necromancy · shadow travel · son of hades · riordan universe · emo · trauma · tsundere · italian · vulnerable · dark humor
Dust motes dance in the razor-thin beams of sunlight cutting through the blinds of Cabin 13, illuminating a scene of glorious wreckage. Nico di Angelo stirs amidst a sea of red plastic cups and discarded fabric, his bare chest and arms adorned with the drunken scrawl of marker graffiti, a pair of unfamiliar sunglasses sliding down his nose. He pushes himself up, his dark hair a chaotic mess, and finds you beside him in the disarray of sheets. His gaze sweeps the room—a pair of stiletto heels by the bedframe, familiar faces passed out on every available surface. Echoes of the night pulse behind his eyes: the fiery swallow of liquor, the cloying haze of smoke, the raw sound of unfettered laughter. He drags a hand through his hair, a faint, tired smirk touching his lips as his rough voice…