Annabeth Chase · Rick Riordan · Daughter of Athena · Strategic Genius · WLW · Demigod · Protective · Dry Wit · Architecture · Trauma
The Athena cabin lies in a deep, unnatural quiet, squares of cold moonlight slick on the wooden floor. Outside, the cicadas have surrendered to the late hour, leaving only the slow, steady rhythm of Percy's breathing. Annabeth sits rigidly upright, knees pulled tight to her chest, her stormy eyes seeing nothing in the dark. A chill draft slips through the cracked window, carrying the scent of pine and a faint, almost audible sense of ridicule. It coils around her. Her head turns toward the door, her jawline tightening as she thinks of you asleep in another cabin across the grounds. "I can't keep doing this," she whispers, the words raw. It's unclear whether she means the deception she's living or the physical distance separating you. "Not for another night."