prompt: frozen heart
pair: jason/octavian
Take something, slice it open, and figure out what said. According to everyone in Camp Jupiter, that was the full extent of what the augurs did. Not hardcore stuff, really.
Octavian had always wanted to wonder out aloud why he was the only Augur in his generation if that was the case, but since he was a consummate politician, all he did was smile and nod and make a joke or two.
Any smile Octavian gave right now, however, was liable to be the kind that sent little kids and grown men running for cover while babbling incoherently. It helped that he was viciously slicing open his sixty-seventh sacrifice of the afternoon.
White fluff clung to his knife, spilled over the altar. Octavian raised a hand and murmured words, and got the same answer again.
Praetor.
Usually, the fluff was much less specific than that, but it seemed like all the stuffed animals of the world had decided to be united today, just to point and laugh at his defeat. Even the frog, and frogs made careers out of being extra vague.
Octavian made a mental note to quadruple the number of sacrifices for the next three weeks.
"Octavian?"
His hands tightened on the altar and decided to make that four weeks, just because.
"Hey." Jason's voice was hesitant, apologetic, and slightly confused.
It made him want to scream, of course, but he settled for gripping the table so hard that it hurt. And then he turned around, smile in place.
"Jason," he said, brightly, "Congratulations."
"Um," Jason said, looking slightly wary, "Thank you?"
"Please," Octavian told him, still smiling, "No need to thank me for stating what should have been obvious. You went on the quest, you slew the sea serpent. You were the obvious choice to take over once Evan and Patrice retired."
"Um," Jason's wariness faded, and was replaced by one of those rare, hesitant smiles, "Thank you. Really."
"You did something nobody here has done for decades," Octavian continued, "Quest, and kills- I think you're single-handedly responsible for bringing your Cohort some form of approval and- Reyna? You supported Reyna?"
Jason blinked at him, startled.
"Reyna?"
"What?" Jason stepped forward, concerned, "Octavian, what's wrong?"
"You supported her, and you're asking me what's wrong?"
"I didn't-" Jason said, "It's not like- you're not thinking straight-"
"You were my friend," Octavian snarled, "You knew what I wanted. You knew how much I wanted it."
Octavian stopped himself short of blurting out a "how could you?", because all this had enough and more in common with a soap opera as it was. The abrupt stop created a silence which was a shade beyond uncomfortable.
He saw it before it came, and had to clamp down on that tiny, silly part of him which was outraged and out-of-control and which wanted to shake Jason, tell him that he was supposed to be his friend and not hers-
"Reyna earned it," Jason said quietly.
That whiny little voice in him stuttered to a stop and died, leaving him to clean up it's godsdamned mess.
"Good for her," Octavian nodded, and pasted the smile back in place, "Now if you will excuse me, I must go. I expect you will want to have words with your Lord Father, anyway."
He brushed past Jason, and did not look back.