#young stolas

[p4ul3tte]

Omg young Stolas 🤩 (and young (?) Vassago's legs)

He had a beak piercing 🤣

I love his expression 😊

[annachum]

Stolas, the teacher

[During their first "lesson" in a hidden Schiaparelli study, Vassago is perched on a bookshelf as an owl, occasionally making snickering noises]

Young Stolas: "Now, remember, the ancient tongue is not just spoken. It is... felt. A low, rumbling hum from the chest, like a great bell tolling in the dark. It is the language of creation and destruction, a song that reshapes the very air around it. Try it, Marcello. Breathe deep, and let the word 'fire,' pyra-daemos, ignite from your soul."

Young Stolas (annoyed, to Timoteo): "Timoteo, stop making rude gestures with the hand movements! The glyphs are for command, not for mimicking a... a human's silly hand-puppets. You'll summon a minor hell-beast and then you'll have to clean up after it."

Young Stolas: "Vassago! Stop eating the popcorn so loudly! It's distracting the pupils. Besides, that's Renaissance popcorn, it's not even good."

Young Stolas: "Good, Marcello, good. The tone is perfect. It sounds like the grinding of a tectonic plate. Timoteo, yours sounds like a wet pigeon. Try to make it sound more intimidating. Think of the look on Cesare's face when you use it on him. That's right, now we're getting somewhere!"

Young Stolas: "The mortals' versions of our tongues—Latin, Greek, Persian—they are like reflections in a puddle. The ancient tongue is the sky itself, vast and profound. You don't just speak it; you become it, just for a moment."

Young Stolas (after Timoteo successfully mimics a word): "There! You see? The essence of the language is mischief and power, after all. A perfect mix for a younger sibling. Now try to say the word for 'chaos.' We'll need that for later."

Marcello Orsini, the calm pupil

[Listening intently to Stolas, taking meticulous notes on a scroll, completely ignoring Timoteo’s antics]

Marcello: "So the language is layered, like a palimpsest. One pronunciation holds the meaning, while another, slightly altered, serves as a counter-spell. The word for 'binding,' hylos, sounds like a rope tightening, but with a different emphasis, it is the word for 'release'."

Marcello (to Timoteo): "Timoteo, be serious. The tonal shifts are significant. If you get it wrong, you don't just mispronounce a word; you might accidentally rearrange the furniture in the Vatican."

Marcello (to Stolas, trying to understand a complex phrase): "Is the shift from the guttural 'k'-sound to the sibilant 's'-sound a reflection of the transition from one epoch of power to another? A linguistic fingerprint of history?"

Marcello (after a successful pronunciation): "It does feel like holding a great, heavy secret. The sound resonates within the bones."

Marcello (to Timoteo, later): "You may find the pranks amusing now, but the true joy is in the precision. Knowing that a single, perfectly formed phrase could alter the outcome of a battle is a far greater thrill than throwing a rotten tomato at Cesare."

Timoteo Orsini, the mischievous pupil

[Constantly finding ways to make light of the lessons, much to the exasperation of Marcello and the amusement of Stolas]

Timoteo: "Can I say the word for 'stinky' in ancient demon? I have a perfect target for it... I think Uncle Giovanni would find it hilarious."

Timoteo (to Marcello): "What if we just yell all the words really loud? Wouldn't that make them extra powerful? Like, 'CHAOS!'... see, the scroll almost fell!"

Timoteo (whispering, to Marcello): "I bet if we learn this really well, we can get better pranks than Vassago does."

Timoteo (after getting a word right): "Ha! See? I told you I could do it! My pigeon-like voice has unlocked the secrets of the cosmos!"

Timoteo (when Stolas mentions Cesare): "So we can use this to make Cesare’s hat explode off his head? Or maybe make his breeches fall down in public? Ooooh, tell me the word for 'humiliation'!"

[annachum]

Stolas, the teacher

[During their first "lesson" in a hidden Schiaparelli study, Vassago is perched on a bookshelf as an owl, occasionally making snickering noises]

Young Stolas: "Now, remember, the ancient tongue is not just spoken. It is... felt. A low, rumbling hum from the chest, like a great bell tolling in the dark. It is the language of creation and destruction, a song that reshapes the very air around it. Try it, Marcello. Breathe deep, and let the word 'fire,' pyra-daemos, ignite from your soul."

Young Stolas (annoyed, to Timoteo): "Timoteo, stop making rude gestures with the hand movements! The glyphs are for command, not for mimicking a... a human's silly hand-puppets. You'll summon a minor hell-beast and then you'll have to clean up after it."

Young Stolas: "Vassago! Stop eating the popcorn so loudly! It's distracting the pupils. Besides, that's Renaissance popcorn, it's not even good."

Young Stolas: "Good, Marcello, good. The tone is perfect. It sounds like the grinding of a tectonic plate. Timoteo, yours sounds like a wet pigeon. Try to make it sound more intimidating. Think of the look on Cesare's face when you use it on him. That's right, now we're getting somewhere!"

Young Stolas: "The mortals' versions of our tongues—Latin, Greek, Persian—they are like reflections in a puddle. The ancient tongue is the sky itself, vast and profound. You don't just speak it; you become it, just for a moment."

Young Stolas (after Timoteo successfully mimics a word): "There! You see? The essence of the language is mischief and power, after all. A perfect mix for a younger sibling. Now try to say the word for 'chaos.' We'll need that for later."

Marcello Orsini, the calm pupil

[Listening intently to Stolas, taking meticulous notes on a scroll, completely ignoring Timoteo’s antics]

Marcello: "So the language is layered, like a palimpsest. One pronunciation holds the meaning, while another, slightly altered, serves as a counter-spell. The word for 'binding,' hylos, sounds like a rope tightening, but with a different emphasis, it is the word for 'release'."

Marcello (to Timoteo): "Timoteo, be serious. The tonal shifts are significant. If you get it wrong, you don't just mispronounce a word; you might accidentally rearrange the furniture in the Vatican."

Marcello (to Stolas, trying to understand a complex phrase): "Is the shift from the guttural 'k'-sound to the sibilant 's'-sound a reflection of the transition from one epoch of power to another? A linguistic fingerprint of history?"

Marcello (after a successful pronunciation): "It does feel like holding a great, heavy secret. The sound resonates within the bones."

Marcello (to Timoteo, later): "You may find the pranks amusing now, but the true joy is in the precision. Knowing that a single, perfectly formed phrase could alter the outcome of a battle is a far greater thrill than throwing a rotten tomato at Cesare."

Timoteo Orsini, the mischievous pupil

[Constantly finding ways to make light of the lessons, much to the exasperation of Marcello and the amusement of Stolas]

Timoteo: "Can I say the word for 'stinky' in ancient demon? I have a perfect target for it... I think Uncle Giovanni would find it hilarious."

Timoteo (to Marcello): "What if we just yell all the words really loud? Wouldn't that make them extra powerful? Like, 'CHAOS!'... see, the scroll almost fell!"

Timoteo (whispering, to Marcello): "I bet if we learn this really well, we can get better pranks than Vassago does."

Timoteo (after getting a word right): "Ha! See? I told you I could do it! My pigeon-like voice has unlocked the secrets of the cosmos!"

Timoteo (when Stolas mentions Cesare): "So we can use this to make Cesare’s hat explode off his head? Or maybe make his breeches fall down in public? Ooooh, tell me the word for 'humiliation'!"

[annachum]

Ozzie's story to Fizz about young Stolas and the Schiaparelli owls

Ozzie: (Chuckling fondly) "Ah, Fizzarolli, have I ever told you about the first time little Stolas went to the Schiaparelli falconry? No? Well, pull up a seat, my dear. You'll love this one. Back in the day, when my little Amethyst was just a twinkle in my eye— well, no, she was already a young woman at that point. My daughter was married to that peacock Paimon, and they had a brood of their own. Ipos and his siblings were still running around in their mortal forms, causing trouble and getting into spy missions for their human allies."

Fizz: "Sounds like chaos."

Ozzie: "Oh, it was, my boy, it was glorious chaos! But the best story involves little Stolas. You know how he's always been a bit... theatrical? Well, the Schiaparellis, being the wonderfully surrealist goths that they are, had a magnificent falconry. And not just falcons, mind you, but owls. Magical owls, with feathers that shimmered like a midnight oil slick. Amethyst wanted Stolas to get to know her family better, so she sent him to the falconry to meet some of her cousins— the owls, that is.

"Now, Stolas was a little prince, used to the pampered life. He shows up in his finest robes, expecting to be treated like royalty. But the Schiaparelli owls, they're a different breed. They're more like feathered philosophers and artists, with a taste for the dramatic. They saw this little princeling all puffed up and decided to have some fun.

"They started with a subtle initiation, a test of character, if you will. One of the owls, a grizzled old thing with a monocle made of crystal, landed on Stolas's shoulder and started quoting Italian opera at him. Another one, a fluffy white owl with a penchant for cubist art, kept trying to rearrange his feathers into strange geometric patterns. Stolas was so confused! He just stood there, blinking his big ol' eyes, completely out of his element.

"He tried to be all princely, puffing out his chest and demanding respect. But the owls just kept at it, hooting and cackling like a bunch of old Venetian matriarchs at a gossip party. They'd swoop down and steal his little princely snacks, replacing them with live mice— and not the kind you eat, mind you, the kind you're supposed to befriend. It was all a grand joke to them, a way of saying, 'Welcome to the family, kid. Lose the attitude.'

"Eventually, something clicked for Stolas. He stopped trying to be the little prince and just... played along. He started hooting back at them, mimicking their bizarre opera quotes, and even letting the fluffy owl rearrange his feathers. The Schiaparelli owls, they were so delighted. They finally accepted him into their little coven of creative oddballs. They showed him how to hunt for fun, how to find the most delicious grubs, and how to spot the best Renaissance art from a mile away.

"He came back to the palace with a crooked smile and a feather stuck in his hair, looking more like a bohemian artist than a royal heir. Paimon was horrified, of course, but Amethyst just laughed and gave him a big hug. It was the moment Stolas learned that it was okay to be a little bit weird, a little bit different. And it was all thanks to the Schiaparelli owls."

Fizz: (Laughing, holding his stomach) "Oh, Ozzie, that's hilarious! I can totally picture it. Young Stolas, all prim and proper, getting pranked by a bunch of artsy owls. Did he ever go back?"

Ozzie: "Oh, every chance he got. He loved those owls. They taught him things his royal tutors never could. And from then on, he always had a soft spot for anything... eccentric. It's probably where he gets his taste for the human world, you know? All those strange little trinkets and curiosities he loves. It all started with a bunch of surrealist owls and a little princeling who learned to embrace the chaos."

[annachum]

Heavenly Babysitting Tales: Emilia and Bianca's Memories of Young Stolas

In the serene realm of Heaven, Emilia and Bianca, now friends after their tumultuous lives, find a quiet moment to reminisce. Their conversation drifts to the young Goetia prince they knew, a mischievous and endearing child in their shared 15th-century memories.

Emilia:

"The first time we had to watch him, we were so worried. I mean, a demon prince! But then he just pointed at a pigeon in the piazza and turned it into a fancy Italian hat. He was giggling the whole time. I knew right then he wasn't going to be a problem."

"He had this thing for hiding shiny objects. We’d be in a market, and he'd dart off. Next thing you know, he’s back, and the Medici's prize jewel is missing. He’d just give it to Desdemona like a little gift, and she'd have to find some convoluted way to return it without a diplomatic incident."

"I remember a day in Padua. Stolas kept asking if we could all go on a 'field trip.' We said no, and the next thing we know, he's opened a tiny portal in the middle of our embroidery lesson. Suddenly, a cloud of 15th-century Italian pastries rained down on the Borgia villa. Cesare was furious."

"He used to get so excited about the spy missions. One time, he and Vassago came back with a whole collection of silk scarves. Stolas tried to wear them all at once, twirling around in the garden until he tripped over his own robes. Vassago just shook his head and offered him a cookie."

"I'll never forget the sound of him imitating the town gossip. He'd whisper all the petty secrets he overheard while spying in his little bird form. He'd flap his wings and give us a whole dramatic retelling. We'd have to pretend to be shocked, and he’d puff up with pride."

Bianca:

"He was such a little sweet tooth. I’d be practicing a new song, and he'd quietly flutter up to my side, looking at me with those big eyes. I’d give him a bit of candied fruit, and he’d just stay there, listening to me sing, completely mesmerized. It was adorable."

"I remember teaching him a few dance steps. He wasn't very good at first, all clumsy with his long little legs. But he was persistent. We'd spin around my small room, and he'd laugh so hard he'd lose his balance. Eventually, he got better. He said he wanted to impress his mother."

"He loved the theater. I once snuck him into a play, hiding him in a basket. He was perfectly quiet until the villain came on stage. Then he started hissing at the actor. I had to bribe the person next to me with a whole bag of sweets to keep them from saying anything."

"One time, Stolas and Ipos were supposed to be watching a political meeting. But when they came back, all they had were a bunch of tiny, hand-painted wooden horses. Stolas said they just got bored and went shopping instead. Ipos just looked at him with an indulgent smile."

"He had a favorite story I’d tell him before bedtime. It was about a brave little owl who traveled the world. He'd fall asleep in my arms, and his little body would feel so warm. It was moments like that, just holding him, that I forgot all the horrible things I'd seen and heard."

[pastelhousewithlegs]

I think this is my favorite fan art of Vassago since he was described as a "cool boomer” by Brandon.

Once again, I simply wish for lore that indicates Stolas has more than ONE happy memory from his youth.

[mondasart]

| Young Stolas - Screenshot Redraw |

[darknessfly-ii]

Kid! Stolas x Kid! Reader

Requested: Yes

You stared down at your feet holding a teddy bear in your hands. Stella was pacing around in front of you. "I can't believe my cousin is going to be married to such a wimp," she scoffed, "I guess you just have very low standards." Stella was insulting you and your husband. Recently you were told you are part of an arranged marriage. Although you had no problem with the guy it turns out Stella had some.

In your opinion, Stolas seemed to be someone who was kind and compassionate. He was perfect for you. Stella thought he was weak and pathetic for reasons you didn't understand. You didn't understand how being kind was a weakness.

Because of the marriage they had you and Stolas hang out every once in a while to get to know each other. Sharing some interest such as books and other things naturally you two got along well with each other. Being each other's missing puzzle piece.

Jiggling you keys you opened your door and walked inside the palace. You usually got home a few hours before Stolas so you decided to start cooking dinner so it would be ready when he got home. Opening the oven you got to work.

Hearing the palace door open you knew that Stolas was home, which was no problem considering the fact you had just finished setting dinner on the table. Sitting down in your seat you saw Stolas approach the table and sit down. Instantly you realized that something was wrong as you knew Stolas very well. He was getting too stressed.

Getting up you walked over and hugged Stolas and asked him how his day was. You sat there and listened to everything he had to say patiently while rubbing his back. Eventually Stolas got very tired and you sent him to bed for some well needed rest and told him that you could take over the chores for a while. In that moment Stolas was very that to have such a loving and caring wife.