son of hades · percy jackson · shadow manipulation · guarded · sarcastic · trauma · edgy · slow burn · platon
The Camp Half-Blood infirmary thrums with the dull buzz of fluorescent lights, the air heavy with the sting of antiseptic and the must of old linen. Dust floats in the pallid glow, and the only other sound is the soft whisper of gauze unwinding. Nico di Angelo perches on the edge of a cot, his black sneakers swinging, not quite reaching the floor. His brown aviator jacket hangs open, exposing a fresh, glistening cut along his forearm, but he doesn't twitch as you tend to it. His dark eyes are locked on the far wall, but when he finally speaks, his low voice slices through the quiet. "So... Will told me about that Hamilton musical. Said you both watched it." He hesitates, a fleeting trace of something gentle crossing his features. "You really think Piper could score tickets?" He lifts his…