His Return

12. His Return

October 28th
600th Floor, Empire State Building,
Mount Olympus, Throne Room
One hour following the Olympian Meeting

««•••»»

The hero of Olympus.

The son of Poseidon.

The Exiled one.

Perseus Jackson now stood before them for the first time in seven years, bringing with him a much grander presence that had not been there before.

There was a bright smile on his lips, but nothing about it was friendly, his cuspids sharp as fangs. In fact, it matched the cruel look in his hellhound-like bright red eyes that he continuously scanned the room with.

To the Olympians, it was unnerving to see him in the light.

What they had expected to see was a beaten, broken down, scarred, malnourished form of a man, and reasonably this was among one of the only ways that any person with sense might expect him to physically appear after dwelling in the pit for nearly 8 years. However, what they received was something completely the opposite of their anticipations.

Percy Jackson stood tall, his posture perfectly straight as his hands were placed formally behind his back. He wore nothing but black military pants and black combat boots, no tears nor rips along entirety of the material, leaving his upper body boldly exposed. His chest held no scars, nor did his hands, giving nothing away that he had been jailed for nearly a decade in the most hellish prison ever known to man.

His skin gave off a silver glow, making him appear to shine in the already brightly lit room.

On the left of his torso, there was a large black tattoo of a viper, it's mouth opened at one of his pectorals, looking as if ready to strike. On the other side of his thorax, stood a long, white scar, at least 11 inches in length and 2 inches in width. There was no possible way that the wound was inflicted by an average weapon or opponent.

His eyes were cruel, the new red pigmentation showing off a demonic appearance, unlike the sea green color that they had possessed before his banishment.

His being in the room brought a strong and powerful presence that had never been there before, the ground vibrating at his feet, and the air humming and cackling, like a burst of devastating lightning waiting impatiently to strike.

With a blank expression, he scanned the room, no emotion escaping his face nor composure, his gaze unnerving every god that it landed on. He did not bother to spare Poseidon a second glance after the first. As his eyes finally landed on Zeus, the wicked irises turned dark, yet, the look on his face never changed.

He snapped his fingers, and onto him, appeared a black combat sweater, covering his chiseled body, much to Aphrodite's disappointment.

Olympus's King cleared his throat, somewhat getting over the shock of the Demi-primordial's appearance. What surprised the gods however, was the tone in which Zeus spoke.
It was not that of the ignorant, over confident quality that it was during the earlier meeting. Instead, it held uncertainty.

"Percy-"

He was cut off by Perseus raising his brow, a fierce look churning in his eyes, like a sea of the ichor of every being he had murdered in the past years. He tilted his head, assessing the sky god, trying to figure out the best way kill him without bringing chaos upon the earth.
Perseus was like the viper on his torso: ready to snap at whatever the king had to say to him.