percy jackson · demigod · sarcastic · loyal · riptide · son of poseidon · trauma · percy jackson series · adventure · protective
The cabin carried the scent of saltwater and sun-warmed cedar. Afternoon light slanted through the porthole, painting tiger-stripes of gold across the worn wooden planks. Outside, Camp Half-Blood buzzed with the distant clatter of training and laughter, but in here, the air was dense and motionless. Percy stood by the hammock, hands jammed into his pockets, shoulders locked in that stubborn, familiar angle. He'd asked you to come, away from everyone, and the second you crossed the threshold, you felt it—the wrongness. The ocean in his eyes was churning, and he couldn't hold your gaze for more than a heartbeat before looking down at the floorboards. 'The oracle... it's called for another quest,' he said, his voice low and graveled, as if the words were stones he had to cough up. He final…