north

ix, bloom

Nico had finally gotten the hang of shadow travel when he ran into him again.

Last time, he was on the run. Running through the Labyrinth, running with Minos, running from Minos. He could pretend there was another purpose to his frantic pace, but he couldn't stop running. From Bianca's death, from Camp Half-Blood, from Percy. He didn't have time to think about the strange demigod on the west coast.

This time, he was seeking out a camp on purpose. His father had given him instructions to make his way to the camp under a Roman pretense. The Greek and Roman forces could not mix, could not know of each other; Nico was sent to make sure they were on track and, if necessary, give them a push in the right direction. With Kronos' power on the rise, they needed all the help they could get. Funny, he knew that this would be easier than getting his father to go along with the same plan (he was still working on it).

He had to hide his intentions from the Greeks, hide his Greek nature from the Romans, and hide away from Kronos' forces. Hiding. The only thing besides running that Nico excelled in. He made peace with the shadows.

He followed his father's directions closely but still got caught up with hordes of monsters during his search for Camp Jupiter. It was better, he mused, than letting hopeful will-nots invade his mind. He was far away from Camp Half-Blood, far away from Percy, and good riddance. If he repeated it enough, he believed that he did like being alone. He liked being able to rely on himself and no one else, he liked the long nights in and under trees when he couldn't sleep because he was scared or had too much to think about.

Then some do-gooder, statuesque, heroic demigod had to step in and wake him up.

Nico shrugged the collar of his jacket further up, trying and failing to come across as intimidating while he rubbed the sleep from his eyes. He'd fallen asleep in the woods encroaching upon the edge of a lake. Star lilies littered his vision, obstructing the violet-clad figure from his view. He stopped reaching for his sword when the figure crouched down, meeting his dark gaze between the flowers.

"Every time I see you, you look dead."

It was the same boy that found him all those months ago when Minos was still training him. It had been a rough jump; the labyrinth was confusing and scary and he overshot his escape. The only solace he had then was that he hadn't shadow-travelled outside of America again.That was a hassle.

Nico was sure he looked even dirtier and smaller now. Still the same gangly, creepy kid he'd always been, nursing a concussion, hair matted bloody against his forehead. But the other demigod looked even better. He'd gotten taller and gained muscle. There were more scars and scrapes to match the one above his lip. He retained curiosity in his calculating eyes that were too damn blue. Not like Percy's favorite foods, but the open sky he used to see in the Italian countryside with his mother and Bianca. Yet they were strangely empty.

"I needed sleep." He shrugged bits of grass off his dark jeans.

The other demigod pointed out, "Odd spot for a nap."

"I've slept in stranger places." He adjusted the sword resting at his side as he stood. He scrutinized the sort-of stranger. He wore the same purple camp shirt as the last time Nico met him, faded golden letters spelling out SPQR . Chances are he was part of the camp his father sent him to look for.

Lucky me, he groaned.

"Was a bed too deluxe for you?"

That remark tugged out a harsh cough that he intended as a laugh. Nico couldn't remember the last time he slept in an actual bed, but he didn't tell him. He didn't want to scare him off with his sob stories.