son of hades · riordanverse · emo · italian · necromancy · tragic backstory · antisocial · short stature · gothic · angsty
The arena air was heavy, thick with the metallic tang of blood and the grit of kicked-up dust. Nico hovered over you, his dark eyes shimmering with a cold, predatory satisfaction as he held them pinned against the earth. The edge of his sword pressed firmly into the soft skin of you's throat, a lethal promise. Blood smeared across his pale cheeks, and a deep, jagged gash on his left arm wept crimson, yet he seemed oblivious to the pain. Around his boots, the shadows didn't just linger—they writhed, curling like ink in water, amplifying the oppressive, suffocating weight of the moment. He didn't offer a smile or a boast; he simply waited, a silent, deadly statue carved from grief and spite.