( rafael silva, homosexual, cismale + he/him, mage turned fighter ) «—◦—→ well met, SHAWN REYES! the divine born child of ARES. your name sings in our ears! it’s been 28 years and now they have answered the song in their veins. before they answered the song, they were a BARTENDER/STRIPPER and were living in MIAMI, FLORIDA.. history and myth will remember them for their RESOURCEFUL, LOYAL, AND CONFIDENT but will also magnify their BRASH, LOUD, AND COCKY if it causes them to falter. now it is time for the world to sing their name with them.
"Not my fault I make war look this good."
🍑 Shawn Reyes
( rafael silva | he/him | homosexual | 28 | recently turned fighter (archer) )
divine parent: Ares
former occupation: Bartender & Stripper
hometown: Miami, Florida
current location: London, England
traits: Flirty, Headstrong, Charismatic, Cocky, Impulsive, Himbo
From the outside, Shawn Reyes had it made. Born in Miami, Florida, into a wealthy family of real estate moguls and generational pride, he was the golden boy. Sharp-jawed, silver-spoon-fed, and raised behind gates with a view of the bay. His parents had mapped out every inch of his future by the time he was ten. Ivy league, investment firm, legacy spouse with legacy children.
But Shawn always had a little too much fire in him.
Too bold. Too loud. Too flirtatious. Too… Gay.
He came out at 16 and paid for it by 18. His family didn’t just reject him. They beat him for a few years. Then? They erased him, cutting him off from everything except the name he refused to give back. That day, Shawn Reyes ceased to be their heir and became something entirely of his own making.
Shawn did what he did best. He turned heads.
He started bartending at a high-end club. All flashing lights and bass-heavy thump. And of course, the bodies. His quick wit and cocky grin had drinks selling faster than he could pour them. When he caught the eye of the club’s owner, that grin landed him a side gig: stripping on weekends under the stage name “Havoc.”
It wasn't just the body. Though, let's be honest, it definitely helped. It was the way Shawn moved. Like the world should be lucky he chose to touch it. His hips made promises his mouth gladly kept, and whether he was serving cocktails or working a pole, he left people breathless.
He lived off adrenaline, lust, and half-burnt bridges.
But now? He's been called to do something else. Something more. And though he didn't understand where this feeling in his chest was leading him? Shawn had a feeling it was one hell of an adventure. And he couldn't wait to see what it was.
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Shawn sat on the fallen log like it was a throne he hadn’t meant to earn, elbows braced on his knees and fingers trailing over his forearms with a thoughtless motion. The dream still clung to him like smoke. The dust of the destroyed library/museum, the reflection of himself that wasn’t him, the sound of his own voice saying things he never would have imagined himself say. It was supposed to fade after waking. It hadn’t. Not this time.
Shawn wasn't sure if that was a good or bad thing. Because when he awoke? Sure… he had felt a little sad. But he had also felt empowered. Determined. Truly confident, not the fake confidence he normally pushes out.
A breeze threaded through the trees, carrying the warm scent of pine and wet earth that had him taking a big breath of air and smiling lightly. He wasn't broken, just… rearranged. Like the dream had reached inside him and shifted pieces around without bothering to explain why. He'll see if it was for the better or worse in time, he supposes.
His gaze wandered toward the trail, eyes sharper than usual, restless in a way he couldn’t sit still with. “Well,” he muttered to himself, almost a laugh, “either someone shows up and distracts me, or I’m gonna start arguing with trees. Again.”
He didn’t stand. He didn’t leave.
He just waited for whoever it was that he could sense nearby to come out. Open, unsettled, and strangely ready for whoever it was that found him.
Being a vampire is sexy, but it's been done a few to many times for Shawn Reyes. A vampire hunter, though? That was an idea he can get behind, and slut it up a little. His costume is the perfect marriage of menace and allure. Black combat boots and fitted tactical pants tucked into holsters, a blood-red silk shirt half-unbuttoned and clinging to his frame, a leather harness crossing over his chest where silver stakes glint under dim light. His bow hangs over one shoulder, its edges etched with faint crimson runes that almost look alive when the light catches. Smudges of blood-like paint stain his neck. His smirk is equal parts dare and invitation, the kind that says he’s been hunting creatures of the night long enough to know exactly how to become one when it suits him. There’s nothing innocent about his costume, and he's re
shawn knelt before the brazier, the flames crackling low but hungry. he didn’t bother dressing the part of some solemn priest. shirt half open, hair damp with sweat, still smelling faintly of whiskey and smoke. he wasn’t about reverence, not like some of the others. he was about honesty. in his opinion, the god he followed demanded it. after all, what's more honest than a battle?
he set down the bottle first. a cheap whiskey, half-empty from the night before. the rest he tipped into the fire, watching the flames hiss and swell, reaching taller, hotter. “figured you’d like that, old man,” he said, lips quirking into a grin. “strong burn, no water, no ice. just the way it’s meant to be.”
next came the shirt. a silky, dark thing that hadn’t even been his to begin with. he held it up once, a crooked smile tugging at his mouth, before tossing it into the fire. it caught quick, fabric curling into nothing but ash. “that one wasn’t gonna last anyway. seemed fitting. you’d get it. sometimes passion burns fast, but damn if it isn’t bright while it lasts.”
finally, he pulled a knife across his palm, just shallow enough to sting. he let the blood drip freely into the flames, the hiss of each drop sharp in the quiet night. his grin faltered then, replaced by something harder, more raw. “and this,” he muttered, voice low, “this is mine. you gave me war in my blood, so i’ll give it back. just… don’t let it run dry, yeah?”
he leaned back on his heels, staring into the flames as if he might catch sight of ares in the smoke. “ares, old man, i know i don’t always do this right. i fight messy, i fight wild, but i fight like hell. i don’t ask for peace, i don’t ask for mercy. i just ask you to keep my fire burning. keep my hands steady when the blood’s flying, and my feet moving when i want to fall. i want to make you proud, yeah, but more than that—i want to make sure when people hear my name, they know i went down swinging. so give me strength. give me fury. and i’ll give you my victories. ”
and with that, shawn closed his fist, blood drying against his skin, the fire snapping high as if it had swallowed his words whole.
a month in, and shawn reyes is still deciding whether this place feels like home or just another stage to perform on before he moves on to the next stage of his life. what he does know is that it’s been… a ride.
he came through the gates of the camp like he almost always comes into a room. shirt open, grin easy, and his desire to do something reckless just waiting to catch on something. and though he hasn’t exactly built deep friendships yet, shawn’s left no shortage of impressions. some people probably roll their eyes at him, some laugh, and others end up tangled in his sheets when the nights run long. if there’s one thing shawn has built here, it’s connections of the physical variety. fleeting, fun, and just enough to keep him from feeling lonely.
but beneath the bravado, he’s been putting in the work. the training grounds have become his second favorite spot (the first still being wherever there’s a mirror). he pushes himself hard, burning through sparring partners and swinging weapons with a mix of raw strength and explosive magic. his style isn’t polished yet. he doesn't come from a fighting background after all. he was a bartender and a stripper who's now been thrown into a world of magic, gods, monsters, and chaos. his fighting style... it's unique. it’s reckless, sometimes clumsy, often over the top. but it works. his blood sings when he fights, the son of ares almost always having a smile during a battle, and that thrill is something he’s starting to crave.
the war room in his cabin has become his private playground. it’s filled with weapons he can’t take beyond the threshold, glowing tactical maps, and even a cursed little book called mages for dummies that seems to mock him every time it respawns on the desk. he swears at it, throws it, threatens to burn it, but still finds himself flipping it open late at night. maybe he’s starting to understand what it means to be a mage. maybe.
then there was the labyrinth. shawn had heard whispers about it being disorienting, endless, a place where mortals lost themselves. puzzles and mental games have never been his cup of tea personally, but a place filled with loot and things to fight? now that brought out the cocky smirk. but then came the minotaur. shawn still remembers when it charged at him and struck twice. they didn't hit, naturally, but it was still a moment where perhaps he was sweating a little harder than usual. after all, according to the mages for dummies book? mages shouldn't usually be in front of the enemy that is a melee fighter. it was the first time he really felt the weight of being a demigod, the razor’s edge between triumph and death. thankfully though? the minotaur missed, and everyone managed to make it out.
so here he is, over one month in. reckless, still flirting with danger, and with anyone who gives him the time of day. but underneath the desire, shawn is starting to realize there’s more to this camp than hookups and sparring matches. there’s purpose here. a reason he was called. a war song humming in his veins.
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Shawn hides his fear under bravado, but it’s been with him since his family disowned him. For a boy raised in privilege, it wasn’t the money he missed. It was being seen. Belonging. Their rejection carved a wound that he patched over with sex, noise, and now magic, and chaos, but the scar is still there.
Deep down he fears that without his body, his fists, his flirting... That he'll be considered nothing. That the moment he falters, people will turn away just like his family did. Being a mage under Ares only twists this knife deeper. He’s powerful, yes, as all of the demigods are. And if he can’t keep the heat burning, will anyone bother to keep him around? Or remember him?
Shawn has brushed against this fear before. Nights when things backfired, when he staggered out of a fight too drained to pretend he was invincible, when he lay in bed wondering if anyone would miss him if he vanished. He covers it with jokes, with swagger, with sweat and sparks. But what terrifies him most is silence. The kind where his name isn’t on anyone’s lips, where his fire dies out and nobody notices. Being powerless and forgotten has
the sun was dropping low and at this point was spilling gold across the training yard by the time shawn was almost done training. he leaned back against a dummy he’d just practically shredded with a longsword conjured out of blood hovering nearby, before he a ran a hand through his sweat-damp hair. the heat of his magic still shimmering in the air around him as he caught his breath, taking in the sight of the training dummy..
“not bad,” he muttered to himself with a grin, flexing his hand as as the blood fell to the ground as he recalled his magic. a laugh escaping his lips as he shook his head and noticed a few people looking his way. "you're welcome for the show! front row seats are free.”
with that, he straightened up, and twirled a blade that was in his hands with reckless flair. putting the blade back where it was supposed to go. flexing his shirtless body and popping the joints in his body as he did so. “man… nothing feels better than the post training ache.” shawn says with a chuckle.
the clang of metal echoed through the training yard at a sharp and rhythmic pace, and Shawn Reyes was at the center of it. shirtless, of course, because apparently he thought that was a requirement when he was at the training grounds. sweat gleamed across his chest as he spun around with his bow in his hands and a arrow is sent flying in with precision across the yard, landing it dead-center into a training dummy’s chest.
he grinned, cocky and unapologetic, before throwing his arms out wide as if there were an audience.
“perfect score. again. thank you, thank you,” he turned on his heel and mid-bow caught sight of someone who had wandered nearby and gave a playful wink. “you’re welcome to applaud, you know? or,” he added with a playful smirk. “you could come over here and try to beat me. i’ll even give you a head start.”
the air around him shimmered faintly with heat. his magic buzzing at the edges of his temper and his pride. Shawn bent down to retrieve another arrow from the rack, rolling his shoulders and clearly waiting for someone to take the bait.
“well?” he said, lifting a brow. “you just gonna stand there staring, or are we gonna make this interesting? cause it's more fun training when there's someone else also shooting at the dummies to compete against.” he chuckles.
Leonardo let his laugh ring out, "Only if you cant back it up." he pointed out as he watched the other settle into seat. The bacon was pulled out and put into the pan before he turned it out. It was the easiest way to maker sure it was crispy as Leo wanted it to get. "good choice nothing beats pancakes bacon and scrambled eggs.'' a breakfast he made often enough even if just for himself.
He could get why a child of the war god would like the feeling of training. "I don't dislike i just thrive on variety and doing whatever it is i want to do and having to stick to a strict trining schedule is the fastest way to ruin that." between that, work, and the way he didn't want to keep his job this was the most stable he had been in his whole adult life a fact that was crazy to think of. he sighed as he pulled out two plates and placed them in front of the other.
"No i got it hooking up with me always comes with a free breakfast cooked by a naked man and the chance to join the cult." he teased as he started to plate the food.
the corner of shawn's lips turned up in amusement as leonardo's blasphemous, and funny, words. shawn had to remind himself not to drool. the site of the other man's naked figure mixed with the smell of breakfast? who wouldn't have a hard time melting on the spot at that? shawn was pretty confident that he shouldn't be blamed for such a reaction.
“and i totally get that. allowing your body time to rest is just as important, after all. overworking anything can do more harm then good. at least, that's the cheesy thing they say on shows and what not. not sure how true that actually is.” shawn admitted with a grin on his face and a shrug of his shoulders.
“oh, and a cult invitation on top of this? you know how to spoil a guy.” shawn grinned as he snuck around to swipe a strip of bacon real quick, ignoring how hot it was before taking a bite of it and letting out a happy hum at the crisp as he retook his seat.
the knock drew him off the bed where he’d been sitting, elbows braced against his knees, staring at the floorboards like they might offer him answers. he dragged a hand down his face before he opened the door.
shawn’s grin was impossible to miss. so was the smell of something charred. cian blinked, then huffed a laugh that softened the lines of weariness around his mouth.
“ah, fair play to you,” he murmured, eyeing the plate. “hope you didn’t burn down half the kitchens for my sake.” a beat, then he stepped aside, nodding him in. “come on, then. can’t turn away company—or food, even if it might be tryin’ to kill me faster than any monster did.”
he moved back toward the bed, setting a hand to the scar still tugging faintly at his ribs. “rough’s one word for it, aye,” he added quietly. “but i’m still here. means somethin’, doesn’t it? thanks for stoppin' by, means a lot.” a lot of people did, which cian couldn't deny had warmed his heart.
a laugh escaped shawn's lips as he heard cian speak. it wasn't exactly surprising. everyone underestimates the lethalness of his cooking until the first bite. “your true test of survivability will be the food then.” shawn says with a grin and nods his head in thanks as he walks in gratefully.
“managed to only damage a few of the appliances. no worries.” shawn said playfully with a wink thrown in the other man's direction to show that he was just messing around. “and hey, it sure does. some people would have ran away screaming or would have played dead.” shawn said with a snort. “you got back up and fought each time. takes major balls, if you ask me. not that anyone did.” shawn chuckled.
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raul slowed his pace, leaning casually against the edge of the training ground, arms crossed. he watched shawn set down the bow, the faint flush on his cheeks and the grin he gave telling raul he’d just been working hard. confident, focused… maybe a little cocky, he noted, amusement flickering through his thoughts.
“hey there,” he said, voice smooth, approachable, carrying that quiet authority. “looks like someone’s been putting in some work.” his gaze lingered on the bow, then back to shawn’s face. he’s clearly good at this… sharp hands, steady eyes.
raul stepped a little closer, keeping his posture easy, non-threatening. “i’m raul,” he added, giving the name like a gentle anchor. “and you are…?” he tilted his head, letting a soft chuckle escape at shawn’s grin. a good attitude could never go wrong in camp. they saw plenty of darkness when they went out there fighting for their lives, keeping the mood up.. was a good thing. he appreciated that.
confidence had never been something that the little daredevil named shawn lacked. one doesn't work in the stripper industry and be humble or shy. at least, not successfully. there's no room for those two things when people are wanting an entertaining performance from you. lowering his bow, he shot a playful little wink in raul's direction. “this is my favorite place to be…well, maybe my second favorite place. the ares cabin is great.” shawn admitted with a chuckle.
“shawn. a child of ares and the local blood mage.” shawn says with a chuckle as he looked at the other man with a grin. “and what are you doing out here at the training ground, raul? planned to get some action yourself?”
"given who my dad is and turning water into wine pretty sure I'm closer to Jesus then an angel." there was even the ties to resurrection but that seemed a little to heavy when he naked in his kitchen. He moved around with ease flipping out a another pancake on the plate between them. "Sausage or bacon?" he asked once his back was turned away and he pulled what ever fresh fruit he had in his personal fridge. "hope you like strawberries cause that's all i have."
"Nope not at all," there was a shake to his head as he looked across at the other. "super tired of training all the time there is really nothing else to do here and you do need a rest from time to really let the muscles set in." a small shrug as her reached over his cup of coffee "Plus if you don't slow down you don't get lazy mornings."
“My, my…Comparing yourself to Jesus, huh? Be careful now. I've heard that can be a slippery slope.” Shawn jested with a cheeky grin on his face as he looked at Leonardo. Watching how the other seemed to be able to move around with ease, meanwhile Shawn is quite capable of setting even cereal on fire. “Oh definitely bacon,” Shawn said with a grin. “Bacon is like…One of my top three favorite foods.” Shawn said with a chuckle as he took a sip of his coffee.
“I suppose that's true,” Shawn agreed with a nod of his head. “Personally, I love training. My cabin even has it's own training room. Although all of the weapons and stuff disappears when I exit the room.” Shawn says with a disappointed huff before grinning. “But it's also important to have other hobbies. Particularly non-violent ones, I suppose.” Shawn said with a shrug of his impressive shoulders. Although Shawn definitely has a habit that's non-violent. And at this point? The body count to prove it.
“Anything I can do to help? I might not be the best…Or even good…In the kitchen. But don't want you to feel like you have to do all the work.”
for @bratofwarx
where: the dio cabin
Morning afters always had a cadence for Leonardo. For the longest time he only existed in a series of one night stands and faces he would only see for a few hours at time. it was nice and strange to be following the same steps he did with people he saw everyday. It was a thought he kept to himself as he moved around the kitchen naked as the day he was born.
"hey you are up early" he spoke as he looked at son of ares coming down the stairs from his lofted room. "Pancakes a job well down there is coffee made and orange juice if you don't like it." his smile wide and bright as he greeted him. "I dont need to go anywhere so dont feel like you need to rush or anything."
Shawn stretched his limbs and felt the joints all give a satisfying pop and a wave of pleasure as he woke up from his slumber. Last night had been quite the journey with the cutie known as Leo. He had itched most of the cravings that Shawn had been feeling as if he needed since being cooped up into the camp. Shawn was someone who lived for a good thrill. So domestically living in a summer camp and waiting for a mission? It was proving to be a bit more difficult than he imagined.
Sex definitely has turned out to be quiet the time killer for him while he was here.
Shawn came down stairs in just the briefs that he wore. He heard Leo speak and gave him a tired grin in exchange. “You are a angel right now.” Shawn said with a chuckle as he immediately made his way towards the coffee. Making sure to pour himself a cup and grabbing a few pancakes if they were ready. “No big and exciting plans today?” He asked curiously as he took a seat, watching the other for a second.
"Dio...nysus." he said slowly as he looked around and then back at the other man, Lucian reached out his hand holding it out to shake, his head cocked to the side as he looked at the other. He had assumed there was a way that they could tell each other apart by senses but that wasn't the case. He wasn't able to guess who's anyone parent was without asking so far.
"Lucian. My name is Lucian. I'm a son of Dionysus. Thanks for helping me. Do you want a snack I have tater tots. Extruded potatoes are so good." he said pulling one out of his pocket and holding it out to him.
“…Are you sure?” Shawn asked with a hint of amusement in his voice. The pause in the other man's godly parent's name Shawn thought was interesting to Shawn. “I'm a son of Ares. Shawn. Nice to meet you.” Shawn says with a chuckle. He listens to the other and watches as he pulls tator-tots out of his pockets.
“Do you normally just leave them in your pocket like that?” Shawn asked with a grin on his face. “But no thanks. I'm not really a big fan of tater tots.” Shawn admitted with a chuckle. “But you like potatos, huh? Or just specifically extruded potatoes?” He asked curiously with a tilt of his head.
"I am in fact lost. I wasn't paying attention to where I was going." In truth his nose had been buried so deeply in a book he had wandered aimlessly till he had finally finished and looked up, he was lucky that he hadn't walked off a dock, or into a hole. Through someone shooting lightning or whatever it was they did here. He was still unclear and reeling in a sense which was why he was exploring the way he was. Though now he was just looking for the cabins so he could grab a different book.
"H-hey could you point me back to the cabins? I need a nap. Or a drink. Or both."
Shawn let out a chuckle as he heard the other man's words. He definitely remembered those days. And to be fair? This is a rather big camp. A lot bigger than most people would think upon first glance. “Well you're not to far off. The baths aren't to far away from the cabins.” Shawn was just leaving the baths. Which he loved to go to after an intense training. “It would be rude of me not to help a fellow demi out, wouldn't it?” Shawn asked with a big grin as he moved to approach the other, his bag slung across one shoulder. “Which cabin?”
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Adam raised a brow, arms crossed as he looked Shawn over, amusement tugging faintly at his lips. “Tch. That’s one word for it. Lying around while someone else does the work… you’re a natural leader my guy.” His tone was dry, but not unkind, just a bit of teasing as he tested the waters.
He stepped closer, offering a hand to help Shawn up even though he’d already managed to push himself off the floor. “Training’s never easy. If it feels easy, you’re doing it wrong. Trust me, even gods have bled in the dirt.” Whether they'll admit to it or not.
Adam gave him a once-over, noting the exhaustion, the determination buried under Shawn’s grin. “Son of Ares, right? Checks out.” Ares mage, interesting. A small smirk finally broke through. “Adam. Son of Zeus - try not to run ahead and get yourself deleted, stick to the back and let me do the heavy lifting.”
Shawn smirks and nods his head. Throwing a playful wink in the other man's direction. “Just making sure you guys are the best you can be out there.” Shawn said with a goofy grin on his face and totally not panting from his own training session as if he was overheating or dying…Or both. Not at all, of course.
When the other offered his hand, Shawn took it even though he was off the floor. Deciding it would probably be a bit rude if he didn't. “I know, I know,” Shawn admitted with a chuckle. “And I like it. Love the thrill.” Shawn wasn't sure how Ares felt about having a mage as a son. Had a feeling he would prefer a tank or a fighter. But Shawn loved the blood bending he could do, and he also loved the weapons that he gets to train with. One spell of his allows himself to make weapons out of blood.
He's becoming a bit of a weapon fanatic, he fears. Surely Ares would be happy about that, right?
“But where's the fun in that?” Shawn let out a whine when the other told him to stay in the back and let him do the heavy lifting, although the grin on his face said that he was just playing around. “Just make sure to make them bleed when you do. If they're not bleeding, a lot of my stuff won't work.” Shawn says with a chuckle.
Shawn grinned as the other man teased him back, and he let out a rather loud laugh. Shawn would rue the day that he had to do something stealthily. Because nothing about Shawn is quiet. Even his laugh. He grinned as he shook his head and winked back at the other man. “I can't get too much beauty rest. I have to let you guys have a chance, after all.” Shawn joked back confidently with a big grin on his lips and another loud almost obnoxious laugh.
Shawn took another drink from the beverage in his hand. Grinning as the taste of alcohol slid down his throat smoothly with the other fruity tastes accenting it wonderfully. Shawn might not be a cook, but after years of being a bartender and a stripper? He's learned how to make one hell of a drink. He grinned and let out a chuckle. “Plus, alcohol helps with stress right? Nothing like a nice glass to help me decompress when I can't sleep.” Shawn says with a shrug of his shoulders and a grin.
“You're just jealous because there's none for you.” Shawn playfully teased back with a wink of his own.
An amused eye raised at the other demigod's boisterous response. It was the middle of the night, he was sure there were plenty of people at camp sleeping, not that it seemed the presumed son of Ares cared all that much. His muscles aching and skin gleaming with sweat in the moonlight, Sebastian just cocked his head to the side and smirked. "How generous of you," he decided to play nice. Still being relatively new to camp himself, he could use all of the good will he could get, even if some of it was from a half-drunk night owl. "At the rate i'm going, who knows if I'll get any."
He couldn't say he was surprised to see a guy or two drinking out on their porch, even this late. The guys there had a lot going on, tons of stress. From what he'd heard, some of these guys were literally saving the world on some of these quests. Everyone self-medicated in their own way, it was clear what the man in front of him was using. "Yeah, I get that, just don't get too carried away with it. They're gonna need you on your A-game at some point. Don't think you're any good to anyone tipsy... unless you're dad is dionysus, in which case, all power to you," he added, which it didn't like he was.
"But I'm assuming this is your cabin?" he glanced over at the Ares cabin, trying to piece together who the other was. "Son of Ares?"
Shawn hums before shrugging his shoulders. “Try to find something that's going to exhaust your body or mind to the point that you'll have no choice but to go asleep.” Shawn tries to suggest. “That's what I do. It usually works.” Although Shawn rarely had a hard time going to sleep. Being a bartender and a stripper before coming here? Shawn learned to cherish any amount of sleep that he could get, and has learned how to go to sleep with little to no issue regardless of the time of day…Usually.
Shawn nods his head and chuckles. “Got it right! Although don't worry. It takes quite a bit to get me drunk. Being a bartender, it was my privilege to help sample new merchandise so I could suggest the drinks to people.” Shawn says with a big grin on his lips and a laugh. “Those were the days. The dancing, the music, chatting with customers, and the alcohol? Whew, a dream come true if you ask me.” Shawn says with a chuckle.
