RECLUSE - (n) a person who lives a solitary life and tends to avoid other people.
MAISIE ELLIOT WAS ANGRY.
Angry at the world.
Angry at the Gods.
Angry at the demigods who seemed to move on too fast.
And when forced onto a quest with three stranger...
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MAISIE WAKING UP IN THE INFIRMARY WAS BEGINNING TO BECOME A ROUTINE
She had almost wondered to herself if she was catching up to Jason in 'times knocked out in battle,' but remembered he was still probably miles ahead of her.
The sheets of the infirmary cot wrapped her in comfort, almost as if shielding her to the destruction around her. Maisie could only enjoy the moment of bliss before the memories flooded back to her.
Judging solely on the fact that Maisie was alive and not a captive on a foreign ship, her friends had probably outsmarted Chrysaor and his crew somehow. She had almost abandoned her warm bed to check on them when her gaze was focused on the bedside table.
On the table sat a clear plastic bag, like one you'd expect to carry a sandwich or pretzels in a kids lunch. Except this wasn't a packed lunch made with love from a mother, it was the remains of her beloved weapon.
Maisie held the bag with delicate hands, tracing the outline of the small metal scraps that remained.
A door clicked open and Piper walked in, small tray of fresh bandages and ointment in hand. Her eyes found Maisie's sad ones and filled with pity.
"How are you feeling?" She asked.
"Like I was hit with a brick," Maisie muttered.
Piper sat on the edge of her bed and readied the medical equipment for use.
"You put up one heck of a fight, that's for sure."
"Yeah but all I got out of it was injuries and a broken axe," Maisie spat, tossing the bag back into her table.
Piper eyed her uneasily, almost nervous to anger her, "I'm sure Leo can fix it."
Maisie shook her head. "He can't fix it. It was one of a kind, Beckendorf's design."
Piper nodded in understanding, "The old Hephaestus counselor, right? You two were close?"
"He was practically my brother."
She paused from bandaging Maisie's wounds to allow her to elaborate further.
"He built the axe for me when I was eleven," Maisie added.
Piper snorted. "You were wielding a battle axe at eleven? I'm not even sure I knew how to ride a bike by then."
Maisie chuckled, picking the bag back up and opening it to take a particularly large chunk that was left, tracing the carved initials of C.B that had been etched into the steel mechanisms in the handle.
"He used to sign all of his work with his initials," Maisie handed the shard to Piper carefully. "Up until he passed."
The girl beside her nodded, looking carefully at the sacred fragment of Maisie's former weapon.
