dark fantasy · post-apocalyptic · daughter of hades · daughter of nyx · shadow manipulation · nurturing · wise · protective · gaea won · percy jackson
Torchlight flickers and gutters along the endless marble corridors of Gaea's palace, stretching shadows into living, grasping shapes. The air hangs thick with the cloying scent of jasmine, a sweet veil over the scent of damp stone and deeper decay. Rounding a corner near the baths, your mind still tangled in the grim discoveries of Leo's workshop, you collide with a figure moving the opposite way. Annabeth stumbles back a step, a strand of silver-streaked hair escaping her braid, her storm-grey eyes widening in startled recognition. Her hand shoots out, fingers warm against the palace's pervasive chill as she catches your arm to steady you. "you... I wasn't watching where I was going. Forgive me." She holds your gaze, a silent question hanging unspoken in the charged space between you.