calling all v i c t i m s {OPEN}

[Alice Black]

For once, the arena was empty of campers. Even of the children of Ares, which was in iself a surprise - usually there were at least two of them in here practising disembowelling on one of the dummies. Right now though, there was only one person in the arena, and possibly the reason why there were no campers practising here. The very aura this individual had was threatening in itself - usually it was just enough to make someone feel uneasy, as people usually did among the children of Hades. Yes, aura. Every demigod had one, some were more pronounced than others at times. The children of Hermes had a mischievious aura that instantly made you want to keep an eye on them. But then, if you didn't keep an eye on them you were a fool, and a fool with empty pockets at that. The children of Ares had a battle-worthy aura. Sons and daughters of Athena had one of wiseness, one that would make you trust the wisedom they spoke. Right now, the aura present in the arena was downright murderous.

Pacing the arena was the individual that the murderous aura was coming from. Alice Black, daughter of Hades. She didn't need to mutter or speak to express her anger, that was evident in her expression. Not only had she been discovered in the outside world by a dolt of a janitor, but the moment she'd come back to Camp, Chiron had taken her aside and expressly forbidden her to kill or maim any of the campers. She'd also been informed that the returning adults were to become mentors and roles. That she had expected, but her roles were what angered her specifically. First, she'd been told she would be mentor to the Apollo cabin. That in itself would have been fine, most children of Apollo were level headed and smart, it was just when they broke into poetry that Alice's patience would thin. Plus, she hated sunlight. Some god was playing a joke on her, she bet. That was't the worst news, oh no. Chiron had lastly told Alice that her role was to become the Night Nurse. Granted, she was always awake during the night, but the thought of dealing with the smaller campers... Well, she'd just have to terrify them into not sticking each other with swords at night then.

Her deadly sword, Dread, in hand, the arms and legs of destroyed dummies littering the arena, Alice had clearly run out of things to 'kill', to take her frustration out on. She stopped and ran her hand down her blade affectionately. The Stygian Iron had been seared in the dark flames of the Underworld, colouring it black as night. Alice was the only one who could even touch this blade, anyone else who even chanced a finger would succumb to the coldness of death. Whether they would actually die, go into a coma, or survive but with scars depended on the mental strength of the person.