This is inspired by definition of a hero by mcfuz. It's really splendid and I suggest that you go take a peek at it.
I do not own PJO
A Study of Character
Salt and seagulls calling, minty breeze, a lone french fry broken in the sand. Angles and tanned skin and broad shoulders, pink lips, flashing teeth. Green and blue and I'm here and I'll never let you go. Orange and purple. Easy grins and long eyelashes and a bronze pen that twirls lazily on scarred fingers. Power and finesse, blunt and tactful, impossibly smart and impossibly stupid. The sun shining on a rainy day. Always coming back, always coming through. He's that tiny voice inside that motivates you, that leader that you rely on to come through, a friend that's always by your side.
Strawberries and hot coffee, cracking open dusty Greek texts, pulling all-nighters and saving your butt. Sharp and tough, lithe and cunning. Fearful and retreating, always hesitating, always that one little voice, are you like Luke was? Proud and judgemental, high cheekbones, pointed chin. A simple dagger tucked carefully into a leather holster. Bronze and grey, I'll find him and I'll save us and don't worry, I got this. Traps and bait, plots and plans. The pilot who rights the airplane just as it's about to plummet to it's death. She's the dash of common sense and the trusted advisor.
Dirt and stones and the smell of rich brown earth, warm velvety chocolate, coating your throat in comforting goodness. Safe and warm, brown smiles and sparkling diamonds. Bare feet dangling from the sides of a sleek tan god, giving chase at the speed of light. Brown and gold and purple, rounded face, caramel latte skin, callused fingers. A long golden sword. Quick to worry, maternal without a mother. Are you sure and are you all right and I'll help you. The warm hand that slips into yours just as you're about to fall. She's the caretaker and the provider and the warm, warm friend.
Smoke and oil and a dragon bellowing, steam billowing out of his enormous bronze plated nostrils. Michevious grins and wiry fingers, Hispanic skin, elvin features. Insecure and always doubting, am I good enough, and do they need me, and am I wanted here? A workstation going up in flames. Hammers and breathmints, wrenches, circular saws. The parent who paints the background for his son's play; behind-the-scenes, but absolutely crucial. He's the comedic relief and the genius in disguise.
Pretty words and tomboy facades, white eagle feathers and choppy chocolate curls. Dusky sunset skin, pink lips, a white scar across her left collarbone, standing out like x marks the spot. Ancient bronze daggers clasped white-knuckled, fingers wrapped around another, white and fair and proud. Orange and pink and shiny bright lies, twisting minds this way and that. Lower your swords and just tell me and what have I done? Regret, always regret lurking in the dark hidden shadows, long suppressed pain, a longing for something that she hasn't found. The best speaker at your convention, the one who lingers in people's minds long after the show's over. She's the mediator and the rebel.
Bears and ferrets and a life hanging by a single thread. Strong and sturdy and mostly clueless, dark slanted eyes, ivory skin, still developing into something great. Force and strength and power, a leader in the molding. Red and purple and dumb luck and moments of brilliance, chinese handcuffs, praetor of the legion. Child of mixed ancestry, the sharp twang of a bowstring, the thud as the arrow arcs through the air and sticks deep in the bullseye of the target. The keel of the sailboat that keeps it from tumbling into the dark, murky unknown. He's the bumbling hero, the one that comes through every time by the skin of his teeth.
Static and soaring through the air, the wind rushing through your hair. Strong and stoic, straw hair, glass blue eyes, pale skin, a small scar above his upper lip. Storm spirits and a long golden gladius. A coin flipping wildly through the air. Blue and purple and stay back and it's not safe and let me do it. Regal bearing, the voice of a leader, ringing through the air. The kid that always does the right thing, no matter what. He's the leader and the decision maker and the serious one.
The ground splitting open and the shadows inviting you in. Misunderstood and underestimated, chalky skin, midnight hair, eyes pools of black light. Leather jacket and black skinny jeans. Tall and skinny, slipping through the shadows, a black iron sword. Black and orange, it has to be me, and gotta go, and I don't belong here. A dark fire in his eyes, intense and full of hurt, an empty hole straight through his chest where another should be. The party guest that lingers in the corner, watching intently, the one people wonder about on their drunken drive home. He's the scarred heart and the little brother in disguise.
Electrical spears whistling through the air, hot chocolate and Confederate soldiers. Broad and strong, stringy brown hair, hard brown eyes, tanned skin, a web of scars cris-crossing her muscular arms. Fearless and determined. Red and orange, get out of my way punk, and what do you think you're doing and I will skin you alive, Jackson! Rough around the edges, but a surprisingly gentle heart within. The soldier who risks her life on a desperate mission to save her friends. She's the hot-headed fighter and the loyal protector.
Paints and bright colors and Greek letters written in the sand. Slim and freckled, wild red hair, vivid green eyes, milky skin. Feisty and stubborn, hands on hips, cocky grins. Orange and gold, excuse me, what do you think you're doing and hasn't anyone told you, and you're kidding me right? Queen of sarcasm, paint-splattered jeans, paintbrushes tucked behind her ear. Green smoke and snakes and quests and death and guilt, heavy guilt hanging like a storm cloud over her head. The sharp-tongued friend you rely on to set you straight. She's the refreshing dose of mortality and the mystical princess.
Tiaras and trees and the smell of ozone. Lithe and catlike, short black hair, electric blue eyes, a silver glow. Death to Barbie t-shirt, hunting knives, a bow and arrow. Blue and silver, where am I and I'll take them, and it's my time. A shield that spirals out, bearing the crest of a terrifying beast. Lightning bolts crackling down from the sky, sizzling in anger. The out-of-control racecar that somehow manages to take first place in the race. She's the loyal fighter and the blunt pencil.
Horns and pipes and a ripped and dirty wedding dress. Uncoordinated and clumsy, curly brown hair, a wispy brown beard, medal dangling from his skinny shoulders. Green and orange, are you sure, and is this safe, and I'm a searcher, it's what I do. Half-eaten table legs, waving strawberry plants, small green-veined hands, an ancient tree where a Titan used to be. The furry clown act that captivates the audience. He's the trusted guide and the beginning of a legend.
Teddy bears and slippery words, the slide of a sword as it stabs you in the back. Oiled blonde hair, ice blue eyes, thin red smile. Stuffing strewn across a marble altar, syllables swirling like smoke through the night. Golden and purple, the Greek has arrived, and I decree that we should, and let us exact our vengance. Hiding behind the warriors, spitting and spewing, dagger shining unused in his belt. The schemer behind the most ingenious plan. He's the wordsmith and the bloodthirsty coward.
Swords and dogs and the praetor's chair. Thick black hair, obsidian eyes, a scar across her high forehead. Shoulders strong under the burden of two, togas, a worn golden knife. Silver, gold, and purple, I refuse, and for the good of the legion, and for pete's sake, leave me alone! Loss and pain and venon trapped in dark hidden places, burning unease, fear. The proud soldier who stands before her people, a true Roman, sacrificing her needs for the needs of her people. She's the diplomat and the calloused warrior.
I hope you enjoyed! Review please!