Shouldn't contain Mature Content/Subjects, but still marked as such due to the nature of the blog.
Warnings: Mention of broken household/parents shouting.
Reader and Octavia are BFFs/Platonic.
"No, really, you have no idea what a fucking nightmare this place is without company. It's a fucking cesspool, and not even the fun kind!" A particularly shrill voice echoed through the cracked window, accompanied by the rhythmic clattering of talons against tiled floor.
"This manor is one of the Goetia family's architectural masterpieces! Even most of the royalty in Hell is envious of our home!"
"Yes, but they don't have to share it with you! How am I supposed to enjoy myself when you're constantly draining the life out of everything around here, including me?!"
Your fingers burned by the time the voices finally died out, but thankfully your grip held firm. You hauled yourself over the windowsill once the shouts had faded to whispers, landing quietly on the tiled floor inside. You thanked the stars that the marital spat had continued moving through the halls. The mere thought of what damage a fall to the unforgiving ground below might do, or how the guards would react when they saw it happen, was enough to earn a grateful wince.
Apart from the unexpected screaming match, your journey into the Ars Goetia manor was mercifully routine. Hard, elegant tile gave way under the heels of your boots to plus carpet that you practically sank into with each step, and then back to tile again, the texture of your voyage changing with each threshold you crossed. A quick trip through the thirteenth bathroom—or was this the fourteenth?—and down the side hall got you most of the way there. To avoid the main hallway, you took a quick detour through a gallery, though calling the route a 'detour' felt absurd when the gallery itself was twice the size of your own home.
Regardless of what to call it, your hike past countless stuffy old portraits always led you exactly where you wanted to be: standing before a pink door that had grown quite familiar over these past few years. Your eyes traced its frame almost reflexively as your knuckles rapped against the audaciously bright paint. Though you could still see traces of use, most of the little nicks and scratches you'd come to know were fixed within a day or two. It seemed they employed a full-time crew dedicated to repairing or replacing everything in the house. Considering how many potted plants and servants you'd seen getting chucked around, it wasn't hard to understand why.
As you waited for a response, you began to fidget. That was when you noticed the tiny red figure standing just down the hall—a female imp with wavy horns, wearing the standard servant uniform of the Goetia family. The little imp stared at you in silent shock, just long enough for the door to finally creak open. Octavia peeked her head out of the door cautiously, a weary look of being utterly done with the world that quickly evaporated when she saw who it was. You were surprised to see that the smile quickly curving its way up her beak did not fade when she saw the short servant; in fact, she waved amicably to the red-skinned maid.
"Hi Glinny! Watch out, sounds like they're headed for the east wing," Octavia called out, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper at the end. The imp looked almost amused at first, but the sound of a vase shattering from the other side of the manor wiped the smirk from her face. She nodded quickly, and then scurried off, dusting the wall and hall tables as she went.
Octavia pulled you into her room not a moment later, eagerly tugging you toward the bed, practically throwing you onto the luxurious mattress in her excitement. You tried to feign a dramatic 'oof' as you plunged downward, but the extravagance of the Goetia furniture extended to the bed, and it came out as something of a relieved sigh as you were swallowed up by the delightfully soft blankets. Octavia wasted no time in retrieving her phone from where it lay, then began rummaging around in the drawer beside her bed.
"Uh, Octavia, should I get out of here?" You asked uncertainly, glancing toward the door. "I mean, I got spotted."
"Huh? Oh, don't worry about that, nobody's going to say anything." Octavia didn't even bother to look back at you while dismissing your concerns. She was too busy retrieving a set of earbuds from the drawer, plugging them into her phone and shoving one in your direction before you'd even finished settling in on the star-covered blanket.
"You sure? Because I just snuck in, and I'd really rather not-"
"Glinny's got a good heart," Octavia reassured you, wiggling the earbud for emphasis. "Besides, would you want to be the one to interrupt that nonsense?"
"I guess not," you admitted. Octavia's room was surprisingly poorly soundproofed, and Stella's voice in particular still pierced the walls with an unnerving volume. "But I don't want to get you in trouble, and I'd really rather not get thrown out. Especially since I get the impression that 'thrown' would be taken literally in this case."
"I won't let anyone chuck you off the roof, promise," Octavia said, giggling.
"Very specific promise," you said dryly. Despite your skepticism, you finally took the earbud and popped it in. "What's the point of sneaking in like this if it doesn't matter, then...?"
"Oh, the guards would definitely give you a rough time if they caught on. But you don't need to worry about the others," Octavia murmured, scrolling through her playlist with a focused precision. "They'll probably just pretend they never saw you. Not like they're the ones responsible for keeping people out. And most of them know you by now anyway."
"They do?" You asked, eyes widening in concern.
"Duh. You're my best friend," Octavia said, rolling her eyes dramatically. "Of course they know you. I talk about you all the time."
"And do you tell them that I sneak in?" You must have sounded as skeptical as you felt. Octavia gave you a glare, one that turned slightly playful when she flipped you off.
"No, you absolute walnut! I just tell them that we hang out sometimes."
"Which, since your parents never let you invite people over or go out on your own, means they know that I sneak in," you extrapolated.
"Oh, come off it," Octavia nudged your shoulder with her own. "You worry too much. Nobody is gonna risk my mom throwing them across the mansion to rat out some dweeb sneaking in to listen to music. It's not like you're breaking in to steal stuff or something."
"Still... I don't want to cause trouble for you, Via."
"Me? Avoid trouble?" Octavia scoffed. She gave you a look that seemed to reconsider your entire friendship in that moment.
"Alright, alright, point taken." You held up your hands in surrender, earning another eye roll from the sassy Goetia.
"Good. Now, shut up! We should already be listening to the new album by now. Seriously, this one? Absolute fucking banger." With that, Octavia finally pressed play.
Just like when she'd seen you, the shift in the royal teen's attitude was immediate. She started to sway lightly on her elbows, eyes closed as she bounced energetically. The music filled your ears and stole away your anxious thoughts, the harsh tones and aggressive energy of the song seeming almost cathartic after that stressful climb.
Outside the protective bubble of Octavia's room, the manor continued its endless drama. You could hear the distant sound of another argument brewing, punctuated by the crash of something expensive meeting its demise. But in here, as the tracks played on with Octavia energetically swaying beside you and the music weaving its spell, the worries of the world seemed a little more distant than they usually did.
"Thanks for coming," Octavia whispered after a while, lifting her head to meet your eyes. "I said it's no big deal sneaking in, but... I know it's not easy getting here."
"Any time," you replied honestly. "I'd brave all the imps and arguing demons in Hell just to spend an afternoon with my bestie."
"Aww, that's sweet," Octavia said. She leaned over, rubbing her shoulder against yours for a moment. "You're alright, you know that?"
"Don't go getting soft on me now," you teased, leaning into her shoulder playfully. Octavia giggled and gave you a light shove in return, just as the sound of drums started to pick up again.
"Oh, this one's wicked! Be quiet, I love this part."
"I wasn't even talking!"
"Shut up, you dweeb!"
In the end, Octavia had to play the song from the beginning anyway—you were both laughing and shoving each other too hard to hear any of it.
