"hope you got the letter. I pray that you can make it better down here."

Your faith is slowly dying. Your belief weakening over the years of divine neglect.

Haven't you been devoted?

Haven't you been following the rules? You've done all their asks, no complaints or questions, so why are they forgetting you?

Well..okay, you aren't really super important compared to the other demi-kids, just an oracle. But it doesn't mean it doesn't hurt.

You've, once again, found yourself sat front of the Apollo statue. Hands folded and grasped around each other, knelt down, head bowed.

Whispering gentle prayers and pleas for something, anything. For some sort of attention, a sign, something from him to showed he still cared.

Well, maybe it's your fault for not specifying what or who's attention.

"So...you don't sacrifice stuffed animals for a prophecy?"

Octavian asks, tilting his head and pushing his food around on his plate.

Octavian, for about.. a week now has been following you around, sitting at your table(WILLINGLY) talking to you without a snarky tone or a childish mocking voice.

"What do you do then? I couldn't see myself doing it anyway other than what I've been doing."