Kiss My Axe
Junior Member
-
Location: The Forges | Mood: Focused
Outfit: White undershirt, jeans, and steel-toe boots
Tags: revalia CtrlAltDelicious athereal Maree cinnabuns ShadyAce
✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦
Flint was, as usual, buried in his work. It wasn't unusual for him to lose track of hours while in the forges, but his most recent project had become an obsession, which he would never mention to the person who would be receiving it. It had started off as a simple comment that he should've ignored. Felicity, daughter of Aphrodite, and the girl he'd been 'seeing'(Read: Hooking up with) for a few months had mentioned that she wanted a new weapon. Anyone else would've shrugged it off, but the craftsman in him couldn't. It had been simple curiosity that had him asking what kind of things she'd want in her weapon. Within an hour of intensive, specific questioning, he had the perfect vision for what she needed. And what kind of son of Hephaestus would he be if he abandoned it there? It had taken him almost two months to get it the way he wanted it, the longest a simple weapon had taken him in years. He was one of the best in the forges, he usually didn't need more than a week for most projects, but this one was just different. Not because he was sleeping with the receiver of the weapon, but because of who she was. She needed a weapon that would protect her, but between her personality and her parentage, she also needed something elegant, something that screamed, 'Daugher of Aphrodite.' He was a perfectionist.
The nearly-finished weapon was in his hands. The accuracy was incredibly, the main part of the crossbow-pistol was a rose-gold color, the handle wrapped in leather for a more comfortable grip. On one side of the weapon, the word, 'Felicity' was engraved in an elegant calligraphy, and on the other, in the same script, was, 'Beauty Queen,' his nickname for her. Personalized, of course. She'd asked for some kind of rhinestone implemented in it, and it had taken all of his strength to not immediately discard the idea. Instead, he'd swallowed his manly pride, and painstakingly inserted brightly colored, valuable gems stolen by Hermes kids, making a rose made entirely of gemstones, with a background of flames. Normally, he'd stamp any weapon he made with a hammer, just as a little calling card, but this one, as previously stated, was different. He'd even made it disguisable, which he didn't often do for free. But if anyone pressed on the rose, it would collapse into a ring with a rose design. Only she could expand it back into weapon form, by pressing on the rose of the ring. He'd made almost fifty bolts for it, all having shafts of hardwood, fletching of pegasus down(No pegasi were harmed in the making of the weaponry), and tips of celestial bronze. He'd even gotten the Demeter cabin to give him a few vials of poison made of nightshade, which hadn't been cheap, to dip the tips of the bolts in. If the poison got in her target's bloodstream, it would result in vomiting, hallucinations, delirium, increased heartrate, and eventually, after a while of agonizing symptoms, death. It wasn't exactly for Capture the Flag.
He had made every single part of the weapon himself, even engraving the words in it with a steel pen. It was, perhaps, a gift from his father that he could do tasks as delicate as engraving, when his bulky frame would usually suggest a certain amount of clumsiness. The only part he'd entrusted someone else for was paying a Hecate camper to enchant it, making it far more durable. Even if she dropped it, it shouldn't scratch, and the bolts would almost never shatter unless she shot them against rock or metal. After almost three months, it was finished, he'd done the last touches that afternoon. He snagged the ring box he'd bought from a mortal store nearby and slid the disguised crossbow into it, closing it immediately.
Perhaps there was a reason he'd put so much time and energy into the project. The environment around camp was beginning to get... Tense. People had gone from carefree and happy to being stressed, fearing for their lives, almost overnight. A satyr had returned from a mission retrieving a demigod, half-dead and unsuccessful in his task, muttering and rambling about the rising of those almost forgotten. It hadn't taken the campers long to figure out what that might be talking about. The Primordial Gods, those so ancient and powerful that no demigod could stand a chance against them. There had been signs, omens, for months, but never anything concrete, but this was a, admittedly mildly insane, eyewitness, claiming he looked into the light of Aether. And what else could've caused damage to the poor goat's eyes? They were almost completely burned away, his vision obliterated with his eyes.
Since then, camp had changed. No more Capture the Flag, instead, it was War Preparation, constant patrols, and the mutterings of a quest. They needed a solution, and they only had one chance.
The nearly-finished weapon was in his hands. The accuracy was incredibly, the main part of the crossbow-pistol was a rose-gold color, the handle wrapped in leather for a more comfortable grip. On one side of the weapon, the word, 'Felicity' was engraved in an elegant calligraphy, and on the other, in the same script, was, 'Beauty Queen,' his nickname for her. Personalized, of course. She'd asked for some kind of rhinestone implemented in it, and it had taken all of his strength to not immediately discard the idea. Instead, he'd swallowed his manly pride, and painstakingly inserted brightly colored, valuable gems stolen by Hermes kids, making a rose made entirely of gemstones, with a background of flames. Normally, he'd stamp any weapon he made with a hammer, just as a little calling card, but this one, as previously stated, was different. He'd even made it disguisable, which he didn't often do for free. But if anyone pressed on the rose, it would collapse into a ring with a rose design. Only she could expand it back into weapon form, by pressing on the rose of the ring. He'd made almost fifty bolts for it, all having shafts of hardwood, fletching of pegasus down(No pegasi were harmed in the making of the weaponry), and tips of celestial bronze. He'd even gotten the Demeter cabin to give him a few vials of poison made of nightshade, which hadn't been cheap, to dip the tips of the bolts in. If the poison got in her target's bloodstream, it would result in vomiting, hallucinations, delirium, increased heartrate, and eventually, after a while of agonizing symptoms, death. It wasn't exactly for Capture the Flag.
He had made every single part of the weapon himself, even engraving the words in it with a steel pen. It was, perhaps, a gift from his father that he could do tasks as delicate as engraving, when his bulky frame would usually suggest a certain amount of clumsiness. The only part he'd entrusted someone else for was paying a Hecate camper to enchant it, making it far more durable. Even if she dropped it, it shouldn't scratch, and the bolts would almost never shatter unless she shot them against rock or metal. After almost three months, it was finished, he'd done the last touches that afternoon. He snagged the ring box he'd bought from a mortal store nearby and slid the disguised crossbow into it, closing it immediately.
Perhaps there was a reason he'd put so much time and energy into the project. The environment around camp was beginning to get... Tense. People had gone from carefree and happy to being stressed, fearing for their lives, almost overnight. A satyr had returned from a mission retrieving a demigod, half-dead and unsuccessful in his task, muttering and rambling about the rising of those almost forgotten. It hadn't taken the campers long to figure out what that might be talking about. The Primordial Gods, those so ancient and powerful that no demigod could stand a chance against them. There had been signs, omens, for months, but never anything concrete, but this was a, admittedly mildly insane, eyewitness, claiming he looked into the light of Aether. And what else could've caused damage to the poor goat's eyes? They were almost completely burned away, his vision obliterated with his eyes.
Since then, camp had changed. No more Capture the Flag, instead, it was War Preparation, constant patrols, and the mutterings of a quest. They needed a solution, and they only had one chance.
-