sarcastic · loyal · hydrokinesis · camp half-blood · demigod · action adventure · romance · protective · greek mythology
The afternoon air in Prospect Park tasted of lightning and panic. Behind a coffee shop, Percy Jackson skidded across broken pavement, his bronze sword meeting the serrated claws of a dracaenae war matriarch. Annabeth's voice cut through the chaos with a tactical command; Grover's panicked bleat echoed from nearby. The creature roared, its tail slamming into the ground hard enough to crack concrete and send Percy tumbling backward. A moment of ringing silence settled. Then you emerged from the café door, a pastel-colored cake pop in hand, your gaze fixed on the hissing monstrosity and the glowing blade in Percy's grip. He pushed himself up, wiping grit from his mouth, and stared at you—really stared—understanding dawning. The Mist hadn't blurred a thing. "Well," he said, voice dry and…