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“I need more pegs. I want more kids!” A car, green, full of blue and pink figurines, sat on the Life tile space and afforded Paris a set of twins, an occurrence which, unfortunately, made him face putting these twins up for adoption due to the limited number of seats in his car. “I s’pose it would be worse if I had only one space left; then I would have to choose which twin to put up for adoption.” Paris played the Game of Life with all gravitas it deserved. 

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It was a matter of coincidence. The floor on which they stood happened to be the one containing the subject matter that Paris had been searching out-- Surprising, right? Paris, looking for a book in the library, that is. At Camp Half-Blood, the boy kept a 25-yard radius from the small building at all times. So unfamiliar with libraries, it had taken him about twenty minutes to merely find his book. “Are there really that many tables in the library?” he countered, his tone light and full of jest, being intentionally oblivious to the fact that there were indeed many tables in the library. He set his new book on the table. “I don’t ever read, but this is a picture book, so it’s not that bad, right? Look-- it gives you step-by-step instructions on how to draw horses.”

If you go up enough floors in any building, into a dark corner, no one will notice anything. Riley uses that to her advantage.   If you’re always in the middle of the first floor people look at you and  try to talk.   She usually can disregard any attempts at human interaction, but this one has her reeled in.   Cold hands press against the small working station.   Chairs for three, hidden beyond rows of books and computers. Surrounded by a moat of empty tables.   “Not to sound totally like a movie cliche– but of all the tables in all the libraries… here we are.   You sat with me.”   She dismisses with a wave of her hand.   “Why?”     Simple questions usually scare people the most. 

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“Rise and shine,” Paris sung, just before he clicked on the overhead lights. They were decidedly ugly, though, and he noticed the blinds across the small study room were closed, so he shimmied around Samuel’s form and twisted the blinds open. He swung a hand in front of the yellowish sunlight that begun to stream through and sent an array of multi-colored light swimming around the room. “It’s a beautiful day, let’s go outside! There’s a spot under a big ol’ tree where I bet the grass is nice and cool. We should go see.”

a low groan escaped from the child of hecate’s mouth as the harsh, fluorescent lighting hit his face- effectively ruining his nap. “was that really necessary?” samuel questioned, hostility dripping off of his words as he slowly rose to a sitting position. “there are like a million other study rooms, couldn’t you find one that’s not occupied?” he questioned, his eyes narrowing as he fixed his gaze on the intruder, his arms folded across his chest as he waited for an explanation. 

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Paris was agreeable. But if his time at Camp had taught him anything, it was that not everyone found his energy to be tolerable, and while he attempted to let that go, he harbored something like a flickering candle of fear toward all those born to the war god Ares. He had heard things about this professor, Graham, none of which were inherently and completely terrifying, the son of Iris still had shaking hands as he plucked up the courage to visit his professor in the office. 

He found the professor with his face down on his desk, a relief because he had expected to be greeted with beady red and glaring eyes as soon as he turned the corner of the door. He took one final breath of courage and cleared his throat, throwing on his somewhat-faltering but still award-winning smile. “Hello !” he chirped.”I’m Paris, I’m in your Geometry class.” His voice rose at the end of the sentence like a question. “Well, I just thought I would stop by to introduce myself. And-- It might important to let you know that I’m very likely to fail the course !”

“Urgh.” He groaned, rolling his eyes backwards, his whole head following, before collapsing onto his desk face-first, not even caring about the slightly sting that it caused. His office hours had been open for the past hour and not a single person had dropped by, and he had blocked out two more hours of the day sitting in an office while waiting for someone—anyone—to show up and ask a question. Considering it was also the beginning of term, there wasn’t even anything to grade. The next punk that turned in an essay that was over two pages would get throttled.

He was considering just getting up and leaving to get coffee, not even lifting his head up, continuing to discuss the pros and cons. He would’ve definitely stayed that way for at least the next five minutes, mentally debating with himself, if someone hadn’t cleared their throat, which he assumed was to signal for his attention.

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whoa, i heard that DAVID “PARIS” PATTERSON had enrolled at olyu, but seeing the ART EDUCATION major in person is just so different. you’re right, the TWENTY-ONE-YEAR-OLD does remind me of A STRIPE OF PAINT ON THE FOREHEAD, LYING IN A FIELD OF FLOWERS, and GRAFFITI BENEATH AN OVERPASS. probably because they’re so ADOLESCENT and EXPLOITABLE, but, i mean, they’re not all bad. they can be so JOCUND and DEDICATED, too, which i honestly think is because they’re a SON OF IRIS with PHOTOKINESIS. either way, i’d stay out of the way of anyone that people call THE SWEETHEART.

Hi everyone !! I’m Bren, I am a PJO stan since day 1 and am so happy every time I get a chance to rp a character even mildly affiliated w it. Anywho, this is my bby Paris, he’s amazing, pls give him love, I will have a plots page up soon after posting this intro. Until then please hit me up with plots you want for your lovelies ~

99% sunshine 1% where am i

David Paris Patterson was born to Iris and a man, Paris’ father, who felt far too young to raise a child, both financially and emotionally incapable. His sister, Althaea, gladly took him under wing. He was raised by his Aunt for most of his life, up until the point that he had to go to Camp Half Blood, and subsequently Olympus U. 

She lived in Atlanta, Georgia, so Paris had a taste of both urban influence as well as southern tradition. His Aunt was an amazing baker and Paris adopted this love from her. 

Soon, his creativity spread out from the world of baking into the world of other art, where he found an inclination to paint and, as he got older, spray paint. 

Paris had always been an obedient child, in the eyes of his Aunt and the law. He did his chores in a timely manner, helped around the house, and even made a good impression on his neighbors when he offered to rake a yard or bring up a newspaper here and there.

The truth was, Paris was rather obedient, but also didn’t mind ignoring a rule or two in the name of good-natured fun. Trespassing to skateboard down some particularly fun ramps, or to reach a spot that the sun would hit perfectly to spray paint something beautiful were pass-times of his. 

Unfortunately, despite all his creative genius and interpersonal skills, Paris never impressed a teacher in the way of academia. His dyslexia was near insurmountable when he was younger. In middle school, he never did assigned reading, he handed in incomplete math assignments, and doodled instead of taking notes.

Teachers couldn’t really get mad at him, though. They were concerned, but the way Paris would stop to help someone who spilled papers everywhere, or show special care and attention to class pets, always making sure they didn’t feel neglected and even talking to them at times, made them somewhat sure that he was what people should aspire to be, in terms of character.

Althaea struggled for money. She had a job, but it didn’t supply much income for a two-person household, and whatever money was coming from her brother was only enough to cover things like groceries, new shoes for Paris, and the like.

Around the age of 14, freshman year at high school, Paris was forced to take a new path-- it was impressive enough that no monsters (to his knowledge) had disturbed them until such age. However, Althaea had not told him about the several incidents that they actually did have. After one last straw, his Aunt decided it safer for him to be at Camp Half Blood. 

It wasn’t hard for Paris to make friends at Camp, not with his disposition, however he met such a diverse group of people that he was bound to come into conflict with some, and indeed found that, for whatever reason, he got on some people’s nerves with his eternally sunny attitude.

Paris also was high key pacifist and hated the idea of a camp designed to train people for combat. He was really bad during training sessions, and often got his ass kicked because he would only defend.

Sometimes this smol boy would actually just hide during the scheduled training hours instead of going to the arena.

This got him into trouble sometimes, but it was never with any spite.

He lived at the Arts & Crafts cabin of the camp

Also, he would sneak into the kitchens after hours to do some baking, a secret hobby which he brought with him to OlyU. 

Might add to this later, but you prob get the gist of him

also despite all the pink aesthetics his fave color is purple like a lavender

HMU for plots pls

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