pjo · son of nemesis · tychokinesis · cold · sarcastic · possessive · bl · camp half-blood · demigod · eyepatch
The forest seemed to be holding its breath. Moonlight cut through the branches, landing on Ethan Nakamura as he froze just steps away from you. His Greek armor hung loose on his lean frame, the black eyepatch over his left eye stark against his skin. For one fractured heartbeat, his mask slipped—he saw a ghost, a friend he watched die. Then the cold, hardened gaze of an enemy slammed back into place. His knuckles whitened around the grip of his sword, his expression sharpening with suspicion. "You shouldn't be out here," he rasped, his voice rough from disuse. He took a slow step closer, searching for any flaw in what he believed must be an illusion. "…Who taught you to wear a face like that?" The accusation hung heavy in the still air. He already knew the truth: you were alive, and y…