"The moment I met you,
I held my breath.
And you've been taking
it away ever since,
Nico di Angelo."
[ NICO DI ANGELO x MALE OC ]
[ PERCY JACKSON SERIES ]
[ HEROES OF OLYMPUS SERIES ]
cover by @humaneity !
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0015. | NO REST REMAINS FOR THE WICKED, NOR DIVINE
Vela didn't want to stop.
It felt so good. Finally getting revenge for Nico was incredible. It was sweet, it was satisfying, it was joyous. Vela would never tire of it. Their screams kindled his dreams and soothed him in a way nothing had ever before. He enjoyed it. He liked peeling back their skin, scraping away at their muscles, atom by atom, pulling them apart, dissecting them. Then putting them all back together again, only to do it all over and over and over. He was overjoyed when he heard the sounds they made. Like a symphony, the staccato swelled, the bass, the percussion. It was like music really, the perfect orchestra to Vela's revenge. Their sounds, though shrill and agonised, sounded to Vela as if they had been crafted by Mozart.
It wasn't only the revenge that felt good, it was the power. He was thriving off of it, growing and surpassing anything he had felt before. This was true power. He wasn't a body anymore. He wasn't even the divine form of a god. He was the chaotic form of a deity. His skin wasn't skin anymore, it was lost in the vacuum as thousands and thousands of stars, glowing and burning, lighting the grit and wetness of Otis and Ephialtes' punishment.
Yes, ballads would be made of this day.
He wasn't just a pretty dot somewhere in a distant sky, he was a constellation. And constellations burned. They were on fire, combustion constantly burning in ice, using every ounce of themselves to unleash their explosion. Constantly exploding and imploding. Vela was their equal in that moment.
He returned to his core state. Burning. He burned through his power. He burned through Otis and Ephialtes. And when his muscles began to tire, their screams became his fuel. He didn't want to destroy them as he had promised. He wanted them to reform again and again and again, so that whenever they reanimated, he could do this exact thing to them, again and again and again. He would only be limited by his imagination.
He would obliterate them, and he would never stop. This would be his eternity. He didn't want it to ever end.
For forever, he wanted to force them to reform, and then rip them apart all over again. So he did.
He lost count for how many minutes, how many hours, how many centuries he hurt them for. Time felt different to him now. It didn't pass. It wasn't one second then the next, all time existed all at once as every ounce of his starry being hurt them the way they deserved to be hurt. He became that explosion of a constellation, burning over and over. Time turned to one scream then the next, one slice then the next, one hit then the next.
He never wanted to stop. When the symphony reached its peak, that was when he heard the first out of tune note sing. A white column of smoke and shadow struck against the dome Vela had created. Probably a failed last attempt at life by the Twins. Vela rebounded it.
