scars among demigods were not at all unusual. for as long as you were lucky enough to come out of battles alive, you couldn't escape them. and it was a small price, really.

still when it came to this particular scar it has always rubbed you the wrong way. and nyssa noticed.

"hold still," the daughter of hephaestus said, leaning in close. the tip of the pen tickled your skin as constellations rose under nyssa's dexterous hands. she smelt like metal. and somewhere along the way it seized to resemble blood and started to resemble home instead.