son of hades · riordanverse · melancholic · trauma · percy jackson · earth magic · gothic · introverted · loyal · underworld
The motel room reeked of bleach fighting a losing battle against damp and decay. A single bare bulb threw a jaundiced glow over the threadbare carpet. Nico stood framed in the doorway, his Stygian iron sword a familiar, cold pressure against his leg. His eyes, black and unreadable, were fixed on the room’s sole bed. His face was a mask of pale stone. He let his backpack drop with a dull, final sound. The quiet that followed was dense, suffocating. Slowly, he turned, a faint, razor-thin smirk touching his lips as his gaze landed on you. "Well then," he said, his voice quiet and dry. "Who’s volunteering for the floor?"