Title: Blink Of An Eye
Rating: T because of minor swears and my own paranoia
Disclaimer: I do not hold or claim to hold any sort of ownership or rights over the characters in this story; they belong to Hetalia/Hidekaz Himaruya and Percy Jackson and the Olympians/Rick Riordan.
Talking: UNABASHED SELF-PROMOTION FOR "WHEN IN ROME, DO AS THE ROMANS DO." If you like Romano or Spamano or Spain, that's the place to go!
Italy Romano - Lovino Vargas
Nico di Angelo
Blink Of An Eye: One:
Nico di Angelo's POV
"The hell are you doing here, you bastard?" a voice demands.
I pause and turn. "Uh, excuse you?"
The man looks somewhere around twenty years old, with short brown hair (although he has a curious flick that curls almost straight up) and olive green eyes. His mouth is twisted into a frown.
"You're Greek! Why are you in New Rome?" he asks gruffly. I straighten and glance around us... No one in sight.
"How did you figure out I'm Greek?" I wonder instead of answering.
"It's called auras, idiot," he says, and I finally register that he has a thick Italian accent.
I furrow my eyebrows, "How can you see my aura?"
"Too much question-answering for me and not enough question-answering for you!" he says, glaring. "Reasons? This is my home, and if you're any threat to it..."
"The Greeks didn't like me," I say. "And I'm only staying here for a little while, anyways."
The man opens his mouth as if to say something, then pauses and closes it again. He stares at me for a few moments, and I shift, uncomfortable. Finally, he guesses, "You're from Italy, aren't you? Northern or southern?"
"How did you know I'm Italian?" I ask.
"Easy enough for me," is all he says. "Now, which one?"
I pause, "I'm from the Italian south, yeah."
"Oh," the man says, and suddenly he does not seem nearly so hostile. I realize with a dim flicker of amusement that he's a touch shorter than I am. "Alright."
"Why?" I ask suspiciously. The man glares at me again, huffs, and walks away without another word.
I stare after him, confused and mildly worried.
That was the first time I met are land I was born in, although I didn't know that yet. It would not be the last.
In the meantime, I shrug as I sigh and continue down the road. I don't even blink at the bizarre things I've just heard.
•time skip brought to you by the 2P!s
The second time I met him was at dinner.
We sat only a few seats away from one another. He spoke with Reyna easily, an almost-smile on his lips-a clear charmer.
As dinner ended, I went to leave the now-empty venue, but a hand touched my shoulder. I paused and turned-ah, it was him.
"Nico," he said, and I couldn't recall introducing myself when we spoke earlier today. "You're a son of that bastard Hades, right?"
I wince, "I wouldn't call him a bastard if I were you," I say.
"Hades wouldn't dare attack me," he dismisses, as if it were as easy as that. "Anyway, you're his son. Do you know when he and the other gods moved here from... Wherever they were last?"
I frown slightly, "No, why?"
But the man just turned away, scowling, "Dammit, why are these gods so hard to track?"
"Uh-person?" I ask.
He pauses, glancing back at me. "Hm?"
"Why are you trying to track the gods? They're here now," I say.
"I'm trying to prove to my-my boss? My friend that I hate? That I'm better at tracking things. He's looking for the Egyptians, and he said he'd find their history out first," the man says. "I've gotten this far, but... There's gaps."
"Just to prove him wrong?" I wonder, incredulous.
"I'd do anything to prove him wrong," he says, and I've begun to think of the frown as permanent-his resting expression. "It's one of my most ambitious dreams; you see, he acts like a goddamn airhead in the public eye, but he's damn good warrior if you cross him."
"Is he a demigod?" I ask. I hesitate, then, "Are you a demigod?" The stranger laughs, although the sound is rough.
"We're much more than demigods, Nico di Angelo," he tells me, and then turns on his heel to stride down the steps. He's headed into an empty field.
I'm still certain I didn't tell him my name, but I don't even blink. I've seen far stranger things.
•time skip brought to you by the Mertalia au
The third time, he seeks me out. During dinner, he taps my shoulder, and I pause my conversation with Hazel to look at him expectantly. My half-sister glances between us, curious.
"Do you know where they went after Greece?" the man asks, loud to be heard over the surrounding voices. I myself can hardly hear him. "Octavian is useless."
"I'm not sure," I answer. "Maybe Ancient China. Or-was Nubia still around then?"
"I'll check with him, then," he says.
"Octavian?" I question.
"No," the stranger replies. "The ancient bastard who doesn't like Western society."
I eye him for a moment before wondering, "Are you feeling okay?"
"Of course, brat. Are you trying to imply something?" he demands. Something inside me-deep, deep inside me-flinches back from his glare, pained for reasons I don't understand.
Hazel's started up a conversation with the girl on her other side.
"No," I lie, "You know me-who are you?"
"An anthropomorphic personification," he answers, matter-of-fact. "Embodiment of the landmass and culture of Italy Romano."
Then, again, the nation leaves suddenly. I don't see where he (can nations have a true gender?) went. I don't see him ever again, never after our introduction.
This is odd.
In confusion, I blink.