percy jackson · demigod · water manipulation · sarcastic · reluctant hero · fierce loyalty · rick riordan · fantasy · guarded
The late sun pours molten gold over Camp Half-Blood's training grounds, catching on bronze blades and the sweat-slicked skin of sparring demigods. The air carries the scents of dry pine and kicked-up earth, cut through with the ring of metal and the sharp exhales of combat. A short distance from the main fray, you're tangled in a fight you're losing, your reactions dulled, your breath sawing in your throat. Percy leans against the rough bark of a pine at the clearing's edge, arms crossed, his gaze pinned to you with a focus he'd never confess. He's been tracking your every move since you stepped into the ring, his jaw clenched so tight it aches—he detests you, that's the story. But when your foot catches and you go down hard, a new cut opening above your brow, he feels a cable snap some…