(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

[unstinting]

I think that would be an inconvenient number of Cinderellas. I just need one.

[He rolls his eyes at the idea of himself as a charming prince, though. He's not that charming, that's Courfeyrac's job.]

[shylyintrepid]

No, every prince has at least three princesses chasing after them or being chased by them. It's the law.

[unstinting]

I don't think we're in a fairy tale, though, do those rules still apply?

[And that would be the intellectual side of his brain breaking in. Hmph.]

[shylyintrepid]

Of course it does. We're demigods! All the same faerie tale rules apply, only with added swearing at the gods.

[unstinting]

I'll take your word for it, but I still don't want any princesses.

[He's really more of the prince-wanting type.]

[shylyintrepid]

Princes?

[He smiles]

Or knights? I mean, knights can be any sort of person after all.

[This is the most convoluted and Jehan way of asking "gay, straight, or bi?"]

[unstinting]

Princes will do. Or perhaps philosophers.

[He tries not to get a dreamy look in his eye, he really does. But man, he really misses Delaunay.]

[shylyintrepid]

[Jehan grins]

Princes can be philosophers, you know.

[unstinting]

Philosopher-princes, then.

[He almost adds that gardeners would be lovely too, but that is just a bit too forward and he doesn't intend to be that flirtatious.]

[shylyintrepid]

Noble and brilliant. The best sort, I think. I'd settle for a baker, though. Better sweets.

[unstinting]

You raise a very valid point.

[Hey, he has a sweet tooth. Even if he doesn't indulge that often.]

[shylyintrepid]

You'd never be hungry with a baker, either. Always having fresh bread and cakes and oh gods, fresh pastries. Genuine pastries, with proper fillings and sugar and all the delicious things pastries should have. Nothing like those "Twinkie" things.

[unstinting]

If you don't watch out, I'm going to drag you over to the refreshment table. You're making me hungry.

[shylyintrepid]

Have you ever had real French croissants? Or an éclair?

[Gods, he wants real food now]

[unstinting]

Jehan. Now you're just being cruel.

[Alcuin thumps him gently on the shoulder, making a face.]

[shylyintrepid]

Sorry! I miss my favorite bakery!

[unstinting]

You're going to have to go get me some punch to make up for it when the song is done.

[Because at the least he could use something to drink.]

[shylyintrepid]

Are we sure it's not spiked?

[unstinting]

No... but who would have spiked it?

[He can't think one of their campmates would be so dastardly. He's probably wrong.]

[shylyintrepid]

Eponine.

[Said without missing a beat]

Or a Hermes kid on a bet.

[unstinting]

Oh... you're probably right. Well, I think I can handle one cup of questionable punch.

[shylyintrepid]

[He takes Alcuin's hand as the song ends and leads him over to the punch]

Here's hoping!

[unstinting]

Delaunay did let me drink wine sometimes.

[He follows Jehan, taking a plate to get some of the snacks for them to share.]

[shylyintrepid]

So did Maman and Papa, back home. We're French, after all, it's sort of a thing with us. Still, who knows what it might be spiked with?

[He pours two glasses]

[unstinting]

[Alcuin takes a cautious sip, testing for the burn of alcohol.]

I think it's fine.