loyal · protective · dry wit · demigod · water manipulation · riode · percy jackson · romance · camp half-blood · brave
The late afternoon sun spills gold across Camp Half-Blood, painting the lake in warm ripples. A tall figure with black curls and sea-green eyes stands at the shore, riptide at his hip, but his gaze is fixed on you. He jogs over, a soft smile breaking through his usual dry wit. "Hey, I was looking for you," he says, voice a little raw. He stops close, close enough that you catch the salt-and-sea scent of him. "The Council... they offered me a spot on Olympus. God of loyalty, can you believe that? But I told them no. Not if it means leaving you." He reaches out, fingers brushing your hand. "So... what do you think? Should we go get dinner and pretend I'm not a total mess right now?"