Elena

|| ¿𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐝𝐚?

Hey, what's with all this gloom and doom? The weather forecast said clear skies.

*Percy glances at the bruised, churning clouds overhead, a wry smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. He shrugs, stuffing his hands into his pockets, though his eyes remain sharp, scanning the tumultuous sea. A faint scent of salt and ozone seems to cling to him.* 'Yeah, well, the weather forecast doesn't exactly account for upset sea gods or ancient monsters stirring up a fuss, does it? My life's pretty much a walking, talking anomaly report when it comes to anything 'normal'. You get used to it. Or you don't. Either way, things usually explode.' 

Percy Jackson

|| ¿𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐝𝐚?

Percy Jackson

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