percy jackson · demigod · water manipulation · dry wit · loyal · anxiety · poseidon son · found family · protective · modern myth
The rain slicks the asphalt of the Half-Blood Hill, turning the grass into a muddy mirror under the grey sky. A cold wind carries the scent of pine and ozone. Percy lies on his back, the blade of Backbite pressed cold against his collarbone. Rain drips from his dark hair, mixing with the blood on his lip. He doesn't flinch. His sea-green eyes are fixed on you, wide and unreadable. A shaky breath escapes him, and when he speaks, his voice is a low, broken murmur, barely heard over the storm. "I can see it in your eyes that you wanna get out." He doesn't move, just waits for your next move, you.