timeshares | [Sandboxing/Voice testing/Thread continuations]

[ Despite his better judgment ... he trusts Luke quite a bit. Enough to stay closer to him than the throng of dead souls crowded around them. Just enough for him to look down at the blade at his side and consider what would happen if he turned over the blade. Luke might be trustworthy. He might hold off the spirits for Nico long enough to get him to safety ...

Or he might turn and stab the blade straight into Nico's shoulderblades. He knows all too well the potential damage to be done by killing a son of Hades with a Stygian blade in the Underworld. Too much power there - too much potential to go wrong.

So instead, he draws the blade himself. He's weak, barely able to hold it up properly. But he doesn't quite trust Luke enough to have it. That doesn't mean he doesn't trust the dead demigod at all, though. He turns, slightly, so that the blade is between them and the horde and not between Nico and Luke.]

Cover my back.

[ It's a request, not an order. ]

[There's no surprise or hurt on Luke's face, just a nod and moves into position. Simply: He wouldn't have trusted himself with it either.

Well, there's an eyebrow raised at Nico's weak form but that comes from being an instructor in sword play. The other spirits drew back, chittering warily, as the edge of the black blade threatened to the pull them in, destroy them utterly.]

... that's... unsettling.

[He'd seen it... but never FELT it like that. Like there's something deeper than death. He still doesn't pull away, settling into a defensive stance... the memory of a sword - at first the fragment of a scythe... then more solidly into a training sword from Camp - flickers in his hand.]

Ready as I'm going to be.

[ It's a material that goes unnoticed in the regular world. A small, additional drain to the life-pulling aura that follows Nico around on a regular basis. Here ... it's a black hole. Nico at least has full control over it, so he doesn't swallow up any spirits he doesn't intend to. But he could. It's a very real and dangerous power, here among the dead.

He glances over at the weapon Luke summons. Well that is certainly ... appropriate. He's glad to see the scythe shift into something a little less terrible. ]

Stygian steel. Don't get too close.

[ Just like that, he moves forward into the waiting throng. The blade is a good deterrent, at least, despite the weakness in his arms. He just wants to get to a bed and that ambrosia... ]

[He gives Nico ... and the blade a long look, before crossing into the ghost king's wake.]

No risk, trust me on that.

[Most spirits gave a berth too wide to slip in behind Nico, repelled by the way the blade seemed to tug at them. There were others, though.. the land of the dead were filled with those: those who had lost all self identity but their own regrets, hatreds and desires. They were stronger than the formless, shifting mass.

They tested the edges of Nico's defense from one side, then the next. Luke slaps one away with the flat of his blade, sometimes looking like Celestial iron, sometimes a less savory mix.]

[ Nico, too, wavers from side to side to keep the worst of the spirits at bay. Not just for his own sake; he steps between Luke and a particularly nasty one, pricking it just enough with his blade to send it fleeing. He's aiming his influence to protect the both of them.

Slowly, slowly, they make progress. ]

Stay back. This isn't your end.

[ He allows just the smallest trickle of power into his voice. Obligingly, more of the spirits drift away from them. ]

[Luke was... flat out surprised at that. He pulled closer, tightening his defense. It looks like the spirits really weren't going to distinguish between the weakened child of Hades and the ghost with him.]

Hey, don't worry about me. Already dead and all that.

[The palace wasn't actually far from where the application rooms were, but it felt like miles.]

[ Strange how this place changes depending on what you're trying to do, huh? A quick shadow-travel might have been easier ... But Nico doesn't trust his body will hold up for something that energy intensive. Not with his fingertips already faded and insubstantial. He pulls in a deep breath as he pushes them both forward. ]

There's a lot of fates worse than death.

[ Like getting sucked into that blade, presumably. Slowly, eventually, they approach Nico's quarters. Once they pass the threshold into his room, the spirits cleave away; there's too much power here for them to stand to get close. Not without a direct invitation from the demigod, anyway. ]

[He flickers at that, nearly vanishing back to his own room. Something the equivalent to a shudder. He'd had his own taste of "worse than death" and had no interest in new and special permutations of it.

Instead, he concentrates, letting the sword vanish, and getting just enough kinetic energy to push the door closed behind the demi-god.]

Bet you never wanted to be THAT popular.

[ Perhaps a deliberate wording choice on Nico's part. (He's suffered from prophecies too, after all...) But right now he's just bone tired more than anything. Once the door closes, he lets himself fall into the simple bed stationed in one corner of the room. The entire living space is small and sparse, with only a few decorations here and there to show that someone actually lives here. A stack of Mythomagic cards, sorted and neatly tucked in a half-open box under the bed. Writing utensils and a journal. A few comic books.

... A box with scraps of blue cloth, in varying shades of navy. Most of the scraps are all jumbled up and set aside; a few of the more vibrant pieces are near the front. Looking for a specific shade, maybe?

He groans softly from his bed as he lets the sword droop. Not quite out of his hands, but not actively up either. ]

It's never the right crowd.

[It... almost is rather fitting to have any signs of life be something encroaching or tiny nods to battles won, rather than rampant and overflowing. There's a lot of curiosity there... no son of Hermes can keep their nose out of STUFF even if they vehemently deny it.

The cards he'd never seen before, the comics were an old passion, long, long ago.. and the blue... huh.

Still, he hardly moved from the door, not while the sword was out. While had Nico wanted to use it, there was plenty of excuses and opportunities... same for if he'd wanted to take it. It stayed right where it was.]

... You have a habit, yes.

Ambrosia or nectar?

[ It's not quite the same shade as a certain son of Poseidon favors, and yet the connection isn't entirely subtle either. Blue is Nico's favorite color for a couple of different reasons. He gestures to that box now; there's a square of brownie tucked somewhere underneath all the cloth scraps.

More importantly, he weakly works the sword back into its sheath. Safe from both of them now. ]

Ambrosia. Under there.

[He takes a few steps into the room, seeming to look around a bit more obviously now. Still, first thing's first. The ambrosia is unearthed under the small nest of blue scraps and offered to the other demi-god.

... He may or may not wait until you're eating before piping up with:]

So. Who's the blue?

[ Nico sits up at that, blinking stupidly at Luke for a moment. He takes the ambrosia square from him. Takes a bite. Chews ...

Oh. He's looking at the scrap box, isn't he. While Nico can't quite remember the thing he's actually looking for here, blue does have another association. He flushes a little and chews harder. ]

Why do you think it's a who?

This isn't the room of someone who does a lot of stuff for themselves.

[ A vague shrug. He takes another slow bite as more color creeps into his cheeks. ]

It's stupid, okay?

I absolutely do not guarantee that I wont laugh.

On the up side, there's literally no one I could tell.

[ Luke does make a good point. It's not like Hades doesn't know about Nico's huge crush, after all. Hell, the god seems almost happy to point out that blue is Percy's favorite color whenever that little scrap box comes up in conversation. ]

It - just makes me think of Percy. That's all.

[... on one hand, that was information he didn't have before. But on the other... it's hardly surprising. Everyone's hero, after all.

Luke's tone is oddly neutral about it.]

... He does seem to have that draw. I wondered what it was. It wasn't his vast capacity for logic.

[ Nico snorts at that. Stupid seaweed brain. ]

Hell if I know. I guess I just - I latched on to the image of him coming to save me and Bianca and never really let go.

[ A bittersweet image now, on a couple different levels. ]

Guess we all managed to owe him one at some point.

[Though that wasn't exactly something he wanted to talk much about. He sets the fabric back in the box and settles to sit, back against the wall.]

... Elysium?

[ He turns towards Luke at that, his expression blank. Is he unsure of Luke's meaning or unsure of what he wants to say? A little of both, maybe. ]

For Bianca? No. She chose rebirth.

[It was one of those questions that was out before even he really knew where he was going with it. The answer surprised him before he really knew why. It took a second, for it to click together.

A slight half shrug.]

I guess I'm wondering why you DO spend this much time down here.

[Nico has a compelling amount of good things up topside. Well. For a demi-god's life.]

[ Why does he spend so much time down here? Will is in camp, and his cabin, and Hazel ... He doesn't have to live down here the way he did back before Gaea's awakening. There's more to life now than eating bran and oatmeal while Persephone gives him dirty looks and Hades talks about how much he'd rather have Bianca here.

But there are some things that are easier to handle in the twilight, like this. Crawling away to lick his wounds is one of them. ]

Not as much as I used to. But it's ... home. In a way that camp isn't, really.

[That's ... not something he has a frame of reference for. Idly picking up one of the mythomagic cards from the top of the deck.]

Like how?

I don't remember much else. Not much before the casino, definitely not the casino itself, and definitely not Camp either.

[ Though that last option is getting better ... ]

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