Perseus Jackson: Champion of Thanatos

Graceless

The man marched slowly, slow but with a purpose that lost souls lacked. Yes, not slow like the lifeless spirits, but a determined slowness. Not the fast and hunger-filled charge of all the beasts he had defeated in his time; which was often mistaken for determinedness. This entity that embodied a greater power, that had at one time had undoubted loyalty and iron-forged morals. In these times his morals were more of an unstable and substance lacking thing. Much like the souls that roamed with him in this pit. It is difficult to maintain loyalty in one's soul, when all that had once chanted your name for your honor, had turned and shut their doors upon you. He would often think that this was a deserving fate for a man like him. Where else would the fallen hero go when the gods threw him away like the broken toy he was? Tartarus was not such a bad place to reside. People fear the hidden dangers and monsters in the place of hell and suffering, but the most frightening aspect is the ability it has to change someone who is strong enough to endure. Endure, what a hopeless word. Not conquer, or defeat, but to endure, to withstand without gaining ground and hold wounds but still be there. The broken man had surely endured over the years. He was in fact, broken, not physically, in that aspect he was stronger than Hercules would have ever dreamt. The pit was a place where one would grow in strength and scars the more you had endured. Yet he was broken in his souls sense, no more love did he grow in his heart, or in his new mindset; did he fester in his heart.

He walked across crunching black glass that twinkled beneath his feet. He now had an unshaven face, emphasizing his aging, and his eyes were somehow darker; piercing. The man's face was narrow like a blade. He was often called handsome in his days of adventuring. That would certainly still be the truth if you could get past the deadly gaze and withering grimace of the man. He moved with feline grace now, no waste of energy in his movement when he used his sword; Anaklusmos.

Most monsters did not bother to try to make a meal out of him anymore; after ten years in this pit, they started to get the idea. Every now and then though, an ignorant force would cross his path. Now was such a time. A trio of empousai stood in the lone warrior's path. They sized the man up, he was certainly ferocious, but there were three of them. "Step aside." The man said hoarsely, as if he hadn't spoken in ten years. The empousai hissed at the man and then snickered. "Hold still, and your death will be somewhat painless, demigod." The leader of the reptilian women drawled. The man gave an almost weary sigh. Before anyone could blink the demigod had lopped of one of the empousais' legs and then jammed Riptide up to the hilt in her chest. The others converged on him from either side, and he swung a heavy handed punch to the one on the left. She flew to the ground and he kicked the other one in the groin and then jammed his sword down her throat. There were now two dust piles on the glassy ground, and a third was made when the rising empousai was eviscerated promptly.

The whole confrontation took about thirty seconds. The man looked extremely disinterested with the work he had just done and continued his stroll; leaving the dust piles behind. The forsaken hero was now infinitely more deadly than he had been before his "vacation". His glimmering gemstone eyes stared ahead at a new scene. A head of blond hair shone before him. The familiar tug of emotion betrayed him before he squashed it. The beautiful wise teen came to stand before him, and then gave a grin. It seemed like a bright lighthouse on a dark shore, this scene. Two lovers meeting in a black, uninhabitable maelstrom of lost hopes. But the man did not return the smile. "I am done being fooled, you will not have me." Then for what has seemed to be the hundredth time, Percy Jackson reached out, and snapped Annabeth Chase's neck.