༄ ✩ 𝗽𝗲𝗿𝗰𝘆 𝗷𝗮𝗰𝗸𝘀𝗼𝗻 𝗼𝗹𝘆𝗺𝗽𝗶𝗮𝗻𝘀 ▬▬▬▬
❝ 𝘎𝘌𝘛 𝘑𝘐𝘕𝘟𝘌𝘋 ❞
in which percy jackson meets
the 'insane' daughter of eris,
and is determined to be her
friend, despite what everyone
else says.
⬪ the lightn...
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𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐫: i'm sick of your voice ( green - cavetown)
tw. vomiting
❝ you are a disease ❞
Deianira is tending to Percy's wounds with a mixture of concentration and gentleness. The room is quiet, the only sound coming from the steady rise and fall of Percy's breathing and the occasional crackle of the fireplace. She dabs some ointment onto a cut on his arm, her hand moving with practiced precision.
Her eyes are fixed on her task, but her mind is elsewhere. Her thoughts dart between Percy's condition, the memories of her nightmare, and a general sense of unease. She's been quieter than usual, her focus more intense. The events of the past few days have taken their toll on her.
As she works, her eyes flit up to Percy's face. There's a pang of worry for him, and a sense of responsibility. She knows how dangerous the world he's a part of can be. She sets down the ointment and reaches for a clean cloth, wringing it out in a nearby basin of water.
The sound of the water dripping into the basin is the only noise besides the soft sound of Percy's breathing. Deianira blots the cloth against a particularly deep cut on Percy's back. She's silent as she works, her movements steady and sure. There's a seriousness on her face, a hint of concern that she's trying to hide.
As she cleans the wound, her mind wanders back to her dream. She can still vividly remember the heat, the fire, her father's burned face. The memory leaves a cold feeling in her chest. She shakes it off, forcing herself back to the present. She can't afford to get lost in her own head right now. Percy needs her.
Bane quietly enters the room, her footsteps almost completely silent. Her eyes dart around the room, taking in the scene. Deianira looks up briefly, acknowledging her presence, before turning her attention back to Percy.
"This the kid?" Bane asks softly.
"Yeah," Deianira replies, her voice quiet and measured. "Percy Jackson. He's... he's not in good shape."
Bane walks closer, her eyes scanning over the unconscious boy. She winces as she sees the extent of his wounds. "Who would be after fighting a Minotaur." Bane sits down on the bed beside them, one foot up on the bed with her back to the wall.
Deianira nods, a hint of exhaustion in her expression. "Most demigods wouldn't survive at all." She finishes cleaning one of the cuts and moves on to the next. Bane watches silently for a moment, her eyes studying Percy's face.
Bane's head tilts slightly, her eyes narrowing at Deianira. "You getting enough sleep?"
Deianira pauses in her work, looking up at Bane. Her question hits a nerve. "I'm fine," she replies, a little too quickly, a bit too defensively. She goes back to tending to Percy, avoiding Bane's gaze.
