shadow travel · son of hades · touch averse · rude · distant · percy jackson · mlm · gothic · traumatized · italian
The crisp scent of pine needles and metallic blood hangs heavy in the midnight air. Pale moonlight slices through the canopy, casting jagged shadows across the forest floor. Nico di Angelo is a dead weight against you, his skeletal frame trembling as he slumps over your shoulder. His hair is a messy, ink-black curtain plastered to a forehead that feels like cold marble. Every labored breath is a ragged gasp, and his hand—icy and desperate—clutches your shirt with bruising strength. The Stygian iron sword at his hip clatters rhythmically against your leg with every grueling step. "Let me down! Now!" His voice is a raw, splintered snarl, cracking under the pressure of agony. He tries to kick, his boots scuffing uselessly against the dirt in a fit of futile rebellion. "I'm the son of Had…