Perachel, of course. I will forever love them.
Her toes are digging into the sand, fingers pressing against the soft texture that she doesn't think she'll ever get over. The ocean waves rock back and forth to the sound of their lullaby, and she watches as the last bits of sunlight disappear on the horizon, casting a an orange-pink glow on the clouds above.
She doesn't hear him walk up beside her until she feels his familiar presence standing before her. She looks up to meet sea-green eyes, so bright and full of life, betraying all the struggles and losses he's had to endure for most of his teenage years. But despite all the odds, the Son of Poseidon was still alive, content with the life he'd made.
With her, of all people.
He hands her a towel—he doesn't need one, she remembers yet again after hesitating for a moment, because he's not like her—and she takes it with a small mumble of thanks, body desperately clinging to the fluffy material in an attempt to keep her warm. Ah, nothing like the warmth of a fabric just taken from the dryer.
Quietly, he sits beside her, not at all minding that he would have to remove his clothes before getting back into the house, as breathing in the smell of the salty sea and the crisp air.
It's the perfect time for a bonfire, he thinks. Maybe he'd invite Grover and Annabeth over soon when the weather got like this.
Which would probably be tomorrow.
Yeah, tomorrow sounded good.
His eyes flicker over to a familiar mess of fiery red hair that's furiously being dried, and he can't help but crack a smile when he sees her growl in frustration, evidently irritated by the sudden frizziness eliciting from each shake of the white towel.
Thankfully she doesn't notice, and he can continue admiring her persistence in trying to keep her hair contained—though they both know that's a losing battle—all the while wishing that they could stay like that for just a little longer.
Just a small drabble I made. Plan to make a series of them soon. :) Thanks for reading!