octavianrising

[octavianrising]

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Behind the threshold of Lupercal's borders, Octavian needn't worry about attracting the wrong kind of attention by spreading his wings. The citizens of Rome may have been prepared to turn their backs on him, but Octavian was a blaze that would usher in real change to the realm whether people were prepared to receive it or not. "You're a fool, Aren. A stubborn, powerless fool, and I look forward to showing you the error of your ways. The power of choice is wasted on those too ignorant to make the right ones, and Lucretia is a prime example. All that power and potential squandered over petty ideals, though she thinks the same way as you which is not surprising. You want it all but feel above the sacrifice required to achieve. That's your short coming, and like the infection it is I will cut it out."

A pillar of fire engulfs Octavian, burning away his clothing as his true form begins to rear its head. "Oh, I'm never alone. Remember that when you fail to protect what you hold dear. Because you will fail. Beneath the light of my flame, all will succumb and you are no exception, brother." The term was spat out as more of a curse. They were Octavian's last syllables before his body sprouted into the domineering phoenix, towering over Aren in his burning azure glory. The phoenix's hunter eyes remained the same though, trained cruelly on the Archdruid below. The last time Octavian had the pleasure of gazing upon Aren from this vantage point, it had been to take his soul in a forgotten time. He'd been successful then, as he had been during their prior clash and as he would continue to be in the future. Aren would embrace the light or burn to ash trying to fight it, as all would in time. In fact, Octavian had one reason for transforming and allowing his immense heat to bathe the area surrounding them: he wanted Aren to see exactly what he was up against. The phoenix was here to stay.

[octavianrising]

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Inherently, Octavian understood the unspoken message of Oztalun's request. What was being asked of him was absolute, failure was not an option. Their family, whole, at all costs was The Last's decree and as his loyal heir, Octavian would see it through. It didn't matter his personal feelings on the matter. Every triumph, failure, joy, and ounce of suffering had been in preparation for this task. Beltane, the convergence of his destiny.

"What is sacred to you is sacred to me. You will have what you ask, you needn't worry about anything beyond preparing your body." Oztalun was more powerful than Octavian remembered, which is why he understood the gravity of his father leaving such important tasks to him. If he wasn't focused on rebuilding his body then he'd surely be able to handle the details without help. Enacting his father's will on the mortal realm in his stead was a matter of circumstance, and Octavian would treat it like the honor it was. "All I ever needed to succeed was a fighting chance, anything else only tips the odds further in my favor. But I have concerns that I'm mitigating. Your path will undoubtedly put me at odds with the Pyramid and possibly the whole of Rome. Since I don't intend to hold back, I'd feel most comfortable with an army to command should I need to do anything drastic." Octavian was an emperor after all, and leading loyal, capable warriors into battle was a part he played in each of his previous lives. "That is my game though. Bending the knee to you has already bolstered my strength. And the power I wield continues to sway more to my cause even now. I can work with your High Priestesses to handle everything."

Oztalun's hand landed on the other's shoulder; the dragon lacked empathy for Octavian's feelings. Familial attachments were useful, but where Tiamat had destroyed any chance of his return to secure her own power in the twisted future they went down, he couldn't begrudge her that. Power was a solitary path; anybody with the resolve to see the road to the end knew that when you reached the summit you always stood there alone. "If they're too weak, then it falls to us to make them strong, but I have been with you through this every step of the way." His hold on the other was less paternal and more forceful, a hard grip to remind Octavian that they would always be connected. No matter where the phoenix went, he would always be Oztalun's son.

"It will take time, but I have means of convincing them. Not as I am, but our family will be whole once more. Bring me your siblings on the first of May, witches of this age call it Beltane." Whatever Octavian had to do, be it convincing or taking them by force. Neither really mattered, but Oztalun had every confidence that the phoenix would be able to manage. For a moment, the dragon studied the other's face and watched for the mania behind his son's eyes, the urgency and the vigor. That was what the dragon wished to see, religious fervency that spoke to the power that stood before the phoenix now. "Tell me: do you have everything you need to succeed?"

[octavianrising]

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It seems the Pyramid responded exactly how Octavian predicted, and their weak desire to rebuild atop rubble instead of start fresh atop ash would be their undoing. Oh well, either they would see Octavian's light or perish because he would not stop. "The Otherworld has much for me, so I flew there as soon as I could. I had a long-awaited reunion to see to." The Scarlet Lake wasn't for all, not yet. He would bring Cain and the others to it in time, but only when proper preparations had been made. "If you search within yourself, you'll know the answer. And if not, your time will come. Have a little faith in our connection. Your bloodlust won't be squandered."

Tact was all Cain could think about. The demon that had been turned human, the human that had found a way to stick around for a long, long time. He was free from Lucifer's grasp, but the damn archfiend was back in town anyway. The former familiar to the King of Hell was perhaps never one to be trusted, it was everyone else's fault for thinking he'd sway from Octavian if the druid was gone. "There are many of them, now. But they're focused on restoring everything. I haven't seen some of the archdruids in a while. You know where I am when you need me. Where did you go? Afterwards."

[octavianrising]

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Even Octavian had to admit how out of character that passive line sounded. It was absolutely a hard sell. A phoenix was still a bird of prey, and removing a title didn't eliminate the dedication of his loyalists. Octavian would never stop moving. "I am a phoenix. I will always rise," he chuckles, flourishing his words by igniting the flame in his eyes until they burn blue. He and those who followed him remained as devastating as ever, even with the inconvenience of his sentence. Octavian garnered power and support still, which meant he wouldn't make the same mistakes as the Pyramid. "The real question is what power could you have if you took hold of your own destiny. Or rather, let me." Anyone who couldn't see Ari's worth was either blind or dumb, however Octavian embodied a burning fire, not a warm hearth. His way was one of sacrifice, but the rewards were transcendent. "Believe me, you could never stand against me, not as you are. I still want you though, Ariston. Why not get off the sidelines?"

There is nothing sincere in Octavian's words, every word is crafted like a knife intended to hurt and Ariston was already a wound, pride had to be had to be damaged and yet the sting of remaining a failure still managed to burrow under his skin to feast upon his heart. At times he tries to pinpoint the time where the animosity began between them, maybe it was when he became disillusioned with the phoenix or maybe it wasn't anything special and Octavian treated all of his line with a certain level of distain, he had proved he would slay them all without an inch of remorse if it meant he could grow stronger. An osmosis process for a killer. "Bullshit. You're always scheming and mean'ing, can't keep a bad bitch down eh Octavian? Don't worry I won't stand your way, you're right they've counted me out, what power do I have?" A crooked smile that meant he was more of a threat than he spoke.

[octavianrising]

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Octavian had always led his followers down a path of bloodshed, but now his dark flame burned with his every step. Those who followed would know its warmth while those who stood against him would be burned. Regardless, he would make all face the light of The Last and he would do so with clarity of mind. “My acolyte, you have shed blood in my name and even sacrificed yourself to me. Bear witness, for your loyalty will be rewarded. When I reestablish dominion you will have all you could want and then some.” From Octavian’s body flows a river of fire that washes over Atlas. It surrounds him and stretches far into the Otherworld, warming him as a reminder of Octavian’s might while clearing his way back. The burned path would remain to lead him to the mortal realm, until the dark Otherwilds regrew and wiped it away that was. Atlas didn’t have time to waste on navigation. It was time to put his training and newfound power to work for Octavian's cause.

END

Atlas was still hoping that the city would turn towards Octavian again; this time, it would be done in reverence. This peace era was temporary; too many people circled Rome for things to last. History always had a way of repeating itself, and it didn't matter what performative measures were put into place; sooner or later, some vampire would rip the throat out of the wrong witch, some God would step on the pride of some elve, or some lycan would bite a senator. It was inevitable, and when things boiled over, the archdruid would be in a prime position to aid the city once more. "Alright, I'll do what you want. You can count on me; I won't let you down." Not again. "This city needs you; we all need you. They might have forgotten that, but I won't. I never will." And if people stood in Octavian's way, Atlas would ensure they were removed.

[octavianrising]

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Behind the threshold of Lupercal's borders, Octavian needn't worry about attracting the wrong kind of attention by spreading his wings. The citizens of Rome may have been prepared to turn their backs on him, but Octavian was a blaze that would usher in real change to the realm whether people were prepared to receive it or not. "You're a fool, Aren. A stubborn, powerless fool, and I look forward to showing you the error of your ways. The power of choice is wasted on those too ignorant to make the right ones, and Lucretia is a prime example. All that power and potential squandered over petty ideals, though she thinks the same way as you which is not surprising. You want it all but feel above the sacrifice required to achieve. That's your short coming, and like the infection it is I will cut it out."

A pillar of fire engulfs Octavian, burning away his clothing as his true form begins to rear its head. "Oh, I'm never alone. Remember that when you fail to protect what you hold dear. Because you will fail. Beneath the light of my flame, all will succumb and you are no exception, brother." The term was spat out as more of a curse. They were Octavian's last syllables before his body sprouted into the domineering phoenix, towering over Aren in his burning azure glory. The phoenix's hunter eyes remained the same though, trained cruelly on the Archdruid below. The last time Octavian had the pleasure of gazing upon Aren from this vantage point, it had been to take his soul in a forgotten time. He'd been successful then, as he had been during their prior clash and as he would continue to be in the future. Aren would embrace the light or burn to ash trying to fight it, as all would in time. In fact, Octavian had one reason for transforming and allowing his immense heat to bathe the area surrounding them: he wanted Aren to see exactly what he was up against. The phoenix was here to stay.

While Dionaeia and Nettelia had busied themselves learning to be warriors under Artemis, the Archdruid brothers found their own ways to grow and to bond. Games and lessons with the druids they brought to the world, training with the most ravenous of wild beasts, childish laughter as they touched down from soaring through the skies. Aren remembered thinking a life like this could last forever - the naive musings of a boy who knew little to nothing of suffering. None of them did, not in Eden. He'd lost his first brother: the Octavian that Aren had known so well and so closely. This was a brand new Octavian. Completely, fully. Even without the Necronomicon he was utterly changed forever, almost unrecognizable. Aren thought it was difficult to grieve those were gone but it was almost harder to grieve someone who was still alive, someone who still lived and breathed and stood right in front of you speaking unbelievable words.

The fire of the phoenix burned away magic, Aren knew it even before he reached his fingers toward the azure flames. Flames that were meant to heal but also take away. That eternal energy beneath the Archdruid's skin sizzled away with the closeness of the flames. Not a single magical being could easily touch Octavian. No show of strength from him or Dionaeia could hold Octavian when their magic could be so easily washed away - and it was unlikely Nettelia could ever get close enough to take away this curse. But no one was without weaknesses and the entire Pyramid was far stronger together than they were apart. "The druids in The Pyramid are under our protection," he murmured. Aren's eyes then met Octavian's. "Including Lucretia." There was an unspoken threat in his gaze, quiet and subtle but it remained. His hand fell back to his side. "Let your daughter make her own choices for once, Octavian. You can burn away bodies and magic, but you can't burn away someone's resolve. And even you are not untouchable by the consequences of your own actions." He shook his head in disbelief. "Rise alone if that's your choice, my brother... I stood here and I told you that it doesn't need to be that way."

[octavianrising]

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That’s right, Octavian did demand of her as he did of anyone. Reference to an ask was always for the other’s benefit because he was born with a crown on his head and never knew a life without it. Sharp talons were for taking, and though he seethed at Lilith he knew he could not point them towards her anymore. A most unsettling dynamic. “My believers are steadfast, but a general needs an army. Charisma and violence can be slow tools to wield, especially because of the considerable attention I'll be giving to other endeavors.” Lilith’s influence had a reach his didn’t, but relying on it to commune with his own father was poor thinking on his part. If Octavian was to truly get over his resentment of her then he’d have to seek her guidance on another front. “The population in the mortal realm grows, and Rome is no exception. I’m sure there are more than a few capable candidates open to suggestion. With a push from you, I can more quickly create a contingency of these necromeras, just as capable as the ones I have now.”

In appearance, Octavian was a formidable force. A creature that dared any and all to take their chance. With a mind that spanned timelines, there was much that the archdruid could offer. Even more that he would be capable of. Lilith had no intention of turning him further against her, of fracturing whichever bond that they could form now that they stood on the same side. Yet, Lilith had never particularly been a creature to cave to the demands of others. Especially men. "Ask? You did not ask, Octavian. If I recall, you demanded," a gentle sneer, as her gaze narrowed ever so slightly upon him. There was much that Octavian would be capable of, but she had already proven that she was capable of bringing him to his knees. "Make your ask, see how generous I can be."

[octavianrising]

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Octavian was a dominating force of nature, yet the kiss he gave Virgil was different than any other he'd delivered. Backed still by strength and power, there was a give never afforded to the lips he took with his own, a necessary push he allowed himself to receive. Virigl was a force of nature in his own right, one brimming with a unique fortitude Octavian craved. He wanted the man, every last bit of him. Fire consumed all it touched and Octavian could feel explosive heat building inside of him.

Though he was thrown back before he let his worse nature take over, smoke sizzling off his flesh where blue sparks lsinged cooly. "You've not lived until you've seen the world ablaze. The fires of passion searing your insides while the outside melts around you is truly transcendent. Even the air would burn, and you'd have no choice but to keep your lips on mine." With a controlled burn, Octavian's clothes get eaten away by heat until he his bare before Virgil. He heeds the warning, though a challenge burns in his eyes. He may be on his back but Octavian angles his chin up proudly, smirking confidently at the witch.

"Come here," he demands, accenting his statment with a gentle wave of his fingers. Bird-like eyes zero in on every contour of Virgil's body, Octavian's appreciation in the visual feast evident by his expression and his chub. "I want you to place it right..." He presses his index fingers at the base of his abdomen and drags it along his body with intentionally sloth. Not once does Octavian allow his gaze to drop from the other, his attempt to seduce even in this incredibly serious moment. He was unable to help himself, wanting to explore this newfound attraction fully. "...right here."

His finger stopped right in the middle of his chest. "Close to my heart, as a reminder to myself and to you. Going back? The thought hadn't crossed my mind. This is what's best for me and for those I truly care about. Every time you disrobe me, I want you to see the mark and remember that I chose the Ivy."

Octavian was on him, and for a moment, the room was simultaneously too quiet and too loud all at once. Virgil was a sovereign, attuned to the world around him, but for a brief second, there was no coven, boardroom, or senate, just a man offering him the only thing the Moretti fortune had never afforded him. Over the years, there have been more faceless or nameless people that Virgil didn't care to count. One stuck out, but he was wrapped up in Vegas, and the other had been doomed from the start. Octavian the Phoenix, indomitable and strong, had been burned by this city more times than Virgil would take the time to count. At least for now, a day would come when Rome paid back everything that Octavian and the Ivy were owed.

It was Virgil's mark that Octavian had asked for, a sigil of the Ivy that would tether the Phoenix to this coven forever. This was how it should have been since the days of Etruria, but they had more knowledge and resources now. Thousands of years had given the Coven the secrets and the knowledge they needed to cement this bond into eternity. Octavian's lips covered his own and Virgil felt his pulse quicken, the phoenix's warmth washed over him but the heat was comfortable. Like a fireplace in the dead of winter. "There won't be any going back." That was a promise, not now, and not for him. Not from this pact, and not what had sparked between them.

Virgil had been walking alone for so long that he forgot what it was to stand in the presence of someone strong enough to hold him. Someone that he could look at as an equal, not a competitor, and not someone who wanted things they could never have; power, influence, and position. Naturally, the sovereign would take the other in and welcome the phoenix in deep, but that would be on his terms. Virgil's hands pushed with enough force to shove the other back onto the bed, he shed his shirt and stood over the phoenix.

The witch's dark eyes watched azure flames as they danced behind Octavian's hues, "You set this place on fire, and I'll throw you out." It was a warning, but there was a smile on his lips as the words spilled forth. Virgil's mark grew as the ivy tattoo grew down his arm, the intricate pattern wove over his chest, fettered its way down his forearm and inched over his hand. "Tell me where you want it."

[octavianrising]

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Octavian had grieved for his father twice, once when Oztalun first vanished and again when his own daughter slayed the dragon. In both instances however, his grief was shortlived which, in a way, plagued his conscience with guilt. Soon after The First vanished from their lives, Octavian had a portion of the Necronomicon sewn into his flesh, turning his mind's eye towards conquest. When Lucretia delivered the death blow so she could devour what remained, Octavian was unable to ignore the sense of pride he felt in her ability despite his dread. Both instances resulted in Octavian burying his complex grief. He'd actually allowed himself to question if he'd been wrong to think that way. Here and now, beneath the glow of his father's approval, Octavian realized how much of a fool he had been.

"To gain, there must be sacrifice. Worthwhile sacrifices are those that hurt the most." Octavian himself had lost his sanity, empire, legacy, and centuries of his life rotting in a prison cell to get to where he was. On the other side of that was the phoenix, a being greater than most he's encountered. "I do understand. I wouldn't give up the power I have now for anything. The cost was great, but now when I spread my wings and set fire to all beneath me, I feel most like myself. I only wanted to share this feeling with those capable enough to reach my level. My daughter, my siblings, and even the living chimeras. I thought I was alone, but now I see you've been with me every step of the way." And from the fact that Octavian alone stood before The Last told him that his steps to this point had been good. This burden of leadership was one he was born with. It was no different now, except with Oztalun's express approval Octavian felt more resolute about what needed to be done. "I will not turn my back on family. Even if that means burning the refuse they hold dear to ash, even if it means they hate me for eternity, I will restore their faith in you. I will be your flame until you are whole again, you have my word."

Oztalun and his sister had once killed their father to usurp his power, but that was the nature of families. The draconic mind was sharper than any other, more practical, more prone to mind, and more inclined towards cruelty if it served selfish purposes. This vessel, even now, resisted him in some irritating way. In time, Oztalun would grind what independence remained of this form underfoot; until then, he would continue to grow, continue to amass his strength and endeavor to ensure that the Romans welcomed his son back into their fold. They needed a reason for the phoenix; Oztalun would create one, and for now, their connection would remain between them and the members of the Asphodel: their lips sealed by Oztalun's will alone.

"And the man I am hated what this world forced me to be. A toothless dragon, forced to yield to lesser beings. This realm of wasted gods and petulant elves never deserved me, and it certainly does not deserve you." Oztalun's near-skeletal hand fell upon the side of Octavian's head as he smiled wide enough to show the points of an unnatural amount of teeth. "You know most of all that the path to our truest self is reborn through flames: growth is never painless, and change without direction is meaningless." Hurt and pain were common, but for people like them, they existed about causation and circumstance. "You weren't born to allow the world to take cover beneath your wings; they should cower beneath them. My son. My heir, your place is at my side as it has always been: general of my armies and the future King of this realm." He calculated all that Octavian had done as golden eyes eyed the man closely, "Your siblings are lost, but you will be the one to lead them back to me."

[octavianrising]

Kofi Siriboe photographed by Alvin Kean Wong for Schön! Magazine (2019)

[octavianrising]

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If there was one way to maintain Octavian's attention, it was by mentioning his daughter. For her and her alone, he held onto a sliver of hope. She had potential, but they had both been forced to confront a truth Octavian had refused to allow himself to acknowledge. Lucretia was a disappointment. "She's learned nothing, clinging to her banal pettiness and small-minded goals. I will still work to rehabilitate her when I have the time because I love her. You? I am unsure."

Aren was always the softer of the two, but since his awakening, it seemed he too suffered as Lucretia did. He kept himself tied to things that didn't matter, a sickness that Andreas undoubtedly infected him with. Octavian resented Andreas for keeping the brothers apart, but if there was no real distinction between the two, then maybe the one he resented all along was the brother he had once wanted above all else. "You assume because you're all in agreement that you're correct, but have you even stopped to consider that maybe I am? I've not only lived more lives, I have walked this earth longer than you, longer than any of you. I have lived, I have seen, and I have given all that I am to pick up your slack. My eyes are wide open Aren, it is you who is blind." Octavian became the last Archdruid, Emperor, and the liberated phoenix without the support of his siblings. He held the druids and humanity together all on his own, and he was rewarded with more power than any of them could hope to wield. Octavian wasn't the one who was lost, Aren was. "This was my home before you even set foot on this corner of the world. When I return it will be on my terms, and there won't be an ounce of remorse in my heart," he says, an azure blaze erupting in the space between them, however through the fire Octavian's harsh gaze remains trained on Aren. "I am the phoenix, and I will rise."

He'd made a promise to Alek, though it was really a promise to himself. To Octavian. He wasn't going to give up on his wayward brother despite the very dim flicker of hope that was so small and so weak. Octavian had killed Lucretia and Dionaeia out of nothing but selfishness and malice. He wasn't even sure anymore if he'd killed Nettelia without any of those emotions too despite the heroic reason history would give him and Dionaeia for doing it. Octavian had killed countless druids too, innocent people and friends of his siblings as well as his own acolytes. So much was unforgivable and the relationship they once had as brothers would never be the same. That didn't mean that there couldn't be some little thing salvaged - something to build something new between them. He was family. Aren couldn't help it - he would always forgive family.

Andreas had had no confidence in himself but Aren was secure enough in his lives and achievements that he didn't fight the insults, looking past them to try and let Octavian ambitious words sink in - those intentions that would fuel the fire of the phoenix who believed himself an eternal leader. Therein might lay the key to finding ways to stop him. "Lucretia learned to understand the cost of power searching, despite what you tried to make of her and despite all that you had already done to hurt her. Despite everything, I love you. Dionaeia and Nettelia love you. Despite everything, there is a way to come home if you do the work to open the door for yourself. Show remorse, give away the power that's blinding you and we can find a way... We're all here together for a reason, Octavian, and I don't think its to watch you become the very thing that you once fought against."

[octavianrising]

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Octavian bristles at her approach, the blue fire blazing in his eyes burning brighter. He knew that smile well, it was the very same he caught a glimpse of before his eyelids were forced shut. Sleep... One word and he was at Lilith's mercy and a part of him would never forgive her. But even then, they had both been working in service of The Last's design, even if they hadn't been aware. Loath as he would be to admit it, Octavian needed her. Once on different sides, now they exist on the same with aligned objectives. He should've been able to find common ground with her but guarded he remained. "I take no stock in empty promises, only results. And so far all you've demonstrated for me is your inability to deliver what I ask," he interjects sternly, not letting his heat subside by a single degree. "Do not rest any of your hopes on me. I will fulfill my role and support yours, but will maintain no expectations about what you'll be able to offer."

Children; Lilith had never had them. Nor had she ever cared to have them. Which is why she did not understand the relationship between child and parent. She had her demons, the children that she had collected along the way. But she had a feeling it was a dangerously different dynamic. One that seemed all too amusing in the current moment. Her lips curled cruelly, as she stalked closer to the phoenix. Oh, he wanted her to see his anger. To feel his power as it radiated off of him. "No, there's plenty I can offer you. So very much," there was a hint of chiding to her voice, head canted as she looked up at him. Octavian had always been a force, and the thought to slip into his dreams slithered into her own mind. How delicious would that be. What would she find, what could she plant as a mild seed that could be coaxed to something much more. "I hope you won't be. Silent, that is. I always like when they make a disturbance," she smiled, that vicious one that debated whether she had ever been created human. Or as the snake that she had grown to become.

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Cain had never disappointed Octavian even once, and the wolfish grin that stretched across his lips showed that remained true. He couldn't have worded Cain's response any better if he tried. "My siblings think my mind is plagued, that I've gone mad. But you and I know the truth. I've never had more clarity in my life. And neither have you." There wasn't even a question of the darkness of his soul. Cain didn't need to be led anywhere, he was more prepared than anyone to strike from the shadows. "I will deal with them, so you only need to worry about not attracting their suspicion. Because I will need you to remain for now. When the time comes, you'll be the one to deliver a most fatal blow. Removing the keepers from their reincarnation cycles will be something those fools never recover from."

"Well everyone in the pyramid is holding hands, talking about peace and smoking that shit up like it's new. Of course I'd find you." Octavian deserved his loyalty; power was where it lied. Cain had always been attracted to it, had always clawed his way from the bottom to ensure that he'd be near the victor when the time came. An opportunist once, a basilisk now – he was going to ensure no one got away. They'd be ensnared, paralyzed, his ability and affinity for water ensured that he would do what the phoenix asked – whatever he needed would come in time. "You're a wanted man, Octavian. Your siblings won't give up on you."

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There he was, feeling something foreign in Virgil's touch and finding himself excited by the unfamiliarity. Even before Oztalun had selected him to be an Archdruid, Octavian stood apart from the people he led. He was without equal. Even the great Augustus Ceaser sank to his knees before Octavian's superiority, paving the way for him to ascend as Emperor as an act of service. He acknowledged Virgil as an equal, the one person who could possibly understand Octavian's bird's eye view of the world.

This wasn't a man to command or instruct, this was someone who was at his apex. Powerful and strong, the fact that Virgil didn't need him would have normally put Octavian off as such a quality was far from his usual type. Yet he was drawn in, desiring not to conquer but uplift the man in front of him. The grand fantasy plays out in Octavian's mind about how one stroke of fate prevented this union of power being cemented lifetimes ago. Octavian and the Ivy's Soverign should have always ruled as one, but there was no sense in lamenting what could've been. His empire was dead, so he would have to build something new and return the spirit of his first home to this land.

"We'll reclaim everything that was lost, settle every debt, and when the ashes of conquest settle we'll be at the summit as it should've been. Together." Octavian's hand folded over the one pressed to his chest. Between his loyal acolytes and the backing of history's most powerful coven, he had everything he needed. Appreciation, intrigue, and a lust he finally accepted drove him forward, and after looking deep into Virgil's eyes, blue fire filled his own. He was the phoenix, and now he'd finally be at his prime at it was because of this. The pull was unbeatable, and Octavian's hunger drove him to take the man's lips with his own. "Your days of carrying your burdens alone are over," he promises through his heavy breathing, pressing his forehead tightly to the others in his brief respite before diving back in to feast. "My strength is yours, as yours is mine."

Alone at the top; Virgil knew something of what that felt like, he knew all about it actually. That pressure was something that had nearly broken him, though Virgil had risen from the ashes of that early twenty-somethings that just about lost everything to stand as the man he was today, he carried that kid everywhere he went. Octavian had changed, in no way had the phoenix softened, but The End had posed a different shift at the core of the archdruid that Virgil wouldn't have expected. For all the sovereign's responsibilities, for all his power, for all his influence, and for how extensive his family happened to be, he was also remarkably lonely. In the boardroom every head turned to look at him when he spoke and he'd come to hold the same sway in the senate, not because of anything so simple as title, but because he'd fought for it and he'd earned it. The Ivy rose amidst the rubble of the ruins of Rome, now was the time that they would rebuild the city into something that they could be proud of, something that emulated the sort of future that Virgil wanted to create. Old grudges would never be forgotten, and those who'd wronged the witches of this world would learn the true error of their ways because Virgil would make sure of it.

Octavian's fingers brushed against his and Virgil could feel the warmth that the phoenix exuded, that spark of power that brimmed beneath the surface. All that strength that flooded underneath his skin, it was addicting in its way, and what happened next was an act of mutual respect muddled with reverence and obvious desire.

Virgil moved the phoenix's hand to his chest and pressed it over his heart, "Etruria lives. You and I were meant to rule, together."

[octavianrising]

❂🐦❂

Octavian always liked Santino from the moment he first saw the acolyte pummeling someone's face in. He was wild which was perfect, and perhaps that's why Octavian unwittingly stood in his way. That really wasn't like him, but keeping Sonny on a traditional training path seemed to become an excuse over time to lay his dark ambitions upon other acolytes. Yet still Sonny prevailed, reaching for the dark abyss where they stood ready to dive in deeper. Such devotion deserved to be rewarded. "You deserve all that you crave. Enough power to crush anyone beneath your claws. I'll give you everything so long as you stay by my side." Espionage wouldn't suit him at all. Just like his acolyte pointed out, a wild dog was useless if kept in a cage. He knew exactly what part Sonny had to play in his plans. "You'll hone your instincts here with me, you'll test your limits with the dogs of Lupercal, and you'll be the one to clip the wings of the Pyramid. I'll show you how it's done, how to take the traits of an undeserving druid for yourself," Octavian says, unable to taper his appreciation for the other's loyalty and drive. It's why he so selfishly closes what little distance remained between them to place his lips at the crook of Sonny's neck. Slowly, Octavian's mouth trails up along his jawline until it's placed directly next to his wild dog's ear. "Fangs and claws are great, but once we find you your wings, you'll be able to take to the skies with me and see the world as I do. From on top."

When Octavian spoke, it was hard for Santino not to hang onto every word like it was gospel. He'd heard the stories, he'd seen what had been made of his Archdruid now. Exiled because he had done what he thought was necessary. Perhaps that was why he was so easy to forgive. Because, at the end of the day, he'd known deep down that Octavian wouldn't have done what he did under normal circumstances. It had just...happened. But there was no real reason to dwell on a past that didn't exist. No, instead of that, Santino would do exactly what he asked of the Archdruid. He wanted to be stronger because he wanted that power that he'd been gifted. If Octavian had seen something in him before, he wasn't going to let himself get caught slacking now. "I know you wouldn't." The words were said with absolute confidence in the man standing before him. "I told you about me before and I'll make it clear again. I'll do anything to make sure I don't end up where everyone in my childhood told me I belong. I deserve better than that." Considering their closeness and the other's grip on his chin, he let his finger point at the Archdruid's chest to express just how serious his words were. "You wanted me to be your wild dog. Time to take me off the leash."

[octavianrising]

❂🐦❂

"Well, don't say I've never given you anything. You're free to make your own choices, no matter how mistaken they may be." Dionaeia lacked a warrior's resolve. Her strength was wasted on her and Octavian remembered what it was to pity that fact. Now, he couldn't even manage disappointment. Octavian's entire outlook on his place in the world had shifted, and he and his siblings no longer owed anything to each other. "If you did, I would tell you to let it go. You're in no state to be concerned with anything but yourself. Your ability to detach may actually end up being your saving grace," he shares freely and plainly as if the words themselves were of little consequence. In a way they weren't, just the ramblings of a relic who saw the world around him as something to burn on a whim. "Unlike you, there are people in Rome who depend on me. Or my presence at the very least. Until I ensure my acolytes are safe from persecution within the Pyramid, I will remain close while respecting the Senate's exile. Believe it or not, but I do care about them," Octavian responds, weaving half-truths, lies, and omissions with expert skill. He pauses, looking out into space with a genuinely forlorn expression. "Have you seen Lucretia recently?"

“Ohhhh, a gloomy off-putting warning for me? I feel special,” Dionaeia comments with a roll of her eyes as her gaze slides away from her surroundings and upon Octavian. She had wanted to visit Valamir, but once she had sensed Octavian’s presence, she had known her plans had changed. She could see Valamir another day, but she needed to see if Octavian knew anything of— Of it. Of Oztalun’s return. The grief that had weighed on her since his death is gone, and she knows he has returned. And yet— And yet their father had failed to contact them, and there is a dread rising on her chest as she wonders what vessel he is using. She has checked on her siblings despite the tensions, and neither Nettelia nor Aren had felt differently or acted as him, so for a moment she had thought he had chosen Octavian. It had left her with a mix of dread and hope unlike any other, because at the end, she didn’t want it. She didn’t want Oztalun to take her body when she was barely learning who she was, but despite everything, she didn’t want that fate for Octavian. Even if she didn’t know if she would ever call him brother again, even if she could still see his eyes as he chose to kill her.

“Why would I tell you if I do?” She scoffs, even as she carefully notes Octavian’s warnings. He isn’t one for empty words, and while his continued presence could be chalked to his unhealthy obsession with the Etruscan druids and the Roman Empire, after everything, she can’t stop thinking that there must be something else she is not seeing. What a terrifying thought. “And if you enjoyed your leave so much,” she continued coldly. “Perhaps you should take an extended one. If not for yourself, for your acolytes and Lucretia.”