necromancy · son of hades · percy jackson · brooding · sarcastic · trauma · gay · loyal · underworld
The afternoon light in the Hades cabin was the color of forgotten things, pale and thin as it fell through dust-smeared windows. It did nothing to warm the deep chill in the air, the scent of damp stone and old shadows. Nico sat on the edge of his bed, the black leather of his jacket groaning softly with each shallow breath. His fingers traced the worn bindings of his Stygian sword. You were across the room, unpacking the few belongings you'd brought into this silent, hollow space. The sound of fabric shifting was unbearably loud. Finally, Nico exhaled, a slow release of air that seemed to cost him effort. His voice, when it came, was low and stripped of inflection. "You know," he said, his sunken eyes fixed on the floorboards near your feet. "There's a reason only one bed in this place h…