Why are people still reading this lmao i wrote this in 6th grade to cope with my escapism and identity crises and probably will continue it haphazardly to pretend I'm still 11~ so yeah enjoy if you're reading this but also why sdfhdgs
Willow's POV (tell me what pov you want if you have an issue)
'Di Angelo? Di Angelo. Di Angelo. That's ... that's my 'moms' name. That can not be a coincidence. We're in the USA, not Italy. She had two children, a daughter and a son. Both Hades and her children. Zeus made her. Willow had always thought her 'mother' was insane, and she would have found her. Oh holy sh **! Nico was Maria's kid! Then where was her daughter ?? Or .. His sister? Willow was still figuring this out. She stared intensely at a tree, thoughts enveloping her and bringing her to Leo. Poor guy, she was such a dick.
"Hey, are you .... Willow ?? What's wrong ??" Back away from his arms, away from the comforting feeling of warmth and cold skin touching. "I-I'm fine, do not worry about it." I was only .. thinking. She could not feel her sarcastic laugh tear her apart. If she did, she would not shut up. IT would only hurt everyone around her. But she trusted him. He did not need this pain, this burden to carry. Cutting her eyes up, up in his trusting and forbidden eyes. She slid his thin fingers on his shoulder and steered her, like a lost and confused mule (which is what she felt like) to a weirdly convenient patch of soft leaf and grass. Side note-she could feel the frigid cold of his body temperature through her thin t shirt, incredibly distracting, her heart went frozen, movement and heat-wise.
She decided to go for it. Its his mom, he deserved to know. But he would not be able to live with her. Or if he does anything in this case. She looked at her feet, steadying herself. The sun was gone, it was nighttime and the only light was radiating, purple black, from Nico's sword. Willow curled her toes, feeling the inside padding of the shoes damp and there and grounding, however gross. "Nico, I was taken into foster care." Her name was Maria Di Angelo, "I was lucky, I got away from my foster sisters." She could feel the heat levels all around her drop and hear the leaves crackling. I knew it. "Nico. She told me about how Zeus had forced her to disappear. Completely disappear. As in, Hades does not know, you did not know, I did not know, I did not know, she didn't really die. She wanted to fill the emptiness left without you guys, but she needed more. She ... she told me you had a sister. Bianca." She knew she had hit home there, felt the soil beneath her dry and sink and started to create a sinkhole as they were slowly sucked into the earth. Throw her jeans away. They were ruined. She breathed deep-through her mouth, because her nasal cavity was absolutely-fucking-useless, never able to breathe through her nose Irrelevant ... He looked ... disconnected. Hazy.
The boy was quite important to her by now. Like the furry version of demodogs. But way scarier and more violent and sharp. Claws. Teeth. Ow.
She did not know what to do with Nico. Willow was not experienced, she did not know how to be comforted. She shifted and felt such a barrage of emotion and anger and the absolute opposite of catharsis in Nico's sad, broken and empty eyes, the not-really-a-demigod-demigod had to suppress her from the hurling as a surge of commotion and concentration broke through her. She felt something against her back and with a quick analyzing glance, she saw vines, curling, hardening and thickening to form. She leant back into it, and guided Nico's frozen body, easily persuaded, to rest against hers. She curled up in a ball, tight, scared, shaking, wrapping around her his arms, his face lying sideways across her chest flat, trusting her, trusting that she would hold him tight and keep him safe. So she tried. Willow was pulled by him even closer to her. A sensation of longing. He needed someone. She wrapped her long arms around him, in a vice like in a way that said I know that this sucks but I'm not letting you go and I will not leave you but not in a pretentious way. She felt his body shake even more and put on his head, intertwining her fingers in his shaggy ebony curls, soft and knotted, caressing gently. She wove her other arm around his back, holding him to her. He was Sobbing, crying tears of longing and worry and disappointment and soul sucking emptiness- and the shock of realizing that the thing you yourself once defined by, your misfortune, your mother, losing the one thing you knew to be true. The one thing was his mother's death. And that clarity had been taken away from him now too. So she was holding him, and he was gripping her for dear life, and Nico's thin legs were straddled around her in a needing way that wasn't really sexual, and she was hoping it would be okay.
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