Atlantis || P. Jackson

i. a fight and a drooling kid

──── Aster hated swords and he hated training with them even more.

It's not that he was useless with weapons or preferred singing hymns in the gods' glory – he was in reality a terrible singer, ask any child of Apollo. The last time he tried participating in those activities, Michael Yew kicked him out of the Amphitheater and banned him, saying that he could kill a gorgon with his pitch. At that time Aster just shrugged his shoulders and strolled out with the smuggest grin on his tanned face.

The actual problem laid with the annoying presence of the head counselor of his temporary home. The training had been scheduled so that each cabin had a particular time to attend the class. Usually the head counselors took charge of training the newbies (excluding the archery class; Chiron together with Apollo kids were the masters of it), and that meant the teachers choosing the type of exercise.

Now, cabin eleven and cabin five were the ones occupying the arena, sparring with other half-bloods or murdering training dummies. Ares' barbarians were slashing and stabbing anyone that approached them in a three meter radius, laughing like maniacs. Clarisse said that her half-siblings can use any weapon they feel comfortable with and she doesn't give a shit what it was as long as she could crush them later. It sounded pretty awesome, if you asked for Aster's opinion.

And guess what. Of course, Luke Castellan had to choose sword fighting, the narcissist he was. The umber-haired boy groaned when Luke yelled for him to swing wider. How was he supposed to, when they were repeating three moves for the past hour? All the stances were etched in his brain and muscles. He's been doing this for more than five years already. Besides, a sword was not even his weapon of choice.

"You're doing a great job, guys! Keep going! Be precise and focused." Content and shy smiles appeared on the younger kids' faces hearing the praise. The veins on Luke's arms looked like they were about to burst from the weighty wooden weapon. The blond turned towards him, piercing the younger boy with an attitude he did not appreciate. "Aster, focus."

"I am focused."

"No, you are not. You keep looking over to the other side of the arena."

"Well, maybe because they are actually doing something interesting, musclebrain." Aster snickered and glanced at Clarisse, who was demolishing her siblings. He really wanted to spar with her like they always did in their free time.

"Why do you have to be so difficult, Aster?"

"Why do you have to be so boring, Luke?" Aster untied the rubber band from his dark locks. "I'm tired, I'm taking a break."

Luke took a big breath and pinched the bridge of his nose. This kid was giving him a headache.

"We are not over yet. We'll finish in twenty minutes."

"Go cry about it, see if I care."

Aster rolled his eyes again and dropped his training sword on the ground. The muscles in his arms and shoulders were aching, and the only thing he wanted at that moment was to lay down on a bench under one of the columns. A thread of murmurs echoed behind his back, but he paid them no mind. He was used to them.