Nico di Angelo | Percy Jackson (sonofhades) wrote in madisonvalley, @ 2013-11-02 04:01:00 |
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Entry tags: | !log, !open, ~2013 november, ~40 points, ~~lily (summerslady), ~~nico di angelo (sonofhades) |
WHO: Nico di Angelo and OPEN!
WHAT: Brooding.
WHEN: Saturday morning
WHERE: On the river walk
WARNINGS: Talk of death, possible talk of PTSD
STATUS: Open/Ongoing
Nico'd left Harry's early, not long after the sun came up. Early enough that there were still shadows to disguise him as he walked down the street aimlessly, savoring his freedom. He'd been horrified when they'd insisted that he have a guardian, and the debacle that followed just confirmed his desire to be as far from people as was possible to be. Thankfully, his particular talents made that easier than it otherwise could have been, and he managed to end up at the river mostly unnoticed.
Once there, he climbed down the bank a bit, where he wasn't obvious from the road, and sat on the cool ground. He always felt better...grounded...when he was close to the earth. He wasn't Hazel, with her ability to find precious stones and gems, or her ability to understand all the tunnels and caves that lurked under the surface, but children of Hades found comfort in it nonetheless. He'd spent most of the last four years underground, and deeply treasured the safety and peace of it.
He put a hand on the ground beside him, frowning a bit as the grass surrounding it withered and died, and the soil broke open to release a skeletal squirrel that chirped at him before hopping up the nearest tree. He hadn't meant to do it...but when his emotions were this out of control, it was terribly hard to control what was inside of him. These powers...they were so big. Sometimes he wondered if he were strong enough to even control them, especially after Tartarus. He wasn't strong enough for a lot, after Tartarus. He hadn't been able to shadow travel for weeks, and he still couldn't bring himself to hold down a full meal. Pomegranates and pomegranate seeds were good enough to keep him alive, but he knew he looked paler than usual, and he'd had to tighten his belt a few notches.
He couldn't explain the horrors of Tartarus. There weren't words in any language he spoke that could adequately define the misery, the hopelessness, the despair that ate into your soul. Percy and Annabeth perhaps would understand...but they hadn't been alone. A deep bitterness rushed through him, and the circle of death surrounding him expanded, a skeletal bird popping from the ground and trying in vain to fly away. The ground rumbled a bit before he forced restraint upon himself. The way to keep a low profile was not to open a pit to the underworld on the riverbank in broad daylight.
Alone. He'd always been alone. Ever since Bianca died, there'd been no one who really knew Nico. Hes the 'creepy one', the 'son of Hades', the 'weird one'. The one they were afraid to be alone with. The one nobody trusted. They thought he didn't know how they felt about him, but he wasn't stupid. He knew. And it had long since ceased to hurt. If that was how they wanted to be, then he'd be happier alone anyway. They didn't understand him. He didn't fit in among them. Maybe his father had been right, after all, never to have a cabin at Camp Halfblood. Other demigods had no time for children of Hades, just as Olympus had no time for his father.
But he was fine alone. He didn't need friends. He didn't need anybody. He loved Hazel, but she didn't know him either, not really. He was safest, most comfortable, and happiness in the deep dark places of the world, surrounded by ghosts and death, things he understood.
He wasn't sure how long he'd sat there, but when he looked up, the shadows had faded, meaning that it was quickly approaching mid-day. He looked up at the sun, shading his eyes against it, though it didn't have the intensity it would in summer. He should go back. People would be making their way down here, disturbing him, asking questions of the dead grass and possibly the skeleton creatures, if they didn't hide themselves. He stood, brushing the dead grass from his pants and looking for one last time over the river. Percy was right...it was peaceful.
But he hesitated a moment too long, and he heard footsteps behind him. He visibly tensed, his hand going to the hilt of his Stygian iron sword, a demigod's natural defense reflexes.
"I'm leaving," he said in a quiet voice. "I won't bother you anymore."