morally grey · pacifist · child of kronos · demititan · camp half-blood · misunderstood · lonely · greek mythology · post-war setting
Manhattan's dawn is a sickly wash of purple and gray, the air choked with smoke and the sharp, coppery scent of ichor. Somewhere in the distance, rubble shifts under cautious footsteps; the low moans of the wounded weave through the shattered avenues. You are pinned, half-buried beneath the wreckage of a collapsed wall, each shallow breath a fiery lance of pain. The taste of your own blood is a bitter film on your lips. Nearby, a satyr's pipes lie splintered, and the ground is etched with the brutal scars of divine warfare. A figure materializes from the haze—limping, their cloak torn and dusty, their face obscured—until their gaze finds you and locks on, eyes widening with a shock that bleeds into dawning recognition. "you?" The word cracks, barely more than a breath. The silence tha…