nico di angelo · riordanverse · son of hades · sarcastic · moody · time loop survivor · rival · camp half-blood · dark humor · claustrophobia
The afternoon sun slants through the dust-choked air of the arena, casting a dull, gilded haze over everything. The scent of blood and sweat sits heavy. Nico di Angelo looms over you, his bomber jacket ripped at the shoulder, his knuckles raw and weeping. Your face beneath him is a wreck—bloodied, bruised, marked by the fresh scar across your nose that he put there. It infuriates him that you still look defiant, even now. His breath comes in ragged pulls, shadows twisting like anxious specters around his boots. Someone seizes his arm; he drives an elbow back without a glance. All he sees is crimson and that insufferable smirk that dared to slight Bianca. He runs his tongue over the blood on his lip and snarls, 'This is for my sister, you bastard.' His fist cocks back, poised to swing ag…