» i just can't [WIN] {//OPEN}

[reid callahan.]

Nine o’clock am. The red digits flashing on the clock signaled two things, both of which Reid loathed-- waking up, and breakfast. Not only was it ridiculously early, but he had downed a bit of his dinner the previous night and food wasn’t exactly sounding nice on his agenda right now. But, because campers had no choice but to, for lack of a better term at nine in the mourning, evacuate their cabins, Reid was no exception. Of course, he was only just rolling out of bed at nine, when he should really be at the mess hall already, chowing down on the ‘delicious’ breakfast offered to campers.

As usual, Reid rummaged through his yet-to-be-unpacked bag, groaning softly as the light met with his pale blue eyes, not a very nice awakening while you’re minding your own business and looking for a clean tee shirt. Of course, all of his tee shirts were clean so far, considering it was only the second day, but Reid didn’t have the brain power at such a time in the mourning to process that-- and he was picky about his attire, so he found some flaw with most of what he pulled out. He had already decided on and changed into a pair of jeans-- female’s size twos, angry red marks likely to be visible by the end of the day, or first washroom break, whichever comes first. Because of Reid’s small amount of food intake, he didn’t have much of a food outtake, if you know what I mean.

Either way, it was only nearing nine twenty when Reid had gave himself a satisfied nod into the mirror and left the nearly empty mammoth cabin. There were still bodies lingering in beds, but he heard no stomachs growling, not even his own, so he figured they’d went to breakfast early, came back, and went back to sleep. Regardless, Reid’s slightly brighter grey irises watched the twigs as he crushed them under the weight of his own body, beaten, abused vans causing them to make a crunching noise. The fact that things broke under his weight wasn’t exactly ego-boosting to Reid, even if it was only a fragile twig, but he didn’t give it a second thought-- especially considering he would’ve ran right into the open door of the hall if he had. Reid wasn’t the most colorful crayon in the box, and multitasking wasn’t really his forte.

The redhead scanned the mess hall, gnawing at his lower lip eagerly to find a familiar face-- possibly one not near the food line, trays, or pop machines, and, if he was lucky, not completely stuffing their faces. But, seeing as he wasn’t successful as of yet, Reid simply let out a soft breath and headed to a nearly empty table. At nine twenty-five in the mourning, his social skills weren’t exactly top notch, and the only thing on his mind would be…well, sleep, above all. Otherwise, nothing was really on his mind except for breathing in the least amount of food-poisoned air around him.

[baby]

Oh yes, Nine o’clock. Only witches could not be tired at this time. Then Babylon must be a witch indeed. Even though the wake up was at eight, he’d been up since six, his unkempt hair was still sticking on end still from the tossing and turning of the night before. His azure eyes slid over to the clock that’s red numbers annoyed him so. It was like it was intimidating him with it’s light, as if saying “WAKE THE BLOODY UP”. A small sneer tugged at his lips, but it disappeared as he looked down at his feet. So creepy looking. Of course, he’d been fully dressed for a while. The edges of his jeans just grazing his bare skin. He smiled down at his own feet, before looking back up. Boys were still passed out in their beds, some lazy hands hanging off the side of their sleeping position. Some moved around, still looking groggy from sleep, and some hyper and ready for the day. He was always slow when it came to getting up. Ick. He could feel his hair sticking up, and messy as ever. He rose to his feet, off his bed, shuffling to his zippered bag. It still held most of his items, too lazy to unpack it at any given time. His hands slipped into the small unzippered section, pull a brush with his hand. He plucked random hairs from the course bristles, as he stood up from his kneeling position.

He waltzed over to the bathroom, the door shut, apparently occupied. He rested his head against the wall, shutting his eyes. Colors zoomed in his head, thoughts thrashing at his brain. Coming to this camp was honestly better than wasting time doing nothing at home, walking through smoky rooms, being tackled by Persia, or even MJ. Oh pity was not a thing he felt for himself, but just a want. But he knew he had it good. Not like some other people who had to live in a two-bedroom apartment, with seven people. He might jump from the balcony if he lived in that environment. He opened his right eyes, gazing at the door. It hadn’t budged. He kicked his foot lightly against the wooden panel, his way of knocking on the door. No answer. He gripped the knob, and entered, no one in it. Could people learn to leave it open, so that he didn’t waste his time waiting for it to open? After a good ten minutes of primping, preening, and fixing his hair, he finally left the bathroom, a boy scuttling in as he opened it. His eyes opened wider as he did, a bit of shock at the rushing for the bathroom. He tossed his brush onto his unmade bed, slipping his feet into his shoes, before looking around the cabin once more. Boys still slept. He wanted to yell something loud about a nude girl in the bathroom to make them stir, but he kept his tongue in his mouth as he left the cabin, leaping off the stairs as he went.

Food sounded good right now. He’s picked at food last night, still eating a fair amount. He just ate a ton no matter were he was, or what he did. Nothing could affect his hunger too much. Babylon kicked stones and twigs as he walked, his eyes glued to the grass, watching for anything interesting that might pass by his bright eyes. But no such luck come to him. He only found a snapped twig that looked remotely fascinating. Entering the Cyprus hall, the hall of food, as he called it. The food was somewhat stomach turning, but he still ate it like it was heavenly. He glared at the line. It was too long for him to stand in. He frowned, digging into his pocket for lose change. Fishing out enough quarters, he plainly almost skipped to the drink machines, doing his little dance as he fed the machine. Pressing a button, a ginger ale imitation pop was spat out of the bottom, Babylon quickly bending down to fetch it. Bubbles were the only reason he drank pop. He turned around, facing the rows of tables, his eyes scanning for somewhere to sit.

An empty table grabbed his eye, only a few bodies sitting at it. He slowly walked over, turning the can over in his hands. The coldness was making his hand numb, but he ignored it, sitting down just next to a red headed boy he recognized from the Mammoth cabins. Plunging open the pop, he feverly drank from it, hurriedly replacing it back on to the wooden table, the cold numbing his fingers again. He looked at the boy, from memory his name Reid, a small smile tugging on his lips. “Not hungry?” he asked, noting the lack of food in front of him.

[reid callahan.]

What gave teenagers the right to be so damn boring? At least, that’s what Reid would like to know as they were doing just that-- boring him nearly to death. The other occupant of his table was busy stuffing his face, repulsing the redhead to no other, just enough to make him get up and move, excusing himself to ‘get a glass of water’. But, because he was far too nice to actually make the other male feel bad, he would do just that and fetch a water bottle, or something of the sort. And then, once he’d done that, simply forget where he had previously been sitting and find a cleaner, emptier table to situate himself at. His palm brushed his stomach slightly, for a moment feeling as if it was actually asking him to feed it, though he brushed it off nearly as quickly as he had the hand itself. Even if his stomach really had been asking for food, Reid wouldn’t be obliging until dinner-- if it was lucky.

Okay, so you know it’s too early when someone refers to their stomach as an ‘it’, or continues whole thought process about said stomach so fondly called ‘it’. It was certainly too early for Reid. Fortunately, along with Saturday Campfires, campers got to sleep in until noon, making Saturday Reid’s heaven, pretty much. And, with that, waking up at noon requires him missing breakfast, and, with proper timing on primping, showering, and mingling, lunch as well. By then, though, he would probably be hungry-- especially considering it was now a lovely Thursday mourning. Thursday? Hm, today Reid has…water sports? Or something like that. Not too exciting, but his temporary counselor was usually pretty strict, so he would tackle those canoes and ‘show him what he can do’. To be honest, Reid never comes to camp for the activities-- more for the feeling of being on his own, taking care of himself, and the people, of course.

Water bottle successfully acquired, Reid’s light irises scanned Cyprus Hall, only a few nearly vacant tables catching his eye. At one, an older looking male, one who seemed finished with his meal, though making a mess in doing so. That one was definitely out. Then, another, a younger, more fragile looking male who was still poking at his food, a look of disgust on his face-- as if it would come alive and eat him at any moment-- and Reid simply rolled his eyes, shaking his head at the nervous, awkward-looking newbie. That one, too, was out of the picture. And then, the last nearly empty table, a hulking male that seemed finished with him meal, still clean and satisfied looking-- probably leaving soon, too. Lovely. Obviously, Reid chose that table and was soon sitting on the edge, arms folded over the surface, holding up his torso happily.

Focusing on the full bottle of water, Reid narrowed his eyes slightly and chewed at his lower lip. Concentration was quickly broken by a voice, one rather near him-- one that he soon realized was talking to him. He turned his attention to the dark haired male, recognizing him as one of his cabin mates-- they’d briefly talked before. A grin settled on his lips and he motioned to the spot beside him, straightening up on the bench slightly. “Not particularly,” he said simply, letting out a soft laugh. “Had a big dinner.” Reid wasn’t really one for lying, but some things in his personal life are meant to be kept personal.

“How do you like camp so far, this year?”
Real intelligent… Reid rolled his eyes at himself, simply focusing on the bottle of water as he opened it with a soft pop and brought the rim to his lips.