message, but what got at her was the language in which it had been spoken.  Latin.  Surely, only a fellow Legionnaire would be talking in Roman, not a Graecus.  So, when Angharad glanced up from the dagger to gaze coldly at whoever the speaker was to argue back sharply, she was surprised to find herself staring at an unfamiliar face, a face that definitely did not belong to any of the Legionnaires she knew.  That could only mean that he was a Greek who happened to know Latin.  Angharad was surprised that a Greek should know Latin, because she had assumed that they only spoke their tongue.  She didn't know how he could've learned the language, but, well, he knew it, and so she was going to respond in kind. 

She didn't know any of her surprise on her face, however.  She kept her gaze steady and cool on the blonde-haired boy, and her look was filled with a sharp iciness.  "Or, more likely, precise," she countered in Latin.  "Is this not the armory of the Greek camp? Everything in here belongs to the Greeks, and that alone already bespeaks how they take care of their weapons.  Those 'ridiculous kids' who you mention are not just a few in number but who mainly consist of the entire camp, otherwise something would've been done already to store these weapons properly.   It's nothing but shameful, and the truth shouldn't be mistaken as rudeness."  Angharad wouldn't deny that she felt a biased contempt and snobbery toward the Grecian race, and that influenced her words, but she was also being pretty candid and frank too--she really did mean what she said and genuinely believed in her words out of her own observations more than out of mere prejudice.  She was pretty sure that her argument had a base to it as opposed to blind disdain.                      

[Deacon Jacoby]

Looking on the girl, Deacon couldn't deny there was a certain beauty about her. But her obvious bias took away from any sort of attraction her could have felt for her. She was obviously prone to generalizations, which was a trait Deacon could not appreciate. It was like calling all fruit apples, useless and ignorant, "If you are going to generalize any group of people," He started in Latin, sure that she was surprised that he knew the language in the first place, "It would be the Ares cabin."

Now it wasn't Deacon's style to lay blame on any one cabin for something, but the armory was the Ares stomping grounds, "But once again, that would be rude. It is definitely a camp effort." He tugged on a strap that was sticking out of one of the many piles, expecting it to unveil a scabbard. Instead, a bunch of arrows popped out, causing an axe to clang across the floor, "Unfortunately, I do agree that it is completely disorganized. I personally don't have the patience to remedy the situation, but feel free." He smirked, looked over at her and swinging the quiver over his shoulder like he had meant to choose it.

He then grabbed the nearest bow and pulled it over his shoulder, "I'm Deacon." He offered his hand to her, knowing full well that if she were to reject a hand shake it wouldn't bother him. He didn't expect a Roman to actually appreciate the Greek way of life. They basically spent their time in a concentration camp and moving to some place that had the freedoms of Camp Half Blood may confuse them.

[Deleted]

Oh, of course she blamed the Ares children more than the other campers.  Sure, she did think that it shouldn't only be the children of the war god who had the responsibility of storing the weapons correctly, because all demigods wielded weapons, not just the Ares ones.  But she did expect more from them.  After all, they were the children of the war god who specialized in the art of weaponry, and appreciated that more than any of the other campers.  They ought to be more concerned about the condition of the armory.  She was disappointed in her Greek counterparts, definitely..but not for the first time.

Still, though, she still held the whole camp accountable for this armory that all of the demigods used.  Putting down the armor, she turned to face him completely and crossed her arms.  She was about to point that out until he beat her to it.  Cocking a perfectly arched  eyebrow, she said, "Yes.  Exactly."  That held an ironic undertone to it, because she knew that even if he did realize that it was supposed to be a camp effort, nothing would change.  Which was what he confirmed in his next comment.  She scoffed.  "If you Graeci prefer to treat your weapons with negligence, then you must suffer your own shabby consequences, as shameful as it is.  Unless this armory belongs to the Romans, I don't see why I need to offer assistance."  The centurion smirked.  "But my fellow legionnaires would never brook such a mess in our premises.  All of this nonsense would've been amended quicker than the speed of lightning, if it ever happened at all."

He seemed to be fetching a quiver and bow for archery practice.  Well, that was a commendable act.  Practicing your skills in different types of weaponry was always vital and important, and at least the Greeks understood that.  Although, he could be a son of Apollo, which explained if he preferred to draw a bow and shoot an arrow over thrusting his enemies down with a sword.  He held out his hand for her to shake, which of course was to be a polite greeting.  He also introduced himself as Deacon, but didn't tell her who his parent was or his surname.  Angharad didn't mind using a gesture that indicated a greeting in return, but she didn't want to do it the usual way.  She wanted to do it the Roman way.

Standing up straighter, and rather stiffly, she saluted him.  "Centurion Angharad Brodigan of the First Cohort, daughter of Her Eminence the Goddess of War and Destruction, Bellona."  After she saluting him, she put her hand down back at her side.  "I believe that my esteemed mother would, in your Greek culture, be called Enyo."                        

[Deacon Jacoby]

Well that wasn't awkward at all...

He pulled his hand back and smiled at her, actually sort of impressed with her professional behavior. So she was the daughter of Bellona, huh? That explained the hyper-critical nature she seemed to be disposed to. It would also explain why she was standing in the armory in the first place. It occurred to him that he hadn't really given her much information about himself and, for the sake of not being outdone, he replied, "Deacon Jacoby, son of Athena." He shifted the bow over his arm the string wasn't cutting of the circulation in his arm, "Minerva, according to the Roman tradition."

He then cocked his head to one side and motioned to the room, "Daughter of Bellona, right?" Deacon began, "So I assume you know how to actually use these weapons, more than just criticizing our poor storage habits?" He didn't mean or it to sound like a challenge, but for some reason it came out that way. Deacon, or course, was not stupid. There was no way he would win in a fight with her if it came down to sheer strength. But he couldn't deny him mother's tie to strategy and war.

He couldn't help but wonder if she was hyper-critical of his Greek family because she was already in the frame of mind to dislike them when she arrived, or if her decision had been informed. As much as he wanted to ask, he was wise enough to not do anything to tempt her already irritated temper.

[Deleted]

Angharad thought that the Greeks had a lax way of greeting others.  They just introduced their names casually with a smile on their face...it was so informal.  But, Deacon's could've been worse.  Angharad had seen worse, like slaps on the backs, hugs, and obnoxious laughter.  His was devoid of discipline, but at least it was normal.  He also revealed himself to the son of the Greek version of Minerva.  So, he was a brain child.  The son of wisdom and knowledge.  So far he hadn't presented himself as stupid to Angharad, even if did disagree with him on some things--but that was because she generally disagreed with all things Greek.  But, the thing was, he was level-headed and acknowledged any wrongdoings of his kindred where due, even if he was still the typical liberal and loose Greek.  Knowing that she couldn't expect the highest here, she figured that she could've had worse company than Deacon Jacoby. 

"Son of Miner--Athena," she repeated.  "Does this mean you work together with the children of Ares to plan out battle strategies?" Usually, it was the Praetors who made the ultimate decisions, but their council did include those who could add input into those decisions, people who were experts in the field.  Angharad was battle-seasoned and weathered, as were most Romans, but she wasn't sure if she could say the same about the Greeks.  Most of them seemed overtly sheltered by the way they behaved.

She smirked again at his quip about her knowing how to wield the weapons over criticizing the queer habits of the Greek.  "If I continue to be exposed to your 'poor, strange habits', I might just end up only knowing how to criticize and lose my fighting ability along the way," she quipped back.  On a normal basis, she wasn't sarcastic, but sarcasm came to her naturally when she was making fun of the Greeks.  "But, while that hasn't happened yet and I pray to Fortuna that it never does, yes, I certainly do know how to.  I wager that there isn't a fine weapon in here that I would not know how to wield with the utmost skill and precision."  She said this proudly, because it was quite true.  Being a daughter of Bellona granted her the powers of manipulating weapons and naturally having a talent with them.                                     

[Deacon Jacoby]

What a stubborn girl. That was all Deacon could think when he looked at her over and shook his head. He thought back to the one and only time he ever helped the Ares cabin plan something of importance. Generally, the Athena cabin fought against the Ares cabin in the capture the flag games, so he never really helped them with that. The one time he did help, they asked for his opinion simply to shoot it down for a more violent, stubborn, and foolish alternative. Their gung hoe nature made him steer clear of any Ares quests or problems for the most part. "I have in the past." He said, in answer to her question. Deacon was careful not to speak his thoughts on the matter in general. It wouldn't be good to alienate the girl any more than she already was, "It was a ... rewarding experience." He grinned and pushed through a door that led to a clearing full of dummies and targets. He did this as if planning to practice with the bow he had accidentally acquired. Deacon couldn't help but smile at her quip. It was so funny to him how much she hated Greeks, and hope misplaced that hatred seemed to him. Of course, he was more than aware that something could have happened that caused this deep rooted resentment, but he suspected it was probably just prejudice, "Do the Romans often seek advice from each other, or are all of you blended together and don't distinguish each others more potent abilities?" He knew the question sounded rude and would only cause more anger towards him, but he remained unbothered by this fact.

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