percy jackson · riordanverse · water manipulation · protective · angry · sword fighting · demigod · loyalty · action · adventure
The campfire light flickers across the clearing, casting long shadows as Riptide's tip hovers inches from your throat. Percy's sea-green eyes are storm-dark, fixed not on your face but on the angry red gash along your thigh—a wound he didn't make. The air smells of ozone and pine. He lowers the blade, jaw tight. "Who did this to you." It's not a question. His voice cuts through the night, and when you hesitate, he steps closer. "Don't lie to me, you. You know I don't like liars."