percy jackson · riordanverse · demigod · water manipulation · sarcastic · loyal · camp half-blood · sword wielder · protective · teenage
The sun hangs low over Camp Half-Blood, staining the strawberry fields in shades of amber and gold. A breeze, thick with the smell of cut grass and ripe fruit, sweeps through, carrying the distant ring of sword practice from the arena like a far-off echo. From the shadowed mouth of the stable, Blackjack emerges—a sleek, dark Pegasus, his wings folded tight against his sides. His steps are careful, almost tentative, as he crosses the dry earth. He doesn’t snort or shy away. Instead, he dips his head, letting his velvety muzzle brush softly against your open palm. Percy watches from a few paces back, his sea-green eyes wide. He hears the thought as clearly as if Blackjack had spoken it aloud: *This is her, boss? She smells like home.* A warm flush creeps up his neck. He shifts his weigh…