#prophecyspark

[fam-wastaken]

jason and Octavian making out sloppy style and humping

🤔🤔🤔🤔🤔

[strawberry-sex-pheromones]

Octavian symone who doesn't like affection very much x Jason grace who curls up next to him like a dog (they always end up on top of each other in some way)

[fore1gnersg0d]

Octavian :

Jason : I am Jason Grace, Son of Jupiter, Champion of Juno, Leader of the 12 legion, Praetor of New Rome and I decree that you are a little bitch

[madg0thb4stard]

jason and octavian, my favourite children

(Jason has black hair bc i was drawing with my friend's design)

[hang-me-like-jesus]

even statues crumble if they're made to wait

I am the noble augur. The seer of New Rome, blessed by the divine hands of Apollo, the god of prophecy and truth. 

I see it all. From horrific famines that leave one lone survivor, to beautiful eras of plentiful harvests and flourishing economies, there is nothing the gods keep away from my foresight. I have helped every civilian in Rome with their fortunes, I have foreseen the deceitful tactics of our enemies and saved the eternal city from doom by doing so. I am respected and idolized within the community. No man looks down on me. No event takes me by surprise, for the gods favour me so much they allow me to see every event that is to take place within the near future.

At least, that’s how it was when that son of Jupiter was still here.

Oh, Jason. Beautiful, blessed boy, possessing a body sculpted by the Olympians themselves. Such gentle hands, such a touching soul. He did not belong to the battlefield. He did not deserve to wield a sword, did not deserve to be in the battlefield. He should have lived in the beautiful abode of the gods, acting as one of the divine deities that rule and preserve the planet. Humans and mortals stained his celestial, ethereal being with their dirtiness.

One would mistake him for being a prince from bygone eras of the ancient past, not a boy forced to be a soldier.

He and I grew together side-by-side. I welcomed him to New Rome when we were both just toddlers, played with him when all other children ignored and scoffed at him. Seeing him succeed, go so far within the hierarchy of Rome, go from a centurion to leading the entire Roman populus.. Not much makes my heart swell, but his success truly does have an effect on me.

He had it all. We had it all. We were happy, content with the life the gods had given us. Why did he choose to vanish?

Initially, Reyna and I believed that Jason had just wandered off to run an errand; a secret mission bestowed upon him by Jove, or one of the other Olympians. It wasn’t unheard of that legionnaires would disappear for two or three days to complete a quest for a deity. So we waited for him. A day turned into two, two days turned into a month.. A month turned into two. Still no Jason. Hope turned to agitation as it began to dawn on the two of us that our beloved Jason wouldn’t be coming home any time soon.

I relived the moment Reyna ran into my room. She had run three kilometers from her office to my house. With tears flowing down her cheeks, she took me by my shoulders and begged me to communicate with the gods to find him. “Find him. Whatever it takes, please, Octavian. Just find him!”

Stoic, stone cold Reyna, driven to tears at the disappearance of her long time friend. No death fazed her. No cataclysm, however brutal, took effect on her. Her face was typically so still and unmoving, one could believe she was a statue. To see someone like her hysterically sob, breaking down on my bedroom floor.. It unnerved me.

The loss of a Praetor was a significant event within Rome. With one less protector present, the city would be slightly more vulnerable to sieges. The populus was becoming frantic with Jason’s disappearance. The Senate couldn’t afford to push the narrative that Jason was simply gone for a quest anymore; the civilians were asking questions, demanding to see any proof he was alive.

I went to the temple of Apollo the next day, bringing along a bag of stuffed bears. Cutting and examining the stuffing on the sacred altar, I hoped– no, I wished– that the deity would bring me information about Jason’s whereabouts.

One singular word. Apologies.

I didn’t go to sleep that night. He wanted me to apologize. But why? I stayed up noting down every possible cause for the singular word he said to me. Perhaps I accidentally messed the ritual up. Perhaps I mispronounced a word within the summoning of his presence, or perhaps I used the wrong type of stuffed toy.

I tried again the next day, this time bringing along a glass of wine and caviar to the temple. I made sure I used the plushies He liked the best. I made sure my clothes were clean and well-kept, ironed out to perfection, devoid of wrinkles and creases.

Nothing.

Perhaps Apollo could sense no gratitude within my offerings. Perhaps He could sense the irritation within my being.

I tried again on the following day, coming to the temple at the crack of dawn, bringing with me the most luxurious items I could attain. I brought cattle with me instead of stuffed bears.

Nothing. Not even a singular word, not even the slightest whisper going along with the breeze.

Bags grew under my eyes. I swore to Reyna I would find Jason. I swore to myself I would find him. I had to. He and I still had so many things to do. Nevermind his duties to the eternal city, I mattered more than them. They were just civilians. I was Jason’s friend. I welcomed him in when nobody did, held him close to my chest when he was utterly defeated, wiped his tears with my bare hands. Whatever did they do for him? They could praise him all they want, but in the end, I was his one true devotee. I was the only one in the world that truly understood him, the only one that truly saw him for him, the only one that didn’t care about his heritage. I couldn’t fail now. Not now, when my one true love was at stake.

And so I spent my days locked in the temple of Apollo, days blurring together as I cut up everything I could get my hands on in sheer desperation. People visited me multiple times. Reyna sent officers to check on my wellbeing. I knocked them all out and left their unconscious bodies right outside the temple doors.

When I ran out of teddy bear plushies to cut, I moved to animals. Their screams echoed within my mind during the night. My body grew frail, lost all its strength from inactivity. Wounds covered my arms, but I didn’t care. Jason came first. I could bear the physical wounds I inflicted on myself, but not the emotional scars that would come with permanently losing my prince.

I cut and splayed the entrails on the altar. I prayed and prayed and prayed for some comfort, some assurance that he was okay. I yelled to the sky and begged Jove to bring his son home. All of that work was for nothing. It was all futile.

Reyna visited me two evenings later, holding a tray full of food and water. It had been two weeks since the public last saw me, she said.

I did not utter a word. I did not eat the food. I would much rather join Jason in the realm of the departed than live another day in a world without him. If I was going to starve to death, so be it.

[fore1gnersg0d]

octavian symone who reads giant thick books about ancient oracles and augurs from around the world before bed x jason grace who curls up on him like a dog and politely asks (demands) that octavian read out loud to help him sleep (octavian secretly picks books he thinks jason will like to listen to)

[fore1gnersg0d]

is there even a ship name for jason x octavian. is that a thing. can someone direct me to where to find it.

[hang-me-like-jesus]

the lost praetor's lost memories

by the heavens, why did they have to be so rowdy? the skinny, anemic boy thought as he sneered and rolled his eyes. like all the other romans, he was beyond ecstatic for the return of his praetor– the true praetor, not that fraud perseus jackson. but was he screaming his lungs out at the mere sight of jason? no, he wasn’t. he was too dignified for such a brutish act. his peers would do better if they learned from him.

octavian, looking up at the ship in the sky— argos ii, it was called—spotted the lost praetor immediately.

wearing an orange shirt, devoid of any lavish medals, capes, or decorations.. by the gods, what had the greeks done to his praetor? they ruined his beloved prince with their simpleminded clothing; he didn’t have at least one war medal pinned to his chest!

octavian thought the cheering of the crowd couldn’t get any louder, yet he was proven wrong when the ship landed in its designated spot in front of the forum. by the gods, it was as if all the mandrakes in the world had been teleported to new rome and began to yell out their agonizing screams.

“roman people!” reyna finally yelled out. “compose yourselves!” in an instant, the romans collectively calmed down. reyna’s wrath was one they did not wish to experience, and for good reason.

the crew of the argo ii stepped out of the ship and were shown the way to the forum, where they were to have dinner together with the roman officials regarding the threat that the earth goddess posed.

octavian ignored all attempts of the graeci to talk to him. he had his eyes on nobody but his beloved jason. he could see it now— they’d abandon the dinner and run to their usual spot in the woods and have a picnic of their own. a picnic where they wouldn’t feel as if they needed to uphold their respective performances as the praetor and augur. a picnic that would make octavian forget all the sleepless nights he spent worrying about jason. a reunion so sweet it would make them both forget about the end of the world. and octavian would be vulnerable with him for once, telling jason how he truly felt. and jason would reciprocate his feelings for him. the scene would be so sweet and beautiful that they would forget all their troubles.

“my dear praetor,” he smiled and bowed to jason, though the boy before him didn’t seem to notice him, for he was too busy marveling at the architecture. 

“hm?” finally, jason noticed him. “oh, hi! what’s your name?”

“..you.. don’t remember me..?” octavian said, his voice barely a whisper.

why did it hurt? why did those three words sting like a stab wound to the chest? why did octavian feel tears prickling at his eyes?

“i’m sorry, i really don’t..” jason said. “am i supposed to know who you are?”

octavian’s mouth wired itself shut. he spent weeks at a time, losing his sanity trying to form a connection to the upper realm to ask them of jason’s whereabouts.. and jason didn’t. remember. him.

he didn’t know whether to cry or to yell. perhaps he should kiss him, to make him remember all the secret picnics they held in that meadow in the forest surrounding new rome. to make him forget that girl he had been holding hands with when they stepped out the ship. yes, that could work. it was the work of those abominable graeci scum, washing away all that made jason himself, making him forget all the joys he shared with octavian. octavian’s kiss would be the solution. the cure for the curse.

but jason was different now– a different haircut, a different hair colour, different clothes, no formal and professional symbols on his body that screamed out to the world that he was a proud son of rome besides his legion tattoo. by the gods, he even had glasses now, and instead of wielding a spear he wielded a sword. this was not octavian’s jason. this was not the boy he fell in love with.

“i... seem to have mistaken you for someone else. forgive me.”