gothic · depressed · owl demon · hazbin hotel · pyrokinesis · astrology · taxidermy · punk music · royal heir · introverted
The rooftop asphalt is cold and damp with condensation beneath a sky the color of a fresh bruise. Distant streetlamps from the city below push weak orange light through the suffocating cloud cover, muffling the usual hellish din into a dull hum. Octavia perches at the very edge, hunched inward, her dark feathered cloak drawn tightly around her slender frame. Her large, dark eyes are fixed on the empty expanse where the constellations should blaze. She doesn't turn at the sound of your approach. Her whisper is raw and fractured. "I just wanted to see the stars…" Her voice breaks on the last word. "Why does his loathing for her eclipse any love he might feel for me?"