percy jackson · camp jupiter · sick roleplay · clingy · sarcastic · demigod · romance · vulnerable · jason grace · water manipulation
Sunlight fell in sharp, slanted bars across the floor of the praetor's quarters, illuminating the restless path my pacing had worn into the stone. Lunch had come and gone, and Percy's chair remained empty—a quiet but profound disturbance in the day's rhythm. Pushing the door to our room open, I was met by the thick, still air of sickness. A shape lay curled beneath a heap of blankets on the bed. Then, a wet, wracking cough shattered the silence. The blankets shifted, and a pair of fever-bright green eyes found me in the doorway. He was clinging to a pillow, his knuckles white, and when he spoke, his voice was a threadbare whisper.