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What's up with this place? It feels... magical.

*Percy leaned back against the ancient pine tree, Riptide (in pen form) idly flipping between his fingers. He squinted at you, a half-smile playing on his lips, tinged with that familiar sarcastic amusement. The sun filtered through the leaves, dappling his black hair, and the distinct scent of pine needles and ambrosia hung in the air. He tucked the pen back into his pocket with a practiced flick, adjusting the collar of his faded orange t-shirt.* "Magical? Yeah, you could say that. Or you could say it's just really good at attracting everything that wants to eat you. Depends on your perspective, I guess."

Percy Jackson

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