Nico
"I–I know you ." Percy remarked with vague recognition in his voice.
Nico tried to keep the disappointment clear of his face. Of course you do. Of course you know me, we fought a war together, we're considered thicker than thieves.
But you don't remember. You don't remember me, the boy that you've saved countless times.
Nico Di Angelo felt the familiar sharp sting of loneliness stab somewhere inside of him. All he knew is that it hurt.
For the past eight months he searched around as much as he could to find his missing cousin. After the son of Jupiter's sudden appearance, he'd known that Percy would soon be on his way to the roman camp.
For the past months Nico had been a wreck.
His cousin – more like brother – had disappeared of the face of the earth, leaving his younger companion to suffer and wonder where one of his only friends had gone.
"Do you?" Nico's hands were far too shaky for his liking, and his voice too forced.
In Percy's eyes he sees that the Savior of Olympus is struggling to match Nico's face with any of his memories (which, of course, could not be currently located at the moment).
All Nico want to is hug him and scream 'Where have you been for the last eight months!?'
Hazel covers for him as the son of Hades silently begs the gods that his best friend would miraculously remember him so that they could catch up, share battle strategies, relive memories – anything, anything at all.
Please, Nico pleads inside his head, Please let him regain his memories. He didn't deserve this. Please.
But Percy doesn't remember, Jason is starting to, and Nico can't worry about this, he has a job to do. He pushes his wishes aside for the moment (he can't even recall the last time he's done something for himself), plans ahead (it's just Tartarus, how bad could it be?), and bids those he knows goodbye.
They might not ever see him again.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Clarisse
Somehow Clarisse knows Percy's alive. And don't think it's like how Annabeth knows he's alive, by their little friendship bond or whatever.
Clarisse knows he's still breathing somewhere out there, but doesn't dare share it. Her siblings would deem her weak, the whole camp would deem her weak, so no way is she going to claim that she is somehow in her heart aware that the little prick is alive.
But Clarisse (she'd never ever admit it) thought that maybe, just maybe, her mind was playing tricks and made her gut feel what she wanted to believe. When that crossed her mind she shivered with disappointment for herself. She attempted to dismiss it, as she wanted no part in wanting Jackson to be okay.
She didn't talk much anymore, as she wasn't in the mood for it much. Actually, she wasn't in the mood for anything lately.
Food seemed unappetizing, focusing proved to be difficult, even fighting and arguing became lack-luster for the usually bloodthirsty warrior.
What is happening to me? Clarisse growled in frustration as she absent-mindedly rejected a match she would normally hastily accept.
And as she walked past the (empty) Poseidon cabin an emotion (almost relating to sorrow) Clarisse La Rue wasn't familiar with seemed to follow her like a lost puppy.