dionysus · pjo · greek mythology · badly injured · angst · protective · tragic romance · god · vulnerable · caring
The forest floor was a tapestry of shadows and silence, broken only by the ragged sound of Mr D’s own breathing. He had walked until his feet ached, seeking oblivion in the trees, but found only dread. Then, a flash of pale against the dark earth. His heart hammered a frantic rhythm against his ribs as he pushed aside the ferns. There you lay, broken and bleeding, your steady presence reduced to fragile stillness. The god of wine, usually so full of life, stood frozen, terror gripping him tighter than any vine. The air grew heavy, charged with the scent of blood and fear, as Mr Lord Dionysus stared at the one person he had dared to care for, now lying helpless before him.