slow. Stolas blinks at his daughter’s suggestion, daring to look at the palm of his talons and turning them to see the fading colors from his feathers and avian scales. He’s ancient no doubt but, youth would grace a Goetic demon and stay forever more if every part of them remained too and he was fading. With a sigh a crimson stare would fixate on the feather that the teenager had plucked from his plumage though he would not let fear consume him, even if one day he would be frail and weak. Because as the prince’s attention fell on his heir he found himself admiring her creative resilience of being inside the house.
Come another opportunity for a concert and he might allow her some proper independence without watch. Seems about the perfect time to let Octavia spread her wings after being so sheltered and he knows that as much as he had a hand in her feeling caged she has proven more often than not that she isn’t the starry - eyed little girl she used to be — if the misplaced books and equipment he’d find in his tower from time to time said anything.
❛ Well, ❜ with a smile he knows that’ll warm her heart he reaches over to tuck a few more feathers back and he leans over to kiss a spotless cheek in acknowledging the kind gesture. ❛ thank you for taking care of this old man. Now! ❜
While unneeded he appreciates her thoughtfulness of asking for permission to sit by his side and he nods, giving the chaise a pat or two before shifting briefly to pick up the plate of food prepared for him. She’d already done so wonderfully with bringing up his meal. He couldn’t possibly ask her to pass it as well when the dish was merely a feet away from where he’s sitting. No, no, sit his Octavia will.
Mm, just right! Not too hot and not too cold. Taking an appropriate portion of the salmon dish he begins his meal and praises the ensemble. ❛ Oh Octavia this is quite splendid! Did you help prepare it? Plate it? I do believe I’m sensing another ingredient! ❜
✦ ; . ❛ - dad, c’mon-— - ❜ hands reach for her beanie but hesitate, instead gripping to her shoulders out of habit for anxious handling. her father knew of her creative spark, her ability to birth the best of the constellations from sheer enthusiasm when he wasn’t expecting anything. octavia held that accountable to herself, to will the beauty of the cosmos to her fingertips whenever something was worth focusing on. it’s when her dad calls attention to the dish that tiny claws dig into her sleeves && boots tuck to the chaise’s undershoe.
flattery from her father had been a constant no matter the time period spent alive, be it from within her mother’s womb to the very last second just now, she was his capable cuckoo, his nest egg long since hatched. a hand finally moves from her riddled expressive, brushing back bangs as she did out of nervous tickage. ❛ - there’s a light pan crusting of parmesan on it ; that’s what gives it that smooth crunchy searing to compliment the earthy nuttiness. mum baked it, but i pan fried it b’forehand since i wanted to make it special this time. - ❜
fuchsias leer from their corners to bore upon her father’s praise, possibly dilligent in waiting for any possible aftermath. ❛ - then there’s the light spread of vinegar to twist the flavor of honey && compliment the silk of cheese. - ❜ cooking was a small feat she loved to pander to when the motivation struck. the passion her father delivered to his studies she poured into affectionate dishes for when he came home. it was always those fragrant meals when he was the most exhausted he found to be conforting, right? somehow OCTAVIA had a premonition of how spoiled his day at uni would go.
❛ - if mum had started sooner, i probably would’ve tried making you some baked aspargus with oil && salt. . . that way you’d just have the softness of the stalk && the flair’s crunch to add onto your full course. - ❜ by this point, she’s losing herself to the compassion of spoiling her father like he did her so long ago, a hand ghosting up to where he had previously left his exchange. LOVE ; it boiled beneath pale feathers && made her chest grow tight with appreciation. how long had it been since she last returned that favor?
again, she’s looking to stolas, pondering her course of action in case of needing to back out. another breath oozes slow like the rotation of planets, her gaze cascading across his tired physique. HOW HARD had he worked himself today to sleep in this late? ❛ - dad, y’unno they can substitute you if you ever need a day to refresh your sleep schedule. - ❜
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