Love was a bloodsport–a losing game– and they only managed to start winning after they finally decided to step into the ring together
#02 – HURRICANE
Aisa sees it in his eyes, that violet swirl against a sea of crystal blue, and it grows darker the more his anger culminates; she knows what comes next, knows that just like any force of nature, there’s no stopping his madness from tearing down everything in its wake, but he doesn’t bear the burden alone– while he readies for war, she readies her shears and when his storm finally passes, leaving nothing but dread and guilt behind, she swears to him: ‘this was meant to be’
#03 – HERO
There was always that crippling fear when he came back from battle that she’d judge him, recoil in disapproval, make him loathe his purpose as the others did before her, but she understood the importance of his battles and regardless of how he went about winning them, he was a savior worthy of worship, and little by little she became his
#04 – MEMORY
He knows she still wonders if the memory of his lost lovers haunt him, if he ever fantasizes about different universes– perfect universes– where someone else is waking up next to him, and he wishes he could find the right words to convince her that curse or no curse, she’ll always be his first choice– there won’t even be a second if he has a say
It was Dean’s first day of senior year, and he already managed to land himself in detention before the day even ended– surely a new record for a fancy-pantsy private school that seemed to consist of rich phonies and brainwashed robots who all took their studies wayyy too seriously. The sad part was that he hadn’t even tried getting detention, and if someone were to ask him what he did they’d be left with a pathetic tale of him clipping his toe nails during the middle of a world history lesson. Dean didn’t show up to detention during his rec period, obviously. The thought of being trapped inside a room for half an hour in dead silence wasn’t very appealing, and so he decided to lie low in the one place no one would ever guess to look for him: the library.
The horde of neatly aligned shelves served as an excellent cover for him, so he perused around, sliding an index finger across the spines of books he as walked passed them as if he were looking for something in particular when in actuality he was only pretending to look like he belonged here. Boredom started creeping in after about four minutes, and Dean quickly realized that hiding in the library wasn’t much of an improvement from detention after all. He kept wandering, for now, trying to think of what else to do when he stopped suddenly, catching sight of someone through the open gaps of the bookshelf.
Her back was turned to him while she looked through the opposite shelf, but he still managed to recognize her. It didn’t surprise him too much though being as he pretty much stared at the back of her head for most of History class. Dean probably knew her back-side better than her front side at this point ( and reminded himself never to repeat that aloud to her ); however, when she turned around, giving him a better look at her face, that annoying sense of recognition hit him just as hard as the first time he saw her. He cringed at the memory, knowing his first impression probably wasn’t a great one.
Preston Quinn ( one of the kids Dean had gotten to know over the summer ) held a Back-to-School party a few days back and invited Dean so he could get to know some of the other kids he’d soon be attending school with. Dean honestly only showed up for the booze, and though he managed to hit it off with almost everyone he met, there was one girl who managed to knock his ego down a few notches. Granted, while he made his move he had no way of knowing that she was the one who walked in on his make-out session in the bathroom earlier that night, nor did he have any way of knowing she was Henry’s girlfriend. How was he to guess that a guy as boring as Henry could score a girlfriend– let alone a cute one? Regardless, Dean made himself look like a total jerk, and though it’d take some work, he always did like a challenge and one way or another he’d manage to make Ice Queen warm up to him.
He squeezed his head between two books just before she walked past in an effort to surprise her, and with a wiggle of his brow he asked, “Ya’ find what you’re lookin’ for?” Amused by his own antics, his lips peeled back into a smile– the kind of smile girls were always warned about, and the kind of smile that could get away with just about anything. “It’s Annabeth, right? We have History together, I think.”
#v: stuck in a cage with a teenaged rage #p: aisa #( teen au. ) #itsgonnacostyou #what you're looking for #this is going to be significantly shorter i promise #and im sorry he's a little shit
If Tobias’ goal was to make Damon look unrecognizable, he got his wish. Beneath his shirt, Damon’s skin was more purple than it’s usual ghostly white from the bounty hunter’s rentless kicking, and his face was even worse off from the punches; his left eye had swollen shut, and the rest was a mess of congealed blood and blooming welts and bruises. Damon couldn’t assess the full extent of Tobias’ damage for himself just yet, but he could feel it.
Every step was met with a throbbing pain in his abdomen, and so the need to curl over and collapse was great, but he couldn’t grant himself that relief; not when Tobias was still out there, and not when he had promised to be at Gideon’s when Ana got back. He made it out of the forest eventually with a gait that was all wrong and lopsided, as if he just drank an entire tavern dry except he only wished that had been the case. He headed to the edge of the slums unseen given the recent lack of knights and the fact that most people were tucked away in bed by this hour– aside from one person apparently.
He saw the figure approaching from up ahead, but didn’t recognize it as Ana right away since he was having a little trouble seeing and the pain he was enduring was starting to make his head spin along with everything else around him. He stopped walking once he recognized her voice, finally allowing himself a brief pause now that safety had arrived. “lo prometto, it looks much worse than it feels,” he mumbled tiredly, but somehow found the strength to offer her a weak but reassuring smile.
It’s been quite some time since he’s actually been excited about something, excited enough to actually purchase a shiny new harp that isn’t covered in Gods know what like that thing Hermes had given him. It sparkles and shines under his rays and there is only one person he wants to be with to show off his new harp and celebrate with. Aisa.
Apollo shows up in Hades unannounced, bringing the stray sunlight with him into the murky depths where his friend chooses to spend most of her dismal time. Not that he complains. He spends what seems like an hour wandering cavernous hallways with dripping stalagmites looking for her. Mostly he wanders, hoping that he’s heading in the right direction. He must be doing something right because he ends up in the right place, watching her back as she cuts away at some life with her treasured golden shears.
He stays quiet as he approaches her, before throwing his arms around her midsection and sweeping her into the air, spinning her with his laughter echoing through the hall. She isn’t one for touching, he knows, but that doesn’t stop him from hugging her to his chest and squeezing her shoulders before pulling away.
“Dear Aisa,” he says as he puts her down back to the earth, placing his hands on her shoulders to hold her still, facing him so she could see the excited expression he knew was on his face. “You will never guess what has happened to me today. It’s the most joyous occasion and we must go and celebrate. Tell me you’ll say yes. Say yes.”