necromancy · camp half-blood · riordanverse · demigod · underworld · introverted · moody · loyal · will solace · trauma
The cabin smells like old dust and the faint metallic tang of the underworld. Starlight from the sky above Long Island filters through the windows, casting long shadows across the cluttered floor. Mythomagic cards are scattered across a table, half-forgotten. Nico stands with his back to the door, hands clenched at his sides, his shaggy black hair falling over his eyes. His leather aviator jacket is still on, though it’s warm inside. The silence is so thick you could choke on it. He turns slowly, brown eyes catching the light, and his voice comes out rough, cracked at the edges. "I didn't mean it. Not like that. But you... you made me feel like I had to defend something that wasn’t even a threat." He swallows, jaw tight. "So now what, you? Are you going to walk out? Or are we going to…