"Verona? Have you found any data on this Stolas figure?"
Verona looked up from her laptop at Wilkins, giving him a helpless look. "Wilkins, I'm gonna be honest. None of this looks good."
Wilkins raised an eyebrow. "Are you saying you haven't been able to find anything?"
Verona scoffed, seeming to take offense. "Of course not. I already found just about everything there is to know about Stolas of the Ars Goetia. Including some stuff I'd… honestly rather unsee." She grimaced, shuddering in disgust before adjusting her glasses. "No, it's the exact opposite. You've really…really got your work cut out for you," Verona said, spinning the laptop around.
Wilkins sighed, stepping closer and leaning over her desk. Before him was a series of articles and leaks of Stolas' personal and professional life, carefully curated by Verona from several media outlets.
"Stolas was raised by Paimon," Verona said, "and it's well known that guy's not exactly father material. He forced Stolas into a nonconsensual marriage with Stella."
Wilkins looked through the headline links on-screen, skimming through his assistant's summaries of each one. "So they never even wanted to marry. I should've known as much," he muttered to himself.
Verona nodded. "But it gets worse," she said, as she began to scroll down through her documentation. "Verbal abuse, emotional abuse, possible physical abuse…" she listed, sighing in disbelief. "Stella has been a total nutcase since day one of being married to Stolas."
Wilkins nodded, stroking his scaly chin thoughtfully. The linked videos his assistant had gathered certainly didn't paint her in a good light. Given how she had handled him in session one, he couldn't quite say he was surprised; yet it was troubling to watch.
Verona shut the laptop, before leaning back in her chair. "I really don't know what you're gonna do here, I think she's irredeemable."
"Nobody is irredeemable, Verona," Wilkins said with a stoic expression as he could, reading through her notes. "You should know that by now."
"With all due respect, sir," Verona said, crossing her arms. "You're a sinner. You grew up on earth. Maybe up there, everyone's got a good side," she said, before getting up and leaning on the table next to him. "But I'm an imp, and I was born down here. Not everyone has some deeper layer. Some people are just bad people. I should know."
Wilkins tiredly rubbed his face with his hands, nodding along passively. "I appreciate your input. But my job is to find the good in her, and bring it to the surface." He spread out his papers and began reviewing them. Stella was like printed paper in some ways, he figured; Easy to read, but would be incredibly hard to revise.
"OUR job," Verona corrected him, pressing forward, "is to help her salvage her wreck of a marriage." She gave him a withering smile. "Do what you need to, but you don't need to pretend like she's gonna become a better person. She's a rotten bitch through and through."
"So bad people are indefinitely bad, and can never improve," Wilkins snapped at her, setting his pen on the table as he sat back. "Imagine we have someone who's trying to become a better person, and every step of the way, you keep trying to tear them down." He said, cradling his hands together.
Verona stiffened, glaring at Wilkins. "Yeah, I am ripping on her, because she's a piece of shit person!" She said defensively, hastily scrolling through her notes. "We're products of our environment, right? Well she was given everything she wanted, and now she's a textbook narcissist."
Wilkins stood up, glaring at Verona. "Do not use that word," he demanded, glaring at Verona. "She is our client, and we will follow proper conduct! In and out of session!"
Verona scoffed, grabbing her laptop. "Yeah, well, I'm sure you'd know all about proper conduct with clients." She said, giving him a smile as she turned to leave for her office.
Wilkins raised his hands. "What's that supposed to mean? In my twenty years here, I haven't had one incident!" He said, outraged.
Verona spun back around to face him. "Most therapists don't go to Hell!" she snapped, glaring at him. "If you're such a fucking saint, why are you down here?"
Wilkins recoiled in shock at her outburst. Even Verona herself was surprised she had said that. She blinked twice, before shaking her head. "I just…Wilkins, we've worked together for 15 years now. We know everything about each other. But I'm still in the dark about your past life."
Wilkins glared at the table, clicking his pen a few times as he pursed his lips, before looking up. His demeanor changed completely, and for the first time ever, he gave Verona a stern, almost dangerous look.
"I do not say this lightly. That is none of your business."
Verona bit her lip as she looked out the window. She groaned, pinching her brow. "You're right. I'm sorry. It's just that… I dunno. I've seen…people like her," she said, a wistful look on her face. "People who will chew you up for fun. I just don't want to see you drive yourself crazy trying to squeeze blood from a stone."
"Of course. You know I understand that, Verona," Wilkins muttered, rubbing his face as he leaned against his desk.
Verona squinted at him with a worried look on her face. "So then why are you still seeing this person? Patients are supposed to be grateful to their therapists, not fucking strangle them!"
"Because I see a bit of myself in her," Wilkins said quietly.
There was a lengthy pause.
Wilkins opened his mouth to speak, before shaking his head. He walked over to his liquor cabinet, setting a glass down and filling it halfway with the dark amber alcohol. He looked down in the glass, seeing his reflection staring back at him. He shook his head as he glared down at the bottom of the glass.
"Forget I said that." He muttered, taking a sip as he walked back to his desk.
"Ok…" Verona said, barely masking her concern as Wilkins walked by. "Well, I'll…see if I can't find anything else on Stolas," She said, sitting back down at her desk. "You just take it easy for tonight, don't burn yourself on this bit-… on Stella."
Wilkins nodded, sitting back in his chair with a sigh. "Thank you, Verona," He said, reaching into his desk before pulling out a book.
"And this is my Venutrapis Carnivorae. It mostly lives off of small animals. He's my favorite. Oh yes you are, boy!"
Stella grimaced at the simply massive flytrap before her. He was keeping this thing in the house?! She had thought the one in their dining room was big, but this one was easily three times its size. It towered over the two, to where Stolas had to stand on his toes to pet the beastly plant's lower jaw. She could have sworn she heard the giant thing pur.
Stolas turned to Stella with a supportive smile on his face and patted the plant on the jaw. "Don't worry, dear. I'll handle the rambunctious plants later. You will care for the tamer ones."
Stella breathed a sigh of relief. She had no clothes she would deem disposable, but had chosen to wear her least favorite dress this day. Even then, she was hesitant to risk ruining it from ravenous plant bites.
"Now," Stolas said as he marched past Stella. "The first thing to know about gardening is that if you take care of your plants, they will take care of you."
He led her to a row of potted succulents and various plants, some growing strange berries out of their stems, some growing oddly shaped leaves that gave off a strong minty fragrance. "Let's start by tending to these needy little darlings."
Before Stella was a row of plants. Small flowers, a few mushrooms, and most notably, a large assortment of flytraps. Of all the flytraps, one stood out. A dark black flytrap with glowing red teeth and a thorny stem.
"This is my shadeling. An endangered species of flytraps, hunted to near extinction for their unique teeth," Stolas said, cooing sadly as he stroked the Shadeling's side. "Isn't that just tragic?"
The shadeling opened its mouth a bit, revealing a set of glowing red teeth, sharp and gnarled as barbed wire. It almost seemed to grin wickedly at Stella.
"Ugh, I wouldn't mind if the poachers were a little more thorough…" Stella muttered under her breath, before walking up to the plant, looking it up and down. "Very well, I shall water this…thing."
Stolas shook his head. "No, not this one. He only hydrates himself with pig blood," Stolas said as he crouched down, pulling out a large bag from under the table. "However, we can improve his soil quality."
The bag had a plant shaped logo on its front, and notably nothing else. No labels, instructions, nothing. Whatever it was, Stolas must have bought it in bulk from a manufacturer.
"What is this stuff? Dirt?" Stella asked as Stolas pulled out some sort of scooping device.
Stolas gave her an amused expression. "Would I have you put dirt on top of dirt, dear?" he asked, handing her the trowel. "Well, there might be some instances where one might- uh, nevermind. No, this is fertilizer."
Stella recoiled in horror. "It's WHAT?" She cried, backing away in horror.
Stolas cocked his head, confused. "What's wrong?" He asked.
Stella stammered in shock. She wasn't even sure of what to say! "You're keeping bags of shit in our house?"
A look of understanding came over Stolas' face, before he laughed heartily. "Ha! No, dear, don't be silly! This is made of the finest humus compost from the gluttony ring. It's decomposed plant matter," he assured her, opening the bag to reveal a powdery, dirt-looking substance.
"And rotten plant pulp is supposed to be any better?" Stella said unsurely as she peered inside the bag, unable to wipe the disgust from her face.
"Come now, Stella. Getting your hands dirty is a part of life!" Stolas said encouragingly as he handed her the trowel.
Stella looked inside the bag and back to her trowel apprehensively. "I don't know…Can't we just get our servants to do this part for us?"
Stolas almost seemed taken aback by the idea. He chuckled as if she had just asked a ridiculous question. "If you don't want to do the actual gardening, why even bother? It's no fun having everyone else do all the work," he said, smirking a bit.
Stella looked back into the fertilizer. It was the incarnation of everything she avoided in the world. It was dirty, smelled strange, and… well, it was dirty! What if she got some of it on her perfect dress? Or worse, her perfect body!
"You're right. Perhaps it's just not for me," Stella said, setting down the trowel on a nearby table.
Stolas' smirk fell as he watched Stella turn to leave. "Oh. Okay. That's fine. It's not for everyone, I suppose," he said. Though he was clearly trying to keep his tone neutral, Stella could hear the dejection in his voice.
She paused, hesitating by the door. Was she really so fragile that a little bit of dirt would stop her from repairing her marriage? And what would she tell Wilkins when she returned empty handed? He would think her a fool, or a coward. Or both.
Stella pursed her lips, scorning her weakness. She had agreed to do something with Stolas for the day, and she would fulfill that promise.
"Fine. I shall dirty my hands, just for you, Stolas," she muttered, half sarcastically.
Stolas looked up in genuine surprise. "Oh! Wonderful!" He said, his smile returning to his face. He watched Stella open the bag of fertilizer up again, and offered a hesitant hand on her shoulder. "You know, if you're unsure, I could do this part for you."
"Nonsense." Stella scoffed, grabbing the trowel. "As you said, getting your hands dirty is a part of life."
Stolas stepped aside, an impressed look on his face as Stella reached in and scooped up a heap of the fertilizer, taking great care not to brush the side of her hand against the walls of the bag. She lifted the scoop of compost fertilizer out of the bag, noting it's fine and grainy texture.
She looked to the Shadeling plant, hesitantly moving her trowel closer to its pot.
Stolas noticed her apprehension. He stood by her, laying a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "Don't be so tense, dear. He won't bite-"
Stella accidentally nudged the Shadeling's stem with her trowel, and as if on cue, the Shadeling abruptly lurched forward, snapping at Stella's hand.
Stella yelped and jerked her hand back towards her. She had only a fraction of a second to watch in horror as the scoop of fertilizer flung out the trowel towards her.
Before she could even react, the small pile of fertilizer exploded in a puff of dark brown dust, coating her face with decomposed plant powder.
"Bluh…HURH…AAAIIIIGH!" Stella shrieked in horror, her hands helplessly trembling as she blindly fumbled around for something to wipe her face with.
Stolas grabbed the Shadeling by the head, scolding it. "Bad shadow! Bad Shadow! You are in big trouble when we-"
Stella lurched forward, shoving Stolas aside. "Get out of the fucking way!" she shouted, before pointing a finger right in the Shadeling's face. "You little shit-"
The Shadeling tried to nip her finger again, but Stella withdrew her hand, and then slapped it upside its bulbous plant head. "You're gonna die alone, and nobody will continue your legacy!" She growled, leaning closer to the potted Shadeling and grabbing its face. Her talons wrapped around its maw, holding it shut. "You're good for nothing. You serve no purpose! None! And you never will serve a purpose! And quite frankly, I'm glad your parents died, I'm sure they deserved it! You'll die alone!"
Stella released the plant, stepping back. The Shadeling had lost its signature wicked grin; instead, its lower lip was left quivering as if it were about to cry. Stella harrumphed at the pathetic plant, happy to have at least put the damnable thing in its place.
Stolas stepped forward, giving a nervous chuckle. "Why don't we…eh…find another plant for you to tend to? There are plenty I'm sure you'll come around to!"
As Stolas led Stella by the hand to a different part of the garden, Stella flipped open her makeup kit, seeing her face covered in the fine, powdery brown substance. "Ugh! I can't let Octavia see me like this," Stella muttered.
"Worry not," Stolas said, smiling faintly as he handed her a wet wipe. "Via is out visiting her friends. She won't be back till evening, I suspect."
Stella flipped her kit shut, giving Stolas a skeptical look. "She has friends?"
"Stella!" Stolas said disapprovingly.
"What?" Stella retorted as she started scrubbing her face with the wipe. Stolas knew just as well as she did that their daughter was antisocial. "And why have I not yet had the opportunity to vet these supposed friends? I'd like to meet them immediately; They'd best not be hooligans," Stella said sternly.
"Via is seventeen. Our little Owlette must spread her own wings," Stolas said simply, before pausing. He looked at Stella and smiled. "I trust her to keep herself safe. I've already taken to teaching her basic defensive spells."
Stella shook her head. It didn't seem right. Their daughter was out and about, making friends that Stella hadn't even met? For all she knew, her daughter was befriending peasants! And who knows what horrible things those damnable poor people might try to do to her little princess.
Stolas noticed her unease and gave her an empathetic look. "I know, Stella. You're worried she will bond with the wrong people. But we have to trust our daughter to do what's right for herself."
Stella sighed and nodded. It wasn't how she was raised, but…perhaps it was for the best that Octavia was raised differently.
Octavia stood at the doorway of her friend's house. She had already knocked about 30 seconds ago and was still waiting. Usually, he was quick to answer the door, which made the wait so unusual.
She reached into her pocket for her phone; she should at least look busy when he opened the door. She didn't want to make it look like she had nothing better to do. That would seem desperate.
Granted, she had nothing better to do, but he didn't need to know that.
The door handle twisted from the other side and swung open abruptly, catching Octavia off guard. A shadowy black Nighthawk with piercing gray eyes stood in the doorframe, his feathered mane messy as always.
"Oh shit, there she is!"
Octavia jerked her hand out of her pocket, startled by the sudden arrival. Her phone flew out of her pocket and into the air. Octavia scrambled for her phone, slapping it into the bushes next to the front door.
She then casually leaned against the pillar next to her. "Sup, Gale?" she said, smooth as ice.
The nighthawk chuckled, shaking his head as he held his hand out to the bushes. His hand began to glow a pale red aura before Octavia's phone levitated out from the bushes, surrounded by the same glow. It floated into his hand as he gave her a smug look.
"I believe this is yours, your grace." He held it out to her with a performative bow.
"Holy shit," Octavia said, grabbing it from his hand and stuffing it back into her pocket. "You learned levitation already?"
He nodded proudly. "If you ever need anything under five pounds picked up from a distance no greater than ten feet, I'm your guy," Gale said as he beckoned her inside.
Octavia shook her head as she entered the house with him. "I thought we didn't learn levitation until next semester," she mumbled.
"Yeah, well, maybe you should join AP Arcanometry," Gale said proudly. He waved his hand as they walked away, enveloping the door with magic and shutting it behind them.
As the two walked through the candlelit ornate halls, they passed various paintings featuring Gale and a larger, rotund nighthawk, presumably his Father. The halls weren't quite as spacious as her own manor's, but it was strangely ornate for a Marquis' home.
However, Gale's outfit was the fanciest thing in the room by far. He wore a frilled black vest and tight suit pants that closely hugged his contours. While she herself wasn't interested, she had to respect his fairly impressive physique, although the choice of clothing was kinda lame.
"Whatcha thinkin' about?"
Octavia shook her head as she realized she had been staring. "Oh, just… what's up with the outfit? You look like you fell through my parents' wardrobe."
Gale groaned as he opened the living room door for Octavia. "Some royal bullshit later tonight. You know the type," he said with a stressful sigh, running his hand through his mane.
"The type where your parents show you off to creepy suitors who've never spoken to a female in their life?" Octavia said with a groan. Thankfully, Her mum never held an event like that for her, mainly because no suitors were "good enough." But she had heard horror stories around school.
"Well, it's not exactly that," Gale said dejectedly, scratching the back of his head. "I get to be the creepy suitor. Fun."
"Oh shit," Octavia said, giggling. "Better bring your A-game, dude."
Gale chuckled nervously at that. "I think I'd rather kill myself than marry someone like the girl I'll be seeing."
"Ayo, save her for me then." A new deep and gravelly voice chimed in. Octavia looked to the couch to see a ghostly pale Sinner with a beanie covering his upper face, eyes included. Mum would charitably call him a thuggish hooligan.
Yet, Octavia recognized him. He was the flunkie who she had met in her sophomore year. That was a year back, and last she checked he was still a sophomore.
"And she'd probably kill herself before marrying you, Bean," Gale teased.
Bean shrugged and chuckled. He picked up his backpack off the sofa, setting it on the ground as Gale sat beside him. "We all gotta shoot our shot, feel me?" he said, pulling his beanie down his face a little further.
Gale shook his head. "You sound like my Dad," he said, smiling a little before looking down and sighing. "Me? I'm still waiting for the right one. You can only love once, right?"
"Brother, you can love as many times as your dick can handle," Bean said, patting Gale's shoulder. Gale rolled his eyes and brushed his hand off.
Octavia brought her palm to her face, disappointed yet amused at Bean's usual antics. "You're still just as gross as I remember," she said with a grin, sitting down across from the two.
"Oh, shit! What up, Oc?" Bean said, his face lighting up. "I hardly recognized your voice! How you been, girl? Is momma bird still…you know…"
Octavia immediately knew what he was talking about. She had been fairly open about her resentment towards her parents, all her friends knew about it. She shifted in her seat. "Well… It's complicated. But she's not as much of a bitch anymore if that's what you're asking."
"Shit, I was asking if she's single yet," he said, mischievously rubbing his hands together.
Gale punched Bean's shoulder playfully. "Dude, fucking shut up! You're twenty-two!" He scolded, getting a laugh from Octavia.
"Wow, twenty-two," Octavia said in disbelief. "I keep forgetting you're the oldest one here. And we're still gonna graduate before you," Octavia said with a chuckle.
Bean shrugged, seeming to not give a shit about his education. "Them EOC's be hard, bro. That's why I gotta hit that cheeba before class, keeps my nerves calm," he said with a devious chuckle, elbowing Gale.
That's when Bean's smile grew even wider. He looked at Octavia and said, "Yo, speaking of, wanna hear about Gale's first time taking edibles?"
Octavia's face lit up, and she scooted closer, giving him her full attention. She knew she was in for a good story.
"So we got these chocolates…" Bean started. Gale buried his face in his hands with an embarrassed groan. Bean snickered before continuing. "I only had one square 'cause it was like 30%, they were some good shit," Bean explained, barely containing his laughter. "Dude, he ate, like, three of them!"
"How was I supposed to know the high would take so long to kick in? It was my first time!" Gale snapped.
"He ate so many because 'they tasted yummy'!" Bean cried, leaning to the side and slapping the couch cushion. "Remember what you said? 'Bean! You gotta help me, I think I'm having a stroke!'"
Gale was not amused. Indignation was scrawled across his face as he crossed his arms. "They were chocolates! With caramel filling!" he said defensively.
"Those sloth ring edibles fucked you up, huh Gale?" Octavia giggled, joining in on the "shit on Gale for being straight-edge" game.
"I don't need to hear it from someone who started smoking weed just last week," Gale said, pointing at Octavia before looking at Bean sternly. "And you, you can fuck-"
Slam!
Suddenly, the door down the hall slammed shut, as loud, thundering footsteps pounded slowly down the hall.
"Gale, my boy! I'm home!"
Bean looked at Gale, his eyes wide as dinner plates behind his beanie. "Yo, you said pops wasn't home today!"
Gale shot him a stern look. "Just be chill, alright? Don't say anything about weed and we're good," he said.
Octavia saw the door to the living room swing open, and in walked a behemoth of a nighthawk, about as big and as wide as a boulder. The massive demon was practically twice her height, his body blocking the light! He wore a luxurious suit that appeared to be a size or three too small and a plush, wooly tophat. Beneath the seventeen layers of lard, Octavia could see the familial resemblance between him and Gale.
The Father looked over to Bean, who was scratching his forearm awkwardly. "Oh, well, look at that! You brought your friend over!"
"Yo, Mr. Aamon, what up?" Bean said casually, earning a bewildered glare from Gale.
The portly nighthawk seemed to take the informality well enough. "Oh-ho, what up to you too, good sir." He flashed an upside-down peace sign. He rested his hands on his hips, looking between Gale and Bean. "I take it you two are just chatting, catching up? Mayhaps sharing notes for your schoolwork?"
"Yes, dad…" Gale said tiredly. "Just hanging out."
"Good. Wonderful. It's just so delightful to see the lower races and higher races coming together!" he squealed, shuffling over to Gale. He walked past Octavia and bent over, pinching Gale's cheeks, totally unaware of how perilously close his firetruck-sized rump was to Octavia's face.
"I'm so proud of my little fledgling," he cooed, nuzzling Gale's face. "You know, I don't tell you enough how proud of you I am."
"You really do, dad…" Gale mumbled, his eyes wandering over to Octavia as if begging for help.
Octavia grimaced. Even her dad wasn't this lovey-dovey in front of guests. She scratched the back of her neck uncomfortably as Gale was smothered with affection. She coughed into her elbow, drawing the attention of the giant.
Aamon looked up from his cuddlefest with his son, his head slowly turning to Octavia. She shrunk a bit as she watched his face light up with delight. "Oh! And who's this, my boy?" He said, turning around.
"Octavia, sir," She said quickly.
Aamon's jaw dropped as he blinked twice. "Octavia? Offspring of Prince Stolas? Why, Gale, you should have told me sooner!" he said, playfully patting Gale on the shoulder. He gave a quick, courteous bow to Octavia. "I'm Aamon, Grand Marquis of the hells, seventh spirit of the Goetia, all of that political hubbub."
Octavia nodded, shifting uncomfortably in her seat. "Yeah, sorry. I kinda just showed up unannounced."
There was a long and drawn-out silence as Aamon looked at Octavia expectantly. He then slowly turned his gaze to Gale, back to Octavia, and back to Gale.
Aamon pointed between Gale and Octavia. "So, are you two dating or…"
"Dad!" Gale cried indignantly as Octavia choked on her own spit, blushing wildly.
Aamon threw his hands up in surrender. "I only ask because I care! You must understand the joy of starting a family, finding a proper woman to settle down with-"
"Dad, stop," Gale shouted a bit more authoritatively, blushing almost as much as Octavia, who was now competing with Bean for how low she could pull her beanie over her face. "We talked about this. Not every woman that walks through the door is…" Gale trails off as he sees his Father staring blankly as if still awaiting an answer. "No, Dad. We're not dating."
Aamon hummed disappointedly, frowning. "A shame. Very well," he said, adjusting his suit collar as he looked at Bean, then back at Gale. "Also: I don't mind if you hang around lower city folks like this," he said, giving the Sinner a side-eye. "But do ensure when we leave to meet the Zarathels, you are presentable."
"Yeah, I will, Dad. Thanks…" Gale rubbed his temples as his Father firmly patted him on the shoulder.
Aamon sighed, turning back to the door. "Well, I merely wished to check in. I should be heading back out; I have a meeting with your date's Father. Behave yourself!"
And just as soon as the behemoth had entered the room, he was gone, squeezing his way through the door frame.
Octavia could read Gale's tired expression from a mile away. "Is he always like that?" she asked, giving him a sympathetic grimace. She'd been over a few times, but she hadn't met his Father before.
"Yeah, sorry. It's kinda his job: Managing the pursuit of life, family, and reproduction in this circle. He's…pretty forward about it." Gale sat upright and smiled weakly.
"He wants you to get laid, bro," Bean said, grinning ear to ear.
Gale groaned. "It's just a really weird thing to say, and he always says it whenever…" Gale shook his head, leaning back into the couch. "I dunno. He means well, I guess. Just smile and nod when he talks to you, and don't ask for his opinions on gays."
The three sat silently, unsure of what to break the silence with. Bean was the first to speak up, grabbing his backpack and unzipping it. "Well, now that ol' pops is gone, check out what I brought." He pulled out a bong and set it on the table.
"Oh, fuck yeah," Octavia said, rubbing her hands together excitedly.
"Oh, fuck no," Gale protested, sitting upright and shaking his head fervently. "Dad's bringing me to court a duchess tonight. If my feathers smell like weed, I'm dead."
Bean shrugged. "Fair. Can I at least leave this thing here with you?"
"Nope. Dad WILL find it. I'm not getting in trouble for a bong that's not even mine," Gale said resolutely, before giving Bean a befuddled look. "Why do you wanna get rid of it? You aren't in trouble, right?"
Bean sighed, his eyes clouded with uncertainty. "I can't get too much into it, but I need to hide everything of value that I own for like two days, and this is pretty much all I got."
Gale grimaced, indecision scrawled on his face. "I just… I'd hold onto it for you on any other day. Can't risk it tonight."
"Shit." Bean's words hung in the air, his face tinged with disappointment.
Octavia had never seen Bean this serious before. Whatever it was, it was serious. "I could hold onto it," she offered. The two turned to look at her with mild surprise. "Just a few days, right?" Octavia asked.
"Is your mom cool with that shit?" Bean asked incredulously.
Octavia laughed, shaking her head. "Fuck no. But she doesn't ever really check up on me, so it's no worry."
"Puh…the dream," Gale muttered under his breath.
"Yeah, it's…great," Octavia said weakly, scratching her forearm.
Bean sat up and grabbed his bong, leaning towards Octavia, before hesitating. He pursed his lips, seeming to have second thoughts, before relenting. "Take good care of ol' Betty. She's a one-of-a-kind." Octavia could tell he didn't like not having it on him at all times.
Bean shrugged as he sat back down. "Feel free to use it too. And that baggy taped to the side? That's good shit. Smells like shit but it's good stuff."
Octavia nodded, opening the compartment to see a bag of weed inside. She could smell it, even with the bag closed. She wasn't particularly experienced, but it smelled potent, almost sulfuric. "Don't worry. I'll keep Betty safe," Octavia assured, much to Bean's relief.
Yet, for some reason, as she looked at the bong, she couldn't help but get a bad feeling about it. She knew that Mum would flip if she found out. She knew that she could not get caught. No matter what.
She wasn't sure what she'd come home to. Another argument, another disaster. Maybe Mum's anger will have finally boiled over, making her tear up the whole house. Octavia was half expecting to return to a house half engulfed in hellfire.
"Now Stella, the Ignis Maxilla, or the Firejaw, may look intimidating, but it's actually the friendliest plant in all of the seven rings," Stolas explained as he led Stella into a new area of the garden, far away from the naughty Shadeling. Stolas assured her that the next plant, the firejaw, was harmless despite its name. And as she saw it, she could see exactly why.
The Firejaw appeared to be a smaller flytrap, merely the size of a glass chalice, hardly large enough to harm a mouse. It emitted a glowing light from within its maw, heat waves simmering from around its teeth as it slowly opened its mouth, revealing a glowing slit-pupil eye within.
Stolas bent over, looking it eye to eye with an adoring expression. "Yes… You're a picky little eater, aren't you?" He cooed, nuzzling it. "You know I still love you, though, my adorable widdle firejaw~"
Stella rolled her eyes behind him. He showed that damned plant more affection than he did her! She wouldn't be surprised if he had cheated on her with this damned plant.
Stella shook her head, dismissing the negative thoughts. She wouldn't let them pollute her day. She doubted she would enjoy anything about this gardening experience, but she had to at least give a good-faith effort.
"Stella?"
Stella looked up, her gaze landing on Stolas offering a metal watering can towards her.
"Oh, right. Apologies." Stella mumbled, accepting the can. However, as she started moving towards the plant, Stolas was quick to stop her.
"Ah- Hold on. We cannot simply water the firejaw. Its water must be quite hot," Stolas corrected her, his eyes returning to the plant with a fondness. "First, bring this to a rolling boil."
Stella's eyebrow arched with skepticism. "Must we walk all the way back to the kitchen for a single plant?"
Stolas giggled, shaking his head. "No, silly! You can just use spells!"
Spells? Thousand curses! Of course the plant he had picked her to tend to was the one thing that required the use of magic. It was as if fate itself was out to humiliate her!
Stolas glanced at Stella, mildly concerned. "Is everything alright?"
She cursed her luck. She was a princess, she had the political savvy of a serpent and literacy standards beyond likely anyone in the house besides her husband, yet spellcraft was the one thing she simply could not do.
Stella shrunk a bit, bashfully holding her wrist. "I… don't know how to use magic," she admitted, her voice heavy with shame.
Stolas squinted at her, before a look of understanding dawned over his face. "Oh. I see," he said, his voice softening. He relieved her of the watering can and positioned his hand beneath it, his fingers tracing an intricate pattern in the air. A mirage of heat waves began to ripple from his palm. Stella watched, transfixed, as the water started to bubble and hiss, steam billowing from the mouth of the can. She gingerly accepted the now hot canister back from him.
Stolas hesitated, his eyes fixed on Stella's. "I don't mean any disrespect, Stella, but you cannot use any magic? Did you not learn basic thaumaturgy in school?" he asked, breaking the tension with a soft chuckle.
Stella frowned, casting her eyes downward. "Father forbade me from it."
Stolas seemed to recoil in surprise at that. "Your father forbade you from learning spellcasting? Mine locked me in a dungeon until I learned how to teleport out!"
Stella scoffed at his ignorance of high culture. "Of course. Because you're a man. Arcane proficiency is your job, not mine," she said, unable to hide the bitterness in her voice. She envied him in that respect. As a child, she'd always wanted to be a royal sorcerer. A wizard princess, as she'd called it once in front of her father, before he... She closed her eyes at that particular memory. It simply wasn't meant to be.
Stolas' eyes softened as realization dawned. "I'm terribly sorry," he said softly. He gave her a warm smile as he guided her toward the Firejaw plant. "In any case, if you wish to learn the magic of gardening, I would be delighted to teach you."
Stolas clasped his hands together as they entered the Firejaw's exhibit. Stolas' enthusiasm was contagious, and Stella's lips twitched into a reluctant smile as he began to rattle off facts about the Firejaw. "Its fire-breathing powers are merely an intimidation tactic to protect itself from hungry predators,' he explained. "All you need to do is imagine that you're feeding a baby! That means, gentle watering, plenty of sunlight and talking to it. Don't forget to talk to it!" he added, grinning like a child showing off his favorite toy.
Seeing him so excited, Stella couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt for feeling dismissive of Stolas' passion earlier. "Very well, I shall try my best," she finally said, reaching for the can of water as Stolas left her by herself, hurrying off to his shed.
Stella tilted the watering can over the Firejaw, drizzling water over its soil…slowly. So slowly…
So…unbearably…slowly…one…drop…at a time…
Stella sighed, tapping her foot. "Can't this go any faster?" She muttered to herself, grabbing the nozzle. She felt a little bit of resistance as she squeezed and twisted the nozzle, before an audible crack sounded.
Water began to drip out a bit faster, much to her satisfaction. It also began to drip out the sides of the nozzle. Was it supposed to do that?
Suddenly, the nozzle fell right off the stem of the watering can, and steaming hot water poured out all over the Firejaw. "Fuck!" Stella shouted in surprise as the Firejaw began to thrash around in its pot.
The Firejaw opened its maw, and a thick wave of green hellfire erupted from its mouth.
Stella stumbled back, looking up in horror as the supposedly harmless plant went into a fiery rampage, setting everything flammable nearby, including other plants, on fire. The green flames roared and crackled as heatwaves forced Stella back.
Stolas poked his head out of the shack, noticing the commotion. His eyes fell upon his entire wall of succulents engulfed in a hellfire inferno, and his jaw dropped.
"WHAT THE FUCK?!" He screamed in horror as he rushed over to Stella's side. "What happened?! I was gone for twenty seconds!" he said, his eyes wide as dinner plates.
"I was just watering it! I don't know!" Stella said defensively, looking down at the medium-sized jug in Stolas' hands. It sloshed around with some sort of fluid inside.
Stolas' eyes darted around, before settling on the watering can missing its nozzle. He grabbed it and shook it at Stella. "I told you to water it carefully! What have you done?!" he shouted, anger scrawled over his face.
For the first time in Stella's life, she realized that there was no time for an argument! "For the love of- Give me that!" Stella said, snatching the mysterious jug from Stolas' hands, deciding to take the initiative. She ripped open the lid and hurled the contents towards the roaring inferno.
"STELLA WAIT!" Stolas cried. "THAT'S PETROLEUM-!"
Octavia crept up the stairs to her home, her friend's bong in hand. She just needed to make it upstairs to her room, and she was in the clear. She heard yelling as soon as she walked through the door. That wasn't unusual. What was unusual was the smell of smoke in the air.
"Well how the fuck was I supposed to know that it was petrol? Who keeps gasoline in their garden?!" Stella screamed, storming into the living room, Stolas following closely behind.
Octavia was almost so shocked by the sight of her mother covered in soot that she forgot to hide the bong behind her back.
"I told you it was petroleum!" Stolas retorted. "It even had a label on it that said 'dietary petroleum!' It couldn't be more fucking obvious! Do you need me to order you glasses?"
"Oh, excuse me for not stopping to read the label whilst fire billows in my face!" Stella snarked, throwing her hands up as she walked towards the stairs.
Octavia hid the bong under her shirt, leaning against the wall as casually as she could. Stella didn't even acknowledge her, however, and instead stomped up the stairs. "Do NOT talk to me until I've cleaned myself up!"
Octavia grimaced as Mum stomped upstairs. She looked at Stolas with a raised eyebrow. "Hey, dad. What, uh… what happened?"
"Octavia, I… I'll be fine, I just need a moment," Stolas mumbled with a thousand yard stare as he ruffled his hair, getting the soot and ash out.
Octavia shrugged. "Fine by me," she said, turning and heading up to her room. Whatever disaster had occurred earlier, it served as a decent distraction.
With the smoky smell permeating through the house, she might even be able to get away with smoking a little weed…
ENTRY 3
October 4, 1982
Indeed. Today was miserable. Just as predicted.
Sincerely,
Stella Goetia