A little practice (Private)

Belle's ice-cold eyes darted to the side and she twisted her body to narrowly escape the paw. The reflex set off her balance and she went into a small tumble after she lost her footing. Although this would typically scare someone, Belle had been training extensively for as long as she has been here and knew not to panic. She simply converted this stumble into a strategic roll, putting distance between herself and the hell hound which pursued her. As soon as she came out of the roll, she squatted down onto one knee, fearlessly facing her attacker.

"Let's go," she breathed, fiercely. The massive beast plunged towards her once again, the huge paws making the ground vibrate beneath Belle. The girl's arm reached over her shoulder and quickly drew out an arrow. Her fingers nimbly set it upon the string before she had to dive out of the way again. The hell hound was advancing just too fast for her to fire at that moment. She felt her shoulder hit the ground first this time in a controlled roll as she tried to keep her arms up and ready to fire her bow. The hell hound slid to a halt after seeing it had missed its target. It was definitely angry now, having attempted many times now to tackle Belle and failed just as many.

Belle's weapon of choice was peculiar. Although many at camp used bows and arrows, Belle had a special set. Her bow was long and slick, and practically glowed a very pale blue, perhaps almost white. The difference between whether it was blue or white was almost imperceptible. And for her arrows, if one was able to get close enough without first dying, they would observe the tip was a glassy substance. Ice. Belle's arrows were made of a special never-melting ice. Not only did it efficiently pierce the skin but also stung on contact. Anything hit with it would be dead or so irritated with the wound as to beg for death.

The hell hound turned to face Belle. It would not be lucky enough to observe her elegant weapon of choice. As soon as it began to charge towards the girl, she released the bowstring. The arrow made a noise as if piercing the wind itself before embedding in the head of the beast. Rather gruesome, yes, but bloodless. A gold light erupted as the hell hound began to dissolve into a shimmering golden sand before Belle's eyes.

"Facile. Vachement," Belle rolled her eyes. She pushed herself to stand up and ran a hand through her hair. A couple of leaves floated out of her gold locks, likely sticking to her hair from her little stunt in the grass. She began to dust the dirt off of her pants and shoulders. She didn't fancy looking like dirt, even if she had been rolling around in it a bit.

Belle, finished with cleaning up the dirt from her clothes, began to fidget with her hair. She tried to make it look nice, attempting some sort of style. Eventually, she lost her patience and twisted it into a ponytail before sticking it into a bun on top of her head. Belle was a little bit concerned about her look, well, most of the time. It was not likely that someone would catch Belle having a bad appearance. She was always determined to look presentable, even if there was nobody to present to. She wasn't the kind of person you would catch with an untied shoe or an out-of-line hair. Although a bun was a lazy hair choice, she somehow still made it look professional and presentable.

When a rustle was heard somewhere off to her left, Belle turned. Her reflexes were almost top-notch, and within a second she had an arrow notched and her bow raised in the direction from which the sound came. However, instead of seeing an immediate threat, she saw a girl. Although her stance was not aggressive, she did not seem very peaceful. Her eyebrow was arched up, and she was holding her bow with an arrow placed. Belle lowered her own weapon from the girl's face and got a better look at her. And she remembered who she was.

Quinn Taylors. Belle recognized her almost completely now. She was present at the very first cabin leader meeting that was held. Belle could clearly picture the girl, her feet propped up, leaning back, completely relaxed. Belle was almost the complete opposite. Almost. Although Belle was rigid, she still found a way to be relaxed in her own very formal way. Quinn was not like this, and Belle didn't get much of a first impression from her.

"I can train here, there is no rule against it," she replied. Her french accent was thick, as it usually was when she was talking to someone she wasn't totally familiar with. "Hunting monsters in the forest is more... realistic. The training arena can only go so far in simulation," Belle explained further. She watched as Quinn slung the weapon over her shoulder. Belle put her arrow away and also put her bow on her shoulder.

"What are you doing here, as well?" Returned Belle. Though she likely already knew the answer. Cabin leaders were typically chosen for doing guard duty, protecting the barrier of Camp Half-Blood against any monsters that might happen to get in, though they rarely did. Only a couple times have they successfully infiltrated the camp, and during those times it was usually a full-blown attack.

She remembered the attack last year... She lost important things to her in that attack. She used to be much more carefree before that, but afterwards, she was never the same. She lost reasons to laugh, she lost reasons to slack and lay back. It was a long story for Belle, and she didn't have to explain herself to anyone, so she usually just shut people out. People who didn't know her before the attack, or didn't know her very personally would immediately assume she was cold-hearted and mean and pompous. This wasn't true, but rather what she would have you believe.

Belle's ice cold eyes stayed glued to Quinn's eyes, only cutting the line of sight every time she blinked. Many people have told her that her eyes were intimidating and scary, not pretty. She hated when people spoke of them. She had always believed them to be pretty. In fact, most things that she believed about herself were discredited by others. The way that people talked about her was devastatingly mean. People found her intimidating and unfriendly. Because of this, Belle's count of friends was exactly zero at this point.

When Quinn replied that she was on guard duty, Belle's face remained completely unchanged. She had expected this answer, and it therefore did not phase her. She simply kept watching Quinn silently, even when Quinn looked away. Belle did not know why, until she traced her line of sight to her equipment. Her muscles tensed. She knew very well that her weapons weren't standard. In fact, they weren't really supposed to be used. She had had a conversation with Chiron about it before. He told her that he wouldn't stop her from using them, but the moment someone reported her or anything, she would have to get rid of them. So, when Quinn inquired about her arrows, Belle remained quiet for a couple minutes, pondering over whether or not she should lie.

"Ice," she admitted. Belle hated lying. Lies destroyed not only relationships, but lies could bring down strong empires, she believed. It was best to avoid lying at all times, if it was possible. "There are flakes of celestial bronze frozen in the arrowhead. It stings," she told her, showing now sign of fear of being reported, but internally sweating. She didn't want to lose her valued custom weapon.

The reason Belle was drawn to using the weapon was a very particular, admittedly cruel, reason. Belle figured that if any person or monster alike was brave, yet stupid, enough to challenge or attack her, she wanted it to hurt when she took them down. The stinging arrows were a clever way to ensure that her opponent would not die in comfort.

"What weapons do you prefer?" Belle asked, refocusing her attention onto Quinn. The girl in front of her had a distinct air to her. She gave off a sort of essence that suggested she always had something that she was withholding. Belle knew very well that people like that were dangerous. People who never really said everything, but said just enough. Belle knew by the narrowness in Quinn's eyes, the way that she spoke shortly rather than elaborating, and the way that she spoke so that she was on top of the conversation. Belle could be wrong, but she was resolute on being careful around Quinn.