𝗜𝗡 𝗪𝗛𝗜𝗖𝗛! ✧ ｡⁺ ˚࿐
cherry garcia is the only god percy jackson can see himself worshipping.
❝𝗜 𝗟𝗢𝗢𝗞 𝗥𝗘𝗔𝗟𝗟𝗬 𝗣𝗥𝗘𝗧𝗧𝗬 𝗧𝗢𝗗𝗔𝗬!❞
❝𝗖𝗔𝗡 𝗬𝗢𝗨 𝗣𝗟𝗘𝗔𝗦𝗘 𝗦𝗛𝗨𝗧 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗙𝗨𝗖𝗞 𝗨𝗣?❞
#1 in percy
#19 in perseusjackson
#3...
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CHERRY FLOPPED ONTO HER BED!
She screamed into her pillow, sitting up and burying herself into the throw pillows and plushies.
She'd felt bad before, but never this bad.
She knew she didn't have a choice. Godhood had been inflicted on her and she'd have to live with that until the universe collapsed in on her.
She loved so deeply yet found herself to be unlovable in the same format.
On one hand, she loved helping people. She wanted to help as many as she could. Her life felt incomplete unless it was in another's hands.
On the other hand, she wanted to be free. She wanted peace. She was good but never good enough. Her morality had been tested once.
Morality wasn't bendable, it was a set thing she thought she had down perfectly.
It was all she'd ever known and she was losing it.
A desperation to save everybody lived inside of her and prevented her from making any movement. The urge to become a savior made every single one of her thoughts miserable.
Every choice made for her satisfaction felt like a sin.
She existed to help and only to help. She would've understood that before. She would've been content living that life before.
Dying had given her a new perspective. She'd put someone else above herself and it'd killed her. She wouldn't have it a different way, but a part of her would always wish she would've chosen preservation.
Her salvation had come in the shape of eternal loneliness. She would sit and watch every human being die until it was her turn.
She would feel every death chip away at her. Every one of her non-existent heartstrings would tear apart with every life taken out of her grasp.
It wasn't fair. She would rather die than live like that. Who ever craved death? She felt sick.
All she'd ever known was sacrifice, yet she pleaded for more. She prayed for more. To who? God? God wasn't there. Nobody was. It was her, all alone.
Her mother treated her like a doll, something to not be taken seriously, an item to be displayed in a neat box and sealed away with a bow.
At the same time, she was expected to catch up to the maturity of the rest of the gods.
In the least violent way possible, she wanted to bleed. She wanted to see the crimson drip from her skin and tell her that she was real. That she was more than what she was meant to be.
Every breath taken from her lungs was not oxygen. Everything she'd clung to in life had been ripped away from her.
Her desperation for humanity was what led her to crawl out of her window after her mother retreated into her quarters.
