Nico di Angelo | Percy Jackson (sonofhades) wrote in madisonvalley, @ 2013-12-04 07:04:00 |
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Entry tags: | !log, !open, johanna mason (treesarehome), ~2013 december, ~40 points, ~~nico di angelo (sonofhades) |
WHO: Nico and Open
WHAT: Feeling alone at the Holidays, what's new
WHEN: Wednesday morning
WHERE: The Graveyard
WARNINGS: Talk of Death, TBD
STATUS: Open/Ongoing
The fog hadn't lifted from Madison Valley yet, and as Nico entered the silent graveyard, it covered the ground like a shroud. Wrapping around the tombstones, it seemed to smother all sound, keep out all light, and give the world a mystic, otherworldly appearance. Although it might put other people on their guard, it was nothing Nico wasn't completely used to. He seemed a part of it, almost, as he walked slowly through the mist, finally taking a seat on a white marble tomb near the center of the graveyard.
He often came here in the early mornings. It was a good place to be alone, and Nico di Angelo found no fear in death. He'd learned very quickly for himself that there were far more terrifying things in life than dying, and he'd suffered a good many of them. He didn't know if Harry knew where he went in the morning, but he didn't much care. He wasn't doing anything wrong, and living with the wizard wasn't going to work if he couldn't respect Nico's need to be alone. Except for the few days he'd traded his emotions to the evil fairy, he hadn't slept, and he'd hardly eaten since he'd arrived here. He needed the few things he had to calm himself.
He'd never really celebrated the Thanksgiving before. He'd grown up in Venice, moved to America when he was eight or nine - he couldn't remember exactly. Maybe they'd celebrated once? Twice? Before his mother had been killed by Zeus and he and Bianca had gone into hiding. Then seventy years had passed and the world he'd grown up in was left behind him forever. When he and his sister had re-emerged (at what felt like only a month later), it was off to school, and then to Camp Halfblood. And then Bianca had died, and he'd taken off on his own. No time to celebrate anything, really. And nothing to celebrate, either. For the next four years he'd lived on his own, surfacing often enough to make a name for himself at both Camp Halfblood and at Camp Jupiter, but never enough to make friends. Except Hazel, who wasn't here either.
And the last year...
Well, he didn't want to think of the last year. He didn't want to think about Tartarus, or the bronze jar, or the Doors of Death, or - Gods above. He put a hand over his heart, which was racing just at the thoughts going through his mind, and tried to use the peaceful surroundings to calm himself. It worked, but only a little. There was little peace to be found anywhere for Nico anymore.
But it was December. And Christmas was coming. And while he couldn't remember celebrating Thanksgiving (he didn't grow up American, after all), he could remember Christmas. Or at least, he remembered his mother singing. And the smell of the Christmas tree.
Closing his eyes, he began singing in Italian, in a voice filled with utter hopelessness and despair, although the words did not fit his tone.
Dormi, dormi bel Bambin, Re Divin, Re Divin
Fa la nanna bel Bambino, Re Divin, Re Divin
Fa la nanna bel Bambino.
Fa la ninna, fa la nanna
Fa la ninna nanna a Gesù.
Gli angioletti su nel Cielo
Veglieran su te Gesù.
La, la la, la la la, la la la, la la la
La la la, la la la, la la la, la.
Chiudi gli occhi mio tesor, dolce amor, dolce amor,
Fa la nanna sul mio cuore, dolce amor, dolce amor.
Fa la nanna sul mio cuore.
Fa la ninna, fa la nanna
Fa la ninna nanna a Gesù.
Gli angioletti su nel Cielo
Veglieran su te Gesù.
And although he didn't realize it, there were tears streaming down his cheeks as he sang.