#lost hero

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The Cowardly Lion

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If death had a heart, he would scoop Morte Di Angelo's tired soul in his hands, kiss her forehead, and finally lay her to rest. She would have no shroud, coffin, or casket at her wake, for there would be no wake at all. She simply would lie in the grass, blood seeping back into the earth, and flowers would bloom atop the rotting flesh that would become her body. The sun would smile on her, the birds would chirp, and Morte would finally know the taste of peace. The animals around her would bow their heads before feasting on her remains, and each small decomposer would work to turn her back into what she started as, dirt. No one would stand around and mourn, for no one mourns the passing of a rotten soul. 

Morte thought about death a lot. Images of burned flesh, scarred faces, and crushed limbs would scatter her mind as she wondered what way she would go. Her dreams played out each possibility for her passing as if it was a game to be played and in order to win you had to find the most excruciating end. Would venom melt her flesh as she gasped on the ground, begging for forgiveness? Would she be electrocuted while atoning for her past mistakes that she wished to take back? Or would a gun be pressed to her temple while she slept, a song sung in her ear, and a trigger softly pulled? Spinning on a carousel of painful ends, Morte wished to get off, but she herself was just another metal animal glued down by a conductor that refused to stop the ride. 

After the night at The Cavern with Annabeth, Morte set off searching for Percy at one of the most typical places you could find the teenaged demigod: a school for misfits. The plan was to search every misfit school she could find in order to hopefully sniff out the trouble causing demigod, but it didn’t go so well. Enrolling had been forced upon her when she showed up and was met with the face of a very upset satyr that was adamant that she was the devil in disguise. Morte tried to run away from the obnoxious and strange statured goat man, but he grabbed her by the ear and dragged her inside with a mission: find and take care of the halfbloods he was protecting. Next thing Morte knew she was put in a room with a stunning but surprisingly rude girl named Piper, and she was being harassed by what she could only describe as a latino Santa’s elf. 

Leo Valdez made Morte crave death. He was loud, obnoxious, and annoyingly funny. From the moment that Morte arrived at the wilderness school, he clung to her like a second skin. He immediately decided that she was his muse, and in a bleak empty world, he was the one to add colour. He tried to make her laugh, made meaningless bets with her while she stared at him blankly, and worst of all, he cared about her. Everyday he would save her a seat next to him to ensure she got a good spot. He created a catapult that shot jello across the room so that he could jelly a kid from their physed class who made fun of her leg. She would come back to her dorm only to find a paperclip dragonfly resting on her pillow, waiting for her to see it. 

It was the day that Leo left a note with the dragonfly that made her feelings shift. Her body was sore from the hike that she had just endured, and her ears were still ringing from the sound of Coach Hedge’s megaphone. All she wanted to do was lie down and feel the embrace of Hypnos, but the dragonfly was in her way. Underneath its wing a small note sat folded neatly, waiting. Her slim fingers unwrapped the paper and she found that the note was covered in writing that her brain could not decipher. She turned over to her roommate who was sitting on her bed and reading, hoping that her question would not lead to a confrontation.  

“Hey Piper, sorry, could you read this to me please?” Her voice was weak and she felt tears well in her eyes from the overwhelming embarrassment she felt. It would be one thing if dyslexia was the reason that Morte could not read, many demigods had the affliction, but Morte Di Angelo could not read. It was a guarded secret that sat deep in her chest, pulling on her soul like an itch that she couldn’t scratch. She simply had never learned, and she had no one to teach her. 

“Um sure?” Piper responded, taking the note out of her hand before turning to read it. “... I think it says ‘meet me on the school roof tonight at dark. -L’ ew.” Piper groaned before handing the note back. “Leo’s at it again,” she muttered, turning back to her bunk and laying down.

Morte stared at the note in her hand. A strange feeling filled her, excitement. It filled her lungs and before she knew if, she was suffocating. The annoying elf that paraded around her like a planet does the sun, made her feel something. The idea that a kid she just met did that scared her. It burrowed deep in her chest, refusing to come out until the secret bubbled over. Her body laid itself down on the bed and before her mind could catch up to the fact that time had passed at all, moonlight peaked through the window, and the sound of Piper's snores filled the air. Without allowing herself to second guess, Morte sat up, pocketed a light and a pack of cigarettes, and shadow travelled to the roof. 

Leo sat at the edge of the roof, how he managed to get up there was unknown to Morte. His shoulders were slumped, his fingers softly fidgeting, and a sigh left his lips as he stared over the ledge. 

“Mind if I sit?” Morte’s voice broke through the crisp air. A yelp left Leo’s lips as his head whipped around to stare at Morte’s silhouette, eye finding her pale skin that seemed to glow in the darkness. His hand clutched his shirt, and in spite of herself a smile played on her lips. 

“Good God! You scared me!” His tone was exasperated, but a smile slowly formed on his lips. “I thought you stood me up Hermosa.” He laughed before patting the cement next to him. Morte sat down next to him, muscles stiff from the awkwardness that coursed through her body. 

“So… Why'd you ask me to come up here?” She broke the silence once again, curiosity crawling its way up her throat. 

“Oh, um… There's a full moon tonight and I thought you’d like to see it?” He shrugged, tone questioning the lie that slipped through his lips. 

“Leo… It’s waxing crescent right now. What's this really about?” Morte asked, looking up at the moon which stood in the sky, clearly not full.  

“I don’t know… I guess I wanted to hang out with you? Is that weird?” His voice was weak, and Morte could sense it carried fear. Fear was something that Morte knew far too well. It had clawed into her before and she understood the way it latched to your heart. She didn’t want Leo to feel that near her. Morte didn’t like being feared. 

“Leo, what does Leo stand for?” She asked suddenly, a smile in her voice.

“Uh, Leonidas.” He said with confusion lacing his voice. 

“That's what I thought. Where I grew up the name Leonidas was meant to invoke the lion. A mighty beast. King of the Jungle! Right now I’m looking in front of me and I see a cowardly lion. Where’s your roar?!” Morte asked giggling before standing up and looking down at the ground. From the height she was at, a normal person would surely die falling, but she had no fear. 

“Morte! Get down! You’re going to fall!” Leo cried before grabbing her hand. With the contact she immediately lifted him up with ease so that he would be standing on the ledge as well. “Oh my god! Morte!” He screamed with a laugh, clinging to her arms. 

The wind picked up as the two stood on the ledge. They held onto each other, laughter beating their lungs until it became silent cackling of joy. Without warning Morte sat back down, Leo clambering after her so that they would both be sitting. 

“My leg got sore, sorry.” Morte said as the laughter died down. Leo didn’t say anything, but she could see his eyes flutter down to look at where the prosthetic leg joined to the sad portion of her upper thigh that she had left. Her skin crawled as she felt embarrassment creep up behind her once more. 

“So, are you still feeling cowardly?” She asked with a slight chuckle. 

“Nope!” He quickly spoke, tearing his eyes away from her leg to look at her eyes. He stared into them deeply, transfixed by the swirling of purple and gold that covered her iris. It was her turn to tear her eyes away, an embarrassing colour forming on her cheeks. She shoved her hand in her pocket, withdrawing her smokes and lighter. 

“You good if I smoke this near you?” She asked, to which he silently nodded, staring deeply at the pack. A giggle, embarrassing and real, bubbled up her throat by the look on his face. “You want one? You’re practically drooling.” 

Leo nodded again and she passed a cigarette over to him. She then put the pack away and turned to light it for him, seeing as he didn’t have a lighter. He placed it between his lips and she drew near, coming closer to his lips. Another flush of annoying color lit her face and she looked away, flicking the lighter and placing it under the cigarette perched in his mouth. Once his was lit she turned to do the same for herself, but was stopped when she felt a hand on her chin. She froze, muscles tight in fear. 

“Here, let me help.” Leo placed her smoke between her lips, before placing his between his lips, and lining up their mouths so that his would light hers. 

“Thanks,” she said, turning away to hide her crimson face. The two sat in silence, the cool breeze falling on their skin. “So, not so cowardly lion, what’s the real reason you brought me up here tonight.”

“I wanted to be near you,” he whispered. “I really like you Morte, I want to get to know you. I want us to be friends, but every time I reach out I hit a stone wall.”

She understood what he meant. Morte had been great at building walls. Creating lies that fit her like a cloak to avoid attachment. Her life had been nothing but pain, so she got used to sleeping on the brick rather than another's shoulder. Leo was different. He reminded her of herself, and it scared her. She had never had a friend before. She had her siblings, her coworkers, and that was the majority of her connection. Morte had been building a new life. It was time for a friend. 

“I’ve never had a friend before,” her voice hushed. “I guess I could try?” 

Leo did not respond, just took her hand in his and leaned on her shoulder. The two sat like that before he leaned back up, hair messed up from where her shoulder had been. 

“Just to be clear, being friends means I get to sleep on you whenever I want.” Leo laughed and Morte couldn’t help but laugh as well. A yawn escaped his lips and he leaned back down, head resting on her shoulder comfortably. 

“You need to get to bed.” Morte spoke, maneuvering him so that she could stand, and then pull him in suit.

“Fine.” He grumbled, turning away from her and towards the stairs. At the last second, hand clutching the door knob, he turned around. Before she could process what was happening Leo was hugging her, his hair tickling her chin due to how much shorter he was. Morte froze, once again feeling fear, but when she looked down at him, it melted away. “See you tomorrow, I’ll save you a seat, friend.” He chuckled, letting down and stepping back. 

“See you, friend.” She laughed softly and he smiled one last time before turning and leaving. 

Morte smiled before turning and shadow-travelling to her room. She crawled under her covers and for a moment allowed herself to relax. For the first time in her life, she had a friend, and she felt happy about it, drifting off with a small smile still pressed on her lips.

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The Cowardly Lion

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Masterlist

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Morte Di Angelo was so tried. Her whole life had been spent fighting and all she wanted to do was lie down and sleep. Of course, she couldn't, not when she was one of the most dangerous demigods in the world. With a prophecy ticking down her clock and the fates going against her, she is destined to be end up alone and miserable, forever doomed by the gods. However when she meets a small, awkward boy on a quest to save the world things begin to take a turn she never would have seen coming.

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Also published on Wattpad:

Deaths Shadow- Leo Valdez x OC by hellokityy

I Prologue

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Prologue 

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"Thinking you're so fine..." Her voice rang throughout the small bar as she strummed the deteriorated guitar in her arms. "Thinking you can have mine." The words projected around as the crowd of drunks dancing around her cheered and sang along. Boots stomped against the ground as hollers of drunken cheer rose above the banging. Mothers, fathers, sons, and daughters, all let themselves fall victim to the beautiful sound that engulfed them whole. Heads flowed back and forth as she sang her heart out. She always did wear her heart on her sleeve, even when a thick sweater was thrown over top to cover it. 

The Cavern, a pub she had been recently hired by, vibrated with life; contrasting with the pale girl who stood on stage. The walls of old wood stood still around her, and the smell of malt whiskey surrounded her like swirls of ecstasy. She felt on top of the world, not a care in her head as she strummed her guitar and sang. For a moment she did not have siblings, a father, or a mother. She did not have a name, or a title that sunk its way under her skin. As long as the drugs, and alcohol flowed through her veins she was safe from the world outside. Her eyes closed as she swayed. Her heart beat with strain, pumping the thick sludge that flowed through her veins, replacing the blood she once had.  

After the battle of Manhattan, she was left with nothing. Her naturally black and curly hair was struck with strips of gold, her tanned skin was stained an unhealthy colour that looked to replicate the delicate lustre of moonstone, and her strangely beautiful purple eyes were stained the colour of the ichor that flowed through her. When she passed by, mirrors would shatter, for her reflection was one that she herself did not know. But, in the same way she did as a child, she picked herself up off the cement, and got to work. Dragging her prosthetic left leg, her two stygian iron scythes, and enough baggage to kill a full grown adult, she got up.  It was only when she was lipping through downtown New York, she saw a flyer in the window: singer needed. One audition, a bag of white rocky powder from a strange man in the alley, and a whole lot of burned spoons later, and she was living in the back of The Cavern and getting paid to get drunk and sing. She persevered because that's what she did. Morte Di Angelo always persevered.

It was only when Morte opened her eyes to sing the most important part of her song that she saw her. Annabeth Chase, whose face was etched with lethargic prowess, and whose spirit withered with each step she took towards Morte. It was the sign of a truly desperate person; coming to talk to another who she had almost killed in hate. Annabeth Chase, who once held a dagger over Morte's heart and prepared to strike down; spit, blood, and tears mixing the face of a child whose world had been broken. There were very few people Morte wanted to see, and Annabeth Chase was not one of them."Nothing you can take from me is worth the dirt." Her voice wavered with anger and for a second the room disappeared as Morte sang directly at the blonde haired girl.  

She began to walk towards Morte, carefully weaving through the thick and hazed crowd. Their eyes never left each other, a weave of electricity connecting them together. "Take it cause I'd give it free it won't hurt."  A pause, a breath, a shudder. "Nothing you can take, was ever worth keeping." Her chest rose and fell with each second of tension that crackled in the air, thick and hot. "No, nothing you can take... was ever worth… keeping.”  The crowd burst into cheers as she heaved a sign of relief. Another performance for Morte to put in the scrapbook, or more realistically a memory she would purposefully forget. Annabeth was standing in front of the stage and motioned for Morte to follow her towards the women's washrooms. Eyes darting and shoulders shrugging. Morte did not want to go towards Annabeth, towards her past, but if she had to, there was no way in Hades she was going to the ladies bathroom. She grabbed the microphone off of the stand with numb hands. 

"Well everyone I hope you're having a terrific night!" The crowd cheered as they slurred their praises. "I will see you tomorrow, but for now I'm going to go get some beauty sleep, cause lord knows I need it." Her voice was laced in fake cheer as a tear slipped from her eye, alone on the surface of her cheek. The crowd erupted in laughter as she bowed and walked towards the curtain. Making eye contact with Annabeth once more, Morte signaled for Annabeth to follow her behind the curtain and into the changing room, aka her bedroom. 

"Annabeth, I don't know why-" Morte was cut off as Annabeth flung herself onto Morte's unnaturally tall and thin frame. 

"He's gone, Morte, he's gone." She sobbed as Morte recoiled from the touch of the blonde. She had not been touched by another person in ages, let alone hugged by someone searching for comfort. 

"W-What?" Morte's brain was burning as Annabeth clung to her, shoulders shaking with sobs. She wanted Annabeth to let go, but at the sight of the sobbing girl a motherly instinct that Morte had used time and time again, kicked in once more. She began to rub her left hand along Annabeth’s spine, mentally recoiling from the feeling of being so close to another. With her right hand she stroked the wavy blonde hair that portrayed how disheveled Annabeth was. Who was missing, and why was it her problem? She started panicking as her brain shifted her thoughts to the estranged brother Morte tried so desperately to protect. Her hands continued to stroke Annabeth, comforting her, before slowly their pace. Would Annabeth truely care if another Di Angelo was missing? Or would it be recounted as another instance of Chase landing on top.  "Annabeth, who's gone?" Her voice was a quiet whisper, but laced with fear so loud she felt as if it was shouted. Morte grabbed Annabeth's shoulders gently, maneuvering her in order to get her to look into Morte's purple and gold eyes. 

"Percy." Annabeth hiccuped, finally breaking away from her hysteria. "He's gone." As soon as she finished talking she collapsed back into Morte and clung to her like a life line. Involuntarily, Morte let out a sigh of relief. As she did she felt a pang in her chest for being relieved he was gone. Morte had Met Sally Jackson, in fact Sally had shot her in the shoulder during the Battle of Manhattan trying to protect Percy. She was a good mom, and didn’t deserve the grief of a missing child. Morte knew that better than anyone.  

"Oh, Annabeth." Morte hugged the sobbing girl and stroked her hair as she once did to her own sister. It felt wrong, but then again Annabeth confining in her, a virtual stranger, was also completely wrong. "It's okay, you're okay, I'm here. Breathe.” 

"I'm- I'm sorry. " The tears stuck to Annabeth's face. "I don't know what to do." 

"Start with the story. Talk me through it, just relax and think. Okay? All I need is for you to explain.” 

Annabeth nodded as she began to explain the course of the last month. A cheerful period where everyone believed that Morte had been slaughtered. A celebration of newfound peace and joy. A boyfriend who promised the world to his love, and then disappeared without any sign of him leaving. And an inkling of a suspicion that not only had Morte Di Angelo not fallen victim to her fate, but may be the one to help save Percy’s. She started crying a few times and Morte's heart sank. Although Annabeth may have hated Morte, Morte admired her bravery and intellect. Seeing her so broken and scared, she needed to help fix whatever was going on. 

"What do you need me to do?" 

Annabeth looked up at her, eyes still shining but no longer spilling tears. A white streak of her hair fell softly on her shoulder, one that matched perfectly with the giant patch on the back of Morte’s head. The sea met the sand, and Annabeth drew in a breath. She opened her mouth; the fates began to sing their song of misery, and knit their socks of destiny. 

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Prologue

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Leo sketches Leo sketches Leo sketches! (For practice)

top left smiley - Leo, hc him with braces

bottom left - flustered Leo

top right - my Leo and @nyxdreamweaver ‘s Leo

bottom right - breisa and Leo kissing (Ik ik Leo post but my oc and him are my favorite… I used one of @coquettemouseevil old art for reference bc I loved the pose so much . Giving me Spiderman kiss vibes)

I was talking abt this with @nyxdreamweaver

Since Leo is known as the class clown and the goofy guy. Even though it is a coping mechanism to deal with his issues. I’m adding on top of that his laugh is foul.

Like Leo has a laugh you can hear from miles away. He laughs with his full chest. It’s completely unique. And most people get put off by it because he sounds like joker/payaso insane mixed with a hyena. He’s all the way across camp but you can hear him coming to tell you a good joke.

Before I show you my excerpt…here are some sound examples I think fit my idea of the laugh:

This first one is from a Song by ( one of my childhood favorite) Spanish rock bands, Maná. You can’t hear it much til the end. The drummer from this band is doing vocals, Alex González:

Would you guys still want to read it?