#STARSAUGHT. An independent & semi-selective roleplay blog for PRINCESS OCTAVIA OF THE ARS GOETIA. HEADCANON INFLUENCED with sprinkles of canon lore. NOT SUITABLE FOR MINORS UNDER THE AGE OF 21 OR NON RP BLOGS.

A study in: The fear of abandonment, growing up too soon, toxic family dynamics, coming into your crown & learning to be okay.

Starswept by: Kairi. 31. She/hers. EST -4:00

While not something she discusses often, Octavia has premonitions and psychic dreams. Sometimes they are violent and depict death, other times they are vague and offer little guidance. As with any psychic ability, they are not to be used as a sure fire way to understand what will or not happen in the immediate present or near future.

“My dearest Starfire, I miss you more than my heart can handle. I think of you and miss your presence relentlessly. If ever you would accept me back into your life, you know I am always awaiting your presence. I hope you enjoy the bouquet. I will love you eternally, my owlette.”

Pink azalea, red azalea, pink chrysanthemum, daffodil, forget-me-not, white heather, purple hyacinth, blue iris, purple iris, lavender, tiger lily, white magnolia, blue orchid, purple orchid, white primrose, pink primrose, yellow primrose, white tulip, purple tulip, blue violet, and purple violet.

Such a gift should have been rejected upon delivery. They never should have been allowed past the elegant doors that led into a once vibrant household, now encased in ice and the faint noise of laughter of a faux family echo in the empty halls. Flowers should have withered and became dust, their beautiful scent dying and becoming a distant memory. They should have never been given to Octavia, sat in the comfort of a library nook, music playing through headphones nestled next to her thigh. An escape that she finds solace in ; if only to maintain what little peace she holds.

Flowers she did not deserve. Parental love. The plea of a second chance. Forever protecting. Promises that have long expired, the sight of such a bouquet of empty values, of silver tongued lies she had long believed. Of the colours that illuminated in the fire, their sickening fragrance threatened to churn her stomach.

His handwriting. How long has it been since Octavia's eyes had set upon such an elegant script? Octavia should have thrown the note into the blaze, let the memory of how his writing had always captivated her burn. A Princess should know better than to allow feelings of a familial bond to bring her pause, but fingers gripped the letter. Threatening to tear the piece to shreds, to forget that it was ever in her possession to begin with..

But.. she is still his. Always his owlette. Forever bound by the stars and fate that she walks. His footsteps are too large, even now, for her to fill. The stars recognize their fallen Prince, just as they recognize their Princess. Octavia is still a daughter. His daughter. The reason behind his remaining place in this hellscape. Should he not spite her? She pushed him away.. She rejected his love. He, who could have given up long ago.. but stayed, because she existed. She, who thought that if she had never been born.. or if her parents had never been wed.. He'd be happier.

Never will she admit that tears pricked the corners of her eyes. Never will she admit that she kept the flowers, placed them into a vase of delicate crystal and made their home upon her desk where the sun will give them life. The letter kept, put into the back of her journal. She'll read it every once in a while, to remember how he curled his S's and flowed a dash across the T's. What little she'll remember in the course of this century-long banishment. The pieces of him her mother and uncle cannot take away from her.

As Goetian royalty, it is expected of Octavia to know multiple languages when dealing with other diplomats or Hell royalty. It's been in the works for her since she could read independently on her own. English is her least favourite because it doesn't carry on the same passion or flowery poise as say Infernal.

An invitation, one that curls the corners of her beak and soft chittering. To temporarily get away, indulge in the past time that has captivated her from a young fledgling and with someone Octavia trusts? Such an obvious choice, indeed.

[txt]: I think I can see the color blue

[txt]: blue, because I am sad without you ♡

— from Silas

Soft trills, quiet chuckles of amusement as the texts came in quick succession. Always ready to flatter, his endearment is a treasure that Octavia will never know how she earned.