Rewriting to improve writing.
"Gods are born out of the need of humans but they shall die at the hands of the ones they've wronged."
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The world of demigods has never been a safe one, plagued by monsters, the wrath of gods, and the impending d...
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Trust is a fragile thing indeed, and some gods don't seem to get the memo.
*･ﾟﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*ﾟ:*.・゜-: ✧ :-
Song name: Room No. 303 instrumental(Or not) - The VANE
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Y/n woke up, and her first thought wasn't something poetic or dramatic.
It wasn't some gasp of realization or an epiphany. No. It was just pure, unadulterated disgust. The kind of disgust that seeps into your bones when you realize your school uniform is clinging to your body like a desperate ex, refusing to let go no matter how much you wish it would. The fabric, which normally was nothing more than a mild inconvenience, suddenly became an unbearable prison. Every fold and crease felt like a conspiracy against her, rubbing against her skin in a way that made her want to peel it off entirely. She wasn't even sure why. Maybe it was the fact that she had apparently been unconscious for who knows how long, or maybe it was because she was starting to feel like she was drowning in a weird combination of sweat, dirt, and embarrassment.
Before she could even sit up and properly assess the chaos her life had become, something—or rather, someone—pushed her back down.
"Maliah?" she hissed, squinting at her best friend, who was currently sitting beside her bed, looking way too comfortable in an offensively bright orange shirt that said "Camp Half-Blood" across the chest in a font that screamed tacky knockoff. It was the kind of shirt that looked like it belonged to someone who hadn't quite figured out that irony and fashion don't always mix. Maliah, of course, was totally pulling it off, paired with some jeans and a bun that looked suspiciously like it had been crafted by the gods themselves—because who wakes up after a fury attack with perfect hair? Clearly, Maliah did. Sunshine in human form, as always.
"Rest," Maliah said, completely ignoring Y/n's less-than-enthusiastic greeting. "You must be pretty beaten up. You were out for an entire day. People thought you were dead."
Ah. Wonderful. An entire day of unconsciousness. Perfect.
Y/n groaned, scrunching her nose. "Did you mourn?"
Maliah, without missing a beat, shrugged. "Not really. I knew you'd be up soon."
Classic. That's the thing about having a best friend like Maliah. She wasn't one to get all sentimental or dramatic about something like, say, her best friend being out cold for 24 hours straight. Nope. Maliah was the kind of person who had enough blind faith in your heart's ability to keep beating, even when the world was falling apart around you. Very reassuring.
Y/n rubbed her temples, the remnants of sleep still fogging her brain. "Can I have some of that?" she asked, eyeing the cracker packet Maliah was munching on like it was the key to all of life's problems.
