Stolas slowly opens his four red eyes- blinking away heavy sleep as he starts to sit up. He sighs gently, putting a hand on his feathered head, making a bird-like chitter as he glances outside- noting that it was just barely the break of dawn. The red sun of Hell- which was also Purgatory- was a black sphere with a glowing red pentagram across it that illuminated the deep red sky with a cascade of warm color. The streets of the Pride Ring were as normal: screams of pain, moans of pleasure, gunfire, car crashes, and the occasional explosion.

Stolas groans groggily- laying back down on the couch of Blitzø’s apartment, which was covered in all sorts of horse memorabilia- given that Blitzø loved horses. Maybe a little too much. Stolas wore some of Loona’s old clothes- a red sweater and blue shorts. His feathers were messy and unkempt, his tail a cacophony of black and blue feathers. He sighed once more, shifting to lay a slender black feathered hand across his chest- staring up at the ceiling in mindless thought.

His mind as a whirlwind from the recent events: his demotion to a commoner for the next century, his powers and grimoire taken, and his reputation shattered amongst both the Ars Goetia and the demons he once ruled over as a prince. But what hurt most of all was not just the fact that he was poor and actually had to work to survive, it was that Octavia didn’t want him around…that she thought he didn’t love her. He did. More than anything.

Without thinking, Stolas grabs his phone- checking to see if he got any calls, messages, or even emails from Octavia…only to find nothing. He squeezes his phone in frustration, before setting it back down on the stand beside the couch- laying his head back against the pillow.

“…Ngh…couldn’t I have woken up later?” He muttered to himself quietly, his British accent mixing with his soft-spoken, flamboyant tone to create his pleasant voice. He shifted his head to the side- his beak resting against the pillow as his head feathers that make up his ‘hair’ rustle.

No matter how he shifted or turned, he couldn’t get rid of that weird, whirlpool-like feeling in his stomach. His mind kept flashing back to Blitzo, to Satan and the courtroom, to Andrealphus’ smug smirk- which he had punched off the other day after trying to see Octavia and nearly dying in the process…thankfully IMP and Octavia came just in time to save him from Andrealphus. But Octavia telling him goodbye…that hurt worse than any form of death.