You already wanted to go back to Camp Half-Blood.

You’ve only been at Camp Jupiter for a few days now, and it’s been rough. You were originally sent to the Roman camp as a Greek to hopefully make allies for the upcoming battle between demigods and Gaea. You were fine with the idea, with hopes to make new friends and understand what has been going on at the Roman camp.

That was a mistake.

You have hardly made any friends. And all the Romans were so serious, too. Which was a stark contrast from your original playful, careless camp. Every Roman just trained here; you found it boring.

One Roman in particular bugged you the most.

Octavian. The Augur of the camp; a skinny, tall blonde who had a speciality in ripping up stuffed animals.

Gods, you hated him. And he obviously hated you, too. Much like he hated all Greeks.

He’s been picking on you like once an hour. Every. Single. Day. It pissed you off.

And today was no different.

You were roaming Camp Jupiter, ignoring disgusted stares from nearby Romans, as usual. You weren’t exactly paying attention to where you were going. That is, until you suddenly felt a foot collide with your ankle.

The ground quickly rushed up to meet you, and you fell against the harsh grass. You looked up, seeing that Octavian had obviously tripped you. He giggled, adverting his gaze.

“Oops.” He smirked.