By The Angels (PJOxSH)

17

Chapter at 2:30 am be upon ye. 

Nico could smell the ashes on the wind. He could hear the songs of swords, spears, and arrows slicing through the air, meeting flesh and scale. He could taste the blood on his tongue, running from his nose into his mouth. He could feel the exhaustion sinking into his bones, the ache of every muscle in his body. The strain of the stitches in his wing, slices on his skin all down his legs and arms from claws and other weapons. But he couldn't see a thing. This was a battle, but Nico was blind, the voices were muffled, his ears full of cotton, but he could hear their shouts and screams all the same. Who's? Why were they shouting? Where was he? Which battle, which war?

He was falling. Plummeting from somewhere, the wind made up from razors on every piece of exposed skin. He was going to die, the ground was getting closer. He couldn't see a thing, but he knew all the same.

Nico woke with a start, gasping for air as if it would be his last breath. He snatched his shirt with a vice grip, grounding himself in any way. A nightmare? Possible, but then why couldn't he see? A vision was just as likely, but the same question remained. It could also be possible that someone or something was blocking him from it too. He let out a low groan and let himself fall back into his cot, careful not to lay on his wings. Carefully, he tried to put them away and was thankfully met with success. Finally, they were getting irritating. Nico sank further into his sheets.

"Glad to see you're awake bright and early."

Nico snapped to attention, focusing on the tired-looking, blue woman in scrubs still in the infirmary. Lou was resting not too far away, but other than those two, the room seemed to be mostly empty. her name had been mentioned, but he couldn't remember it right now. 

"Unfortunately," Nico groaned, shuffling himself from the bed. "What time is it?" he asked. 

She looked to a small watch on her wrist, "About 5:30 am, I'm going to be heading out here soon."

"Where's Will?" 

She had to think for a minute, "I haven't seen him since he left with the Shadowhunters."

"Ah, okay, how is Lou doing?" Nico decided to ask next. 

"Well, she's beyond physically exhausted with wounds that definitely would've killed a mundane. But I think she should be just fine. I've stitched up and bandaged what I could. Will gave me something he referred to as nectar to pour on her wounds and it helped heal a lot of the deeper wounds."

Nico let out a deep breath, relieved and concerned all the same. 

"We won't be able to move her though, will we?" 

She shook her head, "No, I personally wouldn't."

"Thank you for treating her Miss...?"

"Catarina Loss." 

"Thank you, Miss Catarina."

Catarina gave Nico a long glance. She seemed to assess him, and so Nico met her stare. To him, she wasn't even vaguely threatening, he had seen far worse. Strange, sure, but he must be the same to her. 

"Tell me, Nico, in your opinion, are demigods closer to Nephilim or warlocks?" Catarina asked. 

Nico paused for a moment, then hung his head in consideration. "I suppose it depends," he decided. 

"Depends on what?"

"Lineage," Nico stated. "Not all demigods have abilities. Some have talents and are skilled, some are just a step away from normal people." Nico huffed, "I'm a bad standard. Most demigods don't have the skill set I do, mine is unique to me. And powers as strong as my own aren't common either, I can only name a small handful."