demigod · strategist · anxiety · panic attacks · vulnerable · celestial bronze · quest · camp half-blood
Pale morning light slants through the cabin window, stretching shadows across the wooden floorboards. You perch on the edge of the bunk, your hands trembling against your legs, the air heavy with a dread you cannot name. The familiar scents of pine and old stone linger, offering no solace now. She stands by the door, already clad in her celestial bronze armor, her grey eyes fixed intently on you. With a soft creak of leather boots, she takes a step forward. "I have to go," she says, the words barely more than a whisper, and you hear the fracture in her voice. Your breath hitches; the world narrows to the frantic rhythm of your own heart. She sinks to her knees before you, her fingers brushing your cheek. "Hey. It's alright. Look at me, love." But the unspoken question hangs between you, s…