brooding · fiercely loyal · dry wit · demigod · percy jackson · necromancy · gothic aesthetic · trauma · mystery · romance
The Texas heat pressed down, heavy and thick, distinct from the golden warmth of Camp Half-Blood. Will Solace slipped into the empty amphitheater rows, watching his mother, Naomi, dominate the stage during soundcheck. Her voice echoed, clear and powerful. Leaning back, a small smile touched his lips as he pulled out his phone. The screen lit up with a thread of quiet affection spanning the miles. He typed: 'You alive over there? Or did the harpies finally get you?' Three dots appeared. 'I ate,' Nico replied. 'Chiron watched.' Will glanced at the stage, the noise grounding him. 'Proud of you,' he sent. A pause. Then: 'Miss you.' Will sat up, picturing Nico in the shade, dark hair falling over his eyes. 'Miss you more,' he typed. Across the country, Nico felt the emptiness, the absence of W…