Maisie Kline didn't want to be a half-blood...but she is.
So you might as well read her story.
percy jackson x femoc 🩵
tlt: ✅
tsom: ✅
ttc: ✅
tbol:in progress
tlo:...
-cover art from @samdoesart on instagram
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Maisie slowly woke up, feeling feverish. She couldn't remember much of her dream. Which was odd for her. She usually remembered every detail, wether she wanted to or not. Nothing was solid about her dream. Everything just appeared in wisps of color and light. But she remembered a flurry of red and blue. A flaming projectile soaring across miles of ocean water. She wished her own dreams would stop tormenting her.
She didn't know how longed she'd walked for. Where she was. Where she was going. She knew she should probably try and get back to camp. Annabeth and her other friends would be worried. But she didn't want to go back. Not if Percy wouldn't be there.
The stupid, naive part of herself—the part that Circe had seen; The part that worried Darrell—held onto hope that Percy would be there when she got back. Because how could he not be? She couldn't picture him being gone. Staying gone. A lot had changed in her life the last few years—her family, school, who she thought she was. But there was always a constant: Percy.
She didn't want to find out what life would be like without that constant.
So she held onto that sliver of hope. Why should she have to be realistic? In the last two years, she discovered that gods existed, that she was a half-blood, that her friend was a goat. Why couldn't Percy be alive?
She wondered if what had happened to Chris was happening to her.
But that singular thought about absence of realism made her keep walking. It was necessary. Without it, she might have just curled up on the ground and stayed there.
It wasn't enough to erase the aching in her chest, or the pressure build up behind her eyes. But it was just enough to keep her moving. She trudged on.
The tunnel started rounding out. The dirt turned to concrete and bricks. Maisie saw a small light emitting down the path. As she got closer, she realized it was fire.
That made her want to bolt it the opposite direction. She didn't want to see another flame so long as she lived. She was much more accustomed to endless darkness anyways.
But a voice halted her from turning around. She furrowed her brow curiously as she heard...singing?
"Cause she's an uptown, get-around, anything-goes girl—"
Maisie slowly approached the noise. The small campfire light allowed her to see who was singing next to it. It was a boy.
He was scrawny, just about her height, with black curly hair, warm brown eyes, and quite pointed ears. He was wearing a dirty white t-shirt and tan overalls, with one of the suspenders unbuttoned. As well as a makeshift tool-belt hanging low on his hips.
