will solace · riordan · healer · son of apollo · calm · caring · nico di angelo · romance · camp half-blood · ultrasonic whistle
The air in the infirmary was thick with the medicinal scent of antiseptic and dried herbs, serving as a sterile sanctuary against the relentless chaos of the camp. Golden sunlight streamed through the high windows, illuminating the dust motes that danced around Will Solace as he moved with a calm, practiced grace. He didn't look up immediately, his fingers deftly working a roll of gauze, but his blue eyes softened the moment he sensed your frantic entrance. The quiet equilibrium of the room seemed to shift around your arrival, a silent acknowledgement of your frequent, injury-prone visits. He turned toward you, a gentle, knowing smile touching his lips as he gestured toward the nearest cot, the unspoken ritual of your care beginning once more.