TALENT SHOW.

[halfbloodhillmods]

Who: Everyone!
What: The first Camp Half-Blood talent show.
Where: The Arena
When: February 21



After some delays, the camp wide talent show is finally set to go. Or, as Annabeth would call it, CHB Factor, complete with three guests judges to give critique a la the standard reality competition. In the arena is a big stage with the judges’ table off to the side, with seats for Juniper, Mr. D, and Tai. And technically only one of them is actually equipped to do any real judging, but the other two are around to keep the mood light. The performers have a backstage area to prepare themselves for an afternoon of entertainment, leave their instruments or other various props they might need during the show.

The Emcee of the evening is Gabriel Novak. (Much to Annabeth’s chagrin, though she did agree that he would be a more entertaining choice than, well, herself.) She also would like to thank Jason for the idea and Merlin for his rounding up efforts, particularly for a few “secret” performances on the way. This seems to be a good cross-pantheon effort and the excitement in the air is tangible. One can’t help but be proud of their community for coming together for both the good and the bad.

There will be a nice after party after the show, which includes the standard dinner set up buffet style in the middle of camp as well as a large chocolate fountain surrounded by fruits, cakes, and other things to dip into the melted sweet stuff.

Enjoy today, everyone. You deserve a break.

Comments

[busy]

Not especially, no.

[Merlin shrugs his skinny shoulders. At first he'd excited about winning. But ultimately it was about taking part in something, feeling like part of something. Somethings.

But he wasn't trying to ruin anything, and Arthur's accusation doesn't really come across as one. He smiles after a minute, not in a taunting way, just genuinely...genuine.]

Don't you know Shakespeare's love sonnets when you hear one? You're British. I thought I was practically proposing to you.

[scornfully]

[ That's it, he's going to strangle you. ]

Of course I know the love sonnets.

[ He is British, they were a part of his curriculum, but that doesn't mean he has to be pleased about Merlin sneaking them in during their moment. Arthur tears off his stupid flower crown feeling suddenly ridiculous in his 'maidenly' outfit. It's difficult to be seriously annoyed when there are flowers on his head. ]

What I want to know is why you decided to jump over to them instead of sticking to Othello.

[busy]

[It's too early for kinks.]

Because Iago wasn't in love with Othello. Unless it's the one with Kenneth Branagh version.

[Merlin can tell that Arthur isn't getting it, though. Even when it makes total sense to him. He glances away at nothing, chewing his bottom lip.]

I just wanted to tell you that I liked you. In my own way.

[scornfully]

[ Arthur's ready to sling something back - something outraged and hard-done by - but then Merlin's words sink in and give him a moment of pause. He wanted to tell him that he liked him? ]

What do you mean.

[ Scrutinising him hard for a moment, Arthur looks him up and down before folding his arms across his chest. ]

You'd like to go back to how things were before ... [ He makes a vague gesture that Merlin should recognise as "Valentine's Day". ] ... All that?

[busy]

No, what would be point in that?

[Merlin laughs, and it's soft and breathy, almost shy. He looks back at Arthur.]

I'd like for things to be different than that. Better.

[Because Arthur confused him on Valentine's Day, and he confused Arthur at the talent show. They haven't been on the same page at the same time, and Merlin doesn't doubt that it's been a roller coaster for the both of them - just with all the nausea and screaming and none of the fun.]

Unless you've moved on.

[A possibility that he's not totally unprepared for.]

[scornfully]

... Oh.

[ Even though it shouldn't really come out of nowhere? Merlin's confession comes out of nowhere. His expression slackens a little as he tries to figure out what exactly he should be aiming for, but he's not used to not being in control of this kind of situation. Merlin appears to be in the driving seat right now. ]

Right, then.

[ So smooth, Arthur. So smooth. The barest hint of a frown creases his brow as Merlin continues; ]

"Moved on?" You're making it sound like we broke off a bloody engagement.

[ Sorry, he's just a little flustered. He runs a hand over his mouth. ]

... Anyway, I haven't. I just didn't bother trying again, since I thought. [ He shrugs. ] You weren't interested.

[busy]

Well I am. And you didn't have to shave your legs, either. Even if you were a girl.

[Merlin hikes the hem of his dress up, revealing a very pale, skinny hairless limb.]

I shaved one of mine though. You wanna touch it?

[He waggles his eyebrows at him. If ill-timed Shakespeare is his love confession, then Arthur can be sure that this is his seduction.]

[scornfully]

Good God, put it away. And I can't believe you only shaved one.

[ Although actually? He absolutely can. Classic Merlin - it has him chuckling already. ]

And I've already told you, Merlin. I didn't shave. I can control my appearance, is all.

[ He lifts an eyebrow. ]

Do you like boys with dark hair? Green eyes?

[ There's a faint shimmer. Just like that, his hair is as black as Merlin's and his eyes are a bright jewel green, if only for a few seconds. It's a demonstration, not a Build-a-Boyfriend.

... Not that they're boyfriends. ]

So you see, shaving isn't really a problem.

[busy]

Why would I like someone because of the color of their hair?

[Or their eyes, for that matter. It's silly; Arthur's silly, and Merlin giggles as he lets the hem of his dress fall.]

But is that what you really look like?

[Once he's back to the blond hair and the blue eyes. Merlin's wondering about it now, and tilting his head at him.]

Maybe you have scars or...a bull's nose with a ring through it.

[Should he be turned off by that? He doesn't seem turned off by that.]

[scornfully]

[ Have an exasperated look as Arthur reaches for a plate to begin picking at the buffet. ]

I'm afraid I'm hardly so exciting. Blond hair, blue eyes, slightly wonky teeth.

[ He could change them if he wanted to, but. He's only so vain. Besides, his imperfections are nice little reminders of his mortal side. ]

Anyway, you'd be surprised by how many people only give others the time of day because of their looks.

[ If Arthur's bothered by it, it doesn't show. He drops a handful of crisps onto his plate. ]

Not everyone's as genuine as you.

[busy]

I like your teeth.

[They're different, but by now it should be obvious that Merlin doesn't think different is a bad thing. Merlin picks up a sandwich, taking a bite of it instead of placing it on his plate. He's staring ahead though. Something Arthur's said definitely inspire a little thought.]

Am I ugly?

[Merlin finally looks over at him, with eyes that look like some woodland creature's. No one's ever given him the time of day. Maybe that has something to do with his looks too. Dammit, why didn't anyone ever tell him that he's ugly?]

[scornfully]

[ At first Arthur thinks he's joking - who just asks something like that - especially when they're as fresh-faced and striking and otherworldly as Merlin clearly is. He laughs loudly, taking a bite of his sandwich, before cottoning on to the startled seriousness of his expression. ]

What - really? You're really asking me that?

[ Arthur sets what remains of his sandwich down thoughtfully, his gaze on Merlin the entire time.

Well. I might be a little biased, all things considered ...

[ Because he likes Merlin. A lot. He's unique in ways he'd never thought he wanted. ]

But that's a stupid question. [ Well. Maybe Merlin wasn't expecting that. Arthur frowns again - how to best phrase this. ] Why do you think my siblings and I can change the way we look? What might be ugly to one person might be the epitome of beauty to another. It just ... depends.

[ He shrugs. Then, quietly. ]

And ... I think you're beautiful. [ Aphrodite, just kill him now. He turns away and clears his throat, busying himself with more sandwiches despite the fact that his plate is full. ] I've never met anyone like you before.

[busy]

[Merlin's never really cared if he's ugly or beautiful. He doesn't care much right now, with a single exception. And that exception finds him beautiful. Merlin might be more concerned about the fact that Arthur can't even look at him if he wasn't obviously flustered. He's putting bread on his plate.]

You sure you don't want to touch my leg?

[He nudges the other boy playfully.]

I'll even let you go all the way up to mid-thigh. Just don't tell your sibs about it.

[A pause.]

Okay, you can tell Lydia.

[scornfully]

[ Arthur scoffs. ]

The last person I'd tell would be Lydia. Do you know how much grief she's been giving me since Valentine's? Telling her I'd touched your leg "up to mid thigh" would make her unbearable.

[ But he says it fondly, because he doesn't really consider anything Lydia does unbearable. But she's his sister, and sisters do have a way of stirring things up. ]

I want ...

[ He holds up his plate now that the flush has passed. Honestly. It's so much easier to flirt when he's not actually that interested in romancing the person - which explains his awkwardness around Merlin. ]

To eat. Let's find somewhere to sit, shall we?

[busy]

Yeah, sure.

[Merlin piles his plate up quickly with sandwiches and chips and cookies and fruit. It's more than one teenage boy should be able to eat in a day, demigod or not. He settles across from the blond, stretching his legs out underneath the table.]

So is this the part where we start wearing each other's clothes?

[He looks Arthur up and down while thoughtfully crunching on a pickle slice.]

'Cause you'd look good in black.

[scornfully]

Please.

[ Arthur scoffs. ]

When your father's my father you learn that black is only appropriate for tuxedos and funerals.

[ He's not even kidding. Arthur owns one black suit and one tuxedo; the rest of his wardrobe is made up of navy to lights blues, reds, browns, and chinos. There's a lot of Ralph Lauren, okay, but then there has to be when one's intending to fit in at the country club. That's just the way of it. ]

Besides, as if any of your clothes would fit me. I'm not made of twigs and liquorice.

[ As Merlin so obviously is. Arthur crosses his legs under the table and peels open a sandwich to scrape out the butter. Good thing he picked up a plastic knife. ]

[busy]

[Merlin suddenly very nearly chokes on his own sandwich, and not because of anything that Arthur's said.]

What're you doing?

[He manages to rasp that much out before taking a drink of water to clear his throat. He looks from the plastic knife to Arthur's face, disbelief etched across his own.]

You're scraping out the best part! Give it here.

[Merlin opens up his bread. Do it.]

[scornfully]

Merlin.

[ Have a flat, vaguely disgusted look. ]

I'm not giving you my second-hand butter.

[ Ridiculous. Preposterous, even. No, instead of doing as he's told Arthur wipes off his knife on the edge of his plate, looking thoroughly unimpressed by the amount of butter used in his sandwich in the first place. ]

And I bet your cholesterol's all over the place.

[ All right, so he still doesn't really know what cholesterol is, but when he's at home his father makes ever such a fuss about it. Really, it's no wonder Arthur binges on sweets. ]

[busy]

But-

[That's as far as Merlin's protest gets. He looks at the butter (perfectly good butter despite his "second-hand" business) a little mournfully.

But a sudden thought perks him right up.]

Hey, does that count as our first lover's spat?

[scornfully]

[ ... Lover's spat? ]

What do you mean "lover's spat"?

[ He lifts an eyebrow at Merlin as he puts his de-buttered sandwich back together. Does that mean what he thinks (hopes) it means? After all, neither one of them has actually said it yet. ]

Do you actually want to ... [ He makes a vague gesture, and yes, this really is more difficult when he actually like-likes the other person. ] Go out with me?

[busy]

[Merlin stops chewing, and that could either be very good or very bad.]

Aren't we on a date right now?

[After all there's food and conversation and playing footsies under the-damn, he forgot about that. Merlin stretches his leg out and starts rubbing it furiously against Arthur's.]

[scornfully]

[ Have a flat look. ]

We're sitting in dresses eating crap food from a camp buffet.

[ Hopefully the Demeteorites didn't hear him day that, but. Come on. It's no dinner at the Savoy. ]

So no, Merlin, we're not "on a date".

[busy]

What's that got to do anything?

[Merlin looks partially amused, but genuinely curious too.]

I would wear a dress and eat crap food on a date with you.

[And if there is a Demeteorite within earshot?]

The food is hardly crappy though. These sandwiches are great.

[scornfully]

[ Arthur just nudges Merlin's foot back to his own side of the table, not entirely sure whether he's being made fun of or not. It's so difficult to tell with this one - almost as though Merlin goes out of his way to make himself unreadable. ]

But you probably think "hot pockets" are great.

[ And they're not, Merlin. They're really not. Therefore your argument is definitely invalid. ]

And please don't wear a dress on a date with me. What you do in your own home is fine, but ...

[ He raises his eyebrows, because really. ]

[busy]

Oooh, Hot Pockets.

[Someday Arthur's name may inspire the look of love and longing that crosses Merlin's face at the mention of Hot Pockets.]

Okay, so if this isn't a date, let's talk about going on a real one.

[Merlin gives him a look that's almost a challenge as he pops another chip into his mouth.]

I promise I won't wear a dress.

[He won't even wear black, but he's saving that as a surprise.]