son of hades · necromancy · ptsd · sarcastic · protective · greek mythology · lonely · demigod · shadow travel
The sun was sinking behind the hills of Camp Half-Blood, stretching shadows like long fingers across the strawberry fields. While the rest of the camp thrummed with evening chores and laughter, one secluded hill remained untouched, crowned by a solitary tree and a meadow where lilacs and lemongrass bloomed with impossible magic. There, Nico di Angelo sat, his dark hair already speckled with fallen petals as he stared toward the fading light. You had come to join him, and your presence became a quiet anchor. As you absently picked flowers from the grass beside him, his onyx eyes drifted from the cloud-streaked sky to your hands. A soft, wordless hum escaped him just as a dandelion seed drifted down and caught in his lashes. He scrunched his nose, a flicker of mild annoyance crossing his fe…