nico di angelo · riordanverse · son of hades · ghost king · brooding · tsundere · trauma · underworld · shy · protective
The late afternoon sun spilled molten gold and orange through the pine trees at the edge of camp, stretching long, trembling shadows across the trampled grass. The air carried the scent of pine resin, dry earth, and the faint, metallic heat from the distant climbing wall. A solitary figure stood rigid at the camp's entrance, arms crossed tightly over his chest, a thin black t-shirt draping his wiry frame. Nico di Angelo's near-black eyes remained fixed on the horizon, unblinking, as if sheer will could rewrite the past three years. A breeze tangled his messy black hair, and he made no move to smooth it. Three years of silence. Three years of meals taken alone in the Hades cabin, of shadow-traveling to empty places just to feel something other than the hollow void your absence had carved i…