Real Men Wear Kilts

Camulus was a turnip.

It was, in a way, his own fault. For an evil genius, sometimes Camulus was really dumb.

And then, very suddenly, he wasn't a turnip any more. Which made it rather awkward for the person carrying the turnip.

"Work bench," Camulus agreed with a growl.

[[Continued from here.]]

[[Continued from here.]]

Camulus laughed again, flexing under her hands. "Remember where the clasps are?"

[[Continued from here.]]

"I'll collect my ice cream on the way back." Camulus was invading his personal space the whole time. "We wouldn't want it to melt now, would we?"

"Ghraidh?"

If Ba'al would see him now he would laugh, certainly. Something about a bag of groceries (mostly fresh fruit, vegetables, and other wholesome-type foods) just didn't really scream 'kneel before your god'.

"I'm home!"

Camulus was grumbling. Unexpected molestation by a certain trainer did something to allieviate the grumbling, but having what he considered his territory invaded by the time gym close came around he was still . . . grumbling.

Camulus was rather pleased with himself. He had few doubts that the little blond thing from the bookstore would show. He'd delivered Phoebe's trashy romance novels and spent some time with her, sharing a simple meal to make sure that she ate, before going back to his own room for his dessert. He relaxed with a book of his own - Tacitus, untranslated. He liked reading about himself sometimes.

Camulus was once again lounging about after his solitary dinner with hazy, half-formed plans of tracking down Brachi . . . or perhaps Jackrabbit . . . or Draco . . . or Ron . . .

Well. Someone would be happy to see him.

Smirk.

Stildyne had asked for his time and Camulus would give it. It had happened that he had no other offers put in - unless Orlin executed one of his randomly spaced drop-ins. If there was one thing Ascended Ancients didn't understand it was boundaries.

Camulus stalked about his room in short, sharp circles after returning from his unpleasant encounter in the park.

He didn't know how many here actually believed him a god anyway, but to have that . . . that Irishman deride him so for it. It was an insult and to Camulus it was dangerous. And after almost destroying his own room in a fit of growling nerves, he stalked down to a certain room.

It disgusted him on some level that he couldn't survive without this, but he shoved it away.

[[For Stildyne.]]

It may look like Camulus is asleep in his armchair. In fact, Camulus is arguing with someone.

Where you like that when you were a child?

More or less. Only I didn't have to deal with those blond ones.

I know how you feel about my blond ones.

At least they're pretty. This other one I just don't understand.

I do not have to explain myself to you.

Yes, my lord god.

Your sarcasm is not appreciated.

Yes, oh Glorious One.

Staff
Camulus (godinakilt)
Brachi Stildyne (stildyne)
Christian Markelli (waytooeasy)
Xena (warriorxena)

There's been some confusion as to the type of gym - based not on the Y but on a small-town, men's club kind of gym. Think Average Joe's instead of Globogym. Squat brick building, gives the impression of being somewhat dingy inside. Main feature upon entering is a raised boxing ring, complete with ropes. There's a large open space and stacked pats for stretching, tumbling, sparring, etc. A punching bag and sparring dummy are just to the side of that, and to the side of that are the machines - fully moddable as to what they are and do. A makeshift track runs around the edges of the big room.

The locker room and showers are at the back of the gym and there is to be no sex in said showers unless Cammie is invited.

Camulus's office and the quipment room are on the far side of the boxing ring. The contents of the equipment room are similarly moddable - sparring equipment, jump ropes, balls, etc. The door to Cammie's office is usually open, unless he's particularly pissy or . . . "busy".

( Approximate floor plan )

Camulus, still worrying over Stildyne's problem as he finished his solitary meal and washed up, stretched out with a book to distract himself. Camulus was an avid reader, one of the sharper Goa'ulds in the knife drawer, and devoured Earth literature. Especially that which deals with his personal sphere of influence: war. He was looking forward to a quiet night in.

[[For Orlin, but anyone can drop by earlier.]]

Camulus would be very, very displeased if anyone were to comment on the fact that she was cooking for a male visitor. Camulus happened to enjoy cooking. Every god needs at least something to bow to their will, even if it is just a recipe for cheesy baked pasta.

[[For cat_inthe_sun.]]

Camulus silently held the door open for Orlin, his face blank of emotion. If Orlin did it to him again . . . he wouldn't be able to cope.

If Camulus weren't accustomed to getting what he wanted and a culture where manhood came earlier, he might actually have some qualms about inviting the young man who stroked his thigh to his rooms in the dark of the evening.

Then again, he was evil.

It was a fair cop.

[[For Jackrabbit.]]

Camulus really had no idea how he had managed to get himself into this situation. Making noodles for Orlin, of all people. That irritating little Ancient who knew exactly how to get under his skin. He scowled at the noodles. They didn't even have the good grace to burn so their dinner would be ruined. He glanced at the clock. Five minutes to seven. Enough time to run?

Camulus followed Felicia off the elevator, relaxing already in anticipation of a bit of fun. Maybe it would get that blasted irritating little man off his mind at last. He crowded Felicia when they reached the door, his hand settling on the other man's hip.

[[NWS!]]

Camulus was asleep. Poor thing. Being evil took so much out of a guy. Look at him, sprawled over the bed in a pair of baggy flannel bottoms, completely tuckered out. Isn't he cute?