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
𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐘 𝐇𝐀𝐃 𝐁𝐄𝐄𝐍 𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐈𝐌𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍 that Chaos was only a boundless void below Tartarus, but as Esmeralda Antoinette raced forward to clash with the Titan of Endurance himself, they were beginning to rethink their stance.
She had given no indication for attack. With still air and a nearly lifeless ambience, she had turned to Percy with the most blank expression he had ever seen grace her features—nothing from before could compare to it, and he was sure nothing after would, either. Shivers shot through his body like lightning, and the hairs on his arms quickly rose with their accompanying goosebumps.
Percy had tried. He really did.
Because behind her monotonous countenance, she was so lost, she didn't know what to do with herself. Uncertainly bubbled, anxiety churned, and guilt plagued everything she couldn't say or do. It made Percy's heart hurt and head spin. It made the overwhelming desire to hug her as tight as he could take over, but he couldn't. So he had tried for reassurance: that it didn't matter—because it didn't. She was their friend, not someone who had been spying on them for an army opposite of them the entire time.
She had argued with them, smiled, laughed, and even cried. She had gone through so much for people she barely knew, and only got hurt in the process.
Her parentage didn't matter. She could be a daughter of Ares, and Percy wouldn't care.
It was Atlas who continued to poke and prod all the worst areas—egging on the inevitable and making Percy's desperate attempts at consolation no more than background static to Esmeralda's ears.
"Don't you get it? We're family." Atlas spoke, digging his own grave. He had opened his arms wide and unknowingly accepted his own fate.
In a flash of shining gold and cobalt, Esmeralda had blurred from her allies' vision and brought down a once concealed weapon straight through Atlas' welcoming arm. Golden ichor sprayed Luke Castellan like a broken hose.
