harpies and famous russian haemophiliacs
She was pretty. Percy wasn’t going to lie to himself, there’d be no point in denying how his breath had hitched the first time his eyes had caught hers or how he had nearly stumbled on his own words just seconds earlier. She was insanely pretty, gods, she was. But then, then she opened her mouth and Percy had to come to the realisation that, though she may have looked like an angel, she most definitely wasn’t one. Alina Odoyevsky was a know-it-all brat, a mean one at that.
( SET POST BATTLE OF THE LABYRINTH — PRE LAST OLYMPIAN)
a really random drabble regarding how i imagine one of the most important interactions alina had with percy and annabeth would’ve probably gone. canon compliant but might be slightly canon divergent.
“Do you not believe in second chances or something?” the tanned boy had wondered, his sea green eyes scanning her face in search of an explanation of any kind, staring down at her in pure, bewildered confusion. The fair haired girl had to reprimand herself before she could do or say anything of excessive stupidity. Desperately attempting to stop a smirk from spreading onto her features and inevitably casting her amusement, biting her tongue before her mouth could come up with something such as an incredibly impolite, exasperated, certainly derogatory: “americans”.
In the arc of less than a second, the other two had now started bickering. Alina deciding to shut out of her mind their irritating voice and talk of nonsense in return, preferring to focus instead on her chipped nails, making the mental note that she was in terrible need of a fresh manicure. After giving them what felt like at least five minutes - already far too long if you had asked her, who the hell could fight about nothing for all that time? - she let out a huff, loudly signaling a boredom she simply could not hold in any longer. A puff of faint white smoke followed her lips as her breath met the colder long island nighttime air. Alina may have had a lot of qualities but possessing any sort of filter just wasn’t listed as one of them. “Where my family’s from you don’t get second chances. You get shot three times in the upper chest by a group of Bolshevik revolutionaries alongside your wife, five children and two servants, while being held hostage in a basement in Yekaterinburg” she replied, sarcasm dripping from her mouth.
“Did you just describe the execution of the Romanovs?” The blonde, curly haired girl had asked in disbelief, a hint of amused respect hiding in her harsh tone. Romanov? Execution? He was confused, Percy was incredibly confused, no point in denying.
“Yea, 17 July 1918 or something. Don’t tell my grandmother I ever said this but they sorta had it coming” Alina announced nonchalantly, as if that’d be of any sort of explanation. Suddenly she was walking right past them, giving little thought to the fact that she had to lightly push the taller boy out of her way just to pass through. Once again, the other two were exchanging puzzled looks, but what was new? Finally, Annabeth firmly nodded, showing she somewhat understood what the girl had been referencing to. “I see not everyone here is utterly vapid and ignorant, how exciting!” she added to her rebuttal, her voice a high pitched, mocking squeal of faux excitement.
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