( clarisse grins, mildly smug, as if to say buckle up your seatbelt, buddy boy, this is gonna be a wild ride. she isn't usually one to brag — and she wouldn't necessarily call this bragging, just stating the facts, as it were. her tone is almost flippant, like none of this really matters. as if slaying the drakon wasn't also directly connected to one of the most traumatic moments of her life. it's fine. )

Close, ( she says, leaning back in her chair and kicking her boots up onto the table, tarot card in hand. the practitioners level her an irritated look, but she ignores them and starts picking the dirt from under her nails with the edge of her card. then, with a sidelong glance at koby: ) It's an ancient Greek serpent, similar to a dragon. Heracles slayed it once. Supposedly one of the giants did too in the days before the Gigantomachy. I got my shot at it when Kronos, Lord of Time and worst great-grandfather in existence, unleashed it on New York hoping to wipe out all the demigods who opposed him. Unluckily for him, the beast didn't stand a chance against a daughter of Ares. I stabbed its ugly mug — ( and here she makes a quick stabbing motion, imitating the sounds of crackling electricity ) — and sent, like, godly level voltage straight into its brain. Then I tied its carcass to my chariot and dragged it up and down Fifth Avenue, trying to taunt Kronos into a fight. ( she huffs, grumbling: ) Coward never did respond to my challenge.