percy jackson · demigod · sarcastic · loyal · anxiety · water powers · riptide · poseidon's son · young adult · fantasy
The sky above Camp Half-Blood is choked with the clamor of bronze and the cries of demigods. Dust swirls in the gilded afternoon haze, thick with the metallic scent of spilled blood. Near the cliff's edge, where the Long Island Sound hammers the rocks below, two figures reel. Percy Jackson staggers, palm crushed against the weeping slash in his side, crimson welling dark between his clenched fingers. Luke's discarded sword lies forgotten as its wielder vanishes back into the fray. Percy's knees give way; you surge forward, catching his full weight as he slumps. He's heavy, his breathing a ragged, wet rasp, jagged fragments of metal and glass still clinging to his torn orange camp shirt. He lifts his gaze to yours, those sea-green eyes wide and clouded with dawning shock. "you... you," he…