( niko terho, bisexual, male + he/him, fighter ) «—◦—→ well met, DAVID KING! the divine born child of ERIS. your name sings in our ears! it’s been 26 years and now they have answered the song in their veins. before they answered the song, they were a SCUBA INSTRUCTOR and were living in BRIDGETOWN, BARBADOS. history and myth will remember them for their CAREFREE, FUN LOVING, AND WIT but will also magnify their THRILL SEEKING, IMPULSIVE, AND REACTIVITY if it causes them to falter. now it is time for the world to sing their name with them.
name: david king
nicknames: none, really
birthday: eleventh february, 1999
age: twenty six
face claim: niko terho
godly parent: eris
height: 5'7
dominant hand: ambidextrous
education level: college grad
career: scuba instructor, trained in a variety of roles that could give him a kick though
parents: eris, peter king (father)
siblings: none
pets: none
sexual orientation: bisexual
sexual position: versatile
clothing style: typically pretty little. board shorts, vests and open shirts, whatever he could get in to or out of quickly.
history: while david would love to wax poetical about how he had a hard life growing up, he didn't. his dad was good, kept him out of most of the trouble he tried to get himself in to, made sure he had a roof over his head and a place to call home when he was younger. he lost him, a few years ago, but it didn't break him. not really, sickness had a way of creeping in without a huge amount of warning, and it sucked. but he mostly made peace with it. or, he'll tell himself he has, it'll still feel like there's something missing, but he'll always do what he can to cope with it.
prior to that, his life had it's ups and downs. a place to call home didn't stop him falling flat on his face several times. even from his earliest memories, he was always pushing some boundary, trying to figure out how to do things he shouldn't. fake ids from the age of fourteen, getting in to parties he had no right being in, drinking and maybe some other party favours to keep it entertaining. most of those got dropped, a fix not what he was looking for. no, he'd settle for the rush that came from doing something a little...
adrenaline junkie. there's really no other way to put it. he likes fast rides, highs in to fast drops, the rush that comes from being swallowed up by the ocean and staring off the edge of a gulf beneath the waves, or the view from the top of a mountain. the roar of wind in his ears on a rollercoaster. of that brief freefall during a parachute jump, or bungie. anything to get his pulse spiking and the newest fix.
it's why he said yes without hesitation when the call came. adventure and fantastical ones at that? who would say no to that?
Halloween's never exactly been David's jam, so the costume mostly jeans lean on an old trope. Play the fool, let people make assumptions, all that jazz. Black and white jester's attire, complete with a mask to cover his face with. Easy to slip away amidst a crowd, easy to avoid attention with, given recent developments he clearly functioned better without all the eyes on him, and when they were... Well, a fool was what they got to see.
“Not even for seven minutes in heaven?” A game he’d never played, been invited to play, or considered to play - but it was an amusing notion just the same. Playful in the inference that there were far worse places that Samson could imagine beyond a confined space with the chaotic son of Eris.
Curiosity would always be something of a pitfall to Samson, there was a saying he was fond of: the reward of opening a treasure chest always outweighs the risk. Considering his level of intelligence, his experience with Mimics, and the frequency of traps out there - he should know better.
David was good enough to get the door, issuing one last warning, but Samson responded with a gentle squeeze of the other’s tense muscle group, “I’ll take my chances.” Releasing, brushing past, and entering into whatever awaited.
There's a moment of pause, before the grin's back in full force with a rather simple answer offered.
"You been thinking a lot about what you'd do with me in a nice confined closet, Samson?" He didn't bite back the playful tease in his tone, the ease with which the answer came to him. Nah, this was definitely becoming another in a long list of scenarios where David was entirely happy to just enjoy the ride. Not that there were a lot of scenarios where he wasn't, but still. Confirmation was good. Letting Samson lead the charge was also good, eyes instead watching the other walk ahead.
Stepping in to the threshold of the Eris cabin was always an experience, even for David. Samson might have been expecting, say, an entry way, a living room, just some space. Instead? He walked in to what was fairly clearly the kitchen. Not that it... Made any kind of sense considering the size of the cabin. Or layout from the exterior. Or even just any logical architectural sense.
"Huh. Normally it's like... At least a room with more than one exit." David's voice, however, showed this was far from his first rodeo in a cabin that wanted to keep rearranging. And he was right, there was only one exit from the room, the same doorway they'd just stepped through. Not that it looked like it led back outside any more.
Samson’s expression softened at the mention of David’s father, his own playful demeanor momentarily tempered. “I’m sorry,” he said, genuine and quiet, before letting the moment breathe. He didn’t press further - some things didn’t need words. He was fortunate, his father had gotten sick - sure - but he was also still alive; he didn't think it'd be possible to ever be prepared for that to not be the case.
The arm around his waist drew him back into the present, and Samson’s smirk returned, teasing. “Chaos or not, I’m holding you to that tour. And if the universe shoves us into a closet, I’m calling it a feature, not a bug.” He leaned into the touch, matching David’s stride as they walked. “Though I reserve the right to be thoroughly unimpressed if your laundry pile isn’t as dramatic as promised.”
His fingers brushed lightly against David’s side, playful and warm. “Lead on.”
David was quick to slide past it. A squeeze of thanks for the genuine condolence, but all together better off not lingering on it. He'd spent his time mourning, still did whenever something hit in the way he'd liked to have had his Dad there for, but knowing it wasn't meant to be. Besides, his dad last thing he wanted on his mind when he was about to have this kinda fun.
"Please, I don't think either of us is getting away with a closet any time soon." A flash of teeth in the grin offered to Samson, at least glad it hadn't taken too long to get from training yard to home. Or. Home away from home as the case may be. The warmth of Samson's fingers against his side prompting a slight tense of the muscle, before pushing the door to his cabin open. Fingers hesitating for a moment only on the edge of it, the image of a room in front of them seemingly shimmering.
"Last chance to back out, who knows what sort of chaotic endeavours I get up to in here."
In his defence, even when he was down, it never took him long to bounce back. Admittedly, his mother's visit had something to do with that, a connection he'd never really figured out how to lean in to. Never had a mom to suddenly be filled by divine footfalls. Beyond that? Divine approval to keep being him even without necessarily needing it.
He's not sure if that approval had taken in to consideration the newest addition to his arsenal, but he was running with it. Or, flying with it as the case may be. Responsible enough to stick mostly to the training grounds, but after a while, well, he ended up in the current position of searching the grounds for a suitable spot.
"Yip yip." Command word murmured as he, clearly familiar to some degree with getting on a skateboard, he managed to mount the blade before it hit the floor, catching himself with a grin. "Okay magic is awesome."
David wasn't usually introspective. Or. A thinker in general, really. He was prone to surging from one activity to the next, one distraction or adrenaline rush to the next. Yes, it was something he enjoyed, more than most. Risking it in smart ways. The comedown was infrequent, rare even. Too busy enjoying the rush and roar in his ears to let himself linger for longer than a beat or two before he was moving on from it. Arriving back at camp, he was still on the high of it. Victory on his tongue (along with the fancy ass vegetable something Gus had made for them), he still felt it. Smacking around a training dummy to burn off a little more of that excess energy? Still on the high.
It was when his arms got too heavy to keep swinging around his new glaive that the rest of it started to sink in. Things unsaid, unaddressed by the others but recognizing in himself with some time. All he was, really, was a force on the battlefield. Which he wanted to say was good enough, right? A child of chaos, unleashed on the warpath. A wild and untamed thing that just... Lost himself in the haze of bloodlust and blood loss.
Eventually, the adrenaline wore off, and he caught sight of just how many wounds he'd reopened in the process. Spider fangs and claws had opened his side to start off the battle with the spiders. Spiked his pulse so hard he thought he'd seen pearly gates for a hot second. Welts in one of his sides from the glaive he'd just been swinging around. Newfound slashing wounds and bruises from the warden. Without that spike, that high, he could really take count of how many lines were gonna be sticking around. Scars added to the tapestry of a body tested time and again.
A huff of air, before sprinting back to his cabin, blood soaked undershirt left at the training ground to grab some things from the ever changing halls of home. Greatsword that he'd wielded in his first fights, hung up to rest once other options were acquired. A photo from one of the frames, of him and his old man. Something small, a coin from one of his dives back home. Shrugging, before making his way back toward the training ground. The moon was up, thankfully alone as he set the objects in front of himself. Eyes closed, before speaking.
"I don't really know what you like. A lot of the Gods and Goddesses, they seemed to have temples and long lists of stuff they liked. I guess it was hard for people to find a reason to worship you, huh, Mom? Hard to see how important a role you'd play. Rousing armies to keep fighting, sowing chaos but keeping things exciting... But, anyway, wasn't sure what sort of offering you'd like so... A weapon I've used to claim lives in battle, something of... Something personal, me and Dad. Then that's the first coin I found during a free dive. Don't think it's worth as much as a drachma, but still. I uh... Hell, if nothing else you mind letting me know what you like? I've never really had to get a gift for a Mom before."
He had a Mom now. That was still weird.
"We fought against Themis. I could feel it. How... Wrong, all that order was. Dunno if it was just me, or all of us, but I didn't like it. Let out some guy, uh... Brigham? He felt similar to me. Same wavelength or... Something. Broke another one of her big angry constructs." Why was he telling her about all this? Gods were like... Omnipotent or some shi- "Jeeze, I really am just sat here telling you about my day like we're some... Normal family. I must've lost a buncha blood, you must be bored out of your mind with me."
Another sigh, hand brushing through his hair, back turning toward the offerings to instead cast his gaze up at the stars.
"Guess I just wanted to hear how you think I'm doing in all this? Or it's the concussions talking."
Somehow, it was easy for Samson to forget that most people hadn't heard him play, maybe now and then, those who passed his side of the Apollo cabin might catch some notes if he left the window open - but largely, Samson only played for himself. “My aspirations didn't quite match my time or willingness to dedicate, but I tend to rehearse in the morning- if you ever want to stop by the cabin." He took note of another comment David made, then felt inclined to ask, “Are you and your father close?”
“I… have been curious.” Spatial magic was truly fascinating - a cabin with rooms that moved? Interesting, though, while that notion was floating around Samson's psyche, it certainly wasn't the first thing on his mind with David's offer. Standing alongside him, he smirked, “And the cabin sounds interesting too,” musing - playfully, “if I start folding your clothes and putting them away, remind me - vehemently - that it's meant to be part of the aesthetic.” Standing closer than could be deemed anything but intimate, Samson motioned toward the cabin, smiling, “I'll take the full tour: bedroom, bathroom, pile of laundry.”
"I'll definitely be swinging by one morning then." An easy acceptance of the offer, seeing absolutely no reason not to take the chance to hear the other play. Music was absolutely a craft the son of Eris had zero talent in, but he could appreciate other peoples none the less. The question at least had him pausing for a moment, weight rocking for a moment on his heels for a moment, before nodding. "We were. He passed a few years ago, way before all of this." A brief gesture toward the camp, the magic, all of it. His dad would have loved it but.
The brief dip in his mood was rather swiftly righted, instead letting out another laugh at Samson's words, and humming. "I guess we'll have to see where the chaos of the universe decides to shove us when we get there to start the tour. Might end up distracted from the rest of it, who knows?" A grin, arm slinging loosely around Samson's waist as he started on the way toward his cabin. It had, admittedly, thrown him off to start, assuming he was still just getting used to where things were, before recognizing that no. No. His cabin just felt like rearranging itself as frequently as he changed his mind.
"I imagine so, but when I was in school I was more fixated on being the next Sondheim. Helps, I think, that I've always been a bit gifted and tend to just... hyperfixate on things until I accrue some obscene amount of random facts." One random fact? Samson had a habit of rambling, especially with proximity, and most especially when he was - trying ? - to flirt. Or at least trying to lean into the banter without coming across as overtly awkward, this internal diatribe lent itself well to just... talking excessively, sometimes unfortunately.
Appropriate and David weren't synonymous; that was true: leaping from a balcony, chasing people down, none of that seemed entirely appropriate. But compelling? Certainly. "Consider my company freely given and happily so," Samson mused, "but we'll have to get off the ground at some point and go -" he looked around, sometimes it felt like the possibilities at camp were endless, "I'll embrace the chaos, actually. How should we occupy your hands?"
"Meanwhile I was focused on getting out of there as quickly as I could... Even if Dad made me promise to at least graduate college first." Hadn't stopped him takinga gap year or two before actually finishing so he could get some of the thrills he wanted, but still. Education acquired before setting for the fun times. "Definitely gonna need to hear you play at some point if you were aspiring for Sondheim 2.0." The flirting was definitely noted amidst the rambling. And the complete lack of an attempt to get away from him, which was absolutely appreciated.
He also didn't hide the grin that spread wide at the phrasing used, adjusting his posture further. "Well, I suppose those depends. These idle hands could certainly be entertained in a variety of places, but if you're really wanting to embrace the chaos of it all... Could just go back to my cabin. Have I ever pointed out the rooms in there move?" A soft grin, head moving to briefly bump his forehead to the other, before getting ready to stand up. "Means the tour could be me showing you the bedroom or the bathroom or, horrifically, the pile of laundry that never gets put away. True Chaos, that."
He let out an amused chuckle. The way they both so effortlessly leaned into self-deprication wasn't lost on Sebastian. For him, it had always been a defense mechanism when people gave him praise he didn't think was deserved. Point out his shortcomings before someone else could. With David, he couldn't say. From what he'd seen of the demigod he'd been more than capable, probably more capable than most he'd seen thus far. "Well can't say I was paying much attention to my surroundings during that spell, but apparently you got the job done well enough," he grinned. Then the son of Eris finally took the credit he deserved, and Bash nodded in approval. "Don't we all know it!"
While Bash wouldn't say he was exactly the party boy type, he knew how to celebrate when celebration was due. It certainly didn't hurt that the man beside him was just as eager. There was certainly no protest as he felt the David's hand on his waist, and he simply kept the flow of the beat going, hips moving steadily to the base line as he took a step closer, arm draping over the son of Eris' shoulder. "Hell yeah it does. For my first mission out, it... was a lot, but I'm glad I didn't embarass myself too much," he admitted with an earnest grin. He let his gaze settle on David as they moved, pulling the other man a bit closer as their bodies began to grind together. "Kind of excited of what's coming next, you know?"
"We all got through it, that's more than good enough for me." He was bad at big picture, he was more than happy to just take every victory in stride and keep on striding. Lingering on regrets, playing situations over and over in his head to figure out how they could've gone better... It all required a bit too much effort and process when he thrived on improvisation and genuinely having talents that couldn't be predicted. He figured that's part of what made him so hard to deal with. Hard to tell what he's gonna do when even he didn't know.
"It's definitely a big one to have been your first. My first time out in the wild was like... evil robot ai making professors and a dude who was maybe a child of a god but also stole somebody elses divinity and just... Weird." Again. Thinking on those things really wasn't his wheel house. Following the bet of the music, his grip on Bash's waist growing a little firmer as he was drawn in closer? That was. Hips meeting the other's pace, and letting out a laugh of his own at the next comment. "Same, man. Not knowing what's around the corner's just... Exciting." He should probably be judged as a thrill chaser, but it worked out for him more often than it didn't.
“So not a doctor,” and brighten that tint, David did. “but, I've watched enough medical dramas to know that process usually involves a syringe. Probably not ideal.” Face flushed and perpetually unsure of himself, and if he was reading a little too far into things, or maybe just not enough. At least this pattern was becoming more familiar, a bit more apt to go tit for tat."Any other treatment options that come to mind are all deeply inappropriate." Playful, innocent enough, and entirely not all at once.
“Hmm… so what you're saying is, I have the power to persuade you into taking a break for the afternoon?” Samson would take that as a compliment, gladly, welcoming it despite himself. “I can sweeten the pot too, and join you - unless you're too eager to get back to swinging that big sword of yours around.”
"Dude a doctorate seemed like way too much work anyway. I'll settle for magical healing hands and words any day." Did he understand the intricacies of how the other kept them fighting in a fight? Not at all. He just knew it worked, and Samson was probably the biggest source of that he'd experienced, so. He didn't miss the warming tint, even if there was a brief look of horror at the mention of a syringe. He didn't miss the open response just presented perectly either, though. Shifting his head enough to rest his chin against Samon's shoulder while still watching his face. Mostly by virtue of them both being on the floor.
"Samson. When have I ever struck you as appropriate?" And how could he fix that impression immediately. Or. Immediately after taking a rest, because there's not a hint of hesitation in nodding his head at the next comment. "I'll give in to that persuasion only if you join me for the afternoon. Otherwise idle hands wanna cause chaos if they aren't given something more interesting to do." Hands raised in mock threat of chaos.
One thing Bash could definitely relate to, was feeling useless when surrounded by the entire camp. "Yeah, I get what you mean. I felt like I was just standing around waiting for people tell me what to do for most of that mission. Stepping on tiles, ducking my head in memory water," he chuckled. Granted, he'd like to think he contributed more than just a few well placed shots. At the end of the day, it more than a little intimidating being surrounded by demigods who actually knew what they were doing. "Whatever you did was pretty bad ass."
He arched a brow as he felt the hand slide down to his waist, but he didn't protest. He allowed the son of Eris to lead him toward the dancing bodies, eyeing him curiously. It was a little bold to assume he'd even wanted to dance. Still, he could appreciate a little boldness. Plus, with the bit he'd had to drink already, Bash would be lying if he said he wasn't in the mood to let a little loose. "As there should be. We basically just single handedly saved true love," he teased. His hips started to say the beat as they approached the dance floor.
David was acutely aware of his own shortcomings, so he doubled his efforts in what he could manage instead. Not that he'd ever let those aspects get him down to begin with. He was a damn badass and he intended to prove it every chance he got. "Least you could do both of those things. Pretty sure whatever my head was doing at that time would've been the opposite of useful. Hence... Running around the outside of the big spell smacking things." A firm nod of resolution. He did what he did, and he did it well (mostly). A brief snort of amusement, before puffing out his chest at the other. "I mean, I am a badass, so it kinda tracks."
David was glad their wasn't any protest to him tugging the other toward the dance floor. Largely, it just looked awkward dancing alone and he was entirely here for a good time. The slight sway to Bash's hips was noticed, quick to set his own rhythm to match the other's, one hand remaining on the taller demigods waist and nodding. "Yeah, we kinda did. Feels good to get a big win like that already." Not that he had any perspective of timing with this stuff. Ahead of schedule, behind, right on track, he was mostly just along for the ride.
“Oh…” Samson trailed off in mock disappointment, voice faltering a bit as he swallowed, “so you're saying… I'm not special.” a sullen nod before he pressed his lips together in a tight line, “right - right, no that's fine, really that's totally cool.” A smile tipped, betraying him, though not it wasn't half as treacherous as the very bright tint that shifted the tone of his cheeks. “Interested… well, a note has been made, but remember if it lasts more than four hours, please consult a physician.” Did that still apply to demigods? Maybe, maybe not- four hours might have felt like ages before, but now - ?
“I'm just glad you're sitting down at all, if I have to prop you up, then so be it: there's a chunk of camp who'd be scrambling to stand, just to fall over again.” Stubbornness was a consistent trait among demigods, Samson was not immune to it… Shoulders dropping, tension easing. There was a subtle ache in the tips of his fingers that he was only cognizant of now that he'd finally stopped. “Here-” he adjusted his arm slightly, making room to accommodate, offering more, “better?”
Oh, he could match that energy, even if Samson's reactions were giving him away. Head lifting a little, voice staying low. A sordid whisper, mostly aimed to just make that bright tint so much worse. "No, no, you're absolutely special, Samson. You even show up in my dreams." A beat, before his own eyes practically flashed. That vivid sparkle in them that just... spoke volumes of even exhausted there was still just a little too much energy in David. And then there's a soft snort before he can help it. "So I should consult you if I have a problem that lasts for longer than four hours? You're one of the closest to a physician around here, buddy. Or is that just you wanting to hear about it?"
He didn't hesitate in accepting the further invitation. Body shifting comfortably in against Samson's side. One arm shifting around the other's back to tug him a little. Clearly actively getting comfortable. "Better. And also I would absolutely already be back at it if it was... pretty much anybody but you." A moment, before snickering to himself. "Gotta make sure I don't overstress you in camp considering it's gonna be so much worse out there."
Happy to be leaned on (especially while sweaty), used to it as well, Samson took the brunt of David's weight while immediately withdrawing a wipe and dabbing just under the other's nose. Enough to at least keep it from getting any more on himself than he already had, gentle but consistent. Assuming David hadn't popped more than a small handful of blood vessels, the odds of needing to do any actual healing seemed unlikely. However, he was still watching - just in case.
“There's a part of me that is beginning to think you enjoy stressing me out.” Exasperated, but only just, satisfaction came with the understanding that this fatigue was likely a temporary extension tied to the level of output the son of Eris just exuded. “We may need to work on your stamina,” words that Samson never expected to say to David, “- but that is not an invitation to start right now, sit, rest.” Always prepared, he offered him a bottle, “drink some water.”
The fact there wasn't even a gripe of complaint as he leaned his way in to the other was absolutely important information he locked away. Mostly just because the other was comfortable. And he was absolutely feeling the effects of having been going at it since he'd figured out there was more to him now. A half laugh as the other cleaned at his nose, head turning slowly to bump forehead to shoulder.
"If it's any consolation... It's not just you. I'm fairly certain you're just the one that cares the most so you also stress the most." He'd refrain from mentioning the part where it felt like he had a better grip when he was feeling hurt. And then comes a comment that has him laughing before he can help it. "I can't say I've heard many complaints about my stamina. God, that's the second pot shot I've taken about my speed this week." The amusement, at least, was clear in his voice. Accepted the bottle of water, and raising it in a mock toast. "Fine, fine. I'll stay sat as long as you're here to keep me comfy."
He wouldn't point out he had the distinct impression Samson could probably do with a break too.
The scene was about what Samson would've expected had he known that David had been (relatively) left to his own devices out here, but significantly better than he'd first assumed. Still, instinct took hold fist as he went to quickly assess the other for injury, taking a knee next to him as he looked for any superficial injuries. "I should have known-" Samson mused, as lighthearted as he could be while still in relative work mode. "did you hurt yourself or.." he looked at the wreckage, "that was you?" Not that he should be surprised.
Aside from a bloody nose, the son of Strife looked pretty unhurt. Sweat, panting, but all easily explained by going absolutely ham in the training grounds so he at least had some idea what he could expect in the middle of a fight. That, and because it still gave him a giddy head rush whenever things went excitingly. Didn't even need to be well, he liked the thrill of it.
Weight shifted a little, leaning his side in to Samson and humming for a moment at the double question.
"A little bit. Think... I keep feeling this surge. When I do things. Can't get a grip on it. Sometimes things hit harder, sometimes I'm a little dizzy, sometimes there's a little bit of a head ache." Downplaying it was probably the safest bet. "It's weird. But then I also tapped in to something big and that... Did that." He probably owed whoever kept tending to the training grounds an apology. Maybe when he wasn't leaning against Samson. He was sturdy enough for it.
