Understanding?

When they returned from Venice, the moon cast its glow over the ship. Most of the crew gathered for dinner, while Frank and Hazel, no doubt, were telling the crew about what happened in Venice—Frank's heroic achievements or whatever. Frank's accomplishments were undoubtedly impressive, but Nico found himself unable to share in the celebratory atmosphere.

He couldn't shake the weight of Venice from his thoughts as the Argo II sailed away. The narrow canals, the haunting presence of Katoblepones, and the unsettling encounter with Triptolemus replayed in his mind like a broken record, stuck on a loop that refused to let him escape.

The moon cast a soft glow on the deck as Nico found relief in the quiet night, leaning against the railing. He traced the aviator jacket draped over his shoulders; the familiar comfort brought a warm embrace.

His fingers absentmindedly played with the metal rings as he stared into the distance. The recent quest had unlocked a host of emotions he preferred to keep buried – guilt, inadequacy, and the sting of being unable to protect Hazel when she needed him most.

"For fuck's sake, Nico, you got yourself turned into a corn plant. How much more useless can you be?" he groaned in frustration. The weight of his perceived failures weighed down on him. Why couldn't he be stronger? Why was he so unable to do anything?

His thoughts drowned him; his self-doubt never seemed to let him forget just how powerless he was. He was supposed to be one of the children of the Big Three, but in moments like these, he felt like nothing more than a liability.

His internal monologue echoed the harsh judgments he imagined from the others. Did they see him as a burden, a weak link in the chain that bound the crew's fate? Or maybe nothing but a freak who they were too creeped out by to even talk to. At least that's what it seemed like.

The only people who seemed to give two shits about him were Hazel and Leo, and even then, he didn't feel deserving of that. Today he had let Hazel down, and to say that it wouldn't be the same with Leo, he would probably end up burning that bridge before it was even built. It was always one step forward and three hundred steps back in the wrong direction.

The vulnerability he'd glimpsed in Venice manifested as a relentless torment, each self-critical thought tearing at the edges of his mind. He wanted to believe he was somebody worthy of happiness and kindness he did more than anything.

But the more assumptions and judgments people made about him, labeling him as unpredictable, untrustworthy, and threatening, the more he started to believe that's what he was, internalizing it as fact.

The distant stars overhead seemed to mock him, indifferent to his struggles. Nico clenched his fists, the cool metal rings biting into his skin. The words he desperately wished to say out loud remained trapped within, all the words that were inside his head that might never get to be said out loud, entangled in the labyrinth of his fears.

For a moment, he closed his eyes, blocking out the world and the accusing voices that only existed in his mind. The night air whispered promises of a new day, but Nico couldn't shake the shadows clinging to his soul.

In the quiet solitude, leaning against the ship's railing, Nico confronted his demons. The journey was more than just a physical odyssey; it was an internal battle against the doubts that threatened to consume him. As the Argo II sailed forward, Nico grappled with the darkness within, determined to find a sliver of light to guide him through the impending challenges.

As if on cue, Hazel approached, her presence a welcomed interruption to the solitary brooding. Nico glanced at her, a mix of weariness and vulnerability in his eyes. Hazel, sensing the weight on Nico's shoulders, joined him by the railing. The moonlight painted a silver sheen over Hazel's features as she approached Nico, a gentle smile playing on her lips. "Hey," she said softly, her voice a soothing melody cutting through the night air.