A Night Owl in the Early Morning | OPEN
Mar 2, 2018 2:05:50 GMT -5
Post by Deleted on Mar 2, 2018 2:05:50 GMT -5
Bleary-eyed and barely awake, Taylor Pierce was not ready to start a new day. In fact, there was nothing he wanted to do more than curling back up in his bed and refuse to reemerge until it was the afternoon. After all, he was the son of Urania, the muse of Astronomy. Being a night owl was in his blood. However, he wouldn't find Tyche granting him such luck anytime soon. He was a counselor, he needed to make sure that the others in the minors cabin got their rears in gear and did whatever they needed to do before the day ended. Well, that morning he had succeeded in waking them all up, with a little help from the other cabin leaders, but he knew that some of them probably fell right back asleep the moment they had turned their backs on them. It didn't matter to him, he was too tired to care, but at least they all knew that there would be some hell to pay if they slept through breakfast and it was Taylor's job to keep track of who showed up.
So, that's why Taylor looked like he had just downed the draught of living death from Harry Potter. His hair was unkempt and his bright orange camp shirt was wrinkled beyond recognition. Taylor could barely muster the energy to remember to give curt waves to the people who greeted him as he wandered into the mess hall and headed straight for the minor cabin's table. You could forget about him saying anything to them. He was going to need at least 15 minutes and some strong coffee before he could even dream of doing that without sounding like an ogre. He took his usual seat at their empty table. So far, it looked he was the only minor kid to make it to breakfast, unless, of course, they were making an offering at the central brazier. He didn't hold much hope for that notion though.
After downing a few gulps of the bottomless coffee that the golden goblets in the mess hall offered, Taylor decided that it was no good to waste the quiet atmosphere and pulled a little battered black notebook from his back pocket and began scribbling away in Ancient Greek. Anyone who knew him knew that this was his "creativity" notebook, but in truth, it was just a collection of word vomit and stream of consciousness. It was just his way of getting his brain to sputter into action for the day ahead. He was so focused on the task in front of him that he didn't even notice that a wood nymph with a plate full of food had approached him until the wafting smell of sizzling bacon invaded his senses. Graciously, he loaded up his plate and then promptly set it aside, wanting to reabsorb himself in his work. He could wait a few minutes to give some of it up as an offering, it's not like the gods were gonna care that it was somewhat cold.
It was a shame that Taylor was so focused on that little notebook. If hadn't been, he may have had a chance to stop his train of thought from being derailed by the footsteps that he had failed to notice were coming his way...
So, that's why Taylor looked like he had just downed the draught of living death from Harry Potter. His hair was unkempt and his bright orange camp shirt was wrinkled beyond recognition. Taylor could barely muster the energy to remember to give curt waves to the people who greeted him as he wandered into the mess hall and headed straight for the minor cabin's table. You could forget about him saying anything to them. He was going to need at least 15 minutes and some strong coffee before he could even dream of doing that without sounding like an ogre. He took his usual seat at their empty table. So far, it looked he was the only minor kid to make it to breakfast, unless, of course, they were making an offering at the central brazier. He didn't hold much hope for that notion though.
After downing a few gulps of the bottomless coffee that the golden goblets in the mess hall offered, Taylor decided that it was no good to waste the quiet atmosphere and pulled a little battered black notebook from his back pocket and began scribbling away in Ancient Greek. Anyone who knew him knew that this was his "creativity" notebook, but in truth, it was just a collection of word vomit and stream of consciousness. It was just his way of getting his brain to sputter into action for the day ahead. He was so focused on the task in front of him that he didn't even notice that a wood nymph with a plate full of food had approached him until the wafting smell of sizzling bacon invaded his senses. Graciously, he loaded up his plate and then promptly set it aside, wanting to reabsorb himself in his work. He could wait a few minutes to give some of it up as an offering, it's not like the gods were gonna care that it was somewhat cold.
It was a shame that Taylor was so focused on that little notebook. If hadn't been, he may have had a chance to stop his train of thought from being derailed by the footsteps that he had failed to notice were coming his way...
