𝄞
𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐊 𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐆𝐄𝐃𝐘.(n.) behold the blood of Hyacinthus, which had poured out on the ground beside him and there stained the grass, was changed from blood; and in its place a flower, more beautiful than Tyrian dye, sprang up.
❝ Near time...
❝ It doesn't matter what bullshit you spew because I know me. I am Lucia. Lucia Verano, I was chosen to bear Apollos' gifts. I survived things you wouldn't even believe as a mortal let alone as a demigod... I am the Daughter of the Sun and Hyacinth. I am Lucia of Sparta, ruler of the surviving Spartans. I have resisted Hecate and Kronos themselves. I have gone through Tartarus and i'm still alive—and sane enough—to tell the story. I am a fighter...a survivor...somehow I end up on my feet and find the ability to smile...But...Gods I-I can't do this—I can't survive it...Please...❞
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❝Don't you get it? I can't tell you yes because I can't! I'm sorry. I am. But you aren't her! And If I never hear her voice again then surviving this war won't matter because my heart has been ripped from my chest!—I choose her. Every time, I choose her, in life, in death, no matter what it costs me. ❞
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