(no subject)

[halfbloodhillmods]

Who: Everyone at camp.
What: Apollo's sacred day.
Where: The ampitheater.
When: August 7, 8:30 PM.
Why: Apollo's at camp today, and as the god of music, he's holding a dance.



It was decided at the meeting of the summer gods, the Summer Solstice, but it took Apollo physically coming to the Big House and scolding Mr. D for being lazy and not putting up any fliers to actually get the god of wine to do it, a week in advance.

Apollo prides himself on being the god of just about everything - though Mr. D would say, out of the cocky god's earshot, that he's the god of everything nobody else wanted to be the god of. Because of this, he's always had a self-assured attitude which is sometimes hard to deal with.

Because of this, when he decided he was going to throw a dance for the demigods towards the end of the summer as a reward for accepting children of other pantheons into their Greek camp so well, most of the other gods decided to just let him have it rather than argue. (Considering that Hera and Zeus had gotten into three separate spats since the Solstice began, they'd all had enough godly screaming for one meeting.)

So at about 8:30 on the nose - since he's used to following a tight schedule on the sun chariot and he's excited about this, he'll be on time - a flaming, bright red Maserati drives up to the ampitheater. Apollo doesn't even have to lift a finger for the trunk to open, and speakers as well as state of the art DJ equipment rise up onto a platform. He waves his hand, and club music with a thumping bassline starts playing.

(Never say that Apollo doesn't like to make an entrance.)

Requests will be taken all night by Apollo, who will be manning the dj booth as well as making up freestyle haikus. He's one of the more amicable gods, especially to his kids, which he's hosted more of at Camp Half Blood and Camp Jupiter combined than any other god. He's charming and younger looking than most gods, with a cocky smile and sandy hair.
If you're a pretty girl, he might hit on you.

(Apologies in advance. He'd say old habits die hard because he's right. Sorry, Hunters of Artemis.)

Comments

REQUESTS/THE BOOTH

[delphinios]

[For your listening pleasure.

Apollo's got a chunky pair of headphones on, but he's the god of music, so he's got pretty damn good hearing even through them. He's dancing along to the beat of the music he plays, grinning all the while, but got no problem with taking requests or chatting it up with campers who come to see him on his festival day.]

[ospreyed]

[Give her a break, Apollo is hot. Yeah, he's also the dad of one of her... semi-friends and her make-shift little brother, but that's besides the point. The point is that he is hot, she likes to flirt, and she even has a music request. Eponine slides her way into the booth, giving her best coy smile.] Hey, Happy You-Day.

That is the right way to greet a God on his day, right?

[delphinios]

Happy me-day.

[He flashes a winning grin at Eponine - damn, she's cute, and just his type. Dionysus is watching, so it's not like he can run away with her, but she just might get lucky with a kiss or two tonight.]

I wouldn't say it's traditional, but it's pretty creative.

[ospreyed]

[Screw Dionysus. Just get a distraction, like someone trying to spike the punch and boom, they can run away for a few hours. She returns his smile, but it's more of her traditional smirk as she leans back against the back of the booth.]

Oh? What's traditional, then?

[delphinios]

Oh, y'know. Offerings of food, hand-written poetry, prayers and songs. The usual.

[He looks up in the air, like he's thinking, and smirks.]

I like 'me day' better, though. Has a nice ring to it. Though if you can write me a nice haiku, I'll settle for that, too.

[ospreyed]

Gotcha. I like "you-day" better anyway. It's like Rex Manning Day, but better. Even more song and dance.

[She considers the haiku.] I'll take your haiku and raise you a few more lines.

[Eponine thinks back for a moment, before settling:] Theres pavement in my veins,
Your heart beating like the morning trains,
It's a taxi cab romance,
can't last more than one dance,
But I'll always look at the GWB
perched on my fire escape,
Cigarette signals, blending with the landscape
And remember how you felt to me.

How was that? [Terrible, and she knows it. But it got her an a last year in poetry.]

[delphinios]

Ooh, Empire Records. Seriously underappreciated movie, I'd say.

[He leans back against the Maserati, listening to Eponine rhyme, nodding his head along to the beat of the music as her poem works its own internal beat against it. Afterwards, he actually claps.]

Not half bad. I'll take it.

[ospreyed]

You're telling me.

[Its rare, but she'll take the complement.]

Not half bad from the god of poetry? Damn, that's better than the grade I got for it.

[moointhedark]

[Charlie has no requests, but the thought of getting to see his biological dad is SO AWESOME that he's making a beeline for the DJ booth.]

Dad, Dad, Dad, Dad, Dad! [He is basically excitedly chanting this as he trips over his feet to come say hi, a piece of paper clutched in his hand.]

[delphinios]

[Okay, this one? Apollo actually remembers the kid being born, and it doesn't take him long at all to put a name to the face. Jersey was sunny as hell this summer, so he'd spent quite a bit of time driving over it, watching Charlie at the park.]

Hey, Charlie, easy! Don't give yourself a heart attack.

[Though, being the god of healing, he could stop it from happening if it did.]

[moointhedark]

[His dad knows his name! Not that Charlie had any doubts (he doesn't know how this whole godly parent thing works still,) but that is so. Cool.

The next thing that comes out of his face is something like a happy squeal: AHHHHHHDAD before he takes a deep breath and tries to calm himself down

It sort of helps.]

I won't, I promise! I don't think I can have a heart attack, I'm not old or anything. ...Unless twelve is old. Is twelve old? I don't think twelve is old.

[His normal stream-of-consciousness babble is rushed and a little nervous, and he fidgets with the paper, pushes his sunglasses to his forehead, anything to keep his hands busy.]

Can... Can I give you a hug?

[delphinios]

[Charles actually gets a big laugh out of Apollo - he knows he's had his share of fans, especially when he goes into the underground circles and performs his own lyrical, almost freeform poetry style of rapping in battles. (He's also no stranger to being a screaming fanboy of his own. Lady Gaga is a genius in every respect, okay?) But this is unexpected.]

Twelve's nothing, kid. You've got the whole world ahead of you, yet.

[Apollo plucks the sunglasses off Charlie's head, placing them on his own. He's already wearing shades, but he's the god of the sun. One more pair can't hurt.]

Yeah, if you want.

[moointhedark]

[Oops, there go his sunglasses. Not that Charlie seems to mind as he is currently latching himself onto Apollo like a limpet in a hug.

Two dads. Now he has two dads and a mom and a lot of half-siblings, and his family is the best. He is totally inviting every last one of them to his Bar Mitzvah next year. His mother will be the one having the heart attack when she sees him writing out the invites.]

Oooh, this is so cool! I even wrote you a poem and everything and it's probably not as good as your poems, but I spent a lot of time on it and I think I'd get an A if I were at school.

[delphinios]

[Apollo slings an arm around his son casually, patting him on the back. Wow, is this kid excitable - reminds him of Hermes as a kid, but the family resemblance to himself if there, alright.]

A poem, huh? Okay, let me hear it and I might just be inspired enough to slam with you.

[excusing]

[ A very energetic daughter of Venus bounds up to the booth, breathless from dancing. ]

Hey!! You take requests, right? 'Cause I want to listen to the Ketchup Song. [ She bursts out laughing like it's some huge joke with herself. ] You remember that song right? I said-a hey ha?

[delphinios]

Of course I remember the Ketchup Song. One hit wonder on the charts over here - and everywhere else. It was a shame they didn't get farther, not even in Eurovision.

[One of Apollo's favorite song competitions. (His Roman side prefers Sanremo. It's not Roman in tradition, per-se, but it's fun.)

He waits until the song he's playing right now finishes, fades it out, and brings up the Ketchup Song. Nobody likes it when people switch halfway through a song. It's jarring.]

You're close - it's asereje, which doesn't mean anything, but - you know your rap history at all?

[Get ready to be Educated, Heather.]

[excusing]

[ This was the better decision to make than bothering Johnny's dad, for sure.

She listens to him with a mildly perplexed expression on her face. Perplexed and bemused. She leans against the booth, precariously leaning on one stiletto. ]

Not really? I listen to stuff like The Kinks.

[delphinios]

Ooh, good taste.

[He raises his eyebrows suggestively, pointing at her. He likes this girl - she's his type, too, feisty and excitable.

It should come as no surprise that Apollo likes rap. Music and rhythmic poetry combined? Right up his alley. He's not proud of all the styles it's spawned, but if asked he'd say he adores Macklemore.]

There was this group, the Sugarhill Gang, right? Hang on, I've got it...

[He pauses, holding his finger up in the air, and waits until the Ketchup Song is over before putting on 'Rapper's Delight' for Heather.]

I said a hip hop, hippie to the hippie to the hip hip a hop and you don't stop the rock it to the bang bang boogie, say up jump the boogie to the rhythm of the boogie the beat.

Get it? The chorus for the Ketchup Song's nonsense - it's a Spanish sound-alike to those nonsense words.

[excusing]

[ Heather's heard of them, of course. She shifts weight to her other foot, shaking her shoulders to the easy rhythm of the music. ]

Really? [ She gasps like it's blown her mind. And, well, it probably has. ]

Geez, I guess it's true that you do learn something new every day. But you know all about music - duh.

[delphinios]

Yeah! Really, I'm surprised it doesn't strike more people the first time they hear it. I think it helps to know Spanish, though.

[He does know all about music, and he beams at her, nodding.]

That I do. It's a shame you probably never got to see the Kinks, you know. Great band.

[worldabouttodawn]

[Originally he'd been planning to avoid his father like the plauge, much like he does whenever Apollo's around.

But there's only so much of this music he can take. There's only been one song he's liked so far.

Of course making a request means actually speaking to the sun god. Something that takes a bit longer for Enjolras works up the nerve to do - much to his annoyance.

Talk to Hestia? No problem. Hera? Took a while but he still managed it. Apollo?

Apollo makes him feel like a little boy trying to work up the nerve to ask Monsieur Lamarque if he can help put up flyers. Except Enjolras would much rather it be Monsieur Lamarque then his actual father...

For a few minutes Enjolras hovers off to the side of the DJ booth before finally working up the nerve and walking over.]

Your taste in music is horrible.

[Hi Dad.]

[delphinios]

[Apollo knows Enjolras isn't fond of him, to put it in the least - though he still doesn't understand why. He thinks he's been a better dad than most, anyway.

Still, he's proud of his son. Cabin counselor at his age? That's pretty good. And he's heard he even tried to talk Hera out of her tables rule...of course, the way he went about it wasn't exactly what Apollo would have done, but the kid shines bright, regardless.

He gives Enjolras a winning smile.]

You know, this isn't half bad. I could always be playing polka, you know. Or grindcore. But you really can't dance to that, now can you?

[worldabouttodawn]

[It's a mixture of things, Apollo, most stemming from seeing how hard his mother had to work during his childhood and then meeting Apollo after her death.

Probably wasn't the best of times to meet his estranged father.]

Grindcore? What in the world-

[He stops himself.]

Wait. Nevermind. I don't think I want to know.

[delphinios]

[Too bad, Enjolras, he's gonna tell you anyway. Prepare to be schooled.]

Think of the loudest, noisiest, most distorted heavy metal you could think of.

[Have you got an idea in your head? Good.]

Now multiply that by ten. That, son, is grindcore.

[worldabouttodawn]

[He can't tell if Apollo just used 'son' because he is actually the gods son or... Because he's trying to be ironic or something.

Either way his scowl grows.]

Thank you for ignoring my request.