Bella smiled, letting out a small chuckle even though it was truly the opposite of what she wanted to do. Though she was happy that the dog had stopped growling at her. The girl was sure that it the dog had attacked her for some reason, she would have been able to defend herself easily, but harming Septimus was not something she wanted to do at the moment. “I don’t blame you, why do you think I’ve been hiding in the shadows?” She quirked, seeming relatable to the girl. It was the truth though, with how paranoid everyone she had to keep her guard up. “I’ve been checking up on everyone, trying to help out where I can.”
Septimus wasn’t really the attacking type-- unless his companion was in mortal danger or he was commanded to do so. He could play ferocious when the occasion called, but there was no denying his kind heart. “That’s fair,” Adriana chuckled lightly. “Nowhere seems to be entirely secure these days. It doesn’t even feel quite like home anymore.” It was rather ironic, she thought, that her grandfather -- the family patriarch, was the Senator of the Lake District, yet the Greeks had taken the waterfront for their center of operations. The same headquarters with which Adriana had aligned herself. Luckily, few of the residences around the lake had been targeted. For now.
The defected centurion sported a slight smile at Bella. It was nice to hear that she was doing what she could to help out, but it still didn’t exactly explain why she wasn’t doing so within the Roman-occupied territories. Then again, she could have just strolled past the perimeter to extend her search or merely take a breath, as Adri was. “The middle of the woods seems an odd place to do that, but I’m glad you looking out for everyone. If the curse is as troublesome for you as it’s been for us, I can imagine you need all the help you can get.”
There was a pause, then. Adriana couldn’t shake the nagging voice in the back of her head that wanted them to take advantage of Bella’s position. Not only was she among the Romans, but she had more than likely been in contact with her cousins-- one of which, the daughter of Mars was eager to check up on. Her voice came out slightly quieter and somewhat hesitant this time. “How is--” She wanted to ask after that one individual in particular, but thought better of it a moment later. “How is everyone?”
The plastic smile on Elliot’s face melted into a genuine one as they recognized who it was. “Adriana! And Septimus too, I see.” Happily, Elliot got down on their knees and started giving the canine all the petting they could short of hugging him. A happy dog meant a happy Elliot.
As Elliot half-scratched half-massaged Septimus, they looked up at Adriana. “The curse, huh,” they mused, an edge to their tone. “What kind of curse do you have, if you don’t mind me asking? And can I help in any way?”
Septimus was all too happy to receive Elliot’s attention. He nuzzled into the demigod’s hands and assaulted them with a few happy licks, tail waving profusely. “I think you’ve found his weakness,” Adriana laughed as the canine’s amber eyes shut, a content grumble rolling from his chest.
Adriana joined Elliot where they knelt, returning to the moderately relaxed state she had been in before her friend had appeared. Idly, she brought her hand down in slow stroked across the dog’s back, and in time, he too settled on the ground with them. “The kind that graces me with physical burns whenever I touch any weapons, armor, gear, you name it. Apparently, I can’t train or defend myself either,” she sighed, miserably. “Thank you for offering, but I doubt there’s much anyone can do until this curse is broken.”
“Well still, I didn’t want to worry you! Messing up your own hair is way better than having someone else mess it up. I didn’t want you to think I would do a bad job since I had no idea what I was doing. I’m glad you like the way it turned out though. I’m honestly very surprised with how well it turned out. I’m a little proud of myself.” She admitted with a shy smile. She truly was a bit worried when Adriana came to her to fix her hair. A part of her felt like it was a test, although deep down she knew it wasn’t. Adriana was putting all of her trust into Blossom, and that was a big deal. Luckily it didn’t blow up in her face. As Adriana got a bit deep with self expression, Blossom shook her head. “I won’t deny that it’s easier, because it is. But regardless, you have to be your true self no matter what anyone thinks or the consequences. At the end of your life, you want to look back and be able to say ‘Wow, I’m really glad I was able to be myself and do all the things I love’. You shouldn’t let others restrict that. If you get punished, so what? It’s worth it if you’re being true to yourself. It’s like that Dr. Seuss quote, you know the one I’m talking about? It goes, ‘Today you are you, that is truer than true. There is no one alive that is youer than you’.”
"I suppose that’s fair, but you’ve uncovered an unknown talent out of it, so I’d say it was worth the risk.” Adriana returned Blossom’s sweet smile with an encouraging one.
Another of Blossom’s other talents, she had found, was her unique, philosophical method of support and encouragement. She could be unconditionally positive, even in light of terrible circumstances. True self were foreign words to Adriana’s ears, however. She couldn’t quite grasp an image of herself that wasn’t somehow permanently welded to her family or the Legion, whether or not she approved of those components. And Blossom’s mention of standing up against punishment-- the daughter of Mars could have laughed. There was no doubt the two had very different perceptions of what “punishment” entailed. For Adriana, the sort of punishment related to the stance Blossom was implying were not necessarily consequences from which one could recover.
“Dr. Seuss?” Adriana blinked, focusing her response on the more amusing bit of Blossom’s innocent wisdom. “Is he some sort of philosophical doctor? His message is encouraging, but someone should tell him that his poetry skills are in definite need of improvement,” she chuckled and gently squeezed Blossom’s shoulder. “I think I prefer your advice far better.”
In another minute or so, they arrived at Adriana’s tent. The former centurion instructed the girl to wait and ducked inside. When she emerged, she did so holding two simply concealed items -- one of arm’s length wrapped and tied in a large, well-worn piece of yellow-brown cloth, and a second in a small black leather pouch with a drawstring. “Happy birthday, Blossom,” she grinned, handing the smaller package over first.
Inside was a silver ring with a golden wolf etched into its surface. As she unwrapped it, Adriana carefully watched her face. “Our cohort may no longer be together in an official capacity, but I want to have something that shows we’re still a family and no one can take that away from us; so, I had our emblem etched into a set of rings for those of us who... will still accept them. You can wear it however you like, of course. I’ll be handing the others out in time.”
Thinly engraved on the ring’s inner circle, another detail stood out; a phrase that read, ‘The lone wolf dies, but the pack survives’ -- stolen from Adriana’s one not-so-secret television obsession, yet nonetheless appropriate.
Dinner with Percy had been an otherwise pleasant affair. After eating so much of their own genius lakeside pasta though, Elliot decided they needed to walk off the carbs. They had to maintain their figure, after all, or fighting as aggressively as they did would be a bit of a challenge.
And so early evening found Elliot wandering through the woods. The woods closer to Greek HQ and New Rome were much less dangerous than the woods further away, something that Elliot was both grateful for and bored by. On one hand, they liked the need to fight their way through something, but on the other, they liked having some quiet time to themselves where they were usually balls of energy around other people.
As Elliot tread the forest, they heard a voice. The voice sounded familiar, though Elliot couldn’t quite place who it was. Looking through the trees, Elliot could make out two silhouettes: one small and close to the ground, the other taller and standing upright.
The demigod paused. If this person were a Roman, they stood a chance of being attacked. If this person was a Greek, it wouldn’t hurt to get to know them better… Then again, even if Elliot were attacked, they could definitely take on whoever it was. Barring maybe First Cohort and Second Cohort members, of course. Even then, it would be quite an exciting fight.
“Hello,” Elliot greeted with a smile on their face as they drew closer. “Early night walk?”
When Elliot emerged from the tree cover, a relieved smile broke out on Adriana’s lips. “Buonasera, Elliot.” Septimus, all too happy to see a friend, bounded over and circled around Elliot’s form before padding along at their side, hoping for at least a pat on the head, but he wouldn’t push his luck. Adriana moved over toward them as well, putting the canine in between them. “Something like that.” As she walked, the daughter of Mars tapped the stick in her hand against the side of her leg, muscles restless. “I needed some air. This curse is just about driving me mad,” she breathed a tight sigh, “but I suppose I’ve had worse.”
“I wasn’t trying to hide or anything.” She smiled, taking a step into view. Bella glanced at the dog, stopping herself from sneering a little bit. It wasn’t as if she disliked dogs, in fact she was quite fond of most animals, but she didn’t enjoy dogs growling at her. She understood that the animal was simply doing its job, which was why she left it alone. She herself had a companion, though it was a cat as her personality matched theirs much better.
"Bella,” Adriana breathed a small sigh of relief when a familiar face stepped into view. She remained on the side of the Romans, yes; but, their families had a longstanding relationship and Adriana had known Bella since she was practically in diapers. Still-- that didn’t mean she was going to drop her guard entirely. “You’ll have to forgive me. With the current climate, I can’t afford to let my guard down on unclaimed ground.” Sensing his companion’s tense muscles loosen, Septimus glanced up at her, flicked his ears, and silenced his growl. After a sharp bark of greeting to the young woman and the cat at her side, he took a step back and plopped down on his rump, tongue lolling out the side of his mouth. Adriana produced a small smile at that before her attention flicked back to the girl. “What brings you out here so far from headquarters?”
A proper day of enjoyment. Blossom didn’t know how much they could achieve in the middle of a war, but she had hope. It was nice to see that someone truly cared about her birthday, even though she didn’t really tell many people that her birthday was today. “Well, thank you. I appreciate it a lot, that you’re doing this for me.” She said with a nod, following as Adriana led the way. “I’m glad you like it! I didn’t want to freak you out in the moment, but I honestly had no idea what I was doing. I just winged it really. So, I’m glad it came out well and that you like it so much!” She said with a small laugh, a little embarrassed to admit she had no clue what she was doing. But, seeing that Adriana like the hair cut she gave her so much, maybe it was one of Blossom’s hidden talents. “Wow, that was a big compliment. Thank you so much, but you have those same abilities, you do it with your legionnaires. Although, it is hard to guide yourself so I don’t mind helping. Stubbornness is part of you, it’s nothing to necessarily overcome. It’s more of knowing how to maneuver it and deal with it. You can do it though, I believe in you.”
Although Blossom admitted that she hadn’t the slightest idea about how to do a proper haircut, Adriana didn’t seem bothered. In fact, the girl managed to score a similar laugh from her. “It’s a good thing I had no expectations. Though, I doubt I would have been turned of by it, if you’d said so. Shearing my hair with a sword was ‘winging it’ enough.” The centurion’s heart swelled with warmth to hear Blossom speak of her so highly. Adriana had held her office for seven years, yet no matter the experience or the confidence she had in her own abilities, she would always be worried when it came to her legionnaires. New Rome was meant to be their home away from home. Their centurions were responsible for their well-being, and making them feel welcome and comfortable -- aside from strengthening their characters and skills -- was her top priority. “I’ll take all the help I can get,” Adriana smiled softly, “and thank you. Many of my old companions I left behind certainly won’t share your encouragement.” As her tent came into sight, Adriana slowed her steps some. “You know, I envy you, in a way. Our standards are so different, so demanding... they can mold us into people that we don’t truly want to be. You had the freedom to make yourself as you wished, I imagine. It must be far easier to be who you are. For me, true expression comes with some rather dangerous consequences.”
It was early evening when Adriana set out for her stroll through the woods. Dry leaves crunched underfoot, keeping rhythm to her steps; a thick branch swayed along, firmly gripped in place of her absent sword; and at her side, Septimus padded along, glad to be free of the camp’s commotion. Activity at HQ had dwindled down as many settled in for a meal or a well-deserved rest after the long summer’s day. The daughter of Mars desired neither. This quiet time was ideal for slipping away from the presence of others. She wasn’t trying to avoid anyone per se, but with circumstances as they were, and with her intrinsic nature out of balance, the distance was essential to maintaining the her physical and mental integrity.
She had found herself a spot to rest for a short time -- a large log that had to have toppled over ages ago. Septimus explored the immediate area while Adriana did her best to simply sit and breathe. But of course, she was too restless of a being to do simply that. While she sat, she carefully unwound the bandage that wrapped her palm to assess the state of her injury. The burn from the touch of her blade had begun to scar. She had made the mistake of testing her curse recently to see if there was any chance it might have lifted. The medics hadn’t been very happy about that. It had healed rather quickly, though, so she wasn’t complaining.
All of a sudden, the hairs stood up on the back of her neck, and in the periphery of her vision, she caught the German Shepherd stiffening to attention, his ears quirking in the direction of the woods to their east. Quickly re-wrapping her bandage, the Roman rose to her feet and made her way towards the hound. “Septimus? Quid est?”
Her voice rose as the canine held his position, “If someone’s out there that prefers not to get bit, I suggest stepping out while you still can.”
a brief self-para to set the scene for adriana’s curse.
the beginning of a starter that got too damn long.
the curse: if adriana engages in a fight or touches any battle paraphernalia -- weapons, armor, etc. -- she suffers the pain of white-hot needles that leave a physical burn. she has been avoiding any of the above as a result, and it has taken its toll physically, mentally, and emotionally.
One month.
One month had passed since Adriana had last held a sword. She couldn’t remember any other time in her life when she had been without a weapon for such a duration. And she most certainly had never gone so long without engaging in a fight. It didn’t have to be a real trial of combat or necessary self defense. A spar would have done just fine, but training, too, had been prohibited -- all because of the vile ancient curse that her former compatriots had unleashed. What cruel, just irony that their own fell equally victim to the magic’s taunts. Perhaps, it would teach them a lesson. Perhaps, the two camps would be able to set aside their differences and right the Romans’ wrong. Perhaps.
Romans were notoriously stubborn, as she knew all too well, so the mere suggestion that they would allow the Greeks to assist conjured reasonable doubt in the daughter of Mars’ mind as to whether or not they would resolve the issue prior to the war’s completion. She would have marched over to the Roman Headquarters and offered her direct assistance to speed the recovery; alas, she had pledged herself to a mission that risked being compromised if she associated with too many legionnairy fellows. Instead, she grounded herself at the lakefront and its surrounding environment. There, she could focus her power on activities beyond her father’s element. Those activities did not, however, erase the agony of being tortured for engaging with her very nature.
It felt as though a part of her were missing. Abused.
In place of a sword, War’s daughter opted for a heavy stick, merely to have something in her hand as she walked along the shore. A branch that had been washed up on the rocks. The thickness of it matched that of her sword’s hilt, or close to. Only by mimicking that habitual grip could she calm the nerves firing beneath her skin, restless and itching to serve her violent essence an outlet. Occasionally she had to step away from camp to clear her head, to stop the throbbing and the sting that coursed through her veins whenever she heard the clash of blades, witnessed others brawling, or passed by the forge. The armory she avoided altogether. It was obvious by now that something in her was amiss. A defected centurion without a weapon in hand, avoiding any battleground, even void of the armor she so loved to wear, was impossible to ignore. She didn’t want to speak of it or think about it; but, their circumstances made that inevitable. Cursed campers were everywhere, and thus far, there didn’t appear to be any lasting solution to their plight . . .
Blossom never really made a big deal out of her birthday. She didn’t expect people to know give her presents, or even really celebrate. Birthdays were something she usually just kept to herself and took the day to reflect on the year past as she turned a new age. She started her birthday off as she would any other day, with yoga. By now she had finally recovered to the strength and flexibility she had before her injury, so she was back to her usual routine. Hearing Adriana’s voice, however, was not something she was expecting and turned around to greet her with a smile. “No, you’re not interrupting! Don’t worry about it.” She assured her. At the mention of gifts though, Blossom raised an eyebrow at her centurion. “What? You didn’t have to do that, but thank you so much. I’d love to come with you!” She said and slipped her shoes back on and rolled up her mat. “By the way, how are you liking the hair cut? Did I do okay?”
Blossom’s smile had a power all its own. Adriana hadn’t been feeling down, per se, yet the world around her seemed to lighten as her juniper orbs fell upon the sight. She couldn’t resist returning the expression. “Nonsense,” she waved her hand at the incredulous notion that she didn’t have to find the girl a gift, “You’ve more than earned it, and I very much intend to make sure that you have a proper day of enjoyment.” Once her legionnaire had gathered her things, Adriana waited for her to reach her side before leading the pair in the direction of her tent. At the question of her hair, the daughter of Mars glanced aside and sported an appreciative grin. “It’s perfect. I’d never have been able to fix it properly myself.” A fonder shade overtook her eyes. “I thought it appropriate that you be the one to help. You have a talent for lifting spirits and inspiring confidence, and right now that’s exactly what I need. Letting go of old habits and identities -- it’s not easy, but it’s been a long time coming. My stubbornness is quite difficult to overcome, as you well know.”
"A friendly little goth told me I’d find you here,” Adriana stepped softly over to the spot near the lake where Blossom had set up for her daily yoga routine. Years of leading the Fourth had allowed the former centurion to memorize her legionnaires’ daily habits, and the daughter of Eirene was no exception. It was the girl’s birthday, and Adriana was determined not to miss it, especially in the midst of a war. Blossom deserved a bit of genuine happiness, after all. “I hope I’m not interrupting. I wanted to wish you a happy birthday, is all. But if you’re not busy, there might be a gift or two involved...”
date: 08 february 2018, approx. 8:15 pm / midday after the battle for the eastern district
location: the woods along the lake & the perimeter of the greek camp / adriana’s tent at the waterfront headquarters
synopsis: after accepting the proposal extended to her by jax, adriana makes her way to the greek headquarters to initiate their mission / adriana reflects on the events of the war up to the present and her place in the battles to come (with a noticeable change in appearance)
triggers: death mention, gore (just one theoretical mention of injury)
characters this may concern: @avadakaravadra / @fireandseaweed / @peacefully-blossom
“Armis Exposcere Pacem” - They demanded peace by force of arms.
The motto of the Clan Caninii works twofold. It defines their history as rebels against those who challenged the Roman Republic -- insurgents such as Julius Caesar and Octavian who sought to turn Rome from a people’s Republic to an Empire under the single authority of a dictator -- and upholds their belief that the independence of the Roman people and their voice in matters that concern their home and livelihood are meant to be respected and heard -- that these crucial foundations of the Republic must be defended for the good of the people. When Caesar began taking arms against those who would oppose him and threatened the continued governance of the Senate, the Caninii, along with others, took up arms against the tyrant, because there is no peace without war.
But if the New Roman Senate has become a Caesar in its own right... is there even a Republic left to salvage?
Roman names are unique. A Roman may have multiple given names and compartmental surnames. When most people hear the name Caninii, their minds immediately recognize the root word caninus, meaning “canine;” and while this root is not false, it is also not the whole picture. Caninii is the plural form for each individual family member’s surname, Caninius -- a name also related to the word canus, which means “white” or “grey.” White, for peace. Grey, for ambiguity. The name for a clan who hold themselves in neutrality, until the time is right.
Clans, of course, have branches. For Romans, these branches are identified by cognomen, names ascribed to individuals or families for particular traits or achievements. Rebilus is theirs. It comes from rebellis, meaning “rebellious,” “rebel,” or “insurgent.” A curious name for such a high ranking noble family, but the Caninii are in no way ashamed of their legacy. They embrace their ancestor’s victory over Octavian. Defying a man like that, with immense power at his back, as ancient pirates attacking, raiding, and blocking his navy, no less, was remarkably bold. Sirius had been an integral part in a successful act of defiance against Rome’s future first emperor. For millennia, his descendants have strived to follow his example -- to fight for peace and end a war, even if that peace came to be short-lived. But the tenets set down in antiquity and preserved through countless generations have warped over time. They have been tainted by the the New Roman Senate and the shadowy organization that backs their ideals. But how can the Senate be a true senate when they hardly regard the words of their people? All of their people. They have become manipulative and absolute, dishing out orders as if they were a single power not to be questioned. As if their council is an emperor in its own right.
Adriana no longer believes they deserve the title of Senate. Though their mark has been burned into her arm as an obligatory identification of her conscription to the Legion, if this is how they intend to continue, she has come to reject any subscription to their orders. Her careful resistance to her grandfather’s authority and yet determination to inherit the empire that her kin have made is the result of her intention to reforge her house’s reputation and operation. She strives to be true to her ancestor’s legacy, even if it means threatening her standing in New Roman society.
As she trod through the forest shadows along the lakeside, Adriana found herself facing somewhat of an existential crisis. The events of the war up to this point had left her with mixed feelings. When Blossom’s pride celebration had been subjected to a raid, the sweet girl arrested, the Greeks branded as alien citizens, forced from the Legion, and then exiled-- each event had stoked her frustration, then anger, with the Senate. She had come to Lina the day before the horrific attacks that prompted the war, ready to defy the Senate’s orders to their cohort and shed the blood of any legionnaire who got in her way, if it came to that. Perhaps it was unbelievably rash, but her legionnaires being commanded to assist in the exile of those who had been their family in the Fourth had triggered a rage that had her seeing red. If Lina hadn’t “assaulted” her, it was likely she would have been branded a traitor and locked away... or worse. Lina had made a tremendous sacrifice to keep their kids safe, and now it was Adriana’s turn to protect those she loved.
However, the armory had been bombed, supposedly by the Greeks. She had no way of confirming that, but the loss of a place so dear to her heart, and multiple siblings and co-workers along with it, had stirred the poison in her blood. Fergus and Callum had fallen to the Romans, and still, those few weeks in camp had left her conscience torn. Lina had obligated Adriana to watch over their legionnaires. The centurion had felt as though she couldn’t budge, because she owed Lina that much. Then, she had attended Fergus’ wake and funeral. A funeral with no body to burn in his honor. It was Jax’s proposal that night that had finally pushed her over that edge. She had been clinging to orders to maintain stability, so a mission had been the perfect catalyst for initiating the action she had been dying to take. Especially knowing she had Jax backing her as a partner and ally.
Whatever they had become was a stranger to the tempestuous relationship they had shared growing up. Their rivalry remained, though void of the mutual dislike that had existed so passionately between them. Adriana didn’t know what to make of it. Despite their animosity, they had always made efficient partners. They trusted one another in their own twisted way, only now, something far deeper was underlying that trust. But she refused to acknowledge it. She was putting blind faith in that force as if it was liable to break should she address it. The mission was enough. Her personal emotions would only get in its way. Yet, leaving him behind in the dark to venture into dangerous territory alone widened that tear of doubt in her chest ever so slightly.
She had to shake her head to cast off the feeling, but it would never fade entirely. For just a moment, she paused and looked out over the water. The radiant silver glow of a waning half moon rippled atop the lake. The corner of her lips twitched upward at the sight. It was lovely. Too lovely for the period of violence that had engulfed her home. With that thought, the lighthearted tease of a smile faded.
“I hope he’s right,” the daughter of Mars sighed as her gold-tinted gaze lifted to the titaness in the sky, assuming she was there in some capacity. The titans were far more elusive than the gods, but Adriana regarded her ancestor with a childlike hope. Surely, Luna was not entirely ignorant to her bloodline’s prayers. “Keep an eye on him,” she implored. “Not for my sake, or his; for everyone’s. You can’t take sides, and neither can I, but I need him to do this. I know Fergus believed in peace, even if he refused to say it. He had the same blood of yours in his veins as in mine and he died trying to prevent this war.” Subconsciously, her thumb brushed over the small shell that had been tied around the hilt of her sword-- a reminder of her silent promise to avenge an undeserved death. Her lids slid over her eyes as she did so. “If you have any regard for your legacies, please, listen to me. Just this once.”
When the moonlight reflected in the woman’s vision again, her observation of the night’s canvas failed to identify any shift in the surroundings, to no surprise. Her attention fell to her hip, where her sword was harnessed and her fingers wrapped around its hilt. A long breath exhaled through her nose. War was meant to be her element, yet here she was, praying to a distantly related deity for assistance in terminating it. Her father must have been aghast. Nevertheless, the daughter of war set her sights forward and pressed on.
As the lights of the waterfront base grew nearer, the grip on her sword tightened. However she was received by the Greeks, it wouldn’t be readily. Adriana was, after all, a long-established centurion of ancient Roman blood. No matter what recent sentiments she had displayed, she would be questioned, and carefully guarded. What came after the declaration of her purpose was impossible to discern. If she had any hope of securing a place within their ranks, it was best she approached with as benign a demeanor as possible. So, as she emerged from the treeline, she slowed her pace and unbuckled her sheath. Her hands were held up, the blade in her right, and when the three boys on patrol spotted her nearing the perimeter, she acknowledged them with steady words. “I’m here to speak with whoever’s in charge. You can tell them that Centurion Adriana Caninii has come to join your cause -- and she has a very important matter to discuss with them, if they’re willing to hear it.”
The trio looked to one another, wordlessly seeking each other’s thoughts, before the eldest among them nodded and the youngest ran toward the heart of their operations. The third confiscated her sword, which resulted in a reflexive snap of, “Careful with that, or there will be trouble,” and a small spell secured her hands in front of her person. But, they escorted her no further than the interior edge of the border. Smart. It wouldn’t do to lead a suspicious figure through the camp without further inspection. Now, the lot of them had nothing more to do than await the leading Greeks’ judgement.
Adriana’s acceptance into the Greek camp had been a surprisingly more welcome ordeal than expected. Her previous support for their plight had been recognized and her help gladly accepted. The only potential hiccup arose when they had intended to bunk her with the rest of the Roman transfers in the underwater complex. Despite the fact that the dome was secure, she was plagued by an intense fear of diving below the water’s surface in any fashion. As a result, she had pitched a tent in the shade of the forest’s edge. It was in fair proximity to the main corpus of operations, yet far enough away that she could have her privacy. Once again, her new compatriots raised little opposition to her desire.
Nearly four months had passed since her arrival, and in that time, Adriana had done whatever was required to assist the Greeks’ endeavor. She had been distributing supplies and managing refugees, joining in on supply runs, offering training to some of the younger and lesser experienced fighters, and providing as much information on the Roman strategies and movements as she had to give. She fought where force was needed. No large scale attacks had occurred for some time. It had given them the opportunity to rebuild their strength and stabilize their position. However, true battle was bound to break out eventually, and the Eastern District had proven to be the greatest receptor of demigod blood yet.
The daughter of Mars had been in the thick of it. Nothing charged her like a real fight. Yet, facing fellow legionnaires in attempted lethal combat had left her with far less enthusiasm than usual. There had been an instance or two when she reflexively defended an old friend -- cursing an arrow from a distance or knocking out an old companion to give the impression that they had fallen in battle. They had almost seized the day. They had been so close to claiming victory... but the Romans countered them with a second wind that no one could have predicted. And despite their valiant efforts, the Greeks were the force to sound a retreat.
Both sides had dead and wounded to tend to. For a brief time, an tense truce had hovered over the field. The soldiers were able to collect their dead without the threat of physical conflict. Neither the Greeks nor the Romans would want to appear total barbarians, after all. Adriana hadn’t come out unscathed. She wasn’t heavily injured, but bearing a series of small cuts with chips of debris from an explosion off to her side, a cut on her arm from the narrowly dodged thrust of a pilum, and a bruise from a slam to her shoulder that was sure to ripen, she too had stepped away to tend to her wounds.
She sat on the edge of her makeshift bed -- one of the thin mattresses from the bunks and a blanket to go with it -- sanitizing the slash on her arm. The sting of antiseptic drew a hiss from her tongue. Thankfully, the cut was superficial enough to avoid being stitched. The medics had assured her that with the proper daily cleanings and fresh wraps of bandages, it would heal fairly quickly. The former centurion had gotten off lucky.
Now, you might be thinking, “Well she’s been fighting since she was four! Of course she made it out;” but the truth is, surviving a battle has nothing to do with skill. You can be the best damn swordsman on the field, but that doesn’t make you any less likely to have an arrow hit you from behind or your leg blown off by a grenade that didn’t catch your eye until it was too late. When the chaos of battle is swirling around you, it’s up to luck and fate whether or not you’ll live to fight another day. And yet the history books still call war glorious.
While winding a bandage around the freshly cleaned skin, an auburn strand of hair slipped out from behind her ear and dangled directly in her line of sight. The woman huffed, and the strand blew forward before inevitably drifting back again. Adriana frowned. Despite the distraction, she completed her task. Once the bandages were firmly tied, she straightened her back and brushed the bit of hair back over her shoulder. The quiet moment was taken to examine the parts of her body that hadn’t yet been treated. Her injuries had all been cared for and cleaned, the exposed skin wiped down to check for any other marks hidden behind the dirt and blood. Her armor, clothes, and hair, on the other hand, were a mess. The armor could be done fairly quickly, but there were places where her clothes were torn, and sanguine stains dappled the fabric.
She hadn’t noticed it at first, but as her hands ran through her tousled hair, she found that the light auburn hue was no less stained than her attire. Adriana brought a portion of it into her grip, considering how to proceed. Washing it would be easy enough... but would it be worth it? The hip-length tresses were a trademark of her person. Skipping over the scene of those blazing locks moving in tandem with the dance of a swordswoman was almost impossible to miss. Adriana knew that, and she counted on it. Why?
“You can’t fight with hair as long as that!”
The mocking words of a young boy rang through her head as it had in her ears so many moons ago -- a tease that spurred a lifelong competition based on little more than a silly insult taken too seriously. Pride had been of great importance to the future Caninii heiress as a child. The day when that competition began had been one amid the naive period of her life, before she realized that her future was limited by her birth and that her grandfather was manipulating her world to shape her toward a specific role. Her pride had shifted, then. Although honor for family would always remain prominent, it was pride in herself -- rather, confidence -- that became the source of her actions. On that day, she decided to leave her hair long. She would prove to him that her skills in combat could not be dulled by her appearance, her size, or her gender. The funny thing was, her skills didn’t need to be proven. The truth was obvious. But, her childish stubbornness had resulted in her carrying on his challenge for years to come.
Adriana wasn’t a child anymore. She had nothing to prove in terms of ability. That boy was no longer a child either. They were both walking in shadow to see the war to see the war through. The competition had become trivial, especially now that they sought peace in arms. As she sat there in her tent, the clanging of weapons and shouts of medics in the distance, situated in the Greek encampment, the daughter of war had to wonder-- perhaps, it wasn’t worth it after all. Looking back on who she was then and who she was now, an incredulous puff of a laugh brought the hint of a grin to her lips. Novi diluculo, novus dies. Right?
Rising to her feet, Adriana grabbed her sword and marched down to the lakeshore. She took in the sight of herself for a minute, memorizing the picture that she made so that she could remember it, after. That image would serve as a reminder of who she had been to better appreciate the person she had resolved to become. She closed her eyes and exhaled deeply as she unsheathed her blade and hovered it behind her neck. With one swift cut, her lifelong distinguishing feature had been sheared from her person. When Adriana opened her eyes, the juniper orbs found a welcome stranger gazing back at her, and her grin widened. Literally and figuratively, it felt as though a heavy weight had dropped away. She felt free to do and be as she pleased. Limitless.
And that was a dangerous state for a demigod of ancient Roman blood with a sword in her hand.
She would find Blossom later, she thought as she turned to stroll back to her tent and sheathed the blade once more. She was a pretty girl. Surely, she knew something about styling a spontaneous haircut...
A L L E G I A N C E I N T H E G R E C O - R O M A N W A R
When war had officially been declared, Adriana had been unconscious. An "assault" against her by her co-centurion, Kolina Valla, had landed her in the infirmary, concussed and slowly recovering from a sleep spell. She awoke the day after to find that her cousin had been killed, the armory had been bombed — resulting in the deaths and injuries of numerous close friends and siblings, her co-centurion had escaped from prison and fled to the Greeks, and her nephew — who had helped Lina to escape — had been terminated in the process. The centurion's sentiments were impossible to dedicate to merely one side of the war. She had been left alone to watch over the legionnaires of her cohort who had remained, and had reflexively begun to direct salvage and repair efforts for the armory; yet, she could not agree with the Roman treatment of the Greeks. The rest of the Legion, on the other hand, was all too ready to annihilate their "alien" neighbors.
Adriana lingered among the peers she had made throughout her fourteen years of service until the funeral of her cousin, Fergus Fitzgerald. That night, an old friend and confidant met her in secret to propose a dangerous mission. Neither could strictly assign their loyalties, so they promised themselves to the one cause that truly mattered — bringing an end to the war. No matter the cost. Their plan has sent Adriana to the Greeks and situated her partner among the Legion. In order to bring the surest end to the war, both agree that a sacrifice must be made of the Romans, whose bloodlust won't be satiated anytime soon. The now-defected centurion is responsible for aiding the Greek cause, feeding them information received from the headquarters of their enemies. However, Adriana still has friends and family across the lines of battle. Regardless of her position, she will kill to protect those she cares for, even if it means jeopardizing her integrity within her current camp.
ooc: hey friends! as adri gets back into action, i wanted to post this quick little blurb about where she stands right now. i’ll be adding it to her bio page for reference, and will also be posting a self para very soon with further enlightenment on how she arrived at the greek camp and what she’s been up to since then.
date: 08 February 2018
time: Approx. 8:00 PM
location: The under construction koi pond memorial of Fergus Fitzgerald
A nova is a star that explosively sheds its outer layers without destroying itself. Jax has a proposal for Adriana after the loss of many a friend and loved one, reflecting a change of heart that’s been a few months in the making.
Cat didn’t understand why she had suddenly become the Senate’s spokesperson for the Legion, but apparently as she was one of the few Centurions willing to do what needed to be done, that was her lot in life now.
Swallowing, she nodded. “I know it isn’t ideal, but that is the best we can do right now. We can’t fight a war and run a witch hunt.” Although she wished that she could. She was becoming paranoid, suspicious of everyone around her, seeing threats where she wouldn’t have previously.
“We follow the rule of law, that is all that we can do, until Reyna and Frank go through the trial process there is not much more that can be done, we cannot elect new Praetors until the old ones are handled.” She paused for a second and shook her head, saddened by what was happening.
Adriana sighed tiredly, what was almost sadness leaking into her voice. "Aren't you tired of fighting, Cat? Maybe that's an odd question coming from me, but..." she picked up a thin bundle of arrows from the ground before handing it off to one of the other legionnaires on their way to the gradually filling cart of material, "we've already been through two wars. Wars against monsters; and Half-Blood Hill-- at least then we were fighting other trained demigods. Here, there are women and children who could get caught in the crossfire. If war is inevitable, I hope it doesn't become a slaughter. Anger and chaos have a bad habit of changing people for the worse. That's what worries me."
The mention of Reyna and Frank drove a spear of ice through Adriana's heart. In the business of everything, she had nearly forgotten about their imprisonment. Now, more than ever, she wished they could have been free to bring people to order-- something that was difficult to do with so few centurions around to give commands. "I know," her mood on the subject reflected Cat's own. "They've always stood for what's right. The Legion looks up to them... They don't deserve this."
Helping to organise his cohort had made Xander remember why he’d never gone after the position of Centurion while he was there. Kids were annoying. Sure he could understand they were scared, worried, angry, and a whole host of other emotions, but did that mean they lost all sense of common sense too? Which was why when he found the chance to sneak away for a 5 minute break, he took it eagerly. Flicking his light the brunette held the flame against the end of his cigarette; not sure if he was antsy for it or just for a five hour nap. As he took a drag footsteps started to round the corner to where he was stood hiding behind a building, without even looking up he said, “If you’re here to reprimand me for smoking or not helping out, please save it for a later time.”
With the shortage of Centurions left in Camp Jupiter, Adriana had been struggling to balance overseeing the Fourth and working towards the reconstruction of the armoury. Though it was doubtful the beloved establishment would be entirely resurrected in the midst of the war, it was imperative that they salvage what they could, clear the rubble, and set up a temporary shop to manage the distribution of weapons. With the shortage caused by the armoury’s destruction and the limited influx of resources, they would need to be systematic about where they were entrusting their arms.
While running back and forth between responsibilities, Adriana had been leaving the Fourth in the capable hands of her senior legionnaires. It wasn’t the most exciting job, but they (for the most part) had seemed ready to step up and lend a hand. She wasn’t shocked when she turned the corner to find Xander breaking for a smoke. Honestly, who didn’t need a break these days? “Reprimand you? Hardly.” Slow strides brought her over to where he stood. Sighing, she leaned back against the wall of the building and rested her eyes, if only for a moment. “On the contrary, I rather envy you. I’ve hardly had time to break, let alone sleep.” After blinking her eyes open, she turned them in his direction. “I know it’s not the easiest job, but believe me, I couldn’t be more grateful for your help.”
For a moment Elara just gazed down at the dagger in her hands, holding the tip of the blade against her finger and almost wishing she could apply enough pressure to pierce the skin. At least then the pain she felt wouldn’t be entirely mental. But Adriana’s hand on her shoulder drew her attention before she could consider the action further and she glanced up to meet her eyes. “Thank you.” She murmured softly accompanied by another small smile. She wasn’t sure what exactly she was thanking her for. Perhaps for the ‘glad you’re here’ comment, but more likely it was for the comfort the hand on her shoulder provided her. They both felt the loss of Callum and Fergus, albeit in different ways as their connections to them were different. But the pain was still there. And maybe Adriana did in a way miss Lina as well. The brief physical contact had brought that to mind, and it made Elara feel at least a little less alone.
Allowing herself to be maneuvered to direction Adriana wanted her to face, she looked down at the crate and nodded. So far it was empty, but she was hoping that wasn’t a tell of how much there was to salvage. For all she knew they hadn’t been there searching for long. “Alright. I can do that. Well, one Imperial gold dagger can be checked off that list at least.” Holding up the dagger she had been handed, she moved to the crate and crouched down, laying the dagger gently at the bottom of the crate. Once she straightened, she looked around and moved toward an area that seemed to have faced the least amount of damage from the fire. If they were going to find fully in tact weapons that was likely to be the best place to look. For a few moments she just shifted through the rubble in silence, until she finally decided to broach the subject of what happened. “Maybe I shouldn’t be saying this now, while we’re here,” she paused and looked around herself briefly before looking over to Adriana. “But I’m really sorry, Adriana. I know a lot of your siblings worked here, and I’m sorry we couldn’t save them all. You’ve always been the toughest of us all, but if you need anything I’m around, okay?”
There was a little increase in her smile when Elara murmured her thanks. She couldn’t place precisely what it was for, but the woman’s smile, however faint, gave the daughter of Mars all the assurance she needed that in some fashion, she’d alleviated a bit of her fellow centurion’s pain -- even if it lasted only a moment. As Elara laid down the dagger in its place, Adriana stepped aside to retrieve the leather-bound journal that she was using as a temporary ledger. Once she had noted the dagger, she joined the other in her task, searching a nearby area for any material of worth.
It was evident what subject Elara was going to broach as soon as she broke the silence. Adriana met her eyes for a second before she turned her head away with the faintest, halfhearted smile and a shake of her head. She paused her actions and shut her eyes towards the ground. A slow breath pulled into her lungs and then pressed out through her nose in the form of a quiet sigh. That faint smile of hers resurfaced when she lifted her head and turned a juniper-tinted pair of eyes to Elara once more. “Elara, you have nothing to be sorry about. It’s not in our hands to decide who lives and who dies. You tried, and that’s all that matters.” But as she approached the woman’s mention of her ‘toughness,’ Adriana found herself puzzling over when that perception had started to be recognized.
It was a funny vision to her, especially as she thought back to her childhood, when her cousin Murdoch had dubbed her Bambi because of her thin frame and its struggle to handle blades that were far too large for her at the time. Jax had used a similar approach, amusing himself by calling her a kitten, both a tease at her canine-related heritage and a frustrating means of suggesting that she was frail and weak -- it had been a playful jest, of course; but, that those games hadn’t failed to boost the ferocity of her training. She had toughened herself physically and emotionally, also, by her grandfather’s demand. He saw an advantage in the ability to eliminate sentiment, and while Adriana didn’t wholeheartedly agree, his belief wasn’t entirely false.
“You think so?” Her head tilted at the daughter of Trivia, then righted itself with a low sigh. “I was taught that when a leader stands strong in times of stress, they can inspire strength in whoever looks up to them. So I try to be strong, for my legionnaires more so than myself... but that doesn’t always mean I am. Right now, for example-- it’s never been harder than this.” Adriana blinked once at Elara, but soon dipped her head away and pursed her lips, distracting herself with the wreckage beside her. Though she hadn’t meant it to slip through, the context of Elara’s words coupled with their surroundings had had a more powerful effect than Adriana had anticipated, and as a result, there had been a quiet crack in her voice on the last of her words. However, she beat back any rising tears with practiced ease. “Thank you, though. I would say the same to you.”
“Of course,” she replied dismissively, “you’ll be provided with all the relevant and necessary information that you require.” She paused and sighed. “We’ve got very little information on the actual attack, though it could be an unsanctioned attack from Legionnaires, it could be by former-Legionnaires or even the Greeks themselves. Without more information it is difficult to make the necessary inquiries, not to mention the fact that there are more pressing matters to deal with. When we’ve got the time we’ll look into it of course.”
Shrugging gently, she sighed. “That is easier said than done, all of the farms and supplies sources in the area are already being tapped.” She bit her lip. “We’re looking into accessing the mortal world, bringing in food and supplies from there, but it will be expensive and we have a finite amount of resources, there is going to be a point where we have little choice but to make do.” Pausing for a moment, she shrugged. “It is as much as a mystery for me as it is for you.”
Adriana nodded stiffly in thanks. It was a relief that the armory’s records would be passed on to her; however, that relief was two-sided. On the one hand, she was eager to get up to speed on restoring a business so close to her heart, and on the other, there was a deep-seated irritation that Cat had gained access to Marcel’s records before herself, almost a feeling akin to invasion. Technically, there was no logical reason that she should feel such a way. Cat was only doing her duty as an officer of the Legion, overseeing the search for resources. But, it was as though the blood and ashes of her siblings that had stained these floors had turned the property to hallowed ground-- hallowed ground that should not have been touched by anyone besides the remainder of those who had worked here, those who had lost their siblings, had begun to reclaim it. Or perhaps those thoughts were a made up excuse to distract from another offense... One that became ever more prevalent the longer she stood in her fellow centurion’s presence.
“When we’ve got time,” she said. But there wouldn’t truly be time, would there? They were at war. There would always be more “pressing matters”. Now, did Adriana think those pressing matters were unimportant? Absolutely not. Narrowing resources were a serious concern, but regardless of the perpetrators’ identities, they had committed a grave offense by harming innocent civilians and had played a pivotal role in kicking off the war that had ensnared their home and everyone in it. Making an example of those individuals could have been a sign of good faith-- as could the presentation of those responsible for the armory bombing --that the violent acts committed were unacceptable. It would have been a step toward a renewed peace. Though, it didn’t seem like the Senate would want peace; if they had been ready to expel the Greeks altogether, certainly the declaration of a war, and thereby a means to exterminate them, would not be withdraw. The Cult must have been thrilled. The thought brought a sour taste to Adriana’s mouth.
She was glad to be busied with picking aside the debris where she’d caught a faint glimpse of what may have been Imperial gold because her face was away from Cat’s view. A single upper and lower pair of canine teeth pinched the inside corner of her bottom lip, holding her tongue from speaking anything rash. “Well, let me know when that time comes,” she spoke after a pause. She kept her tone as even as possible, but could not entirely restrain a faint hint of malice. “I’d be glad to assist, and if there is any remaining evidence, I imagine the dogs could be a great help in tracking the sources down.”
Rising with a partially damaged gladius in hand, Adriana sighed. “I’d think there's more than enough money to gather a bit of relief from the mortals; at least enough to hold over the civilians in Camp for now. And if no one is old fashioned hunting already, they might as well get started.” A low hum rumbled from her throat before she moved to hand over the gladius to the legionnaires packing the cart. As she returned, she asked, “What’s the status on our leadership then? Is the Senate going to be drawing up battle plans too or have they left the military strategy to the centurions we have left?” It was impossible to stop the subtle undertone hiss on those three words, particularly the last. Her gaze locked on Cat’s for a second, translating the cold rage-- and a small sting of betrayal --that she must have suspected the daughter of Mars was struggling to withhold. But just as soon as it appeared, it was gone, and Adriana resumed her task, quietly awaiting the other’s answer.
