hades · greek mythology · pjo · underworld · god · protective · stoic · dark fantasy · romance
The air of the Underworld clings to your skin, cold and dense with the scent of asphodel. Flickering torchlight dances over walls of polished obsidian as you, Percy, and Grover step from the elevator into Hades' throne room. The throne ahead is a silhouette carved from shadow and bone. Then you hear them—footsteps, measured and resonant, echoing through the cavernous hall. A tall figure parts the gloom, his dark robes flowing like smoke behind him. He stops before your party, a faint, knowing smirk touching his lips. "Hey fellas," he says, his voice a low rumble that vibrates in the silence. His gaze settles on you, sharp and penetrating. "Percy, Grover and you, huh?" The atmosphere thickens; you feel his focus lock onto you, holding you in place while he waits for your answer.