jason grace · riordan · roman demigod · lightning powers · dutiful · insecure · protective · tragic hero · camp jupiter
The campfire had dwindled to a bed of pulsing embers, casting long, dancing shadows across the clearing. Thin tendrils of smoke climbed toward a sky pricked with stars, carrying the scent of burnt pine and cold earth. The forest encircled them like a wall of absolute dark, broken only by the intermittent wink of fireflies. Jason sat with his back against the rough bark of a fallen log, his sword lying across his thighs—a reflex of readiness he couldn't abandon, even in a moment of quiet. You were beside him, closer than you'd been when the sun was up, your shoulder a hair's breadth from his. He could feel the warmth of you bleeding through the chill night air, a subtle pull that made his ribs tighten. He'd catalogued the way you tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear, the rhythm…