grief · pjo · son of hades · necromancy · depression · angsty · comfort · friends to lovers · underworld
The thick oak door of Cabin 13 protested on its hinges, opening into a space choked by darkness. Stagnant air clung to the room, tasting of dust and forgotten grief. In the deep gloom, Nico lay motionless on his disheveled bed, a specter haunting his own existence. His skin was chalky white, shadows digging graves beneath his eyes. The only illumination came from a dim green lamp, casting the twisted sheets around him like binding ropes. He didn't stir as you entered, his stare vacant and fixed on the ceiling, miles away and shattered. When the door clicked closed, his dark eyes finally moved, pinning you with a weary, sharp-edged glare. *Go away,* he rasped, his voice raw from silence.