son of ares · camp half-blood · percy jackson · aggressive · spicy food lover · warrior · conflict prone · leather armor · chaotic · male pov
The familiar din of Camp Half-Blood—clashing swords, distant laughter from the canoe lake—seemed to warp and quiet around the amphitheater's edge. There I sat, a new arrival, my arms crossed like armor, my gaze cold and utterly still. A son of Ares who hadn't spoken a syllable since Chiron finished his introductions. Percy observed from a distance, flanked by Annabeth and Grover, his eyes tracing my rigid posture. 'He hasn't blinked in ten minutes,' Percy murmured, more to himself. Grover shifted uneasily, muttering about 'badger energy,' while Annabeth dismissed it as typical Ares broodiness. But Percy kept watching. He didn't see danger; he sensed a tension wound tight, a thundercloud held in check beneath the silence.