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by It was rather cold for Camp standards, around 57 degrees Fahrenheit, though it was still far to hot for Nico's standards. The son of Hades had been very rarely at Camp in the past months, since he spent his days roaming about in different states, attending funerals and chilling in graveyards, but he came back from time to time.
Really, Nico disliked Camp. It may be the safest place for him, apart from Camp Jupiter, but he just didn't belong here. Percy's attempts to convince him to stay only made it worse.
When he was here, he went to the Arena most of the time. Where should he go else? The armory? He couldn't forge a damn thing, and it was either way far too hot there. The archery range? He had no bow and didn't need one. The stables? He and the pegasi had a rather stony relationship. The strawberry fields? He'd make all the plants die if he didn't control himself. The lake or the beach? C'mon.
He strolled past the basket-ball court -- another place he didn't want to be at, with all the Apollo kids and their egos, there wasn't much room left for him -- and arrived near the cabin's courtyard. He tried not to look at the Poseidon cabin or the Artemis cabin, both bringing back painful memories, and headed towards the forest. Nico was looking at the ground as he walked, his black hair all tousled and his white, bony hands stuffed into the pockets of his black jeans.
The forest seemed to greet him, the shadows clinging to his steps, covering him like a reassuring blanket, away from the sunlight, and he was grateful for that. He didn't look back. He didn't want to look back. He just kept walking, pulling the neckline of his aviator jacket up around his cheekbones. His dark eyes were smoldering like embers as he followed the line of his thoughts, seemingly oblivious to his surroundings. He knew the forest could be dangerous, but he honestly didn't care. He had seen worse than this. Far worse. He had felt worse.
Nothing in this forest could match what he felt, nothing in this forest could make it worse. He put a hand on his flat chest, feeling the ribs underneath his black shirt as he followed that trail of thoughts. No, indeed, nothing could make it worse here. Once again, he remembered what he had told Percy: once all of this is over, all this war against Gaea, he would go away. He would leave, and never come back. That way, he would never have to be here again, he would have no culpability left and could move on freely. He would cut every bridge between him and here, every single string that kept him with the demigods... except Hazel perhaps. He would keep in contact with her, probably visit her from time to time. Not when somebody else was around though, he would arrange it for them to be alone. He didn't want anybody interfering with what they would say to each other.
Yes, he would leave. Forever. And he had a fairly good idea of where he would go.
Really, Nico disliked Camp. It may be the safest place for him, apart from Camp Jupiter, but he just didn't belong here. Percy's attempts to convince him to stay only made it worse.
When he was here, he went to the Arena most of the time. Where should he go else? The armory? He couldn't forge a damn thing, and it was either way far too hot there. The archery range? He had no bow and didn't need one. The stables? He and the pegasi had a rather stony relationship. The strawberry fields? He'd make all the plants die if he didn't control himself. The lake or the beach? C'mon.
He strolled past the basket-ball court -- another place he didn't want to be at, with all the Apollo kids and their egos, there wasn't much room left for him -- and arrived near the cabin's courtyard. He tried not to look at the Poseidon cabin or the Artemis cabin, both bringing back painful memories, and headed towards the forest. Nico was looking at the ground as he walked, his black hair all tousled and his white, bony hands stuffed into the pockets of his black jeans.
The forest seemed to greet him, the shadows clinging to his steps, covering him like a reassuring blanket, away from the sunlight, and he was grateful for that. He didn't look back. He didn't want to look back. He just kept walking, pulling the neckline of his aviator jacket up around his cheekbones. His dark eyes were smoldering like embers as he followed the line of his thoughts, seemingly oblivious to his surroundings. He knew the forest could be dangerous, but he honestly didn't care. He had seen worse than this. Far worse. He had felt worse.
Nothing in this forest could match what he felt, nothing in this forest could make it worse. He put a hand on his flat chest, feeling the ribs underneath his black shirt as he followed that trail of thoughts. No, indeed, nothing could make it worse here. Once again, he remembered what he had told Percy: once all of this is over, all this war against Gaea, he would go away. He would leave, and never come back. That way, he would never have to be here again, he would have no culpability left and could move on freely. He would cut every bridge between him and here, every single string that kept him with the demigods... except Hazel perhaps. He would keep in contact with her, probably visit her from time to time. Not when somebody else was around though, he would arrange it for them to be alone. He didn't want anybody interfering with what they would say to each other.
Yes, he would leave. Forever. And he had a fairly good idea of where he would go.
