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: ✅
tlo:...
-cover art from @samdoesart on instagram
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─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
"...Uh, so, you wanna talk about it?" Beckendorf asked tentatively as they soared through the sky.
"You gonna tell me how much of an idiot you think I am?" Percy guessed.
"Well, kind of," Beckendorf admitted. "But I also don't even understand what I just witnessed. I thought you like Maisie.
"How do you know that?"
"Everyone knows that. That's not the question. My question is...everything else that just happened."
Percy rubbed his hands over his face. His voice was muffled when he said, "Rachel's cool. She's my friend. I didn't realize it was a date until it started to feel weird. And then she kissed me, and it was nice, but it felt weird. I never thought about kissing her before. I didn't know what to do."
"I mean," Charles started, scratching his head, "you take a girl to a remote location on the beach. Can you blame her for thinking it was a date?"
"I get it, okay? I'm an idiot," Percy said. He turned to stare at the miles of open ocean. "Did you see how sad she looked?"
"Your Rachel friend seemed more scared, of our feisty blonde, to me."
"I meant Mae."
"Oh. Then yeah." Beckendorf was really trying here. "Well, let's just focus on saving the day. She can't be mad at you once you do that."
Percy huffed a laugh. "Oh, yes she can. Besides, playing hero doesn't work when you're trying to impress a hero."
"Then just use this as motivation to get back. So you can fix it."
And that actually was helpful advice. Percy steeled his emotions, trying to focus on the mission at hand. This wasn't unfixable. It couldn't have been. He was feeling slightly better. Up until the moment Blackjack spoke.
You really screwed up, huh boss?
Percy groaned and covered his face in his hands again.
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
"Why are boys so terrible?" Maisie wondered aloud.
"I've been trying to tell you this," Darrell said, running around behind the cafe counter, trying to keep up with the busy patrons.
Maisie was of no help. She laid sprawled out on the counter, staring up at the ceiling, moping. She ignored the strange looks customers were throwing at her.
There was the delightful sound of the cash register cha-ching as Darrell opened it to deposit change. "You know," he started, "I could validate your sulking more if I knew who we were talking about."
