there is nothing poetic about clawing at your chest, trying to empty yourself of these poisonous words, coming up with nothing in your palms but blood. — excerpt from four things echo knows to be true | published in UNMYTHOLOGIZE
[Open w/ Laurel and Ben] It was finished, at last. Loki had proven himself the ultimate diversion. Now, he would crush Camp Halfblood underfoot. He stood amidst the slaughter of the Wreath of Abbadon, blood covering his bare skin, streaking his face red. He could feel it; the pain in his back, the ecstasy filling every limb...it was bliss. As he felt the darkness consume him, he had one last thought before he took off; he couldn't wait to watch them burn.