Solitude [FudgeeBear]

Samuel Anders had three primary hobbies: combat training, parkour and alone time. He wasn't a people person, and he certainly felt no need to make friends in a camp full of so many shallow or arrogant teenagers. He couldn't blame older people for stereotyping his age group. Not even godly blood, it seemed, could prevent adolescents from obsessing over clothes, dating or material possessions at a time when they would soon be called upon to save the entire world.

Samuel had just been to the arena and worked up a good sweat testing out his twin hooks on combat dummies. Now, he had come to Zephyros Creek, one of his favourite spots whenever it wasn't the dividing line for Capture the Flag. The son of Morpheus leaned against a tree and exhaled, content to be alone.

Samuel glanced over at his half-sibling, not even remotely surprised by the other teen's unexpected appearance. Years of self-discipline had made it so he was rarely truly surprised. "Matthew. I wasn't planning on seeing you either." He left it at that, looking back towards the forest. It would be up to the other demigod to continue the conversation, if indeed the conversation was to continue.

Samuel nodded once. "I do. And fortunately, people there tend to leave me alone. I like to be alone." Having spent much of his life on the streets, hitchhiking, often sleeping in alleys or parks, the sullen-faced demigod cared not for luxury. A roof over his head and a mattress to rest on was all the comfort he needed in life. If only the other campers would start to develop that perspective.

Matthew is in the same situation--only twisting Samuel's scene a bit. It wasn't the others that turn away from him. It was Matthew himself. "Fortunately," he agreed. They were brothers, all right? Samuel and he shared the same attitude, the same perspective of being a lone wolf. From looking at Samuel, Matthew averted his eyes once again. "They were still noisy. I never liked it there." Matthew left it at that. Matthew figured out that Samuel already knows why he was here.

"That's why you came out here. You wanted the solitude," Samuel observed. Although certainly not an empathetic person, he had learned to deduce the feelings of others based on observation and logic, and was fairly good at estimating what another individual was feeling--especially a fellow child of Morpheus. "You don't like this camp very much, do you?"

Who wants to be my friend?

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Matthew kept his eyes to the forest over the creek. A faint smile played across his lips. "Yes, solitude." It took him a while to answer the next question. Did he dislike Camp Half-Blood? Sure, people are noisy and annoying and generally being a nuisance, but these grounds provided him safety. And probably keeping him alive, too, not just for the times he'd been here but for the times that will come. "No," Matthew finally decided. "I like it as much, but not it's people. Do you feel the same?" he asked Samuel.

Samuel pursed his lips, considering the question for a few moments. "I guess so. Perhaps I should be grateful to the camp for being a place of safety, but it's not easy to remember that when most of the campers are so immature. Soon, they'll be fighting a war, and all they can think about is dating and having cool things."
The confession was the most Samuel had said to another person all month, and he was surprised at himself for revealing so much. He was also surprised to discover that this particular conversation was...pleasant. Finally, he had found someone who was similar to him in many ways. A mature demigod who didn't mind the quiet.

Matthew sighed. "I guess we should bear with them, since it's Valentines. They're having another dance." Matthew put his hands together, and silence again passed between the two as Matthew thought of an adequate response. "But you're right. It is no wonder why casualties just keep rising whenever Kronos attacked," he confessed, thinking the number of shrouds in the Burial Shrouds ceremony.

Matthew then realized that Samuel and he shared some qualities that he find quite rare. But he decided it was better not to think about it. Thoughts that he minded often gets messed up.

"Valentine's Day is the worst," Samuel muttered flatly. "It's just more encouragement for hormones to flare. We need a lot more discipline and a lot less dancing." The son of Morpheus sighed heavily, once again returning his gaze to the forest. Despite all appearances, he truly did care about doing his part to protect people from monsters, and the overall maturity level of the camp was incredibly frustrating. Most of the half-bloods didn't have a clue, and that would result in not only their deaths, but the deaths of innocent mortals that they should have been safeguarding.
"What about you, Matthew? Are you ready for the war that's coming?"

Matthew looked down at his own reflection. He could only agree to Samuel. "I do not know how to phrase this one. It seemed the campers have gotten spoiled." His face darkened. "It's their loss." He wasn't about to be so pitiful to his fellow campers. If they only wanted to have fun and rainbows in their life, it will not be Kronos' fault that they died in war--it is their own fault now.

Is he ready for the war? Unconsciously, he rubbed the rings he was wearing, and looked at them as the faint sun touched Zephyros Creek. "I am," he answered. "Ever since I came here, I was always ready for war." Memories came flooding back to him in talk of war. Next fight, all he wanted to see were monsters exploding.

Samuel reached into his trench coat, pulling out his favourite weapons: a pair of bronze twin hooks fashioned in the style used by the ancient Xiaolin monks of China. Looking them up and down, he watched the moonlight glint off their surface. "That's good, Matthew. You'll need to be ready."
Truly, this was a half-brother worth having. A guy like him, who understood his point of view and agreed.

Matthew stood up and stretched, careful to not show his scarred arms. He exhaled sharply. "Yes, well,"he said. He touched his finger ring, and it transformed into a quiver full of arrows. He shouldered it, and touched another ring. This time, it turned to a a simple, wooden bow. "How about we have a contest? For fun," Matthew suggested, eyeing Samuel's weapon--two wicked hooks that seemed deadly. But Matthew had his own spices, of course. Never underestimate an old-fashioned bow.