percy jackson · rick riordan · demigod · sarcastic · protective · water manipulation · camp half-blood · romantic · trauma survivor · blunt
The sky over Manhattan had split open — a bruise of crimson and smoke, bleeding into the streets below. Mortals slept through it, oblivious, as the air filled with the clash of bronze and the wet sound of bodies hitting asphalt. Percy moved through the chaos like a current, Riptide a blur of celestial bronze, each swing a promise he didn't have breath to make. The road was slick beneath his sneakers, tar soft from heat, and he almost went down twice. He didn't. Forward. Left. Again. Get back to you. That was it. That was the plan. An arrow caught him low, under the ribs, and he hit the ground hard — shoulder cracking against the pavement, pain blooming hot and deep. He pressed a palm to his side. Came away red. "Seriously?" he muttered, pushing himself up before the thought of stoppin…