Posts by MALACHI

[fancypost bgcolor= transparent; border: 0px transparent; width: 490px; text-align: justify; font-family: verdana; font-size: 9px; color: #000000;]Okay, so the son of Bia was sort of kind of a little fond of the minor holiday that was the feast day of St. Valentine. So what. So, what? He shoved a handful of candy hearts into his mouth and crunched on the sugary treats as another long exhale fled his lungs. His chest depleted itself of the air he had kept locked inside it for the last thirty seconds, his heart thudding away in measured beats; he refrained from inhaling for just as long, slowly, patiently counting the seconds. Thirty equaled breathe. He swallowed his mouthful of cavity-inducers, inhaled deeply, held his breath, mentally began counting off the seconds. There was a lulling quality in this series of actions, another thing he'd grown fond of. If anyone was curious as to why he was breathing in this way, or why his eyes were lightly closed, or why he was shirtless and sitting cross-legged in the snow that covered the Hades' Cabin garden, he wouldn't answer any passerby's off-kilter questions. Malachi just assumed it went without saying that he was meditating.

Really, now. It was a common practice of the demigod's, and if the campers around the Hill hadn't noticed it by now, well, that really wasn't his problem. He released his breath, but with this exhale, he let dark hazel eyes flutter open for a moment. From where he was seated it was almost a clear line of vision to the Main Hall, perhaps obscured only by a few trees or wandering satyr staff members. The massive log building was growing ever crowded by the moment, as the sun furthered it's descent towards the horizon and the evening crept in, closer and closer to the time of the holiday dance. It was something that the Aurum wouldn't usually attend, not because of any ill-will towards the holiday, but simply because he abhorred over-populated spaces and this dinner-slash-dance was almost certain to be just that. No, the long-haired young man wasn't a social butterfly. However, the dance had food. And after that food, it had dessert. And that, friends, was something Malachi would not be missing out on. So he had to charge through a mass of bodies that he probably towered over. That was a small price to pay for the sake of the menu.

Sitting there without upper-body clothing in the chilled winter air was a test, and he had failed it about thirteen minutes ago when he had started shivering. Stupid. If his body couldn't stand to sit in the cold without a coat for thirty fucking minutes, he most definitely didn't pass. Ah, well. There was always tomorrow. Or before then, since he'd most likely return to this garden around midnight or so, after the party died down and campers were returning to their dorms. It'd probably be colder by then, dipping even father below freezing temperatures, maybe it'd even snow. But that's what he got for failing the first time. Silly body.
With a heaving breath, the man rose to his feet, staggering on spindly legs until he regained his balance from the force he used to propel himself off the ground; a common drawback to being the son of the goddess of raw force and power was you often used too much of it in the middle of everyday movements. Like getting off of the ground. Mhm. No matter. He was used to it, and reclaimed composure within reasonable time. Then his ludicrously long strides were carrying him towards the dark-wooded entrance of the Hades Cabin, in search of a sweatshirt and more candy hearts.

// mal babe has arrived *squealing*[/fancypost]
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HADLEY. wrote:

_{okay i just found this picture and i am required to brag}

_{look how hot hadley's new avvie is okay}

_{i love her}

_{okay bye}

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[fancypost bgcolor= transparent; border: 0px transparent; width: 490px; text-align: justify; font-family: verdana; font-size: 9px; color: #000000;]After nearly a decade at Olympian Hill, you learned to disassociate yourself with most camp conflict. Kids were always bickering, arguing. On occasion, the turmoil would get out of hand, maybe even escalate to the use of godly powers, but being high-ranked didn't mean it was Malachi's responsibility to break it up. So when he had heard the shouting and arguing and knuckle-crunching outside, the boy didn't lend many thoughts to the matter. A campus full of demigods was bound of have some undermining problematic relationships. Was that his problem? Fuck no. So in the Hades cabin he stayed.

He was perched on his mattress, legs crossed Indian-style, arms lying awkwardly limp at his sides because he never quite knew what to do with the lanky limbs. Bia's son wasn't exactly meditating, per se, just sitting there, breathing. It was a simple and relaxing process, albeit one which most overlooked. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. An involuntary action which his body forced him to take, but a mesmerizing one nonetheless. Most action was interesting, but those that the body made without the mind's consent was even more so. Being the son of the goddess of raw force and power, movement and action, the twenty-one-year old paid great attention to these minute details. Similarly, however, he couldn't stand to sit still for long periods of time, and since he wasn't meditating, wasn't testing himself, he free to roam.

Mal uncurled himself from his bed, disentangling his legs from blankets and pillows, and walked a semi-circle around his room. Everything that wasn't one of the few furniture items in his quarters was stalked in haphazard piles and shoved into corners or on top of desks and dressers, not exactly clean but not entirely messy, either. It was easy to meander the carpet, which was worn down in the very way he was walking, a half circle beaten and trod into the plush flooring after years of pacing just as he was now. Dark eyes darted around the room, jumping from studying the neglected pile of college applications at his desk to the dream catcher above his bed; the overflowing trash bin in the corner to the pile of newly-cleaned clothes by the door. He had chores to do, he was due for a practice session, soon, and he probably needed to brush up on some horse riding lessons after having fallen out of them upon returning from his last quest, the likes of which had been weeks ago. He had a long list of things that needed doing, but he wasn't in the mood. So all of it was whisked from his mind, yet again, and he headed out the door.

The regular doom and gloom of the Hades cabin was particularly light that afternoon. Malachi had grown used to the downcast mood after having been a member of the darkest cabin on campus, but it was still a thing to appreciate when his fellow campers were seemingly less depressing than usual. Instead of slamming down and lighting up, the halls were empty of it's frequently loitering teens. Familiarity made them easy to maneuver, easier still since there were only one or two troubled hearts peppering the walk, their backs against the walls and their heads inclined towards their cigarettes. He couldn't help but feel sympathetic. He'd been like that, albeit a long time ago. Perhaps without the cancer stick, but he could relate to the younger half-bloods anyway: Malachi hadn't had such an easy go of things, despite what his constant calm suggested. Kids that were housed in the Hades cabin generally had it harder than the others... not to feel self-pity or loathing. He was just musing.
He was still capable of being pissed off that his cabinmates smoked inside, and that after years of trying to at least shoo the teens outside, the cabin presidents had given up completely; the very walls were forever perfumed by the heady scent of smoke. But oh, well. The young adult was already at the stairs, anyway. He descended the flight down to the first floor, his steps light and silent and-- doh. Malachi steeled his core and limbs to steady himself as a familiar red-head tumbled into him. Hadley. The son of Bia breathed a soft sigh, relaxing his stance as she reaffirmed her own. "Seems you enjoy attempting to run me over," he commented, his expression blank even despite the smugness he internally felt at the remark.

He didn't have time to feel amused at himself, though, because it was then that he noticed the bruises blossoming ominous black flowers across her face, her collarbone, her shoulders; the blood that was pooling delicate crimson pearls on her also bruised knuckles. What the fuck, what the fuck? Malachi's eyes-- his entire expression --darkened with a concoction of worry, anger and knowing. "What?" It was the only syllable his lips could managed to growl. She was the one that had gotten into that fight? Hadley? The man inhaled a ragged breath before taking her arm a bit too forcefully and inspecting the damage and abuse it had withstood. "What the fuck, Hadley, what the actual fuck? How the hell did this happen? Godsdammit, what did you do? Who the fuck did this?" It was hard to keep from roaring, but the male managed. He released his probably-too-tight grip on the daughter of Cybele's arm and instead ran a hand through his cascade of earthy brown hair, brushing it from his face. He needed to tie it back. No. Whatever. What had Hadley done? Who had she fought? What was it about? Where was her opponent? Malachi heaved another growl, desperately trying to avoid completely freaking out about a situation he didn't even understand or know the details of, before taking her by the wrist once again and tumbling down the last few stairs, headed for the cabin's front doors.
"You're going to the infirmary. Now."

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