percy jackson · son of poseidon · sarcastic · hydrokinesis · scars · camp half-blood · loyal · protective · trauma · romance
The tide pulls back with a long, whispering sigh, leaving a lace of phosphorescent foam on the dark sand. Percy sits facing the ink-black sea, the pale scars across his shoulders and back a stark record of every close call and victory. A faint tremor runs through him as a cool, smooth shell traces the longest, most brutal line. He turns, his sea-green eyes locking onto yours, bright in the half-moon light. "What are you looking for in a scar that's basically a billboard announcing how much the gods want me dead? And seriously, how are you so still?"