On the sandy beach by the ocean blue. (Deacon)

Angharad sure did miss Camp Jupiter.  She missed the camp terrain, the routine of being a legionnaire in the camp, the agenda, customs, and traditions, and the fact that they were isolated from the Greeks. But, obviously, there wasn't much she could do about it.  There was absolutely nothing that could be done about it.  Lamenting about her woes was something that she couldn't afford to do, not after supreme damage had been done and the main focus was getting back on their feet.  Their whole freaking camp had been destroyed by Titans and Egyptians.  Ironically, the same thing had happened to the Greeks, and it was only prudent to combine with the Greeks to start a team of Greco-Romans to strengthen themselves against a force that the Romans alone could not destroy. Angharad absolutely mistrusted and despised the Greeks.  She mistrusted them because of their hostile history with the people, and despised them because of what she saw as lax, undisciplined, sloppy, and inferior ways.  She didn't gracefully force herself to coexist and work together with them as one.  Angharad was not going to give up her loathing of them without a fight--she was just stubborn like that in her bias.  But, again, there wasn't much of a choice she had.  Ang could easily say that she would rather die than fight alongside them, but the truth was, she would make herself do it.  The legion was requiring her to.  The survival of the legion was what mattered, even if they had to pretend not to be a legion at the moment. Don't get her started on that.  In her heart, the original concept of a Roman legion existed.  The Praetors, Centurions, Legionnaires, Probatios.  Even when they were squished into some huger Greco-Roman society with different city-like roles for every Roman and Greek demigod to fit in to what they did best--almost like an economy of sorts, the old and simpler ways still counted to her.  And they would, one day, be back in existence.  All would be normal again after this whole business was over.  They would get rid of the Egyptians and Titans and restore themselves in Camp Jupiter.  She was doing all she could to contribute to the cause so that the moment would come when she could return home.  Well, Ang had a high rank in the Garrison.  That was a starting point, and to be honest, she reveled in the fighting.  Fighting was a necessary evil in an unfortunate situation, and this situation was the worst of the worst.  But, being the daughter of Bellona, she couldn't help but feel invigorated by the idea of going to war and going into combat, bloodying her sword and risking her life for glory.  That was enticing and rewarding indeed. She also had to acknowledge that the location on the island was perfect in many ways for their defense, and it was a thought that comforted her.  It also helped that the island was beautiful.  And then, this society that the two different demigod races formed was extraordinary indeed.  It was advanced, and she never would've imagined that demigods could operate like that.  It was almost like living in Cardiff again--of course, the capital of Wales was much larger than the island, but still.  She knew the gravity of their plight but she liked her job in Concordia.  It kept her busy and active, and busy and active was what she liked the best, especially when it had to do with military matters. But, right now Angharad was not busy.  She had time to herself, and she decided to use this time to relax on the beach.  It was a truly beautiful beach; and it felt good to be on one again.  The last time she had been to a beach was when she was eight years-old with her father, step-mother, and half-brother on a trip to Penbryn Beach in Wales.  It had been a lovely sight to behold, but Angharad was convinced that this beach was prettier.  It must really do Poseidon proud. The girl had been taking an idle stroll across the sand, alone.  Angharad's feet were bare and she was holding her Vans sneakers in her hands; she was donning a purple Camp Jupiter t-shirt and denim capris with rolled-up cuffs--she wasn't adverse to wearing regular clothing when she was off-duty.  After all, she was still a teenage girl who had a taste of the modern world, even in dire times like this. However, she stopped walking and turned to gaze forward at the pristine water ahead of her.  Never had she seen water was clear as that.  She stood there with her back straight, proud, cold blue eyes staring at the gorgeous scene in front of her.  Part of her wanted to sneak her feet into the water, but she thought that would be a childish thing to do.  Although, maybe if no one was around to see...      Tag: @deacon

created by rynstone

IDK WHAT HAPPENED HERE! IT WAS JUST GONE! 0.0

She probably thought that she still loathed the Greeks as freshly as she had when they first merged together at Concordia.  But, inside, one could say that she had learned to come to terms with their presence after five years.  She'd loosened up a bit--she was still rigid, but as time passed and she began to blend in, she had learned to tone her discrimination down.  At least she didn't have the instinct to hiss and snarl all of the time when she saw a Greek.  No, in fact, nowadays, it was hard to distinguish between the Greeks and the Romans.  They were beginning to become one and the same.  Although Angharad still recognized some who were her own, the newer Romans could be Greaci for all she knew.  Former legionnaires were not as obligated to be as stony in their demeanor in Concordia, it seemed.  That was pretty frustrating to Angharad, Angharad who still held the conventional ways at heart. Anyway, going back to her interactions with the Greeks in Concordia.  She still held her biases and felt disapproving where she could find things to scoff at about the Greeks.  But, now, she was almost casual with them, even if she didn't let her guard down--she'd always forced herself to be courteous, but being casual was the next step to tolerance.  Who wouldn't become casual with someone they had to be stuck with for years? And, anyway, it wasn't like they are completely unbearable.  She had worked together with the Greeks in the garrison for so long and she acknowledged that they were competent in their jobs.  The Greeks weren't dumb.  If they had been, how could they have been the adversary of the Romans for centuries? Perhaps it had only been the lax norms of the Greeks that she had despised all along, not the way they worked. Before she could look around to see if anyone was around before stepping into the water, someone made their presence known.  She immediately stood up straighter if she hadn't been straight enough before, cursing in Welsh in her mind.  She wasn't sure why she was irritated--because she was on the verge of doing something childish in front of someone, or because the presence of another person stopped her from doing it. She sharply darted her gaze from the beach to the the corner of her eye, giving the intruder an icy sidelong glance.  It was a young man with blonde hair and blue eyes around her age.  He was a good-looking one, too, although that barely meant anything to Angharad. She'd never seen him before.  Who was he? What was his job in Concordia? Was he Greek or Roman? That was impossible to tell.  His greeting would've probably been considered informal back at Camp Jupiter, but after five years at Concordia, that could've been from just about any Roman.  Angharad too hadn't saluted a fellow camper in a long time.  The need to salute kind of died away some time ago, and she only did it to her authorities, sad to say.  There wasn't any point in saluting now and she'd just learned to keep her speech formal as opposed to using gestures that bespoke discipline, because that wasn't how things worked here.  Even the hardiest of beings learned to adapt. Angharad crossed her arms, although still keeping a firm grip on her sneakers in her hand, letting them dangle to the side.  "It is a fine day, indeed," she agreed with him, although with an edge in her tone.  She was wary of being approached by a person she barely knew, as usual; in Camp Jupiter, everyone was her brethren.  In Concordia, the people around her were strangers who she shared a common cause with.  Even if there were Romans, she felt estranged from many of them in the past five years, especially if they hadn't been at Camp Jupiter before. She wanted to know who she was talking to.  Yet, it didn't feel right to just bombard him with questions about his identity.  Even the utterly straightforward Angharad understood that.  Therefore, she would let him start the conversation if he so wished to talk to her.  If not, and the silence dragged on for a while, she figured she could excuse herself curtly and simply walk away.  It probably wouldn't have hurt to idly ask who he was, but the thing is, Angharad wasn't a conversation starter.  She wasn't your regular social, charismatic person who was adept to saying the cutesy pleasantries.  The daughter of Bellona knew that her frankness could make the air awkward; she didn't want to come off as hostile--the boy had done nothing wrong to her, yet. Tag: @deacon

created by rynstone

Deacon let his eyes rest on the girl longer than he should have. Generally he can read a person in a simple glace, but something about her was mysterious and intrigued him. She was absolutely beautiful. The longer her looked at her, the most strongly he felt about it. But all of that was irrelevant.

For as long as they had been on Concordia, it had become more and more difficult to tell the difference between Greeks and Romans. Despite this, Deacon was easily able to tell that she was Roman, and had been for a long time. She was standing tall, not slouched and relaxed like many newbies were. She also had an air of superiority that floated around her like perfume.

Deacon squinted before finally turning his eyes to the horizon. The way she spoke confirmed his already forming assumptions about her lineage. Definitely Roman. Not that it bothered him. He understood the strategic need for both groups and appreciated their willingness to help. But not everyone felt the same way.

With a kind smile on his face, Deacon turned and reached his hand forward, "Deacon Jacoby." He said, looking directly in her eyes, "Son of Athena and Captain to the Minotaur." Deacon was trying to mix his normal, relaxed personality with the serious vibe she seemed so attached to. He wondered vaguely to himself how she would look if she were simply having fun.

She watched him staring at the horizon, wondering if he'd speak.  But, while she observed him, Angharad had to acknowledge that not only did he have good looks, but there was a quality to his features that made him look wise and serene.  He reminded her a bit of Owain.  Owain, too, normally at ease and in the know.  However, being a son of Bellona, Owain had a somewhat hard edge to him as well.  That never escaped a Roman ex-legionnaire who had lived in a strict environment from his early teens to adulthood.  So, even if his greeting (which had been a casual "Awesome day, huh?") wasn't the best to Angharad, his demeanor wasn't all that bad.  It was better than acting like a loud and sloppy fool.  And, it was probably the most she'd ever be able to find in a place like Concordia. It didn't take him a long time to start talking again, and to her surprise, she felt relieved.  When had she ever cared about such trifles like holding pleasant conversations? She spoke when she found it necessary and said what she wanted to say without a care.  Or maybe, Angharad wasn't indifferent to everything as she thought she was.  She didn't mind just walking away if the boy wasn't interested in chatting; however, perhaps Angharad was a tad bit interested in him. He turned his gaze from the horizon to look at her.  The smile on his face was a warm one, but the way he was looking into her eyes balanced it out.  He looked kind, but not too sweet.  She didn't know why, but she read intelligence in those blue eyes of his.  Again, he was reminding her of Owain; maybe more gentler than Owain was, but the boy before her had that humble and level-headed demeanor to him that was similar to her brother's. If he was a Roman, then he was one who hadn't plunged down too low yet.  If he was a Greek, she supposed that he wasn't the worst sort.  Her eyes bore sharply into his in return, listening to him introduce himself. His name was Deacon Jacoby.  He was Greek, obviously, if his mother was Athena, the Greek version of Minerva.  No wonder why she had found him to be rather smart, just by looking at him.  But what surprised her the most was that he was a Captain, just like her.  Granted, he was a Captain to the Minotaur Brigade, but they still held the same rank.  He must be a good fighter--and a strategic, one, too.  She could respect that. Thinking about her rank and seeing it on a Greek only reminded her just how deep they all were into this advanced society they called Concordia.  The Garrison was like the British military. Just...just how long were they going to continue on like this? Were they all going to live here forever, even after they got rid of their enemies? After all, they had put an enormous amount of work and effort in the last five years into refining the island to serve as a city for them to thrive in.  It wasn't just a gigantic camp.  It was a city on an island.  There were markets and buildings.  They couldn't just leave all of that as if it were nothing but rubble.  This was a civilization at best.  She was proud of what they all had accomplished.  Yet, deep down, she really missed the smaller legion. But now was no the time to dwell upon that.  Because, right now, what was on her mind was the hand he had extended toward her.  To shake it or not to shake it?  She looked at it with a fleeting look of uncertainty.  Angharad wasn't used to shaking hands.  In the outside world, it was the only thing she could do, but to another demigod, she wasn't so sure.  Her first instinct was to salute, but again, saluting those who were not your authorities was pretty much for grandparents.  Even she didn't want to look like the odd one out.  It was time to get with the times. Internally swallowing, she commanded herself to do it with confidence.  Power and confidence, that was the key.  Uncrossing her arms, she assumed her grim expression again, reached over with her available hand. and took his hand in hers, gripping it firmly (maybe a little too firmly) and rigidly giving it a single shake.  "Angharad Gwyn, daughter of the Roman goddess of war, Bellona."  She released her hand from his and let it lie at her side.  "Captain of the Phoenix Brigade."  She gave him a stiff nod.  "It's a pleasure to make the acquaintance of a fellow captain...Captain Jacoby."          Tag: @deacon

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A hard squeeze of Deacon's hand told him that she was more nervous than she should be. Was nervous the right word? Maybe he should say she seemed outside of her comfort zone. Maybe she was one of those people that loved the saluting thing those Romans did before they ended up on this island. Was it disrespectful for him to offer to shake her hand instead or saluting her. Especially now that he realized who she was, another Captain. Maybe a salute would have been more appropriate? Oh well, it's not like it actually mattered. That crazy Commander wasn't around to yell at them for being too casual.

Her voice was beautiful. Deacon couldn't quite decide what he liked about it, but angelic was a word that came to mind quickly. Tough, strict, and a little on the awkward side. That would be Deacon's first official review of the girl known as Angharad Gywn.

"Do you see a uniform anywhere?" He teased her, motioning to his simple white button up shirt with the sleeve rolled up and jeans, "It's just Deacon out here, no need for formalities." Honestly, he just wanted to see how she responded to someone pushing her to drop the strict mask she pulls over the face and be a little casual.

He was a fellow captain.  The realization that it was not odd to salute to a fellow captain hit her like lightning.  Oh, for the sake of Llywelyn Fawr, how could she have forgotten that? That would've made it easier for her. Maybe it had to do with the workings of her subconscious mind that compelled her to actually attempt to shake his hand.  Deacon had made a somewhat decent impression upon her.  Part of it owed itself to his demeanor that reminded her of Owain, and how naturally intelligent he looked.  She wasn't sure if she would've thought the same had she still been in Camp Jupiter, though.  Perhaps her standards had lowered considerably after the past five years of residing in Concordia.   She was one of the very few who still held onto that stiflingly strict epitome of Roman legionnaire aura,  after all.  She couldn't expect to find other people that could match her utter formality and strictness, so she didn't expect to find anyone like that.  Rather, she just accepted the best there was to be found.  Either way, while his speech and demeanor still too relaxed for her own taste, but he was one of the "better" demigods in Concordia.  Him being a captain bespoke discipline, bravery and strength--and, now that she knew who his mother was, he was also smart.  That was admirable, and it could've been a lot worse. And then, there was the realization that shaking hands was what most demigods did nowadays on Concordia.  She was sure that other Romans did it too.  Angharad was probably the only person who hadn't shook hands with anyone on the island yet.  Ang didn't find herself in situations where shaking hands was required, for she spent most of her time doing her captain duties or sparring.  But, there would be times like these when she made new acquaintances like this and she would have to greet them in a way that was not merely crossing her arms and giving them a stony stare...especially to people who caught her fancy. All in all, she would've done what she could to turn back time and redo it again, but that was impossible.  No one was Kronos here.  She had no choice but to accept that she had shaken his hand and that she'd just be more cautious about assuming that she had no choice but to take the hand next time...although, shaking his hand hadn't been all that bad, either, if she really thought about it. And, as she predicted, he was coaxing her to ease up, in his own way.  This wasn't the first time that someone had assured her that there was no need to be so formal; but, as many times as people have tried to get her to let down her guard, Angharad was never capable of doing so.  She too hardheaded to. "Whether you wear a uniform or not, I'd much rather call you by your title, Captain," she said frankly.  "I would likewise prefer to be called Captain Gwyn."  There was a time when that would've been Legionnaire Gwyn, but, well, legionnaires were the stuff of legend now.  Angharad would've been content to just leave it there, but she also realized that he probably wouldn't understand why she was being so formal.  There were people who wondered if she had a good reason for it other than that it was just in her nature.  Therefore, she added impassively, "I am...as other people would say, a very formal person in character and disposition."              Tag: @deacon

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Deacon was legitimately torn between the facets of his own personality. Did he push her to be more informal with him? He could just call her by her name, even give her an affectionate pet name to show her he didn't have any intention of backing down. Or he could respect her preferences without argument and make her feel more comfortable. After all, he did understand the formal nature of the Roman kids and even respected her position as Captain. That's when it hit him.

He winked at her and shot her a dazzling smile, "Aye aye, Captain Ang." He couldn't decide if this was reckless or not. She could actually hate him for it, which, for some reason, would really bother him. Normally he didn't mind who he annoyed with his snarky behavior. But this girl...something was different.

As if trying to back-track, he sent her a weak salute and tried to smile lightly. He knew that the damage was already done and that he would have to live with his decision to be an asshole, but maybe she wouldn't respond as badly as he assumed she was capable.

Angharad hadn't pegged Deacon as a playful sort of person, yet.  He had showed himself to be relaxed and not very caring for formalities.  Well, that wasn't anything bad.  She figured that he would be formal when the time called for it.  She acknowledged that there really was no need to be so ceremonial off-duty, especially when she was on the beach.  But she couldn't imagine herself any other way.  It was just in her behave officially for the each of the twenty-four hours of the seven days in a week, and it had always been like that for all of her life.  She supposed that the only person who she dropped some of that behavior around was her brother, Owain.  With him she didn't feel the need to be as guarded as she usually was, even if she didn't fully realize that yet.  He was special to her like that.  They had a close sibling bond and he was the one of the few people she ever heeded when she her temper was raw.  Granted, she didn't listen to him most of the time--or, at least, it took awhile for her to finally do as he told, but at least she gave him a chance to be her unofficial guide without him having to officially command orders at her. Anyway, she stared at him with narrowed eyes and felt a stab of irritation and annoyance when he winked at her and playfully called her by a nickname that was actually used sometimes by other campers who she had known since her first day at Camp Jupiter.  They took the liberty to call her "Ang" just because they knew her rather well and called themselves her friends.  It wasn't like she enjoyed it, though.  In fact she was adverse to it stubbornly corrected them almost every time that they called her Ang.  Sometimes she was too weary to and let it slip by, though.  However, that was only seldom.  Even Owain knew better than to call her by that pet name--actually, that might be because he was Welsh too and shortening the name to him sounded strange on his tongue.  That smile of his, she had to acknowledge, was fetching.  But Angharad wasn't one to bend just because of good looks, obviously.  She still disapproved of the childish way he addressed her.  She hadn't minded him relaxed all that much, but she did think that goofiness was too much, especially for a captain, whether he was on or off duty.  Well, he was a Greek.  She hadn't put it past him, or other Greeks, to act immature without a second though.  Hopefully it wouldn't get any worse, though...at least, not in front of her. It probably wasn't in her place to rebuke a fellow captain.  However, she did have the right to tell him that she didn't like nicknames, and to ask that he address her as she would like to be addressed.  She still had a level of composure to her.  She wasn't losing her cool yet, and that was a good thing.  Clearing her throat, she said somewhat curtly, "As I said, I would appreciate it if you would call me Captain Gwyn."  She continued to gaze at him coolly.  "But if you must use my first name, then it would be Angharad and nothing else.  I do not have a taste for nicknames." She wasn't sure if she could speak her mind about the "aye aye" thing, though.  He was entitled to behaving as he liked, even if she didn't like it.  The nickname had something to do with her but this one honestly didn't.  Maybe it wouldn't hurt to comment upon it, but before she could, he attempted to salute her.  It was a failure of one in her opinion.  It lacked power. Angharad arched an eyebrow at him.  "You call that a salute?" she said with a scoff.  Once more, she narrowed her eyes at him.  "I take it that you're not being serious."  If he was serious with that gesture--she couldn't even call it a salute--then that would be very sad indeed.  But she was inclined to believe that he was just kidding around.  As a captain, he'd have to know how to salute properly.  And knowing that he had been joking with her, this could just be another one of his antics too.  The smile on his face made her think that much.                      Tag: @deacon

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It was obvious this girl had a good deal of loosening up to do. That trait should have been obvious when she hesitated to even step into the water. Perhaps she had been concerned about looking too much like the child she actually was. After all, she couldn't be more than...what?...seventeen? He would even say that she looked younger than that.

This told him a few things about her, though. First, she didn't appreciate childish jokes. That was good because Deacon was cursing himself for making such an immature gesture in the first place. He preferred sarcasm over insane little kid mockery any day. Second, she had to have been a part of the Battle for Camp Jupiter. There was no way she would be so formal if she was just a Roman immigrant fresh off the boat. After all, you could hardly tell the Romans from the Greeks anymore, but she almost screamed out her parentage with the way she moved.

He nodded, trying to look apologetic even though he was really just analyzing her, "I am sorry, Captain Gwyn." He started sincerely, "I didn't mean to offend." He made sure to smile after the apology to avoid seeming like a child who had just been scolded for doing something inappropriate.

She had almost been afraid that he would take this chance to egg her on with his teasing.  Angharad had met more than one person who took her strictness as a sign to increase their insolence, thus provoking her temper even more.  He was a son of Athena, and she had taken him to be the intelligent sort.  But she still didn't know a whole lot about him, and so far he had been teasing her somewhat.  Chances were that he would continued on for the joy of seeing her lose herself.  Some people were like that. However, he proved himself to be a more relenting person.  Or, rather, someone who was not keen on angering other people.  He apologized and told her that he hadn't meant to offend her, and he sounded apologetic.  He even looked like he was sincere in his apology.  Normally Angharad would have preferred a more grim-looking apology.  She wasn't used to seeing people apologize while smiling at the same time.  It just wasn't a serious thing to do in her book.  However, she could tell that he wasn't doing it out of amusement, either.  The look on his face was genuine, and he certainly didn't appear like someone who was about to laugh.  People had different ways of expressing their personal intentions and emotions, and it was necessary for her to understand that as a captain who would hav to deal with--and already dealt with--all kinds of people.  What mattered was that they truly meant it...just as long as it wasn't in a too outlandish fashion for her taste. "It is alright," she said, deeming him worthy of the assurance.  "As long as you know how to address me properly, I have no cause for complaint." And with that said, she wondered what else there was to say.  She decided that he was worth trying to have a casual conversation with, as well, and she would try to think up of something to say, even if she was unskilled in the art of conversing idly, especially to someone who she had just met.  But she could always bring up something about the person who she found most interesting, at least, and it was easy with a fellow captain.  She certainly was interested in his duties as someone who shared her rank, and the brigade that was the counterpart of hers, and which he was a captain of. "So tell me, Captain Jacoby, how is the Minotaur Brigade coming along?" she asked him.                     Tag: @deacon

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When she started to start a conversation with him, he had to admit he was surprised. It was like someone who had never spoken at all to him was suddenly asking him about the weather. It wasn't as a big a deal as it seemed at the moment. Lucky for him he knew better than to react in a shocked manor. He smiled and shrugged, "I've had been men, but they aren't terrible. Most of them are just kids wanted to go home, which I don't believe is necessarily the best motivation for going to war." He looked down at the beach, kicking a broken piece of seashell, "What I mean is, they don't really have any sort of unity. They are so busy thinking about home and what they lost that they don't focus much on the actual efforts we are trying to achieve."

He wasn't sure that what he had said made any sense, but it was exactly how he felt. This was why he didn't often try to articulate his emotions, they were never logical and very rarely did they even serve any relevance. Yes, he missed home, too. His father was his best friend and being away from his was difficult, but he didn't let that fuel his day to day interactions. He joined the Garrison because he knew that he would be of use here. But there was an Aphrodite girl in his ranks who had never even picked up a sword and decided to fight simply because she missed a certain brand of hairspray from the main land. That was not a good enough reason to so anything in his book.

Angharad frowned, dismayed by what she was hearing from Deacon.  The soldiers under him were not focusing on their duty.  They were unfocused and didn't see their true objective in front of them.  The lot of them were distracted by their yearning of a safe, warm home.  They didn't care about their fellow demigods who needed them; she thought it was even more shameful if they were Roman...why were they part of the Garrison in the first place?

That was how Angharad saw it, being her.  But then again, wasn't she yearning for Camp Jupiter? That was different, though.  She assumed that he meant that they yearned for their homes in the mortal world out there.  She wasn't being very understanding of them, but that was because Angharad was closed minded about most things.  She only saw one important philosophy in front of her: live for the legion and die for it with all your strength, power, and effort.  In this case, the legion was Concordia.  Whoever didn't follow by this philosophy was weak and whiny to her--disloyal, even, and she didn't like that.  She'd be damned if she ever tolerate any of that in the Phoenix Brigade.  Sure, he did mention that they were thinking of all they had lost, but clinging to the past and not adapting was still idiotic to Angharad.

She did have a family in the outside world though, in Wales.  Her father, stepmother, and younger half-brother.  She may not be that peachy with her stepmother, but her stepmother never really bothered her, and her relationship with her father was a strong one.  Her half-brother was alright.  That was grounds for missing her family, but oddly, she didn't.  She respected and loved them, but she had no attachment to them.  It wasn't because of anything other than her devotion to the demigod cause. 

There was a gleam in her eye as she thought about those despicable (not so very nice Latin insult here).  She shook her head.  "That is very unfortunate to hear, Captain," she said solemnly.  "What a pack of  foolish, craven souls they sound like."  She didn't really care if the captain in front of her thought otherwise.  "I would be harder on them if I were you, reminding them what they are in the garrison for.  If they can't handle what I expect of them, then they may take their leave.  There is no place in our ranks for milksops.  You see, I am very selective of who gets enlisted."  Angharad would never brook such behavior from anyone under her.  She respected the bloke in front of her, but she didn't know how strict of a captain he was.  It wasn't her place to chastise him, though, nor could she jump into assumptions and voice them in front of him.  But, she could state her opinion.

But then again, she couldn't fault him.  It wasn't hard to come by soldiers, and most of them probably had the wrong motives in mind.  They needed to recruit as many people as possible, Angharad acknowledged that, regardless of what her pride said.  She heaved a sigh and murmured, "But I do know that we are responsible for recruiting as many as possible to increase our numbers." 

Deacon narrowed his eyes and turned his attention to the clouds. He wondered if the gods were looking down on them in that moment and what they were thinking. It was hard to even imagine a world where the Greeks lost at something. They had their missteps, like anyone, but they always seemed to pull it together at the last second. It was like, well, like they were being watched over by the gods.

He turned his blue eyes to see her and shook his head, knowing she was definitely a daughter of Bellona. She seemed to strict she was almost uncaring, "Captain Gwyn, how does your brigade hold up to stress?" He asked her suddenly, "What I mean is, with such strict management, I imagine they can handle most combat situations." He was wondering exactly how to articulate what he was trying to say. In reality, he didn't think he troop morale could be very high, and he also couldn't imagine her knowing anything about how their morale was holding up, "But, with so much focus on perfection, duty, and obedience, how could you know the personalities and character of your brigade? They are not just demi-gods and they are nor just soldiers. Most of them can barely be considered teenagers and they are being asked to march into battle against an enemy that completely burned two demi-god camps to the ground." Deacon believed that actually knowing and appreciating the men would make them respect his decisions more.

Knowing how most people were, Angharad expected to be contradicted.  Not many were as utterly zealous as she was...at least, not many who she could find nowadays.  Back in the days when the legion existed, Angharad had kindred spirits, but now she walked a lonely path in her beliefs.  She highly doubted that Deacon was any different than the rest.

She listened to him speak his point with the same hard look she had been giving him the whole time.  Yes, Angharad understood that they were teenagers.  She was one, too, and she knew how to live the life of a teenager in the mortal world.  Believe it or not, it was not an alien experience to her.  She knew how it felt like to not be fighting a demigod war, to think that her only challenge was surviving in school.  And yet, for some reason, she couldn't sympathize for her comrades who were still stuck with that disposition.  Once she had crossed the bridge from being a normal human to realizing that she was a demigod, she had become deeply immersed into her new role that it was almost impossible to imagine that such a thing could actually happen to a person.  It didn't help that she was close minded, thinking that her philosophies were absolute.

But she could see the truth in what Deacon said.  It was true, regardless of what she thought about it.  He was a son of Athena; he wouldn't say things that made no sense.  And...and it was also something that Owain would say.  Angharad understood that Owain had to be wiser than the typical descendant of a war deity.  He was a Commander, and he had to have his influence on the moral and loyalty of the people.  Angharad knew that if things went her way, she would gain the discipline of people...but she doubted that they would like her much as much as they would fear her.  Ang was someone who lived to fear and respect her authorities; she'd given little regard as to whether she liked them or not.  But, coexisting among different-minded demigods, she realized that popularity and reputation were important, too. 

Angharad heaved a sigh.  She wanted to say that none of that mattered, but she ought to not be so stubborn.  She couldn't deny the truth.  Barely anyone around here was as embedded in stone as she was.  And, again, he was a son of Athena and his words were wisdom.  Maybe she should think about getting to know her troops than enforcing strength, bravery, and discipline into them? That sounded weird to her, but...people.  She had to work with people, and if people were like that, then she had no choice but to go along with what would  work best with them.

"I cannot deny that you speak true, Captain Jacoby," Angharad said with a hint of a grudging tone.  "It is indeed a difficult task that lies in front of them...in front of us.  I know that my devotion to achieving triumph and glory cannot be found in others, as much as I dislike to admit, and how it does not come easily to me to commiserate with their fears."  She paused for a quick moment, thinking of what she wanted to say next before continuing, "I am going to say that most of the troops in my brigade are as zealous as I am to fight.  Perhaps, however, I ought to understand their dispositions and character traits better...assuming that has worked to your favor?" She lifted an eyebrow, wondering if sympathizing for his soldiers helped him to manage them better.  That was a silly thing to wonder in the opinion of most people, but knowing how indifferent Angharad was to the personal feelings of other people, then yeah, she really did wonder if it was a good tactic.  That was how she saw it.  A tactic.