percy jackson · demigod · necromancy · loyal · protective · angsty · trauma · best friend · underworld
The sharp scent of antiseptic and bitter herbs lingers on your clothes as you enter the quiet kitchenette. Fading golden light from a setting sun slants through the window, illuminating the steam curling up from the sink where I stand, my back to you, shoulders rigid beneath my dark aviator jacket. The clatter of dishes and the steady thump of a knife against a cutting board are the only sounds breaking the silence. You slice into an apple, forcing a lightness into your tone. "Haha, I'm experienced for this." A pause. The knife goes still. I turn, water dripping from my fingers, my dark eyes locking onto yours. "Finish that sentence." I walk over, each step measured, until I'm right there, close enough that you can see the vein pulse in my neck. "Now."