This Could Be A B-E-A-UTIFUL Friendship {LIZ}

Achaylia Delamiro was picking at her nails with a small wooden tooth pick she'd taken from the mess hall that morning. The sun was shining and she was stood there in her denim shorts, converse boots and had her leather jacket over her camp t-shirt. She heard a scuffle near by and raised her eye level lazily to check it out. She heard footsteps behind her. My, how noisy the courtyard was today.

Samuel Windsor was walking back to his cabin after breakfast, a water bottle in hand when he came across a beautiful girl. She was quite attractive, standing there with those short american denim shorts that he was unaccustomed to seeing on women and a leather jacket, with dark hair flowing down her back. She looked at him as he approached and he smiled, stepping forward to move toward his cabin when suddenly he stumbled on a dip in the brick pathway. He was propelled forward, his water bottle flying outwards from his palm and managing to spill... all over the girl. Sam caught himself before falling, apologizing profusely to the girl who stood before him.

"I'm so sorry; I did not intend to do that! These brick pathways really do need to be repaired. Do you require any assistance?" he asked her, his eyes wide in concern and embarrassment. His accent leaked through into his voice, an odd combination of different European accents. His aura radiated toward her, demanding attention though he did not realize it. His Aphrodite powers could be kind of freaky, sometimes.

She yelped and stood there, water dripping down her. She dropped the tooth pick and had her eyes closed, her mouth open in surprise. Her hands hovered in the air. She was angry. So ery angry... and then... She switched. She gave a smile which made her confused with herself. "No. I'm fine," she said. Was she being sweet? Wow... What was wrong here? "In fact, could I help you out?"

Samuel could sense her brief flash of anger before she calmed, speaking to him in an almost hypnotic manner, and it clicked in his head. He was manipulating her. He shut his eyes for a moment, pulling his power away from her and forcing himself to relax. "You're not fine, and I'm sorry," said Samuel, grabbing his water bottle and salvaging what was left within it.

"Are you sure you did not need any assistance? I would be happy to get you a towel or something, if you'd like that." He seemed concerned, watching her cautiously as his powers withdrew from her mind. How was she going to react? Would she realize that he'd manipulated her? He'd made a complete and utter fool of himself in front of this girl, and he chided himself because of it.

She blinked a few times before silently taking out her flute. She glared at the boy. "What was that?" said the girl, her tone dripping with venom. She held her flute tightly, like a baseball bat. Her eyes bore holes into his existence. She wasn't very happy about being manipulated to say the least.

She dropped her stance a little and moved her wet hair from her face. "A towel would be fine," she said through her teeth.

Samuel took a step backward, disconcerted by her sudden flash of anger. She raised her... flute? up towards him in anger and his eyes widened. "A towel. Okay. I shall get you a towel. I apologize for my power flare; I did not intend to affect you. Sometimes my powers are difficult for me to control, especially when I am not in control of my emotions. As I am relatively new to this demigod thing, I have not yet learned to fully control my powers." The boy frowned, his accent showing through his voice very clearly. It was rather attractive, and he was gorgeous, and the combination of the two usually caught girls' attention. It did not appear to be helping him now, with this seething girl before him, and he was slightly confused. He was not used to the American girls and their mannerisms; they were all so very peculiar. Pretty- though they had a very strange choice of attire- but peculiar nonetheless. Veronica had been different, more reserved. He did not know how he felt about this girl before him.

OOC: Sorry I took so long.

She raised an eyebrow at him. "Well? Are you going to let me freeze to death? That was cold!" said the girl. Achaylia bared her teeth. Why is he just standing there? she thought in the safety of her own mind.

((It's fine! ))

"No, of course not!" Samuel said, his eyes widening perceptibly as she bore her teeth at him. He quickly turned and made his way toward the bathrooms, which were actually furnished quite nicely, and he grabbed her a crisp, clean white towel from within and made his way back toward her.

"Here you are," he said, holding it out to her dutifully. "Again, I apologize for the inconvenience, and I hope you can forgive me for manipulating you. I hope you do not believe that I did so purposefully, because I would never use such foolery to attract such a pretty girl as yourself," he finished. Samuel stood awkwardly, watching her in anticipation of her response. Maybe he should just go, but that would leave the issue unresolved and he didn't want to do that.

She smiled and rolled her eyes as she started wiping at the wet patches on her body. "Don't try and flirt with me," Achaylia sighed. She tugged at one of the wet locks of her hair. She bit the inside of her hip and put it behind her ear. "Who are you, anyway?"

She examined him. "The name is Achaylia. Achaylia Delamiro. I'm Mr D's kid."

"Ah-chay-lee-ah?" Samuel asked her confusedly, sounding out the syllables. "What a bizarre name," he commented. "Is it foreign?" He watched her curiously, ignoring her comment about his flirting in favor of the scrutinization of her odd name.

"My name is Samuel Windsor, but you can call me Sam. My mother is Aphrodite, in case it wasn't obvious by my manipulative abilities. They're rather annoying sometimes, actually," he spoke, examining her.

"Mr. D... you mean, you are the daughter of the camp's director, the centaur?" he asked her, confused. "Is he divine?"

Achaylia may not have been drinking anything or eating anything... But she still managed to choke. She sorted herself out and straightened. She turned to him and twisted the towel in her hands. She then whipped it at his legs. "No. The wine god. Mr D is Dionysus. Ugh. Aphrodite, you say? Great."

Samuel jumped away as the girl whipped him with her towel, shooting her a look of disgust. Americans lacked manners, most of the time. Was she at all thankful for the towel he'd given her? "I see," was all he said, reevaluating her apprehensively. "I suppose being a son of Aphrodite is pretty great; however, it can be rather irritating at times," he spoke, not picking up on her sarcasm at all. On impulse he spoke again.

"Why is it that you are treating me with such contempt? I have only shown you kindness; I retrieved a towel from the washrooms for you after we managed to bump into one another. He spoke carefully, seeking to find some redeeming quality within her personality that would make up for her lack of cordiality.