Practice Makes Perfect (Damien)

[Deleted]

Training wasn’t going so well. In fact, it was probably safe to say it was going poorly. At least, for Clare it was. Today’s training lesson was a combo drill. Disarm your opponent , land a disabling, but not lethal, blow, and put the other person on the ground. So far, her opponent was really getting the hang of it. Clare, not so much. Probably because she couldn’t even get step one right.

She’s tried disarming the older boy. Though it wasn’t for lack of trying. She’d attempted it at least four times. He had yet to lose his sword. On the flip side, she had been forced to drop her sword, smacked with the flat of a blade or jabbed with a sharp hilt, and knocked on her butt at least seven times. Like she was now. Her sword was a few feet from her where the guy had managed not only to make her drop it, but get it to actually fly a good distance out of her hands. She was rubbing her shoulder, where she’d just gotten jabbed for the third time, and trying to pluck up the desire to even stand up. It would just mean being knocked down again.

Luckily, that was when the whistle sounded to announce the end of the torture. And Clare was determined that the next time she do this, she would not look like the camp jester. Which meant just one thing: it was time to find Damien. Her older brother, the son of Jupiter, and all-around great person. Especially in her opinion, because she was pretty sure he could be classified as spoiling her whether he really accepted the fact or not.

So she set off to the mess hall first. It wasn’t lunch, but snacks were great, so she wouldn’t blame him for being there. He wasn’t. Which was a real shame, but there did happen to be a wind spirit that was more than happy to give her a bottle of cream soda. No brother, cream soda. It balanced out. Then she set off for his cohort barrack. She wasn’t really supposed to be there, but the other people in his cohort were so used to it that no one really cared. There were a few people there, and what looked to be a very intense came of Parcheesi going on. That was one thing about here. Nothing was done with half effort, not even moving little pieces around a game board. No Damien though. She pursed her lips, took another sip of cream soda, and set off again.

Baths? No. Via Principalis? No. But she did get distracted for a few minutes by a guy getting his ice cream stall set up before remembering she was on a mission. Maybe she’d ask Damien if he wanted to get ice cream after sorting out the training issue. That sounded good. Moving on. Obstacle course? No. She heaved a sigh and took another drink of her cream soda. She was running out of places to check. So she set off for what few places were left. First stop, the armory. Probably the most dangerous place for a hyperactive demigod like Clare to be, but Damien, there was a chance.

WORD COUNT: 541
TAG: Damien!
NOTES: Now I really want a cream soda…

[damien]

It was one of those rare but glorious days when Damien’s cohort had been given the afternoon off, to do as they pleased around the Camp, and so Damien was, in his own way, taking advantage of his free time by seeking both solitude and peace among the gleaming weapons that were housed in the armory. Most legionnaires wouldn’t opt to spend their free afternoons polishing their sword or taking inventory, considering as that was something that they were regimented to do nearly every day anyway, but Damien felt as though his day wouldn’t be complete without some kind of rudimentary cleaning of his sword, one of his valued possessions. Not to mention he had originally wanted to duel, but there was nobody would was willing, today, to take him on as a challenge.

So this was the reason Damien Rodqiguez, son of Jupiter, was currently sitting down on a stool in the armory, his treasured sword resting on his lap, polishing the prized weapon with solution and care. His hazel-green eyes were steadily fixed on the metal, admiring the way in which it shined with every passing stroke of the rag. Perhaps he’d sharpen it later, but even Damien knew there really wasn’t any need for that unless they were facing some sort of conflict. In fact it was probably smarter to not sharpen it, considering as Damien didn’t want to bestow any accidental blow to his comrades here. He already had to walk on eggshells around them at times when his emotions were heightened, for fear of striking someone with a zap of lightning.

Damien was, for the most part, a fairly quiet fellow who had the respect of most of his peers, though a little bit of fear was mixed in. He personally wished that fear could be taken out of the equation, but the title with which being a direct son of Jupiter was associated, he knew it was virtually impossible. But Damien had learned to live with it. After all, there were two people in the world that he knew would never really fear him - one of whom he knew he would always have their unconditional love and support, just as she had his. And that was his younger sister, who happened to waltz in as if him thinking of her in passing had beckoned her in here.

His eyebrows went up at the sight of the cream soda in her hand, but an affectionate smile broke out on his face as he watched her. ”Whoever gave you the cream soda really should have reconsidered,” he teased, putting the rag aside as he stood up from the stool to go and put his sword away, to hang it amongst the others that were already up along the wall. ”What are you doing in here, Clare? This isn’t exactly the first place I’d expect you to be… nor is it exactly the best place for a cream soda.” His gaze went warily from Clare to the drink in her hand, and then glanced protectively at all the weapons around the room. As much as he loved his sister, he knew that she was fairly prone to causing accidents, and the thought of getting the sugary substance that was cream soda all over the metallic weapons in here, well… it wasn’t exactly a pleasant idea.

He glanced at his sword one more time, noting with pride that it was probably the shiniest one on the wall at this point, before shoving his hands into his pockets and turning to his younger sister. Though he was somewhat worried for the wellbeing of the weapons in here, there was still a smile on his face as he dipped his head towards the door. ”Did you want to take this conversation outside, maybe? Where your cream soda doesn’t have the potential to be a drink of mass destruction?”

[Deleted]

Clare hadn’t really expected to find him. After all, she’d already tried what she considered everywhere. Or at least close enough to. But low and behold, there he was, polishing his sword like it was the most natural thing in the world. For him, though, it probably was. And it also reminded her that she should probably do the same at some point. But Damien, that was perfectly normal for. He was the good fighter, would be a great leader if he actually accepted leadership, types. At least, that was how she saw it. There was, of course, the slight bias that he was her big brother and one of the people she loved most dearly on this entire planet.

She caught the glance at her choice of drink and immediately twisted the cap back on it. His words confirmed what she had a feeling he was thinking. Her plus sugar-high soda in any format generally was bad idea. “Hey now,” she said with a laugh that didn’t make the attempt at being serious and/or mock-hurt go over so well. “I’m not that bad. Cap back, see?” She held up the bottle so he could clearly see it was now resealed.

She let the bottle fall – not literally! – back to her side and tapped it gently against her leg like it wasn’t physically possible for her not to be in motion at every waking moment. Which most in the camp would argue was one hundred percent true. “I’m looking for you. Well, I guess I’m technically not anymore because you’re right here. So it would be kind of pointless to keep looking. But I’ve been all over camp. And hey, I can be careful. I’m not entirely clutzy.” Though she stopped tapping the bottle on her leg just in case, realizing that she was shaking a soda. Bad plan.

Clare rolled her eyes at his comment about the lethality of her chosen drink. So maybe he was right. It made her start to wonder if there weren’t potential other uses for cream soda. Maybe if she tried… Her mind was already setting off on a dozen tangents that were luckily broken by the fact that Damien was looking at her with his serious son-of-Jupiter face. Or maybe it was his oh-look-it’s-Tuesday face. Easily confused. “What? Ye- oh! Yeah.”

She led the way outside the armory, figuring he was following. If he wasn’t, she was just going to look really dumb talking to her cream soda. “So I need your help. I was at training. The whole complex defense and attack whatever stuff. And I kind of stink. Ok, more than kind of. I basically got beat up the entire class. SO! I need help so I’m not so pitiful next time. And the whole needing to know it anyway thing.” Clare topped off her request with her patented puppy dog eyes for good measure, though she had a feeling they weren’t necessary. Damien always seemed ready to help out. It was one of those things she loved about him; he was never one to turn her away for any of her silly requests from help to- oh my gods that was right! “And maybe we can get ice cream after!” she beamed.

WORD COUNT: 542
TAG: Damien