Do you even NEED to ask?

You stare at the people who aren’t partnered for sparring and feel your left eye twitch.

Why are they women?

Exclusively women?

Damn it Murphy.

You take a deep breath, alright, you know what?

Fuck it.

You came here to spar and that is what you intend to do. You summon your weapon into your hand and rest your free hand on your knife’s holster. This can’t be that hard, all you have to do is find someone and ask for a spar, no fuss no muss. You have talked to girls before and besides, you are sure none of them find you as a suitable partner (how you are hyping yourself up by insisting your not good as a boyfriend is weird but whatever, it works). You walk towards the group only to feel the hairs on the back of your neck tingle. Before you can even look around, someone’s arm sling around your neck and begin to drag you away. You manage to crane your neck to see the Ares kid who was messing with you on the first day gripping you in a head-lock.

Oh gods dammit all.

Next time, you are just going straight for the girls, you are sure your dawdling led to this guy seeing you. You don’t care if they flirt, or strip, or what-the-fuck-else.

Surely it’s the lesser evil of two exhausting prospects, right?

“Mind sparring with me?” The boy sneered.

If you weren’t being choked, you would say you very much DO mind. As it were, you don’t exactly get the choice. You drop your xiphos before you grip the boy’s arm and the water in the bottle you brought erupted. Your water bottle’s contents crawled around your arms bolstering your strength enough to wrench his arm off and shove him off of you. He stumbles a bit as you free yourself and you swallow around the feel of him **** you. Your xiphos forms in your right hand and you glare at the guy.

“What have you got against me?” You demand.

“It’s bad enough we got one bastard of Poseidon, but two?” He rumbled, unstrapping a war-axe from his back, “If Chiron had any sense. You and your bastard brother should have been killed. We got lucky with Thalia’s tree and even that’s in jeopardy because of the Titans now!”

“Then maybe get angry at them instead of taking it out on guys who aren’t trying to cause problems!” You shoot back evenly, “I’ve done nothing but try to learn how to live as a demigod and fit in here! My life’s been turned on its head and instead of trying to make me bitter you could try to ignore me if I bother you so damn much!”

“You piss me off because you’re a threat that should die!” He growled, “And somehow you get to decide what will happen to us? What the fuck is your deal? You get to be a son of the ‘Big Three’ and you seem so freaking angsty! You get to be important for no reason other than luck!”

“That’s what this is about?” You reply incredulously, voice rising in anger, “For fuck’s sake! I am not happy about my life right now! You think I want the literal fate of the modern world resting on my back because of some prophecy I barely even understand? I barely graduated high-school and suddenly I am in a world that had crushed hundreds of people like me before and my Mom’s dead! I never asked for any of this! You think I personally care about being the son of Poseidon? Newsflash asshole! I don’t! I’d rather be the son of a god that literally doesn’t **** me into a decision I had no idea about!”

You realize there is a hush that has fallen over the grounds, you exhale slowly and try to get a grip on your simmering anger. You don’t want to look and see what people think about you. You don’t want to see them laughing at your temper tantrum. You don’t want to anything but to not think. You want to try to have a life where you aren’t hated. School sucked since people loved to make fun of you. You come to camp and you still can’t catch a break.

Like sex makes up for people who are like you to still think you are a freak and a dangerous threat?

It doesn’t.

You don’t care anymore.

“You want to fight?” You snarl at the camper, who takes a step back, “You been in my face from day one asshole. I’m more than happy to pay it back.”

He reflexively swings at you and you duck under the blow, crouching. Like a spring wound tight suddenly releasing and expanding; you launch yourself forwards and tackle him, punching him with the hilt of your Xiphos’ hand-guard. He stumbles back while dexterously spinning his war-axe and jabbing the butt end of the weapon to **** you away. You don’t contest him in strength by locking weapons, it’s clear he is stronger, his weapon is heavy and made for heavy but slow hits that shatter weaker opponents. If you out-speed him and tire him out, you’ll be in a position to whittle him down.

You don’t waste your time with a flourish and step in.

Time to go.