I'm sure I've seen this look before. . . [[open]]

Oliver slumped down on one of the benches within the Amphitheater. Usually, there was the sweet sound of music or people's voices and talent drifting around the area, but today, it was filled with a stony silence. It was unusual, and he didn't like it. He supposed that people were probrably promoting their campaigns out in the open, begging people to vote for them. Yes, Oliver too had nominated himself, but it didn't mean that he wanted to push his posters all over the camp. He did have some sense of pride, you know. He had decided to leave how many votes he got down to fate, as it seemed to be the only way right for a child of Klymene. Fame was given to you by her, so the only way he thought it appropriate to run, was wait and see if she deemed him worthy of fame. He probrably wasn't, and was indeed facing some fierce competition. But he wasn't afraid - not now, not ever.

For the first time in a while, the sweet scent of talent floated through the cold air of the ampitheater. This seemed to surprise Oliver, and he was snapped out of the permanant trance he seemed to have been in for the last few hours. He sniffed the air, sort of like a dog sniffing for the scent of some scared bunny rabbit, and his eyes snapped to the pair of children sparring before him. He jumped up from his seat, and almost ran down to them, before remembering that he did have some sense of decorum. So he walked down instead.
"Hey there, guys. The name's Oliver, Oliver Mitchell. Might I say, that you sir, are an incredibly talented fighter.


Alex ; don't diss the name.

Rowan heard the two ares kids before he saw them. He peeked into the amphitheatre and smirked. He had just been hoping for some target practice, but this would be even better. He pulled out his whip and marched in, just as Oliver made his presence known.

Oliver noticed another boy walk in as the two continued to spar. Taking note of the whip within his hand, Oliver presumed that the boy was going to join in the with battle. He couldn't let this happen ; he needed to see the full extent of Ajax's talent.
"Don't take one step closer to the battle, dude. Watch them work. he informed the boy, blocking the path with his arm. "They have serious skill."

Rowan arched an eyebrow, but stayed where he was. He gave the other boy a once over. "And you are?" He asked, confused.

"My name's Oliver Ezekiel Mitchell, and I'm the son of Klymene, goddess of Fame and Infamy. I sort of feed of the usage of other people's talents. Except it's not as weird as it sounds." he admitted, lowering his arm. God, sometimes he could just get so over-excited around new talent. " So what's your name?" he repeated the other boy's question, except a little bit more polite.

"Rowan Duponsky, son of Boreas, but you can call me Ro." He scratched the back of his head. "Sorry if I was terse. I was just hoping to get some practice in."

A small smile crept onto Oliver's face, one that he couldn't help.
"Practise, huh? Well, if you wanted to get some of that in, I would suggest going to the arena. That's where people usually fight. These two just seemed to like the quiet, I guess. You can call me Ollie, if you want. Or Mitchell." he smirked, jerking a thumb in the general direction of the arena. "Hell, you might even find someone to fight there, instead of just decapitating some poor, defenceless dummy."

Rowan flinched, startled. He gave Ajax a withering look."Few. Warnings are nice? I'm Rowan. It's good to meet you, Ajax & Alyssa." A devlish smile overtook his face. "So then. Once your agent," He said jokingly, and gestured to Oliver, "Is done watching you, how do you feel about some sparring?"