Fleecy giggled. “Well, in the language of the nebulae it’s actually-” She made a series of crackling and blowing noises that reminded Frank of a thunderstorm giving way to a nice cold front. “But you can call me Fleecy.”
"Nebulae…" Percy muttered in a daze. "Cloud nymphs."
Fleecy beamed. “Oh, I like this one! Usually no one knows about cloud nymphs. But dear me, he doesn’t look so good. Come to the back. My boss wants to meet you. We’ll get your friend fixed up.”
-page 238, Son of Neptune
art by the flawless burdge.