Percy/Vex + 39

notaficwriter:

enablers, the lot of you.

39. …because time’s run out.

pelor’s call, these days, comes on a bit more like a migraine than a divine shout for aid.

the romantic ideal of the grey hunt sort of petered out right around the time she’d been urged to go out and kill something for the sun god right as she was getting to the good part of a bath with her then-boyfriend. it died a slow, agonizing death over the next year or so, finally succumbing to its demise as she was treading up to her shins in snow, five months pregnant, percy fretting behind her the entire way, all because pelor wanted her to check the eastern perimeter of the parchwood all for a hunch (which turned out to be nothing), and her substitute huntress had been laid up with a cold.

so when she feels the telltale pinching at her temples, the buzzing pressure behind her eyes, right as percy’s mouth is inching down her thigh to where she wants it, she does little more than sigh irritably and gently push him away from her, too tired to offer up an explanation. he whines so pitifully that she just barely restrains herself from dragging his head right back.

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