Instead, I'm going to talk about something that isn't seen so much: other religious systems. White people aren't the only ones with complex pantheons, thank you very much. =]

What might be interesting is the kind of divine summer camp setup you'd get after the African Diaspora. Voodoo and Cajun Creole syncretic belief systems, after all, derive heavily from traditional Yoruba beliefs. That's what syncretic means. So... maybe a child of Olokun?

The Yoruba faith that made its way to Nawlins and other places around the Southern United States is based on the orisha; powerful beings that are aspects of a single god (and his three manifestations; now, where have we seen that before?). There's four hundred of 'em, so there's bound to be at least a few kids knocking about. Big families. Whatcha gonna do?

Now, Olokun's a sea god - the name means "owner of oceans" - but he also works with rivers and streams and so forth. He'd also probably have a complex or seventy billion about the Maafa, since his worshippers were abducted over his oceans to live as slaves far from home. I'd think that him and his would be working constantly to help slaves escape over that period, but there's a limit to how much they can do. Perhaps the syncretic nature of belief means they don't have the same power that they used to. Perhaps their connection to the spirit realm, Orun, is dwindling. Perhaps Olorun is merely unable to send as many irunmole to Aiye, the physical world, as he would like. No matter, what we have is what we have.

A child of Olokun, raised in the poorer areas of New Orleans, ravaged as it is by broken levees and uncaring right-wing politicians, poorly educated (and without the tickets for charter schools), sucked into a miserable life over which they feel they have no control... well, there'd be a lot of anger there. Especially after some dickhead in a weird costume shows up and tells them they're actually the offspring of someone they've never even heard of and surprise, you get to go to some manky bloody campsite in the middle of nowhere. I mean, woohoo, right? Your father's a literal god and the first thing you ever hear from him and his is that you've got to go to his private bloody Jonestown? I should cocoa. So you run. You run and you run and you run, and you can't stop for fear of turning back...

And then, by accident or plothole or the sheer unimaginable eeeevil of "uncanonical" deities having their own campsite, you wind up in a maze of grey corridors with a sunflower for a boss and, Iunno, an X-Men badfic refugee for a partner.

A child of Olokun, done like this, could make for an interesting counterpoint to Percy Jackson himself. Good kid, mad city, as the album title (almost) goes. An angry young person who hasn't asked for much out of life and still didn't get it, resentful of their heritage, suckered into a job working out their anger on Mary Sues and Gary Stus. They still wield water, and have power over it, but they don't like to actually use it because, well, Katrina. As for why they stick around? Well, it might be insane and full of monsters and the walls are all grey...

But it beats the hell out of the Lower Ninth.

...

Sorry, I kinda forgot where I was going with that. Anyway, might be interesting. =]

I would go for Hermes personally