I really should update more often… Anyways, this time, I decided to do something more… darker. Yes, yes, this may be a bit OOC, I might get some things wrong, but don't kill me. This better be better, or I'll probably not get any more reviews from you guys. XD
Disclaimer:
Hulloo? Nico? Percy? Annabeth? Do you hear meee?
All characters: (Goes on with the book)
Aww, I feel like Jack Frost.
Oh, and guys? I'm sorry for the last chapter; this site doesn't seem to allow underlines anymore XP so I put it up again!
[Three times Nico cried, and one time everyone else did]
"Bianca."
Nico sat, shoulders hunched. His sword was strewn on the ground next to him. Around the small boy, a desolate world of fire and shadows stretched out over the plains. A tiny light in the distance sparkled and shone among the screams and wails of hell.
The black haired child shook. His frail frame swayed against the unforgiving stench of the Furies. Jeans ripped and smudged, circles were imprinted under his eyes. Young eyes, ones not made for the world of the dead.
"How- why?" Nico gasped.
His breaths were uneven, ragged now. Tears, tears, so many tears. They stung as they left trails on his skin. The boy took a shuddering gasp, and then.
He sobbed. He sobbed like the world was at an end. It was at an end.
"Bianca, Bianca, Bianca,"
Shrouded in the black of his birth, he knelt in the fields of Asphodel, crying out for his lost one. Tender hands cradled a small figurine to his chest. Cold, drenched, exhausted.
And like that, the world around him spun on its axis, like every day, like every other day.
The fallen backside of a boy. Barely old enough to know responsibility. The boy panted, grappled for air as he clutched desperately to the edges of the pit. No, no, no... Eyes frantic and shattered, the teenager sat in desolation, watching the edges of the darkness crumble and give into eternal death.
It felt like him, so much like him. He clawed at his shirt, at his arms. He scratched so hard that blood dripped down his skin. Grimy fingers tugged at the red black liquid, scraping over his cheeks, his eyes, his sides.
An inhuman screech sounded from his hoarse throat. Then a choked sob.
Percy was dead. Annabeth was dead. He'd failed them all.. failed them all.
It was like a dystopian story. The world around him was in ruins. Though he couldn't see it, he bet that much more of the world was also in ruins.
All because of him. Everything. Everything.
The world was in ruins.
Leo had given up his life. Jason- Jason, where was Jason anyways?
Piper was dead. Frank and Hazel were still struggling.
'And I.."
And Nico, was dissolving.
He held up his own hand and looked at it. Good bye everyone. I'm sorry I failed you. He felt at peace. Lost, but calm. Would that even make sense?
His mp3 crackled on the place it was on the ground.
"This is Gospel, for the fallen ones, locked away in a permanent slumber, assembling, their philosophies, from pieces of broken memories…"
'How fitting.'
His senses were fuzzed. He couldn't hear, he couldn't see. Falling to the ground, Nico clutched his hand to his chest. The hand that had held that small figurine, so many years ago…
He didn't want to forget. He wanted to remember. He wanted to still love the world.
A single tear streaked its way down his cheek.
" Don't try to sleep through the end of the world,
And bury me alive, 'Cause I won't give up without a fight…"
"…. The fear of falling apart.."
"And finally, Nico Di Angelo. Who will, forever and for all times past, be remembered as our own angel of the dead."
In the remnants of the war, the ragged group of left over campers gathered at a site of graves. A graveyard. A place of death and mourning.
Will sat on the ground.
His hands were shaking. Shaking from pure exertion. From fear, from hate, from loss.
Hazel hugged Frank closely. She sobbed into his arms. Her brother.
Their family.
Their loves.
Their friends.
Their people.
Everyone sat in the light of a bonfire, in silence. In a silent wish for the dead to come back.
I'm not really good at writing short stuff, so… he..