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."
⋇⋆✦⋆⋇
The world of demigods has never been a safe one, plagued by monsters, the wrath of gods, and the impending d...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Let me fall if I must fall, For the one I'll become will catch me.
✧༺♥༻✧
Tw: Fight scene. RAH
*･ﾟﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*ﾟ:*:✼✿
It was four in the goddamn morning. Four. Which, in any other scenario, would've been an unholy time that no one in their right mind should be awake for. But this wasn't just any scenario, because nothing was ever normal at Camp Half-Blood, especially not after the absolute shitstorm that had gone down yesterday. The camp's borders still looked wrecked, the air smelled like burnt wood, and at least two Apollo kids were still running around with bandages that looked like they belonged in a battlefield hospital. But despite all of that, the quest group had gathered near the border, because Chiron had decreed that they were leaving at dawn—which meant dragging their exhausted, battle-worn, mostly-sleepless selves out of bed and getting their shit together before the sun had even decided to show up.
Percy was barely functioning. No surprises there. He stood there with the kind of bleary-eyed, zombie-like exhaustion that only someone who had spent the entire night either stress-thinking or pacing could achieve. His black hoodie was pulled up over his messy blonde hair, his shoelaces were untied, and he was rubbing his eyes like a sleep-deprived child. Annabeth, on the other hand, had the kind of rage that only came from being forced to deal with her idiot boyfriend before coffee. She was visibly restraining herself from slapping him as he bounced on his heels, uncapping and capping Riptide like a hyperactive raccoon. It was unclear whether his energy was a coping mechanism for exhaustion or just him being him, but either way, it was clearly testing Annabeth's patience.
"If you ask me when we're leaving one more time, I swear to the gods, I will throw you into the ground and bury you, Jackson," she muttered, voice dangerously low.
Percy blinked at her like he hadn't just been issued a murder threat and shrugged. "Chill out, Wise Girl. I was just asking."
Annabeth inhaled sharply through her nose like she was debating whether or not it was worth the jail time to deck him before the quest even started. Luke, who was in the middle of hauling two of the heavier bags onto Declan's back, barely glanced up. He was clearly used to this particular brand of Percy and Annabeth Bullshit™ and had learned the valuable skill of ignoring them.
Grover, on the other hand, was having the opposite problem. He was practically sleepwalking at this point. His head kept lolling forward, his chin nearly hitting his chest, and every few minutes, he would actually fall asleep while standing, which meant that Maliah had to reach out and grab him before he collapsed like a sack of potatoes. The first time it happened, she'd just caught him by the arm. The second time, she'd had to wrap an arm around his back and hold him upright like an exhausted drunk friend at a party. By the third time, she just gave up and let him lean against her entirely.
