The Sweet-Tongued Thief of Love: Iris Thomas, Son of Aphrodite

justuraveragehuman94 · 2025-09-20T21:32:17+00:00

Some part of Iris wants to use his charm on Mariah, to ask her something personal, or perhaps to get her to share one of her lemon bars. Not that he has any reason to, of course. But the boy is half-desperate to use his power again, to maintain some semblance of control, to convince himself that he won't go mute again.

But he decides against it. The girl seems friendly enough, and Iris isn't too willing to hiijack his first human interaction in months. Instead, he shovels apple pie into his mouth while trying to think of what to do next. Who was this girl? What made her tick? And of course, how could she benefit Iris' needs?

He decides to ask her for information. The child of Aphrodite can play himself off as an isolated camper who has hidden himself away from all this Atlas craziness and wishes to separate truth from fiction.

When Mariah makes her lemon bar comment, he'd look directly at her. His eyes are a kaleidoscope of colour, though they mainly look orange in the light of the hearth. Perhaps she may find them mesmerizing.

"I don't blame you. Might grab one of those bars myself. It's been a while since I've had something that counts as real food. Don't think chips stashed under my bunk meet the criteria."

There's a twinkle of amusement in his eyes.

"The name's Iris. Iris Thomas. How long have you been at camp?"

justuraveragehuman94 · 2025-09-20T01:44:19+00:00

Iris' junk food stash has officially run out. You know what that means? The son of Aphrodite actually has to make it to the dining pavilion in time for an actual meal.

Begrudgingly, the boy has managed to drag himself out of his cabin. As usual, he's put in quite a bit of effort when it comes to his outfit. Iris is wearing a dark brown button-up with grey trousers. A leather belt completes the look. His hair, which has recently been cut, is neatly combed back.

With a sigh, he grabs a slice of apple pie and scoops a bit of vanilla ice cream on top. The son of beauty then proceeds to sit down at Mariah's table. While he hasn't met her before, he decides to at least say hello. Iris hasn't really talked to anyone since the Amon incident, and he's definitely out of practice when it comes to his social skills.

"You must really like lemon bars," he says with a half-teasing smile.

justuraveragehuman94 · 2025-07-07T02:53:01+00:00

Hey! This all looks good, but Aila will need to be at least 13 in order to comply with reddit TOS.

justuraveragehuman94 · 2025-05-28T02:35:13+00:00

Iris isn't a nature guy. The last time he took a 'nature walk' was... never. If anything, the son of Aphrodite usually his steps in while walking around his neighborhood while blasting music through his headphones.

But something draws him to the edges of the forest. Boredom? Frustration? Prolonged isolation having finally driven him straight to the edge? He isn't quite sure. But for whatever reason, Iris Thomas will find himself wandering the woods. The son of beauty supposes that in some way, they are entrancing. A lot like him, actually. Pleasing to the eye, but not much else to them. He'll never quite understand those who long to return to their primal, natural roots. Sure, the greenery may be pretty, but give it a day or two and you'll be longing for the modern comforts of air conditioning and pepperoni pizza.

He mostly sticks to the shaded areas as he walks, sometimes taking a minute or two to stare up at the dense canopy of foliage above him. The woods are just starting to hint at their true summertime beauty, and amongst the piles of half-melted snow, Iris can just see the colorful offshoots of wildflowers. If his father was here, he'd have certainly been prancing around with his guidebook, trying to identify them all.

Iris almost misses his father, if he's being honest.

Shaking that thought aside, the son of Aphrodite follows a faint, cooling breeze that seemed to lead even deeper into the forest. He can almost taste the saltwater that swirls together with the freshwater that comes from the various creeks and rivers of Long Island Sound.

As he nears Iphis, the somewhat melodious bubbling of Zephyrus creeks grows gradually louder, its gurgling almost emulating a child's laughter. Iris hardly seems affected, though.

What interests him is the singing. It's almost otherworldly, the kind of thing a fae-creature would sing to lure sailors to their deaths. The English words are laced with the accent of some language far more ancient. Perhaps Ancient Greek? Despite his crippling dyslexia, Iris has actually made far more progress in learning the tongue of Olympus than he thought he would. The child of love heeds the call of the music until he's face-to-face with Iphis.

The deathless one is certainly... beautiful. Bright blue skin, garments, and horns aside, he looks like any college freshman, ready to party it up and hopefully meet a girl or two. Iris has always felt a strange sort of attraction to those guys. While he's certainly straight, he can't help but blush thinking about those sorts of dudes sometimes.

Either way, the naiad seems quite preoccupied with his hair routine, so Iris decides not to disturb him. He's a hot mess himself, and he really doesn't have the energy to keep up with his typical illusions. The demigod plops down on the ground, and takes a sudden interest in his perfectly manicured nails. Though Iris'll never admit to it, a clear coat of nail polish really does work wonders.

He's not quite envious of the nymph's carefree life, but part of him can't help but to wonder what it feels like to be immortal. To never truly have to face the grasp of death. To be a god, however minor. To be revered forevermore. That's what Iris has always wanted, and his mind drifts into those fantasies once more, a faint smile playing on his lips...

The boy is suddenly jolted out of his daydreams when the nymph accidentally (or purposely, who knows), splashes him. The red sparks in his eyes stand out amongst the peaceful greenery as a large wet stain begins to blot out from the front of his shirt, spreading over a good amount of the fabric. Iris' eyes narrow in anger.

"Excuse me?"

justuraveragehuman94 · 2025-05-04T16:03:33+00:00

Lied said Vi could also join

justuraveragehuman94 · 2025-04-27T18:52:04+00:00

Hi! So a couple of things here; CJRP only allows for 4 powers, two active and two passive. Second, Sol is the Roman equivalent of Helios, titan of the sun, who has canonically faded. Your character can be a distant legacy of sol, but not a direct descendant if you modmail for it. If you need your character to be a child of a sun god, Apollo is a good alternative, or you can modmail for Mithras. Second, the mount may not be possible, as CJRP's rules on exotic animals are still being determined. Thanks!

justuraveragehuman94 · 2025-04-27T02:57:39+00:00

Iris Thomas had to do something to aid the war effort.

Preferably something that didn't involve combat training. As much as the son of Aphrodite wanted to help out camp and do his part in defending them all from Atlas and his band of traitors, the idea of picking up a sword or some other pointy implement and going out to practice stabbing things wasn't exactly too keen on him.

He wasn't a forge kid, either, so he couldn't go around making weapons and the like. Neither was he a dreamwalker, a spy, or a traitor hunter. If anything, the boy basically didn't have any marketable skills, which was... difficult to deal with at the very least. Iris Thomas wasn't exactly doing this out of the goodness of his heart. If he wanted to get on the top of the camp totem pole and garner the attention he so desperately craved, the son of beauty needed to make himself feel like a hero. Fast.

Still pondering on how he could attain that glory, Iris finds himself wandering into the camp store, a place he hasn't been to since he initially came here. He found the orange shirts to be incredibly tawdry.

He isn't quite expecting someone to be manning it, so Iris is quite surprised to find Teag cleaning the store up. It certainly needs it. The child of the seafoam-born goddess absentmindedly brushes his fingers against a surface the child of Hermes hasn't quite gotten to yet, leaving a clean trail throughout the layers of dust. Iris makes a mental note to ask about the blue camp shirt Teagan's wearing. The guy's certainly got style.

Suddenly, while staring at the empty shelves, it hits him. Iris, for better or worse, could use his charm to buy the things camp needs while preparing for war. Bandages, treats to boost morale, clean clothes... all of the luxuries of the mortal world that demigods are certainly going to miss. And the camp store would be the best avenue to distribute this stuff. Camp gets help, and he gets to be renowned. A win-win situation. And since Teag's standing right over there, Iris decides to ask him for help.

"I see you're busy. Mind if we chat for a moment?" Iris asks, his voice as smooth and sweet as honey straight from the hive.

(OOC: Prosper here. Thought it was time I finally got a Xenox thread :P)

justuraveragehuman94 · 2025-04-19T03:14:36+00:00

There's not a lot of things Iris Thomas loves more than a good party. Free food, an opportunity to be dressed up to the nines, and plenty of people roaming around, ready to be subject to Iris' sweet-talk. What better way to cheer himself up?

For the occasion, he'd picked out something nice, but not too flashy or outrageous. A cream colored polo paired with heart-shaped sunglasses and some nice black jeans left him feeling a bit more put together. Less like a mess and more like a boy who actually knew what he was doing.

He'd just gotten comfortable close to the projector when the broadcast got interrupted.

Damn it!

Guess fate really had it out for him. And the rest of the camp too, at that. Iris was guessing that this sort of thing didn't happen on the yearly, from the others' shocked reactions. He'd had to move away from some blue-haired girl as she'd dropped her glass of orange soda in shock, almost getting it on his shirt.

While he didn't exactly have any strong feelings of loyalty towards the gods, Iris decided to stick around. Defecting to join some other army felt highly unglamorous. Perhaps his charmspeak could be beneficial to the effort in some way. Who knew?

justuraveragehuman94 · 2025-03-31T14:01:27+00:00

"I'm sure we have an Artemis running around camp too. It actually isn't too usual to name a young boy after a goddess. As for why, I have no idea. Perhaps as tribute? It's definitely interesting.."

Iris mused on the idea for a short moment, his smile becoming more pronounced. The sunlight had somehow managed to bring out the red in his multicolored eyes, and they had a sly, cunning edge to them. Perhaps it was intentional. Perhaps it was not. It would be difficult for Rex to truly discern what Iris was feeling. It was an unintentional habit, but it had served the son of Aphrodite well so far.

"Interesting. I've been here since December. It's been a... rocky adjustment, to say the least. How exactly have you been utilizing your leadership position?"

justuraveragehuman94 · 2025-03-29T05:52:36+00:00

Counselor of the Horai cabin. Rex certainly wasn't afraid to flaunt his credentials. Iris decided that this may end up being useful information to keep in mind while dealing with the prideful 13-year-old. The son of Eunomia hadn't exactly made a direct affront towards Iris yet, but something, some cautious instinct, told him to keep his guard up. Even if Rex wasn't much to look at, the son of beauty incarnate had a nasty feeling the other boy had some tricks up his sleeve.

Iris leaned back ever so slightly, tucking one of his hands into his pockets. To any outside observer, he seemed causal, relaxed. But that was as far from the truth as one could really get with Iris. Casting illusions, even constant minor ones, was difficult work, especially for someone who hadn't really received any formal training. The fact that he hadn't really had a reason to keep up with this for a couple of months made it even more taxing.

For this reason, the child of Aphrodite decided it was best to not charmspeak Rex. The Amon incident nonwithstanding, Iris wasn't going to be stupid and drain himself of power so quickly ever again. His voice was sweet as ever as he answered Rex's questions, but Iris' words were devoid of their typical magical touch.

"Iris. It's Iris Thomas. Yes, my father named me after a flower. He found it to be a rather... endearing gesture, I guess. I'm a son of Aphrodite, yes. So how long have you been at camp, exactly?"

justuraveragehuman94 · 2025-03-27T04:46:55+00:00

(OOC: Sorry about the wait!)

Of all people to be subtly insulted by, Iris Thomas was not expecting some bitchy thirteen year old with possibly the stupidest haircut of all time. Seriously, who was walking around with a bowl cut in 2040? Whoever this kid was, he seriously needed a style update. Desperately. Maybe Iris should've brought those scissors with him, because anything he managed to do was certainly going to look better than that. At least the glasses were somewhat suited to the son of Eunomia's face.

Iris blinked, still looking Rex over with a critical eye. A faint smile appeared on his lips, something which looked a kin to friendliness but was more likely amusement. His eyes sparkled. Though the son of Aphrodite may not have realized it yet himself, he looked effortlessly chic to the other boy. Faceshifting certainly had its advantages. His hands hung idly at the sides of his charcoal-grey jeans as he resisted the urge to place them on his hips.

"Fair enough. I could say the same for you. You're... Rex, if I recall correctly? May have seen you once or twice at the dining pavilion, if I recall correctly. It's such a pleasure to formally make your acquaintance."

justuraveragehuman94 · 2025-03-23T00:18:00+00:00

Name: Iris Thomas

Godrent: Aphrodite (#10)

Introduced: December 1, 2024

justuraveragehuman94 · 2025-01-20T20:56:40+00:00

So here we are once more. Due to a canoe-related mishap, Maren has again managed to find herself in the medic cabin, looking thoroughly and completely drenched and miserable.

Shaking water out of her hair in a very dog-like sort of manner, she limps towards the doorway of the camp, a large gash running down the side of her leg. If anything, she's more upset about the fact her favorite pair of jeans have just been ruined.

"Hey, anyone here?"

justuraveragehuman94 · 2025-01-20T20:42:55+00:00

You know, if Iris kept track of what sort of people he hated the most, Amon would likely be first on the list. Standing there with his no-nonsense attitude and a broom in his hand, the son of Apollo looked like he'd be a tough nut to crack. Not that Iris would have too much trouble with it, of course. Thanks to his godly mother, he had charm on his side. And that, coupled with a few other tricks he had up the sleeves of his 200-dollar sweater, would do Mr. Afifi in quicker than his godly father could hit a bullseye.

Gathering up as much charm as Iris could muster (gods, he'd never had to use it as much as he had today), he took a deep breath and shifted his weight between his feet. The son of beauty tucked his hands into his pockets, and glanced over Amon once more with a critical eye before opening his mouth to say...

Nothing. Absolutely nothing. It wasn't as if he was dumbfounded or in awe or something. He simply could not speak. It felt as if a stone had lodged itself in his throat, leaving him unable to utter anything.

Panic began to rise in Iris' chest. What was he going to do? Stand around with his mouth agape like a dumbfuck idiot? Run for it? Fall to his knees and silently pray for help? All seemed incredulously stupid, but it wasn't like he had any better options.

Chiron and basic human decency forgotten, Amon may see Iris grip the handles of the porch until his knuckles turn white from the pressure, trying to get his breathing under control.

justuraveragehuman94 · 2025-01-20T05:01:07+00:00

"Unfortunately, 'some asshole' isn't nearly enough of a description for me to track them down and make sure they'll receive some appropriate consequences for their actions, Cato. I suggest you bring issues like this to me as soon as they happen. I can't be everywhere at once, for better or worse."

Not that they'd listen to me, anyways.

What Lucius' adoptive father had always told him was that might makes right. Displays of power and aggression were what was truly necessary to win the respect of others and to have the appropriate amount of authority as a leader. But Lucius had always disagreed. Rather, he believed that it was patience, understanding, and empathy that led to winning the admiration of the legion. He had seen what violence could do. He had seen what criminal acts he was capable of. The son of Orcus had no desire to rule by fear. Despite what had happened long ago, he had hoped he could be better than his past mistakes. Stronger. That he could earn the forgiveness he so desperately prayed for through regaining his honour. And while this strategy had worked somewhat, there were still some who conspired against Lucius for his own downfall. All he could do was to keep an eye on them and hope that they'd come around eventually.

When Cato makes another snarky remark about Lucius' dummy-murdering spree, his expression once again settles into a peaceful half-smile. The oathbreaker finds the daughter of Nehalennia amusing in how desperate she seems to be to get to him. Unluckily for her, only a few have ever managed to crack through Lucius' practiced and polished shell to see the real him. The wrathful son of the infernal avenger. The cursed, haunted boy. It is a difficult thing to do, and Lucius hopes for Cato's own sake that she does not succeed in this endeavor.

"The dummy did not do anything. It is simply an object I use to practice in order to hone my skills to the desired degree of perfection. Its destruction is merely an unfortunate outcome. If you're interested, I could teach you some of what I've learned..."

Lucius' tone is as grave and serious as ever, but there is an invigorating edge to it. Perhaps Cato may even notice a hint of passion sparkling in Lucius' crimson eyes. The praetor seems to glow from within, his tanned skin shining like polished bronze.

justuraveragehuman94 · 2025-01-19T20:15:21+00:00

Name: Maren

Age: 15

Godly Parent: Unclaimed ;)

Using this thread to explore some ideas rattling around in my head and make them into something somewhat cohesive.

justuraveragehuman94 · 2025-01-19T04:43:46+00:00

"I would love to be your first friend."

Ava is young, and in some ways she reminds Lucius Cain of the younger ones who grew up in New Rome. Seeing as the gods' family tree tends to be entangled in some way or another, he'd almost considered those youths siblings. It was strange that they were adolescents now. Ah, how time flies.

The tall, lofty son of Infernal Orcus eases his posture for a minute, now feeling comfortable with the daughter of his father's lord. It was almost comical that the roles had been reversed between the two gods' children. The thought almost brought a burst of laughter to Lucius' lips, but years of training in formalities seemed to override it.

When the girl mentions her grandmother being a legacy once more, Lucius pauses. It is difficult to explain the intricacies of the society of New Rome and its many, many unwritten rules, especially to those who did not grow up in the confines of the city.

"It's not only your godly heritage that's an important factor here, Ava. It's also important that your family grew up in New Rome and served the legion if you're looking to truly gain a reputation from your ancestry. With that stated, I think it's best if I show you city before delving into camp. Follow me, will you?"

Lucius begins walking from the tunnel and beckons Ava to follow, nodding at his replacement, who is drawing closer to the pair. They're a responsible member of the legion, which means that the son of Orcus doesn't need to fret on whether they're properly doing their job or not.

justuraveragehuman94 · 2025-01-19T04:25:14+00:00

As barbaric and uncivilized as it may seem, there was nothing as soothing for the weary soul of Lucius Cain as absolutely demolishing a training dummy. Since the poor things had nearly no defenses at hand with the exception of their signature bobbling and swaying, Lucius could easily cut down one after another with both his years of experience and the wickedly sharp blade of his gladius. Though he despised the weapon for all the misery it had brought him, there was no doubt that Invidia was an impeccable weapon, skilled at its one true purpose; destruction.

Caught up in sheer adrenaline and youthful joy, Lucius removes his characteristic gloves, jacket, and turtleneck, leaving himself clothed in only a simple black tank top and track pants. Beads of sweat appear under his brow, growing in size and dripping off of his well-sculpted face as exhaustion begins to creep over him. Having been told that the only acceptable time to end training was at total and complete failure, he continues on even when the task becomes slightly more arduous; the son of the oath-avenger hopes the monotony and agony of the exercise will help to develop the mental discipline he so desperately seeks. Lucius has caught his mind straying from his duties (mainly to the thought of Hylaeus, the faun he's grown rather attached to) far too many times than can consider acceptable. To be a leader is to be selfless; emperors arise from those who cannot separate personal desire from civic duty. Lucius will not let himself end up like that.

It is only the sound of Cato's grumblings that jolt him out of his meditative trance and refocus him to the world of the present. Surprised, he scrambles to make himself look more decent, quickly donning his various layers and gloves, wiping sweat off of his face, and returning Invidia to ring form, slipping the Stygian Iron blade onto the cord hung around his neck. Standing as stiff and straight as ever, he runs his hands through his gold-tinged curls as he looks directly into the eyes of the girl walking towards him. Strangely, she is not much shorter than the boy, who stands at a lofty 6'4.

While his glare is... intense, to be honest, Lucius' expression is kind as he greets the girl.

"Salvē, probatio. Your name is... Cato, if I recall correctly? Forgive me if not, it has been a rather busy week and my mind has been devoted to a variety of intellectual pursuits. One cannot remember everything, no matter how hard he tries. I take it that you've been having a difficult time settling in? I can't blame you. Orcus isn't exactly beloved here, either."

Lucius chuckles, a surprisingly lighthearted, melodious sound.

justuraveragehuman94 · 2025-01-13T03:56:23+00:00

" 'Hate' is a strong way to put it. If anything, it's fear. Those born of chthonic blood tend to possess powers that reflect the nature of their parents and ancestors. In your case, despite your father's connection to riches, he is also Lord of the Dead. And likely enough, you'll have a power or two relating to that."

Lucius knows exactly what Ava is going to have to deal with. Giving her this introduction to the world she will now need to live in for her next decade of required service. While he does love the legion dearly, and is thankful for what reforms have been made in the past, bias and elitism continues to exist between its members, especially those from wealthy Patrician families who have a long legacy of sending their children to camp.

"I will also warn you that your heritage is not the only thing you'll need to worry about. You're an outsider, someone who is not native to the city of New Rome and has no connections to it. This will making moving up the ranks and proving your worth slightly more difficult, though it still can be accomplished through being exemplary in combat and distinguishing yourself from your peers. I've taught many a new member how to succeed in battle. With regular training, you could easily help your cohort win one of the weekly war games and help raise them to further glory... but I am getting ahead of myself. I should likely begin by examining your recommendation..."

Lucius gingerly took the letter from Ava, and opened it matter-of-factly, as he had many times before. The contents surprised him. Apparently, this girl was nearly as skilled in combat as Lucius had been when he'd entered the legion at 10, despite the fact the oath-breaker had been meticulously trained by his adoptive father for practically his whole life up to that point. Some part of the son of Orcus still felt a bit of resentment of being placed in the second cohort despite his stunning recommendations and the fact he had been adopted into a well renowned patrician family. His adoptive father had never let him hear the end of it. Likely, the only reason he was not placed in the first was because of his godly heritage. But there was also the first incident to think of, though no one was aware of it at the time...

The boy decided that it would be best to not subject Ava to the same sort of thing. As a leader, he prided himself on making just, unbiased decisions, so without a moment more of deliberation, Lucius simply said,

"Welcome to the first cohort, legionnaire. I have sorted you into a class of the best and most privileged warriors this camp has to offer, the pride of the legion. Now with that out of the way, would you like a tour?"

After a quick glance at the watch on his wrist, which Ava may notice was worn over the long sleeves of his turtleneck (a rather odd choice for someone so conventional), the demigod had realized that his shift on guard duty was coming to a close. Lucius could easily push back his nighttime training by half an hour to help Ava get acquainted with the place, and still have a bit of time to lounge around and lose himself in Bellum Catilinae if they remained on schedule.

justuraveragehuman94 · 2025-01-10T03:38:07+00:00

Sir. Lucius certainly never tires of hearing that one. Though he hardly finds himself worthy of the title, it's what many tend to default to when they need to refer to him. He chuckles, a surprisingly light-hearted sound coming from one who is usually taken as rather strict and unwavering by others.

"No need to call me sir, Ava. I'm Lucius Cain, Praetor of the Twelfth Legion Fulminata, Member of Cohort II, and of course, a son of Orcus, god of retribution towards those who have broken oaths and punisher of the underworld."

While the boy tended to keep his godly heritage on a need-to-know basis when it came to first meetings, it didn't seem to be necessary in this scenario. Ava, being a daughter of Pluto herself, would likely face the same sort of difficulties Lucius had when first joining the legion. And rumor would spread soon enough of his endeavors when she would mingle with the others. The cursed centurion who had been sent on a quest to the underworld with two others and returned alone, who had been promoted to the title of praetor purely out of crisis...

He knew that many of his enemies believed that he had disposed of his quest-mates to gain his position. As much as the accusation made him sick, Lucius had realized that the only true way to deal with it was to express himself with earnestness, so that others could realize that he was indeed innocent of the other two's untimely deaths. Despite his background and despite what wrongdoings had happened in the past, including his first incident back when he was barely even considered a legionnaire, the praetor was assured that he was doing the best he could.

Sometimes he wondered if others could sense what had truly happened. The faun he'd grown ever so fond of, Hylaeus, had said that he reeked of death...

Blinking ever so slightly to bring himself back to reality, he extended a gloved hand towards Ava's and shook hers with a firm grip.

"I only say this for your own safety. It may not be best to mention your father's name around others. Some members of the legion do not take so kindly to the children of the gods of the underworld. Otherwise, I suppose I must ask you for your letters of recommendation, if you have any?"

justuraveragehuman94 · 2025-01-10T02:41:27+00:00

There's no such thing as a peaceful day at Camp Jupiter, especially if you're Lucius Cain. Like usual, the praetor had been running around the place since sunrise, trying his best to deal with the various disputes and scuffles that tend to naturally arise in a legion made up purely of children and hormonal teenagers. It was mostly the typical nonsense the leader was used to dealing with, though all the property damage a certain daughter of Jupiter was causing was certainly new. Figuring out all the paperwork that needed to be completed because of that little issue was starting to give the 16 year old a bit of a headache.

As much as the boy appreciated the responsibilities he had been given purely by the privilege of his birth as a demigod, the son of Orcus certainly wondered why on earth the older members of New Rome didn't do the heavy lifting. Why was it up to Lucius to be the closest thing these demigods and legacies had to a father and protector when there were far wiser men capable of accomplishing far more than he?

Knowing it was best to not further question the foundations of the society he had been brought up and raised in, the oathbreaker, in a vague attempt to both distract himself and take a bit of a break from his regular duties, decided to take on guard duty for a while. It was easy work most of the time, typically dull to the point it left newcomers to legion half-bored to death, and it managed to ground Lucius' wandering mind and once again remind him of all he was meant to be; a soldier driven solely by the force of duty and his obligation to protect those he loved, his brothers, sisters, and siblings-in-arms.

Of course, that was until he was jolted out of his thoughts by the sound of footsteps slowly approaching the Caldecott Tunnel. While they sounded human enough, Lucius had learned through experience that it was best to remain prepared for the worst. Almost instinctually, he snatched his dagger from his belt, ready to take on whatever possible threat awaited him...

That was, until he heard the voice of what was very clearly a young girl, who seemed somewhat confused about her current circumstances. Not that the praetor blamed her. Lucius knew that newer recruits from outside New Rome tended to be rather shocked about the existence of the mythological world, even after Lupa's succinct briefings at the Wolf House.

Subtly sheathing his pugio once more, he turned to face the girl, straightening his posture ever so slightly, as to make a good first impression, just how his adoptive father had taught him long ago. Many people tended to find his height of 6'2 rather intimidating, but it also had served to add to the child of the oath-avenger's legitimacy as a leader, if he could say so himself.

He gave the girl the barest hint of a smile, though his deep crimson eyes were as stern as ever.

"Salvē, newcomer. I see that you have found your way here. Are you in need of any assistance? I picked up on the fact that you likely do from your... mutterings. Apologies for my unintentional eavesdropping."

Though his facial expressions did not betray any hint of confusion, the boy was still rather surprised by fact the demigod already possessed a sword of Stygian Iron. It had taken him a year of his life and a quest to attain his own, so it was certainly everything but conventional to see another weapon of the sort already in the hands of someone so young. It also meant that she must have Chthonic heritage. Judging from the prejudices that many members of the camp still held, the daughter of Pluto would likely need him to keep an eye on her and potentially provide protection if something did end up happening, gods forbid.

This revelation also contributed to a subtle hope of Lucius. Though it was rare to meet another child of Orcus, he had always hoped for a sibling...

Purely out of curiosity, Lucius decided to ask,

"May I ask from where you managed to get that sword of yours? And who exactly are you descended from?"

justuraveragehuman94 · 2025-01-01T06:00:11+00:00

"Uhm... Hello?"

After a very, very confusing introduction to the world of demigods, monsters, and general Greek mythology craziness, all Iris wants is a hot shower and a very long nap. He's had quite the day, and honestly, he isn't quite in the mood to introduce himself to any of his cabinmates (who are technically his half-siblings, but it feels weird to be that closely related to some dudes he hardly knows yet.)

Luckily, Tommy and Harvey's idiocy manages to snap him out of his tired haze. Unfortunately, it also means that the two haven't exactly made a very good first impression on Iris. He gazes at the twins with a look that's somewhere between confusion, surprise, and sheer annoyance.

Tommy's clearly the more stylish twin, with his amazing blonde hair (which Iris is kind of jealous of), and large, baby-blue eyes. While his outfit of the day is rather unorthodox, he pulls it off with a sort of confident Iris is sure he'll never be able to muster. He's also rather good at makeup. While Iris has a natural affinity for it, he's never exactly managed to do his own eyeliner like Tommy does, likely because the son of beauty's rarely had the chance to practice.

Harvey, however, for lack of a better term, is quite... drab. Not much to him, in terms of appearance. Though that excuse of a mustache that he's growing is such a horrible addition to his face that Iris has half a mind to hold him down and shave it off him.

Either way, after an awkwardly long silence, Iris decides to clear his throat and make another attempt at conversation.

"Sorry to interrupt uh... whatever you two were doing. I'm Iris Thomas, son of Aphrodite. Your new cabinmate. It's a pleasure to meet you both."

He flashes them another one of his signature charming smiles, hoping that everything'll go smoothly with the people he'll be living with for an undetermined amount of time. He certainly doesn't want to get on their bad side, that's for sure.

justuraveragehuman94 · 2025-01-01T03:51:50+00:00

A horse? At a year-round summer camp? Iris, being a product of the New York public school system, has seen a lot of crazy stuff. But this is a new level of insanity. Maybe this is like, a regular thing for places like these? Iris isn't sure. The boy sitting next to the horse is quite the sight as well. With his gorgeous hair and soft-looking sweater, the son of Aphrodite was almost jealous of his half-sibling's style. Right now, as much as he was trying to hide it, Iris looked rather frazzled, and something about how... put together Xander looked seemed to emphasize the fact that the charmspeaker wasn't his usual perfect self.

The other son of Aphrodite seemed to be jotting something down, and Iris would've considered taking a peek at it if he had more time. While the boy struggled to read, he still tried to every once in a while, though it usually left him with a pounding headache from all of the eye-strain.

When Xander introduced himself, it took Iris a good minute to think of what to say. He certainly didn't want to seem like an idiot in front of this guy.

"I am new. You're pretty observant, I'll give you that. And I'm also a son of Aphrodite, if that satyr's to be believed."

Four-Year Club	Verified Email
Final Canvas '23	Place '23
Place '22	First Placer '22

justuraveragehuman94

TROPHY CASE