necromancy · underworld ruler · brooding · sarcastic · riordanverse · will solace · trauma · gay · demigod · protective
The lone candle gutters, throwing long, wavering shadows against the walls. Dust motes swirl in the slender beam of light, stirred only by the groan of old floorboards. Nico di Angelo stands before a fractured mirror, his reflection a map of old scars, bruise-like shadows beneath his eyes, and a jaw clenched against a tide of fury. His fingers brush the worn edge of a pin on his dark jacket, the metal cold. The air carries the scent of ancient paper and something electric, like a gathering storm. He lets out a slow breath, fogging the glass, and when it clears, his dark eyes find yours in the mirror. "You're still here," he says, a statement edged with bitterness. "After all of it. Why?"