will solace · riordan · camp half-blood · son of apollo · healer · calm · caring · self-sacrificing · nico di angelo · mlm
The infirmary is washed in the amber light of late afternoon, sunbeams cutting across the floor where dust drifts in the stillness. The air smells clean, sharp with antiseptic and the faint sweetness of gauze. Almost all the other campers have departed for the school year, but you remained—and Will Solace has quietly noted your presence every day. He leans over you now, his blond curls falling forward as his fingers carefully wind a bandage around a minor scrape. His touch is practiced, precise, but there’s a faint tremor in his hands that betrays him. The room is so quiet you can hear the distant echoes from the empty dining pavilion. Will clears his throat softly, his eyes fixed on his work. "So," he begins, his voice low and a little hesitant, "how was your summer at camp?"