𝐀𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐬: (adj.) loving
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"𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐚 𝐩𝐢𝐭𝐲. 𝐈 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐲 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝'𝐯𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐫."
Esmeralda Antoinette positively infuriated Percy Jackson. If she threw one more pebble at him, he was going to lose it.
Percy Jac...
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𝟑𝐫𝐝 𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐏𝐎𝐕
𝐄𝐒𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐋𝐃𝐀 𝐃𝐈𝐃𝐍'𝐓 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 sleeping in a room directly beside a bustling group of arguing Hunters, Campers and mediators—especially not with a pounding headache that was finally on its downslope. However, that's the treatment she received in the Big House, which was unfortunately connected to the infirmary. It was the council's terrific idea to place the two rooms beside the other—paper thin walls and all.
As soon as weary eyes peeked open and aching ears registered heated debating just five feet away in the other room, Esmeralda sighed with resignation. Returning to her once peaceful slumber was going to be simply impossible.
She peered outside the nearest window. The sun had risen and was just nearing evening time, meaning she slept through the night—peacefully or fitfully? She couldn't quite answer that question. Even with those much needed hours, well rested was far too generous. Her headache persisted throughout the slumber, and the crick in her neck from two 'snapping's was annoyingly present. The only difference was she wasn't cold anymore—a bit sniffly, but bearable.
At a particularly loud retort, Esmeralda abandoned all hope for relaxation. She swung the sheets over before doing the same with her legs. Still clad in the day's previous clothes—as icky as that may be to her—Esmeralda shoved the note-accompanied ambrosia past her lips, savored the sweet taste, and padded barefoot down the fireplace-warmed hall.
The Big House's interior was rather...tacky, at least now she gained an adequate look at it. Compared to her residence, the pictures lining the walls were in great abundance, as was the decor. Happy faces stared Esmeralda down as she wandered to the cracked open doorway. It would've been unsettling had she not seen some familiar faces dotting picture frames. Percy, the Annabeth girl, Thalia, and Grover—and, as disturbing as it may be, Luke Castellan. He was the boy from her newest vision. Blond hair, athletic build, older, blue eyes, and on occasion, gold. His eyes in particular were most bothering. Esmeralda couldn't help quickening her pace until she came hand to hand with the lukewarm doorknob. She paused.
