A Failure To Adapt (Closed)

After finishing my lunch I decided I'd go to the Amphitheater to get in some violin practice. It was usually empty, not many people went there unless there was a campfire going on and they wanted to escape the horrifying clutches of the Harpies that could hunt you down. The quietness of the Amphitheater was always nice. I never liked to have prying eyes on me while I played, it was really the only safe place I could go where no one would pop up. I could have played in my cabin, but it was a seemingly exceptional say outside, and I liked to soak up the outside air with the sun beating down on my face. As I walked I hummed a few songs, trying to sort through my large mental CD collection to figure out which song I wanted to play. Maybe I would try to make some heavy metal sound a little less heavy.

I was stopped in my tracks as I looked up to see Harlie walking down the steps of the Amphitheater bleachers. She wasn't hard to miss with her firetruck red hair framing her face and falling past her shoulders. Part of me wondered why she was alone and not out making friends, but then again, why was I alone and not out hanging out with my friends?
"Hey," I found myself calling out to her. "I... Hope I'm not intruding," I said, concerned that I had interrupted her thought process.

I continued to walk farther into the Amphitheater, glad I hadn't overstepped my boundaries. You never really knew how demigods would act to new people, especially knew demigods who were still trying to get over the shock of being lied to their whole life. I knew that not all demigods considered this place home like I did. I reached over my head to pull my violin over my it and hold it by it's neck just below the head piece.
"I got my bow back, so I was going to do some playing to make up for time lost," I explained, holding up the oak bow strung with white Pegasus tail hair slightly. I remembered when I first met her that I had given it to my buddy to fix.

I searched my mind for something to say to Harlie, but I couldn't make myself form a sentence. There was something about the redheaded girl that made curiosity bubble inside me. Nothing I wanted to say seemed efficient enough to ask so that my questions would be answered, and I didn't want to bombard her with questions about her personal life. If I did that, then she might get curious about me and I would have to spill my life story, and I was in no mood to vomit a bunch of locked up feelings some of those topics would uncover on her, so I decided to give it a rest and gave up looking interesting.
"What about you?" I started. "What are you doing out here alone?

I shrugged casually at her question. I still hadn't sorted through all of the heavy metal songs I knew to pick one.
"I'm not sure," I admitted, bringing my arm to the back of my neck to scratch at the tips of my dark, messy hair, something I had just recently noticed I did when I was unsure of something, or felt awkward. My original plan had been to play a private venue, consisting only of me, myself and I, but I didn't want to make Harlie think I didn't want her around, because that wasn't the case.
"You have a suggestion?" I asked her, after deciding that if she wanted to hear me play, I would play for her. If not, I'd play her suggestion anyway, but to myself.

I liked asking people for song requests. Turning songs into something you could play and make sound nice on the violin was a bit of a challenge, especially when you were doing it without any former practice, but I liked a challenge. People often told me I 'probably wouldn't know it', but I had only been stumped a few times.

Having a radio in the Apollo cabin that played music constantly was a great asset to my siblings and I. We often discovered new songs on it, so my mental library of music was very vast. I had an ear for music, which made it easy for me to play it after hearing a song, and once I heard the song it kind of just stuck, even if I didn't want it to. The added bonus to having brothers and sisters who share a love for music as much as you do, was that you were often introduced to songs you didn't know by them.
"Hey, Fletch, check this song out."
"Hey dude, you ever heard of this song?"
"Bro! My ears just jammed to the sickest bass drop ever!"
We were a group consisting of a very colourful music taste. I brought my attention back to Harlie and waited to see if she could give me a song to play.

I searched my mind to get a hold of the song lyrics and chords. It only took a moment to separate the song from the many One Republic songs I knew, after all, I had remembered previously thinking it would sound good on the violin when I had first heard it. The chords seemed to arrange themselves in my mind, creating a mental visual of the sheet music others would have had to look at to play a song they hadn't practiced.

I walked over to the bleachers of the Amphitheater and took a seat, waving to Harlie to follow before readying the instrument, placing it naturally on my shoulder. I rested my jaw on the black head rest comfortably. I took hold of the bow in the familiar way my fingers always wrapped around it. Before I started playing, I stroked the bow along the strings, moving my fingers as I did to make sure the chords I had picked out were correct. The perks of this violin was that it was charmed to always stay in tune. Some campers weapons were charmed to reappear in their pockets when they were lost. Mine was not, which was why I was so protective over my violin. If I lost it, it was gone, and I wouldn't be able to get another one like it. I shook the thoughts and re-focused on the song. I took a deep breath in and looked up at Harlie, meeting her green eyes. I smiled at her, then dropped my gaze to look nowhere in particular and started playing.

My bow moved in steady strokes across the strings, my fingers danced on the frets instinctively as I concentrated on the chords I had mapped out in my head. The violin sang it's rendition of the One Republic song, and it sounded just as I had pictured it would. At the beginning of the song, they were sharp and short, I didn't stretch the notes like I planned to during the chorus. I used the middle of my bow to keep them precise. Unfortunately, I didn't have another violinist with me to carry on the pattern, because I needed to switch to long strokes of the bow that carried the recognizable tune. My favourite part soon came, and I switched to stroking the bottom strings to create a higher pitched sound. I transitioned the notes smoothly by not lifting my bow before my fingers had re-positioned. I tapped my heel to the ground as the chorus came, perking up and letting the music move through me. I glanced at Harlie to see how she thought I was doing, continuing to play, no longer needing my concentration all that much as the song progressed.

I took her humming and quiet singing as a good sign that I was doing well. I almost wished she kept on singing. I loved to play for people who sang along. It made me feel like I was in an awesome band. I was glad I wasn't butchering it for her. Some people wouldn't appreciate the sound of the violin on their songs, which I could understand, sometimes the sound of the string instrument was too harsh or high pitched for others. I, on the other hand, couldn't possibly love it any more than I already did.

Not finished yet, I played the song as it sped up, playing the actual song in my head to figure out the tempo. As I played it seemed like all of camp washed away. The voices of campers carried throughout the camp were drowned out by the music. The ending of the song came much too quickly. Before I knew it I was playing the last few chords, letting it end with shorter strokes of my violin that I dragged out a little longer to get the slower, fading effect.

Once I was finished, I slumped into my usual posture, definitely noticeably slouched compared to the straight-as-a-board posture I used when playing music, thanks to my grandmother for drilling that into my head at a young age. I let out a content sigh, letting my mouth turn up at the edges. I felt a new carefree happiness in my chest, as I always did when I played music. It was like it recharged my batteries. I took the violin from off my shoulders and sat it on my lap, gripping just below the headpiece on the neck board, my thumbs brushed the bronze tuning pegs. I held my bow lazily in between my legs and turned my happy gaze to Harlie.
"So? What'd you think?" I asked her.

I looked at the redheaded girl that sat beside me with a slightly confused expression on my face. Usually campers jumped at the chance to get out of their activities easy and show a new kid around. We were all pretty friendly here, and showing someone around was a sure-fire way to become friends. Well, if no one else had offered to do it, I definitely would. I lifted my violin over my head and draped it over my shoulder, the strap hugging my chest to let the instrument hang familiarly on my back. I slipped the bow into the pocket I had made for it and stood up.
"Of course you can," I finally answered her. "It's pretty easy to get around here," I said. "Everything is basically in a circle." I thought for a moment. The Amphitheater was right next to the climbing wall and the arts and crafts building. Eager to stay away from the climbing wall I decided to lead her to the Arts and Crafts center.
"C'mon," I ushered. "This way," I made a left and started walking as Harlie followed.

As we walked, I took it upon myself to find out some more about her. I didn't want to ask her any questions about her past just yet, the problem was, was that that was what plucked at my curiosity most. I was always curious about where people came from and their stories, but no one ever wanted to share or relive the not-so-great pasts they had gone through. I decided to bring up another question instead, bringing my thoughts back to my previous questions I had.
"So, why haven't you gotten a tour yet?"

Her abrupt stop nearly made me look around as if there was trouble around camp, before I realized there are magical borders protecting us from monsters. I followed her lead and stopped, letting her question process through my mind. She had been here for a week, and I wondered why she hadn't been claimed. A lot of demigods worried about when they would get claimed. I hadn't had to wait very long to get claimed by Apollo. He was a chill dad and never really minded what his children were capable of. Some other Gods had sticks shoved up their butts and took a much longer time to get claimed.
"Well, you'll get claimed when your Godly parent notices you," I explained. "Sometimes demigods need to earn being claimed by doing something that the Gods can't ignore, sometimes they're claimed right as they get into camp." I paused to try and figure out how to phrase my next explanation.
"Sometimes kids never get claimed... Because their parents just don't like them." Wow, way to make that sound better, Fletch. I thought to myself sarcastically. Quickly, I added,
"But that rarely happens... Another way some campers get claimed is if they figure out their godly power before hand." I remembered the recent claiming of my little sister Bodine, who had been claimed after shooting an arrow straight into a bullseye with her personalized bow.

I started walking again. She continued to follow at my side. Our pace was slower so we would have more time to talk about random things, and so that I could answer any of her questions she hadn't had answered. I liked hanging out with her, seeing as she didn't have much friends at camp, if any, and I remembered when I was here for my first year, I avoided as much demigod contact as I could and just hung around the Nymphs and Satyrs. Demigods had intimidated me back then. They were so powerful, and at the time I didn't feel very powerful at all. It was much easier to hang around the forest people, who enjoyed music and fun just as much as I did.

I stopped to hold a hand out at my side once we had reached the Arts and Crafts center to indicate we had made it.
"Arts and Crafts. The only down time you'll get in your day of training if you're lucky to have it in your schedule," I introduced. Paintings and artwork made by campers in the past hung from the walls, decorating them in different colours and themes. There was a cabin in there, they looked like Demeter children. I spotted my friend Morgan Rossi sitting by a canvas with brightly coloured paints at her sides. Streaks of yellow and orange painted her face just as much as the canvas she was working on. I had seen her artwork before and it was beautiful. Her shoulder length black hair with blue dyed into her bangs hung in her face as she worked and I wondered how it didn't bother her. She looked up to dip her paintbrush in water, when her brown eyes met Harlie and I standing in the entrance.
"Haiku Face!" She greeted me by my nickname that was created by my close friends while we were on a quest, but had carried around camp and was now what I answered to a lot of the time.
"Hey, Morgan," I called over. She got up and placed her canvas from where it leaned onto the wooden table and made her way over to us. Her eyes trailed to Harlie and she gave a look of approval.
"Sweet hair," She complimented.

(http://halfbloodheroes.freeforums.net/thread/15/npc-list Morgan is here if you need more details on how to play her! If you don't want to, I can make this thread longer.)