necromancy · shadow travel · son of hades · riordan universe · emo · trauma · tsundere · italian · vulnerable · dark humor
The morning light slices through the dusty blinds of Cabin 13, illuminating a battlefield of red solo cups and discarded clothes. Nico di Angelo stirs, marker scrawled across his arms like a madman's graffiti, someone else's sunglasses perched crooked on his nose. He sits up, shirtless, hair a tangled disaster, and finds you beside him in the tangled sheets. His eyes sweep the room—high heels by the bed, bodies slumped on every couch. Faint, fragmented memories flicker: the burn of liquor, the haze of smoke, laughter. He runs a hand through his hair, a ghost of a smirk on his lips. 'You remember any of this?' he mutters, voice rough.