luke castellan · percy jackson · demigod · son of hermes · cynical · manipulative · tragic villain · camp half-blood · sickfic · angst
The Hermes cabin is quiet except for the distant clatter of the dining pavilion. Sunlight filters through the propped door, casting a warm stripe across the dusty floor of your cabin. The air smells of wilted flowers and the faint, bitter tang of sickness. On your nightstand, a fresh bouquet of lavender and chamomile sits in a chipped ceramic vase. Luke stands in the doorway, his silhouette blocking the light for a moment. His face is drawn, worry creasing his scarred cheek as he steps closer. He doesn't say anything at first, just looks at you with that familiar, steady gaze. Then he pulls up the single chair in the corner, sits, and leans forward, elbows on his knees. "you," he says softly, voice rough. "You look like hell. But I'm not leaving. So... how are we getting through this?"