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𝐃𝐈𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄 :

➔ you're gonna be okay , just keep your eyes on me. ➔ don't move - you're going to make it worse. ➔ it's not that bad. ➔ you saved me once before , now it's my turn. ➔ you fucking idiot , you weren't supposed to take the hit for me. ➔ i told you not to do that! now look! ➔ you're lucky that i know basic first aid , or you'd be dead! ➔ stay with me, okay? stay awake. ➔ i'll be as gentle as i can be , i promise. ➔ you're bleeding - oh my god , you're bleeding. ➔ you told me it was a scratch , this is not a fucking scratch! ➔ there's so much blood. ➔ next time you want to play here , just don't. ➔ stop fighting me and let me help! ➔ you're banned from doing anything remotely dangerous. ➔ you could have died , what were you thinking? ➔ if you die on me , i'm going to be pissed off. ➔ you didn't have to be so reckless just to prove a fucking point. ➔ the wound will heal but you'll have a scar.

𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒 :

𝐇𝐄 𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖𝐒  precious  little  about  the  demigods  aboard  the  andromeda.  this  is  intentional  on  his  part;  though  a  creature  of  connection,  verso  must  first  establish  a  bond  back  with  reality.  back  with  the  truth  of  the  matter.  no  longer  does  he  walk  across  a  vast  floor  of  shattered  glass,  nor  does  the  air  sting  when  he  breathes  it  in;  he  does  not  need  to  look  over  his  shoulders  constantly,  &&  he  has  a  sound  place  to  sleep  for  the  time  being  (  he  still  prefers  the  deck  ).  the  world  ‘round  him  has  changed  in  equal  parts  for  better  &&  worse,  &&  he  has  to  first  know  it  before  he  can  know  others.   in  the  simplest  of  terms,  he  would  prefer  to  know  that  this  is  not  in  fact  the  creation  of  a  particularly  mad  titan  before  begins  to  get  attached  to  people.  if  it  is  indeed  the  world’s  longest  illusion,  verso  reckons  special  care  must  have  been  taken  in  the  creation  of  one  luke  castellan. he  eyes  the  younger  demigod.  the  scar.  the  curl  of  his  hair.  the  way  part  of  verso’s  mind  revolts  like  a  raging  beast  at  the  sight  of  him,  because  this  is  a  child  who  should  be  in  a  high  school  theater  club  or  playing  in  a  friend’s  basement.  here  he  is,  however,  the  heralder  of  time.  another  betrayer. the  greeting  -  or  lack  thereof  -  does  not  go  unnoticed.  verso’s  posture  straightens  ever  so  faintly. ❝    zeus’  powers  aren’t  easy  to  direct,  ❞  answers  the  elder  demigod.    ❝  not  at  first.  the  training  i  got  was  learning  how  to  down  powerlines  at  fifteen,  electrocuting  a  hydra  at  sixteen,  and…  everything  else  after  eighteen.  ❞  he  isn’t  deaf  to  the  past  tense  at  play;  the  breeze  around  him,  for  all  of  a  beat,  sharpens.   ❝  so  he  did  have  other  kids.  ❞  verso  hums,  then  looks  back  to  the  horizon.  the  breeze  softens.  somewhere far off, thunder rolls. he  runs  his  tongue  across  the  flat  of  his  teeth,  mulls  the  words  over  in  his  mind,  then  abandons  hesitation  all  together  &&  adds,  ❝  i’m  guessing  she  wasn’t  lucky  enough  to  get  stuffed  into  an  amphora  for  a  few  decades,  &&  i  haven’t  heard  anyone  telling  me  about  how  insane  my  half-sister  is in a fight,  so…  where’s  she  buried  ??  ❞

𝐋𝐄𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒   &&   this   alone   be   spoken   of   verso   sachs   when   the   dust   has   settled    &&   the   gods   carnage   wrought:   compared   to   creating   gusts   in   hell,   keeping the weather clear around the princess andromeda is effortless. he   takes   as   deep  a breath as his body allows    &&   watches   the   waves   which   slap   against   the   bow   of   the   great   ship,   dressed   no   longer   in   a   uniform   but   a   jacket,   jeans,   loaner   boots,    &&   black   shades.   his   dogtags   rattle   as   the    andromeda   begins   a   slow   turn   starboard.    out   of   tartarus   for   a   few   weeks,   thinks   the   eldest   of   zeus,    &&   it   still   doesn’t   feel…   before   the   thought   can   continue,   the   sound   of   footsteps   overcome   the   crashing   of   the   waves.   verso’s   attention   snaps   to   the   side.   he’s   said   precious   little   as   of   yet,   barring   what   has   thus   been   needed   to   ensure   his   loyalty.   his   name.   his   reasoning.   a   few   mentions   of   tartarus    &&   his   father,   the   showing   of   scars   on   his   back as proof. for   this   reason,   he   says   nothing   when   his   gaze   finds   the   newcomer;   he   just   raises   a   brow   behind   his   shades,   the   clearest   way   for   him   to   communicate   ‘what   do   you   want?’   without   opening   his   mouth.   

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