The Great Coming of Age

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The Great Coming of Age

With her new family and everything that's happened since its formation, Octavia might nearly have forgotten about the fact that she was turning eighteen this month. Nearly, if not for her grandfather's constant reminders of what it means and the preparations that would go into the celebrations. Small parties were fine for her, especially when it meant spending time with her dad. A few relatives might bring gifts or wish her well, and that was all fine and dandy.

But making the spectacle into a full-on bash wasn't her thing. Credit for this gaudy event went to her grandfather, King Paimon; even before Via helped Charlie and the others fight off Exorcists, he was already planning to make a spectacle of it. Her accomplishments meant Paimon pushed even harder. 'The best for his favorite granddaughter', he kept insisting. At the very least, Paimon was true to his word and Striker was free to go. That meant Octavia had to keep her end of the agreement. Even with ideas involving the coven in mind, she still had to sell the act.

The Palace was well decorated and themed around the now adult Goetia. While it was still a little much, the space and music themes were at least to her liking. There were plenty of refreshments available for all guests, fancy hors'douevres and fine wines all around. Musicians kept the party from being too quiet and sadly played more fancy classical music than the kind Octavia typically listened to. Worst of all came the part the king insisted on most: suitors. Now that Via was an adult, she was available. And that meant the chance for others, mostly other Goetia, to try and woo the princess. She tried to entertain the ones she could, with enough of them being reprehensible shits that occasionally, bodyguards or loved ones would have them thrown out in one way or another. The how was up to them, and the birthday girl wasted no time thanking them.

Fortunately, there was at least one part of the celebration that was entirely Octavia's. She was encouraged to show off in some form, to remind everyone there that it was all about her. Partway through the night, attention was called to the grand stairway with Via standing on top. She changed into a lovely golden dress (one that the Nautilus crew might recognize from her Persona, Athena), with her hair magically done as if they contained a nebula. No beanies this time, but she could hold off for now. What mattered most to her in that moment was the song she dedicated to her friends and family. She made goddamn sure everyone knew how much they meant to her through the great magical display. Even if the show of power was a flex Paimon insisted on, she could fit likenesses of those close to her all throughout. Siblings, parents, friends, all manner of loved ones got a cameo in her performance. They're the reason why her eighteenth birthday could be this enjoyable, even with the setbacks.

Even if the party's another stuffy Goetia gathering, it's at least centered around one who's far more welcoming and compassionate. That she isn't like most of her relatives is all thanks to her friends and family. You're invited to help her tolerate some uncomfortable moments and share some laughs; Octavia Ars Goetia is an adult now, and sometimes that means juggling the fun with the less so.

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There's something else she needed to take care of before anything else. Paimon kept his promise, and the man who both tried to kill her father and saved her family from Andrealphus was set to be released today during the afternoon. Little explanation was given to Striker by the guards, simply informing him that he was free to go and told to gather his things from holding. With the exception of his blessed weapons and rope, all destroyed by Satan's orders, everything else was mostly in order. Waiting past the prison gates was a limousine (sorry, Poppy) and its driver, who greeted the imp with a nod and opened the door for him. It made sense that a Goetia would be what sprung him...

But waiting inside were two individuals he likely wasn't expecting. Stella's and Stolas' daughter, Octavia, seemingly relieved to see him well. Alongside her was his rival, Blitzø, who was made fully aware of this plan and refused to leave her alone with him, just in case. It didn't matter that her magic meant she could overpower both imps at once; she's his baby and he will kill anyone for her. Plus, Blitzø had taken good care of Bombproof since Striker's incarceration; he deserved to be here.

No fucking way was he letting Striker be alone with one of his kids - not after what happened to Loona. Via was strong, yeah! But Blitzø refused to let her face that assassin alone.

Seeing Striker shuffle into the back seat, though. Blitzø winked at him, gave a taunting little kissy noise.

"Hey, cowboy bitch. Lucky day for you, eh?"

He was roused rather rudely, a baton rattled against the bars. For the last two months, he was used to it, grumbling and getting up to do his morning routine. In that time, he'd established himself a bit, as it was exactly as it was in the movies: There was always a pecking order that those incarcerated tried to establish, especially among the fresh meat.

Among mingled awe in defending the folk hero that Blitzø had become, there were jeers of his little public makeout with the Goetia woman on TV. He ignored the lot of it. He wouldn't start fights, but he sure as fuck would end them. He didn't have the patience or time to 'rule' the prison or anything stupid and lofty like that. He just wanted to pay his stupid time so he could get out of here-

"Get your shit, Striker. You've been filed for release."

What? But, the trial...

He didn't argue. He was given a box of his things, and after dressing, after placing his hat on his head, he was escorted outside.

There wasn't much in the way of ceremony. His restraints were removed, and he was ushered past the gates. For the first time in many weeks, he simply stood outside as a free man. ...A homeless man, too. He was sure his little hideout was ransacked and collapsed. With his family all dead, there wasn't much he could do other than maybe plan a trip to the Wrath Ring and find work--

A limo sat outside. A driver greeted him. His expression softened into confusion, and after a moment's hesitation, he moved to climb into the car. Maybe someone bribed his way out, had a pretty high-profile job for him. He'd just been lined up for a trial for murdering "helpless Goetia", and here he was probably about to go-

He was face to face with Princess Octavia, and...

"...Blitzø." His expression soured, his semi-greeting rather flat. Guess surviving getting sentenced to death didn't phase the guy. He had time to be smug?

"Hey, don't go thanking me for bailing you out. You have my perfect, beautiful, genius daughter to thank for that one," the imp winked and smirked, gesturing to Via with insufferable, proud smugness. He had a manila folder, sure, but that's for later.

The two assassins clashed quite a few times, as far as Via was aware, so the tension was understandable. Biltzø earned the time to be smug and while Via didn't try to stop it, she did nod in confirmation of his words.

Once Striker was in the car, the driver closed the door and took his place behind the wheel. The engine was warmed up and the limo began taking them elsewhere, the prison steadily fading into the horizon.

"I made a deal with my grandfather." She shared. "No more prison, no trial, no execution. If you're wondering what the catch is, it's threefold, but I think you'll find it reasonable. First, the family won't tolerate another dead Goetia. King Paimon was very clear about the manhunt that would follow, and even I wouldn't be able to stop it. Second, because of how I convinced grandpa to do this, he and possibly the rest of the family think...I own you now." She winced at the words. "I can't stress enough how much I don't want that, and I especially don't want you to think that I do. I'm just...not okay with the idea."

Via shook her head. Aside from how blatantly wrong it is, she remembered Blitzø telling her that he was purchased as a playmate for Stolas years ago. If the Goetia could do that do an innocent kid, a grown man they strongly disliked wouldn't fair any better.

"And third...I'm handling that one. I turn eighteen in a few days and as part of his push to flaunt my premiere into adulthood, grandpa extended invitations to...potential suitors." She rolled her eyes. "He asked that I share the names of two I'd strongly consider. I'm not a fan, but dad and a few others already agreed to help me deal with that." Via smiled at Blitzø and gently nudged him with her head.

"So, what do you think? How does all that sound?"

Striker sent the other imp a Look. But in his position, he knew better than to argue, and sat back. His tail, however, buzzed a bit.

But he gave Octavia's words consideration. A deal with King Paimon himself? For him?? But... fuckin' why?

Wait. Of course. Octavia was Stella's kid. But to think that the princess herself saw fit to negotiate for his release was unbelievable.

Ah.

Striker made a face. No dead Goetias was obvious- the pay was always pretty damn good, but he can play ball with that- but ownership... great. At least the girl seemed to find the idea distasteful, but he was sort of sitting across from her new other dad.

The deal then boiled down to needing to hook her up with somebody. Arranged marriages... they weren't much of a secret. The Goetia hated each other enough that love matches weren't exactly a thing that happened. Gotta pair unhappy birds and critters up with each other, hope for precautionary heirs, and wash the hands of it. Striker honestly pitied the girl for such a fate.

"That sounds like a crock of shit, if I'm honest." He crossed his arms and tightened them against his chest, and crossed one boot over the other.

"Yet here I am, not sittin' in a cell, and seeing is believing. You must be pretty fuckin' valuable that somebody like King Paimon himself is willing to cut loose a known Goetia killer, let alone into your 'care'. What, do I work for you now?"

But he chuckled darkly, eyes on Blitzø. "I'm guessin' your daddy is only here to make sure I don't decide to snap your neck and make a break for it instead, huh?"

"Yeah, buddy, don't even fucking joke about that shit after what you did to my other daughter," Blitzø sneered, his tail cracking like a whip too. "No fuckin' clue why you came to help bail that trial out. But you did, so here."

Manila folder! It's got the checkup paperwork, vaccination forms, so on and so forth all caught up from Bombproof's vet.

"You saved my family, made sure my kids didn't lose their dad... so I made sure your good boy didn't lose his either. Let's not fuck up the score now that it's even, got it?"

Edited 2025-01-29 01:49 (UTC)

Octavia was pretty sure the taunt was meant to rile up her dad rather than be anything serious. If he really wanted her dead, he would've tried by now.

"Mum found your horse after the trial." Via confirmed. "She didn't know how to care for him, so when she asked me for help, I asked dad. He's with her now at the Hazbin Hotel, safe and sound."

She took a deep breath. "I...want to thank you. For helping us at the trial and saving my mum. Even if it was just to get back at my uncle, it still means a lot to us. I'm looking past trying to kill my dad twice because it's easy to imagine the Goetias taking so much more from you. This probably won't make up for it, but it will give you another chance."

She shook her head. "I don't own you, and you don't work for me. You're a free man, Striker. I've asked the driver to take us to the Hazbin Hotel so you can get your horse. Mum's waiting for you, too. I figured you'd want to see them again, so the cover story I'm giving anyone who asks is I've assigned you to be my mother's bodyguard. I was scared for her life after she was kidnapped, so who better to protect her than the man who saved her the first time around?"

Octavia shot Striker a wink. The two of them were probably going to spend a lot of time together now that he got out anyway, so why not work that into the narrative?

The folder was given a look before he reached for it and opened it up. The cooled expression he had on faded as he pored over the contents, as moments passed.

Bombproof was due for a check-up. Vaccinations, dewormer, clean bill of health. He was even noted to be a very sweet boy. That spoke of feeling comfortable around whoever was with him.

His browline creased. The Goetia taking so much from him wasn't even the half of it. They took everything. But that wasn't anyone's story to hear.

But his face right now, despite the earlier taunt, was bordering on unreadable. Maybe confused. They could have simply tied their hands and he'd have likely been sentenced to living his life out of society if not dead for the sheer number of the Goetia family he'd been paid to kill.

He knew that, even after everything, he'd likely have to handle other assassins who maybe got paid for payback for the lives lost. Happens all the time. But did he want to see Bombproof again? Stella again? Yes. Absolutely yes.

A brow quirked.

"Hell of a cover story." He paused.

His hold on the folder and its contents minutely tightened. But he turned his head to avoid their gazes, and gave the folder a little shake.

"...'Ppreciate it." Eloquent. Grateful? Certainly. But he wasn't exactly the guy to really gush about it.

Aw, fuck it. Just this once.

"...Thank you."

"You bet you're welcome! And thank your Bomby for being such a good, majestic, sweet tough guy. He's been living it up 'cause he's perfect and flawless and never did nothin' wrong," Blitzø gushed, relaxing back against the seat.

...There were some new scars and bruises on Blitzø's arm that were conspicuously horse-mouth-shaped, but no fucking way was Blitzø gonna blame good ol Bombproof for being skeptical of a bunch of strangers at first.

"Don't worry, I called in a few favors for the best treats and brushies and even brand new horseshoes for 'im. Absolute privilege to spoil a horse that handsome."

Don't think he didn't see those marks. Having gotten a few of his own over the years, it's a dead ringer. He's a mouthy turd some days, but he's also not afraid to give those sharp nips when he feels the need to make a statement. It's part of what he loved about Bombproof.

But that left the 'what now?' King Satan and his boys wouldn't change their minds, and there was no doubt the hide-out was basically a burned-out husk. All of his weapons? Gone. All of his classic, wonderful, beloved paraphernalia? Gone, gone, gone. Damn it, some of that stuff was HARD to find.

"...Guess I should take the 'cover story' and make it a real one. If Stella's hiring." Because the alternative was offering his services to the Hotel, which meant working for the wrath-eyed Goetia kid.

That'd be too much head-butting.

Octavia nodded her head. She spent enough time around tough guys to know that expressing their feelings is difficult and rare. Striker especially has his hatred of the Goetia family and expressing any sort of gratitude towards them, even Via, is a reach. Blitz is already rubbing it in, so she won't press things further.

"It's safe to say she is." Via assured. "I clued mum in on the plan once I worked out the deal with grandpa, and she's been counting the days to your release. I don't know many details - I started tuning them out once she got explicit - but she's very excited to see you again."

Stella was really looking forward to seeing Striker again. The amount of censorship was akin to Stolas' dirty talk to Blitz.

"Would you like something to drink? Water, wine? Mum insisted on cooking for you herself, but we have some refreshments here if you need anything."

He blinked owlishly at her, his mind's eye playing the countless bleeps of just what plans Stella had for him. He was glad he didn't have steady work at the moment, or anything pressing- he had the funny feeling he was going to need all the stamina he could muster.

Striker cleared his throat. "Well, I ain't gonna ruin my appetite and let her down... but the water in the clink's fuckin' puddle water."

A man got desperate out in Wrath sometimes. But he wasn't going to be so up his own ass that he'd turn his nose up at some actual clean water, especially after what he'd had to put up with the last couple of months. Hell, he might even try sparkling and see what the fuss was about, if offered.

Fortunately, Via decided to bring along normal water. It was fresh, clean, even kept at a cool temperature. A sharp contrast from the swill they gave prisoners that had the minimum amount of effort put into it. A glass was levitated towards Striker, and a clear bottle filled it up with water.

The ride over to the hotel was rather short. A touch awkward, sure, but that was going to be inevitable. The young Goetia tapped away at her phone, and quickly received a message.

"Mum says to meet her out back. Thought you might want the open space if you wanna ride Bombproof straight away." Via relayed.

The limo came to a stop in front of the Hazbin Hotel. The driver opened the door and held it open for Striker. "...Thank you. Again. For helping my family. If there's anything you need, mum knows how to reach me."

Give him a minute to take it, uncap it, and drain the whole damn thing. He wasn't above it. He'd been ravenously thirsty in Wrath and would find that sweet, sweet oasis.

He also had a feeling he'd need the hydration.

But once the car stopped and the door was opened, Striker hesitated, as if taking in once more what was actually happening. Maybe somewhere in there, someone would slam the door and he'd be wheeled back to prison. It had been some kind of prank, maybe, some means of punishing him further for how many Goetia were dead because of him.

The door remained open. The exit, it... it was right there. He looked back to Octavia, to Blitzø. He slowly nodded, but slipped quickly from the vehicle like the serpent he took so heavily after.

Striker was loose again in Hell. But this time, he made a beeline for the back of the hotel. He wanted to ride Bombproof, yes, but... Satan, he just had so many things he wanted to do: He wanted to hug that doofy horse. He wanted to hug Stella. He wanted to just LOOK at her, having no damned picture or anything that wouldn't have just been taken from him by the guards more often than the other inmates that he'd effectively terrified...

Octavia offered a smile and a nod. There was little else to be said, and she patiently waited for Striker to step out. Once he did, the driver closed the door behind him and drove off into the city with passengers in tow. It was just the cowboy and the hotel now.

It was easy to think this was an elaborate hoax. A cruel trick to play on one who mercilessly killed so many bluebloods that some may deem it appropriate to tear hope right out of his hands before he died. Cruel, but plenty would say Striker would deserve it. Would it happening at the hotel mean Lucifer and his daughter were in on it? Who would care, at that point? He'd already be dead. But there was a chance that it was real.

The chance became reality as Striker turned the corner. The hotel had a smoker now, and from the smell alone, he could tell it's been hard at work for the best twelve hours. Someone tried to time it, it seems. That certain someone had been looking over the machine, hands folded over her chest in hopes that it might be something the one she's waiting for likes. She had her short shorts on and let her hair down. Casual, yet offered much on display.

And the first to immediately give away the surprise was none other than Bombproof himself. Blitzø was right; he spoiled the fuck out of that horse during this time. Glossy coat, a new blanket, it all took away from the rugged look he usually had, but the horse didn't care. He was busy whinnying and immediately rushing over to Striker's side. The first to be happy to see him. The second had to stop and see what the ruckus was about, a look that instantly melted into warm relief on recognition.

"Welcome home, cowboy."

That might be a part of why the arrangement to be at the Hotel worked so damn well. If he didn't keep his nose clean somehow, he was within arm's reach of two of the most powerful demons in Hell. Even he knew not to fuck around when the literal Royal Family was within spitting distance.

But dying to a couple of weirdos wasn't at the fore of his mind right now. He'd gone around the back, and was all but bowled over by a very happy nightmare. Bomby was slick, clean, and looked like a damn barn horse... sheesh... Blitzø spoiled him rotten!

...Buuut, you know what, he deserved it. He reached up to hug the big guy's head. "So you didn't forget about me, huh...? Didn't get 100% used to the cushy life with the clown?"

He chuckled under the snorts of the stallion, the way he tapped at the ground with all four hooves. Sometimes Bombproof was just a big ol' baby.

The voice stopped him dead. He peered around the horse to a real sight for sore eyes.

"...Glad to be cut loose." He gave Bombproof a pat and stepped up, hands in his pockets.

"Y'know, I hear tell that somebody was hard up for an expert around here: A keen eye, someone lookin' to keep their hands busy." Eyes like the skies of Wrath at sunsdown. Legs for weeks. Oh, how he wanted to take a Hell of a bite, but that could wait a bit.

Bombproof was an absolute sweetheart, and definitely got first dibs at welcoming Striker. They've had each other for Satan knows how long, and waiting for him to come back for months was difficult. So much of the nightmare's worries melted away once he came back, seemingly the same as he was before. The pampering from Blitzø was fantastic, but this horse had his loyalty to one particular imp. He patiently waited beside Striker.

"It sure could. Especially nimble hands. Quick wits, keen reflexes, a smirk that can make a girl swoon..." Stella strolled on up and lowered herself onto a knee to be closer to him. She delicately held Striker's face in her hands to look into his eyes. For months, she worried what might happen to him in jail. All the shit he'd have to endure, but part of her knew that a Wrathian like him handled far worse every day. A couple of prison bitches wouldn't slow down a rugged, capable and captivating man like him.

"...the rope skills are a good touch."

Stella waited so long for this, and what they shared last was interrupted by a merciful sentencing. There was plenty to catch up on, but first things first. Striker more than earned his woman, and a warm, passionate kiss was the best way she thought to welcome him back. Her beak against his lips, her arms around him in a way that knew they didn't have to let go this time. Not before they were finished.

The smirk, huh...? Why, if he didn't know any better, she was awfully specific.

She lowered and framed his face. After all of his treatment in the facility- his past as a Wrathian was integral to his survival, keeping himself guarded but overtly aggressive when necessary (which was often)- a soft touch was undeniable in how it knotted his stomach.

Stella eased in and the response was immediate, arms around the woman's middle as the months dissolved. He never got to really bid her that farewell before, amid so much interruption. He kissed like a man starved, finally getting that first big bite and savoring it.

Another day, another Goetia function. He's there until he can quietly slip his way out and Paimon can not only get to pat his big fat bird ass on having the King at his function while Lucifer can say he fulfilled an obligation.

However, he couldn't entirely say that it was one this time. Paimon can blow it out his feathery butt, but Princess Octavia was one of a growing number of demons that truly gave a shit about Hell and how to make it better. That was even before knowing about the girl moonlighting as a member of a vigilante group.

An attendant alerted Octavia to another mark on her card, another slot filled. Each was reserved for a suitor, who later she needed to choose from to fulfill her obligation, whatever that was.

But rather than another demon that could fumble their way into getting to know her, the rather small King of Hell slipped through the crowd to offer his hand... and a wink.

"Oops. One less dance slot, huh? ...Happy Birthday, little lady."

She'd been through so many suitors at this point. At least...what, ten? Some were tolerable, others insufferable, one who seemed interested in get rich quick schemes or something? And got himself banned from the Gluttony ring somehow. Octavia may not have interacted much with queen Beelzebub, but if she's banning someone from her Ring, then that's an automatic disqualification. She only needs two names and his sure as Hell won't be one of them.

The now adult owl had definitely been masking and putting on a happy face for each suitor, but it made way for surprise on seeing the King of Hell himself approach. Her smile was genuine. "King Lucifer! Thank you so much for coming!"

Grandpa wouldn't argue if the king himself wanted to wish the birthday girl well, so everyone else would have to wait while Octavia offered her hand for a dance. Too bad, so sad. They could speak a little more privately like this, which also helped.

"It means a lot to me that you're here. This party's a Goetia function in disguise, so I hope the others haven't been too annoying. You're welcome to join in on bothering the suitors, if you need to blow off steam."

Receptions like these make his meddling truly worth it. He took her hand and lifted his head high, guiding the lady of the evening to the dance floor before taking position. Having done this since dance sprung into being to begin with, it was beyond a non-surprise that his form was steady.

"Count on it! This isn't the first debut I've attended, and it sure as sugar isn't gonna be the last. You could say one of my favorite pastimes is ruffling feathers."

He paused as another pair sailed on by, focusing on their dance until they could next have a moment.

"...You know, the funniest thing happened the other day: I went to file an appointment for another trial, and noticed a cowboy was out of the clink rather early. Fancy that."

With the Goetia coming in so many shapes and sizes, these functions seeming to be swaths of bluebloods and the elite rubbing elbows together, maybe he should have expected these guys asking what family he comes from.

What's his title? What sector of Pride is he from?

Jasper quietly would bullshit himself an answer and then excuse himself. He really wasn't material for parties, let alone ones like these... but... he wasn't here for himself.

He took a deep breath, steadied himself, and fixed the fur at his chest and his forehead. Okay. Okay, he's got this...

"Happy Birthday. ...Hahah- I thought about makin' that sort of effect inside my coat lining, but I was short on reagents," he chuckled.

"Youuu... feel like a dance? We can always pretend, too."

The owl lit up once she got the chance to meet up with Jasper. He was one of the guests Via was genuinely looking forward to seeing. And you know what? It was time to make sure the other guests would treat him with some respect in case they didn't. The giddy owl practically leapt up to hug him.

Let them gossip about that for a little bit.

"I'd love to share a dance with you, Jas." She shared. She held that hug for a few seconds, and soon pulled away with a little giggle. She offered him her hand.

"I'm so glad you could make it! That's one more person I actually want around tonight." She winked. "Goetia gatherings get real stuffy, so I hope the other guests haven't been giving you too much trouble. They will hear from me if they have."

Despite the small grunt of surprise, he caught her. He couldn't stop the little wag as his arms readjusted, returning the hug for that time he was able. He still couldn't believe he was doing things like this...!

He took her hand and ducked his head a bit from the wink. "O-oh, ah- no... not too much trouble, fortunately. They ask what family I'm from and I don't really know how to answer! So I say I gotta find the bathroom and scoot, haha..."

He smiled helplessly and shrugged. "Though if I'm honest, I think my size is payin' dividends right now. I'm 'too big' to really mess with."

"Hey."

It was a soft greeting, spoken from behind, scarcely more than a muttering- but close enough to be heard. "Can Her Highness spare a moment away from her adoring public for a word in private?"

"For her big brother? Absolutely."

Thankfully, Octavia could take breaks between meeting and speaking with guests and well wishers, the relatives and potential suitors. Several of them deserved to be shot down, but some were given a simple little fun time and little else. Goro was a welcome change from all of that.

She waved to some of the security personnel, signalling that she was stepping away for a time. The celebration didn't need Octavia in the center stage the whole night, thankfully, so she could give Goro a gentle little forehead bump while walking off.

"Thanks for being here with me, Goro. It means a lot to me, especially with it being a Goetia function in disguise. Gross."

Forehead bump be damned, Octavia was getting a hug. "Right? I haven't seen so many pompous assholes in one room since the trial."

Hers was a familiar warmth, and one he relished. How had he ever done so well as to deserve this, this relation to a woman who was as much of a balm on his soul as this?

He did pull away, though, smiling faintly. "I couldn't leave you to face them alone, could I?"

Lord Felix Naberius ars Goetia the Third was only a year younger than the now adult Princess Octavia ars Goetia, and thus was naturally expected to court her by the elders around him - even if they also simultaneously expected him to be rejected unless he went above and beyond in his courtship.

After all, not only was his mother of a lower rank than Stolas... the Naberius line was considered so pitiable and unenviable that other Goetia avoided the mere chance that they might be forced to inherit the throne once the current Naberius inevitably goes irreconcilably insane.

That's fine - Felix didn't want to court a complete stranger anyway, so he just... has to make this a pleasant, uneventful attempt, deal with whatever rumors Princess Octavia has heard about him, and move on.

Once approaching the Princess, Felix bowed as his title was announced by a servant. "Greetings, Your Majesty. I am Lord Felix Naberius ars Goetia. Congratulations and happy birthday - mother and I bring a gift in your honor," he explained, offering an envelope with both hands outstretched, politely. Just an envelope was a pretty far cry from most extravagant gifts that came from other Goetia, though, even for something as small as a birthday party.

Octavia was never a big fan of family gossip. The Goetia talk shit all the time and her father received a lot of flack for his past actions and for making his relationship with an imp so public. The latter especially caused a stir, but Stolas refusing to give a shit in favor of Blitzø spoke volumes of his dedication.

She knew of lady Naberius, and could only imagine the struggles she endured every day. Constantly seeing visions of the future, of multiple timelines...it's a great burden. All the same, she greeted Felix with a polite smile and a nod. "Thank you very much for coming, Lord Felix, and for your gift." She accepted the envelope with a genuine gratitude on her face. Via was rich; if she wanted something, she could get it herself. A card was much more likely to be heartfelt and meaningful, and the intrigue could clearly be seen in her eyes. She opened the envelope and deigned to have a look inside.

He seemed polite. Quite considerate, too. Satan knows others have made far worse first impressions. "I believe you'll be having a celebration like this next year, yes? My congratulations to you; lady Naberius must be proud."

"She may be," Felix answered a bit shyly with a nod, folding his hands behind his back so she could take a moment to read.

The folded parchment was stamped with the Naberius seal, and within was an elegantly written prophecy, penned in ink and credited to Felix as Marchioness Naberius' scribe;

Plunging the depths into the eye of the spiral
A magic yet unknown and ever secret
They who sail shall plunder till the world cracks
And that hidden within breaks free

"...Mother had this vision a few months back, and it was meant for you to read today, she said. Sometimes her prophecies are a bit obtuse, but the meaning ought to become clear with time," he assured. When he'd written it, he had absolutely no context for what any of that meant.

"May I ask you for a dance, Princess?" Felix asked, extending a hand. The sooner he got expectations out of the way, the better, right? Even if he was nervous and eager to get out of the scrutinizing gaze of all of the other Goetia.

Those who sail shall plunder till the world cracks

Via remembered a while back that there was some caution to be raised around lady Naberius. She could know who the members of Nautilus were and that alone could make people uneasy. That was a big part of the debacle with Alastor. Perhaps she worried too much; sharing her visions is what she does, after all. And while the full meaning in the prophecy wasn't clear to the young Goetia now, it would make sense eventually. That's how her prophecies are.

With a nod, she folded the letter back up into the envelope and accepted Felix's hand. She sympathized with him; having the family's eyes on you was exhausting, and she had to deal with it all night. She held back a smile, putting on a poker face as she spoke. The less interesting this looked, the more likely the others would return to their business.

"Lord Felix. Would you like to set titles aside for the evening? The family's made my birthday stuffy enough already and I'm taking it back little by little. You seem like you can do without it for a moment, too."

Felix may catch a faint smirk on Octavia's face.

"We just need to bore them first."

Oh-- Felix looked a bit taken aback, surprised to hear Octavia offer to make things less stuffy.

Surprised, but... interested.

The younger owl nodded, already willing to go along with whatever the Princess' scheme was. "Bore them, you say?"

"That's right. Watching me meet and deal with suitors became a spectator sport at some point. See who the birthday girl turns away, who gets the harsh rejections, who gets the family called in, things like that. We've had maybe two minutes of interaction tops, but trust me: there were those who blew it in record time. One was trying to mend his reputation after getting banned from the Gluttony ring."

Octavia rolled her eyes. That man was a louse, but far from the only one trying to woo her for selfish reasons.

"On the other hand, meetings that go well spread rumors. Get people interested and talking to each other. Pokes and prods aimed at the lucky winners to figure out what makes them so special. Instead, we make this...fine. Acceptable. Not particularly noteworthy. Disappoint those expecting something and one by one, they start to turn away. My thought is to treat this dance with minimal enthusiasm. Avoid even a smile if possible. Once we're done, we can hang out like normal people."

The next dance was about to begin, giving the young lord just enough time to make a quick decision. "What do you think? Interested?"

"How do you even get banned from Gluttony of all places...?" Felix muttered to himself, completely bewildered - that guy must've been even worse at this social stuff than fledglings if he pulled THAT off.

But the idea to treat the dance as dull as possible... he was ready for a dull dance with an awkward stranger if not flat out rejection anyway, so--

"I can pull that off, looking like the pitiable dance partner. Dull as anything."

"Perfect. The next performance is about to start."

Despite the unamused expression on Octavia's face, her voice hinted at a bit of excitement. It would be fun to fuck with the family just a little bit, if only for today. The music began in its usual elegant manor and plenty others joined them on the dance floor. Eyes were immediately on them, anticipation obvious in that obnoxiously passive manner. The kind with glances and conversation dying down to make way for new events.

Octavia made her stance on this known already, and stuck to the plan. The dance itself was fine - all Goetia have to know how and the princess was surprisingly agile - and the older owl kept her composure all the while. Felix might notice that, as the dance was more and more uneventful, more faces began to look away, returning to their chatter to counter the mild disappointment.

It was working! They just had to keep it up!

Edited 2025-06-10 00:21 (UTC)

It really was working... the other Goetia were probably looking for him to be some embarrassment, or spectacular failure. But he HAD been training and learning the correct form for dance, and he could dance as mechanically as possible, keeping his composure. Looking bored, like he knows he doesn't have a chance, instead of knowing he didn't even want to have a chance.

(After all, who would want to risk possibly replacing his mother, if not him? Any wife of his would lose their family responsibility and get saddled with the horror of it, while he took that from them...)

As the song came to a close without either of them speaking a word to each other, Felix bowed politely and princely, letting Octavia make the show of walking away uninterested since it was his job to 'fail' to impress.

Lucifer, these Goetia customs could be so needlessly tedious...

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

The Great Coming of Age

Before the party (for Blitzø and Striker)

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god fuck this was two and a half months ago why

What the Hell is timing and consistency, it's okay

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