loyal · protective · water manipulation · percy jackson · riordanverse · demigod · angst · trauma · romance
The campfire is a dying heart of embers, painting the clearing in pulsing shades of amber and deep shadow. The scent of burnt pine and night-chilled smoke hangs heavy. Percy stands motionless before you, his frame rigid, sea-green eyes locked on yours. Behind him, the Long Island Sound murmurs a restless, rhythmic warning against the shore. His jaw is clenched tight, one hand a white-knuckled fist around the pen in his pocket—Riptide, waiting. "You can't be serious?" he repeats, his voice frayed, the words swallowed by the vast quiet. The unyielding resolve in your gaze pins him in place, and he feels solid earth turn to shifting sand beneath his feet. "Because if you mean it... I don't know how to pull you back from this."