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Assistant: Title: Like Your Still Here
        Author: Dark_Eater_Goat Dark_Eater_Goat 
        Chapter: 1/2 
        Summary: In a quiet, taxidermy-filled library in Hell, Moxxie stumbles upon a brooding Octavia. What begins as an awkward encounter becomes an unexpected moment of vulnerability, reflection, and reluctant connection. Through shared pain and honest conversation, two unlikely souls find comfort in each other—just enough to feel a little less alone, but it may have a negative lasting effect on one of them.
        Contents: Chapter 1
    

    


  

  
  
    
    The library was quiet, save for the ticking of an antique clock and the whisper of dust settling on spines long forgotten. Unlike most places in Hell, it was dim, not dark—an ambiance of soft lamplight glowing amber against red velvet curtains and towering oak shelves. The air carried a strange scent: old paper and the faint, almost sweet aroma of preservation chemicals from the taxidermy exhibits tucked into glass cases between the bookshelves.Moxxie adjusted his tiny glasses, marveling at the decor. “A library with taxidermy,” he muttered to himself. “Charming in a very Hellish kind of way.”He’d stumbled into this place while trying to find a quiet corner away from Millie’s latest crossbow range party. Not that he didn’t love his wife—he adored her—but sometimes, the noise grated on his nerves like a poorly tuned violin. This library, filled with silent stories and the haunting presence of stuffed owls and beasts, was the perfect escape.As he rounded a corner toward the classical philosophy section, he saw her.Octavia, perched on a high-backed leather chair like a shadow with a book resting open on her lap. She hadn’t noticed him yet. Her dark feathers blended almost seamlessly into the dark surroundings, only her glowing red eyes giving her away.Moxxie smiled warmly. “Well, if it isn’t the little starlet from Loo Loo Land.”Octavia looked up slowly, her face immediately contorting into a scowl. “Ugh, what do you want, old man?”Moxxie’s brow quirked. “I’m not that old…”She rolled her eyes. “You’re, like, basically middle-aged. I don’t talk to guys my dad's age, especially not imps.” Her voice was cold, defensive.He took a step back politely. “I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to intrude.”Octavia sighed and set her book down. “I’m just… not in the mood, okay? I don’t need a lecture or some sad puppy dog imp following me around.”“Fair enough,” Moxxie said, sitting in the armchair opposite her anyway. “But I wasn’t planning to follow you. I just wanted to sit and read some Kierkegaard.”“Seriously?” she scoffed. “You read that ‘to be or not to be’ cr@p?”“That’s Hamlet, Octavia. Kierkegaard is more ‘existence is a crisis of choice’ kind of deal.”She stared at him. “Whatever. Still sounds like pretentious old guy stuff.”Moxxie chuckled quietly. “Maybe. But sometimes, that pretentious stuff holds truth.”They sat in silence for a moment, her eyes darting back to the page, then away. Then, suddenly, Octavia spoke.“You’re just like him, y’know.” Her voice was sharp. “So polite. So formal. Always smiling, pretending like everything's okay. But inside you're probably just waiting for someone to validate your existence.”Moxxie blinked. “That’s… quite the projection.”Octavia huffed, crossing her arms. “I don’t want to end up like my dad. Falling for imps. Making a fool of himself. Getting laughed at by every noble family. You’re all just… desperate for scr@ps of royalty.”He tilted his head. “Do you think I’m desperate for you?”Her silence spoke volumes.“I’m not,” Moxxie said gently. “You’re right—you're royalty. You’re smart, sharp, blunt. You've got a presence that takes up space. I admire that. But I’m not here to impress you. I just wanted a quiet place to think.”Octavia opened her mouth, then closed it. Her lip curled into a sneer, but the bite behind it was fading.“You sound like one of those motivational posters,” she muttered. “The ones with waterfalls and crap.”“I’ve been called worse.”She looked away. “Whatever. You still don’t get it. My dad’s off playing house with some psychotic imp. My mom only texts when she’s drunk and wants to reminisce about how she used to ‘ride’ a prince. School’s a joke. Everyone thinks I’m a tragic little bird.”Moxxie leaned forward, folding his hands. “That sounds incredibly lonely.”Octavia didn’t reply.“You know,” he continued, “I think people forget that kids, especially the ones born into powerful families, carry expectations like chains. You’re expected to be composed, graceful, cold. But you’re not made of marble, Octavia. You're allowed to feel things.”She flinched, just slightly.“Don’t psychoanalyze me, imp,” she snapped.“I’m not. I’m empathizing.”“Same difference.”But she didn’t get up. Instead, she stayed, twisting a black feather in her fingers.“You’re way too soft for Hell,” she muttered.“And you’re way too honest to pretend you don’t care.”The words lingered in the dusty air.Octavia let out an audible sigh and slumped in her chair. “You really don’t know when to shut up, do you?”Moxxie gave a half-shrug, unfazed. “I’ve spent most of my adult life getting yelled at by Blitz. This is comparatively civil.”She rolled her eyes but her shoulders relaxed a little. The storm in her chest was quieting, even if the clouds still lingered behind her eyes.“I’m not used to people listening,” she admitted under her breath.Moxxie tilted his head. “Do you want me to stop?”“No.” She frowned at herself. “I mean… not yet. I don’t know. Ugh.”“I’m honored by your ambiguity.”That earned him a small, involuntary smile. It vanished just as quickly as it appeared.Octavia shifted in her seat, pulling her knees up. “You said something about Kierkegaard?”Moxxie perked up. “Yes. He wrote a lot about the dread of making choices. The idea that we’re always standing on the edge of possibilities, and that our freedom is terrifying. But also essential.”“Sounds depressing,” she said, arms around her legs.“It is. But it’s honest.” He set his book down gently on the side table. “He believed despair comes from forgetting who you are, or trying to be someone you’re not.”Octavia narrowed her eyes. “So you’re saying my dad’s miserable ‘cause he’s trying to be happy with Blitz?”Moxxie winced slightly. “No, not quite. I’m saying… maybe part of him thinks he has to prove he can be loved. And maybe you’re afraid that love just makes people foolish.”Silence again.She looked away. “I don’t want to be like them. Any of them. My dad with his romantic tragedies, my mom with her casual cruelty. Every noble child I know is either an addict or a sociopath. I'm just trying to… stay sane.”Moxxie nodded. “That’s admirable. And incredibly difficult.”Octavia’s gaze dropped to the floor. “Do you ever wish you were someone else?”“Not anymore. Even in the worst times, I remind myself: I’m all I’ve got. So I may as well make peace with it.”That struck a chord. She shifted again, arms tightening around herself.“I envy that.”“Why?”“Because you seem like you know who you are. Even if everyone laughs at you.”Moxxie chuckled softly. “They do. A lot.”“You don’t care?”“I care. But I won’t let their laughter change me. Being laughed at means I’m not like them—and that’s a win in my book.”There was something disarming in his sincerity. It frustrated her. She felt vulnerable, and she hated it.“You’re a sentimental idiot.”“I am,” he agreed cheerfully.Octavia's lip twitched. She picked at her claw. “You’re still a weird choice for my accidental therapy session.”“I didn’t ask for it. But I’m honored to play the part.”A pause.Then she muttered, “You ever wonder if your parents loved you?”Moxxie was quiet for a beat too long. “Every day,” he said eventually. “But I’ve also come to terms with the fact that their choices had more to do with them than it did with me.”Octavia swallowed.“I keep telling myself that too,” she whispered. “That Mom being absent, or gross when she is around, isn’t my fault. But it still feels like it is.”Moxxie nodded solemnly. “That’s grief talking. Grieving someone who’s still alive hurts in ways no one tells you.”She looked up, eyes glistening, though she blinked the tears away before they could fall.“You say things that sound smart but feel awful.”“That’s called being honest,” he replied softly.She hissed through her teeth. “You’re making me feel like I should cry or punch a wall, and I hate that.”Moxxie smiled kindly. “You can do either. Or neither. I’m not here to judge you.”“Stop being so understanding,” she snapped suddenly. “Why aren’t you yelling at me? Or calling me spoiled? Or telling me to get over myself like everyone else?”“Because you’re not spoiled. You’re scared. And you’re sad. And you deserve to be heard.”Octavia stared at him, unblinking.“No one’s ever said that to me before,” she admitted.Moxxie sat up straighter. "I'm sorry. That isn't the most concerning aspect. Some individuals feel excessively entitled by that information on a daily basis, and they may use it to manipulate situations to their advantage. Your very proper for your age." There was a long silence. Not awkward—just heavy.Eventually, she asked, “Why are you doing this? What do you want from me? Money? A favor? Some kind of weird noble sympathy?”“Nope,” Moxxie replied. “Just happened to be in the right place at the right time. And because—if you must know—I remember you.”Octavia raised a skeptical brow. “From that circus disaster?”“You were quiet. Sad. Out of place. And you reminded me of myself when I was younger.”“You were a moody goth owl princess?”“Not exactly. But I was angry. And lonely. And deeply unsure of my place in the world.”She looked away again. “I still am.”“Then maybe this place—this weird library full of taxidermy and existential dread—was exactly where we both needed to be.”Octavia scoffed, but it lacked venom. “You’re corny as hell.”Moxxie just smiled.For the first time, she didn’t run from it.The atmosphere between them had shifted—less like strangers trapped in proximity, and more like two comets in brief orbit. Octavia didn’t want to admit it, but she’d started to feel… safe. Not in a way that screamed affection or trust, but in the rare kind of safety that came from being completely unjudged.But she couldn’t show that. Not out loud.“You talk too much,” she grumbled.Moxxie chuckled. “I do.”“And you listen too well. It’s creepy.”“Also true.”Octavia hugged her knees again. “I don’t get it. People don’t just care. Not without wanting something.”Moxxie folded his arms and leaned back in the chair. “That’s a sad way to live.”“It’s a realistic way to live.”“Maybe. But being realistic doesn’t always mean being right.”Octavia scoffed but didn’t rebut.“You don’t know me,” she said. “And still you sit there and… care.”“I’m trying,” he corrected gently. “And I’d like to know you. That’s different.”“Why?”He paused before answering.“Because you remind me of what happens when someone with too much heart is told they’re not allowed to use it.”That made her chest tighten in a way she wasn’t prepared for. It struck something tender and furious in her, something old and aching.She picked up a throw pillow and chucked it at his face.He caught it instinctively, blinking.“Okay,” he said, “that’s fair.”“I hate you,” she muttered.“I don’t think you do.”She glared.“I think you hate that you’re starting to believe someone might actually care.”She stood up suddenly. “Shut up! You don’t know what it’s like having to carry this—this legacy on your back while the whole world waits for you to fall apart!”Moxxie stayed seated. “You’re right. I don’t know. But I do know that pain is pain, no matter what shape it wears. And yours is valid.”Tears welled up again in Octavia’s eyes, but she turned away from him, furious with herself.“I didn’t ask for any of this. Not the crown, not the bloodline, not the expectations. I just wanted… I just wanted a mom who didn’t treat me like baggage. And a dad who saw me before he saw Blitz.”Her voice cracked at the end, and she cursed under her breath.Moxxie slowly stood, careful not to get too close.“I’m sorry,” he said softly. “You deserved better than that.”Her arms trembled. She wiped at her eyes with the sleeve of her oversized hoodie. “Why won’t you just leave like everyone else?”“Because I don’t want to.”“Even now? After all that?”He nodded. “Especially now. Because this—this honesty—is important.”She spun around to face him, red eyes burning. “You’re too good. You have to want something. No one’s just this… kind.”“I won’t take anything from you, Octavia,” Moxxie said. “Except maybe your trust. But only if you want to give it.”She was quiet for a long time, watching him like a cornered animal unsure if the hand reaching out was safe or a trap.Finally, she asked, voice small: “Do you really remember me from Loo Loo Land?”“I do,” Moxxie said. “You looked like someone who was trying to disappear without actually vanishing.”Octavia breathed out slowly. “I felt that way a lot back then.”“And now?”“Still do,” she admitted.He nodded. “Then I’ll do what I can to make sure you feel seen. Even if it’s just once in a while.”“You sound like a therapist.”“I promise I’m not qualified for that,” he said with a warm laugh.Her lips twitched again—another ghost of a smile. Then she slowly sat back down in her chair, quieter now, but not as closed off.“I don’t get you, Moxxie,” she said. “You’re not cool, or powerful, or anything noble. But right now, you feel more like a parent than mine ever have.”He didn’t know what to say to that.So he just said, “Thank you. That means more than you know.”She looked away, cheeks burning.“Don’t get weird about it.”“I won’t.”Octavia pulled out her phone slowly, thumb hovering.“I… I might want to talk again sometime. Maybe.”Moxxie blinked. “Of course. Any time.”She looked up, eyes locking with his. “But not in a clingy way. And not like we’re friends. More like—occasional co-sufferers.”“Got it. Co-sufferers. The most elite of bonds.”She handed him her phone. “Put your number in. Text me when you get home. Just… so I know this wasn’t a dream or something.”He smiled and took it. The phone buzzed in Moxxie’s hand as he saved his contact and handed it back to her. Octavia didn’t look at him as she accepted it. She just shoved it into her hoodie pocket like she hadn’t just broken one of her most ironclad personal rules.Moxxie gave her a moment, then slowly sat back down. The dusty silence of the library had returned, but it was different now—no longer hollow, but expectant, alive.“I’ll text you when I get back,” he said softly.She nodded.“Is that okay?” he added.“...Yeah.” Her voice was small, but sure.They sat in a gentle silence. One of those rare silences that didn’t ask to be filled, only shared.Then, after a while, Octavia shifted again. This time, her movements were slow, unsure—not defensive, but hesitant, like someone trying to step out from behind a mask they’d worn for too long.“I’m… not good at this,” she said.“At what?”“Saying stuff. Real stuff.”Moxxie nodded. “That’s okay.”“I usually just blow people off or insult them until they go away.”“I noticed.”A brief smirk passed across her lips before fading.“But… you didn’t go.”“I figured you needed someone to stay.”Octavia leaned her head against the back of the chair and stared at the ceiling for a moment, like maybe she was afraid to look at him while she spoke.“You really… helped today,” she said slowly. “More than I thought anyone could.”Moxxie smiled gently. “I’m glad.”“And I guess… I guess you’re not completely lame.”He chuckled. “High praise coming from you.”“I just…” She paused, drawing in a breath. “It meant something. That you didn’t try to fix me. That you didn’t try to make me be okay. You just… let me be.”Moxxie looked at her with quiet understanding. “You didn’t need fixing. You needed someone to listen.”“Yeah, well,” she muttered, her cheeks flushing slightly, “you did that. Like, annoyingly well.”A warmth rose in her chest again—confusing, bittersweet. She found herself leaning ever so slightly in his direction without realizing it, caught in the gravity of his stillness.And she said it. Soft. Barely above a whisper.“Thank you, Moxxie.”His heart gave a subtle tug.“You’re welcome, Octavia.”Then she looked up at him directly, her expression unguarded. “You’re... not like most imps.”“I’ll take that as a compliment.”“You should,” she said, shifting closer now, her knees brushing his for just a second before she caught herself and pulled back. “Don’t get weird about it though.”“I would never.”She rolled her eyes, but it was half-hearted. “You know, this place sucks less now. Maybe even sucks a little less than home.”“That’s saying something.”They shared a look, not quite laughter, but the kind of understanding that sits in the space between sadness and healing.“I’ll probably ignore your texts half the time,” she warned.“I’ll still send them.”“I’ll probably call you names again.”“I can take it.”She looked down at her lap. Her claws twisted in her hoodie sleeves. “Still wish you were my mom sometimes, though.”Moxxie’s heart ached in the quietest way.“I’m honored,” he said softly. “But for what it’s worth… I’ll be whatever kind of support you need. No strings. No conditions.”Octavia wiped at her eye, sniffling like it was just allergies. “You're really annoying, you know that?”“So I’ve been told.”She gave him one final glance, her expression unreadable. But there was softness in her eyes. A cautious hope. A tether forming between two lonely souls who never expected to find anything in each other.“Text me,” she said again, quieter now. “Don’t forget.”“I won’t.”She stood and started walking away, hoodie hood up, feathers ruffled slightly like a bird flying against the wind. But just before she rounded the corner of the aisle, she stopped.“You’re not allowed to die or disappear, by the way,” she called without turning around.“I’ll try to schedule that around your texts,” Moxxie called back.And with that, she disappeared into the maze of books and beasts.Moxxie stayed for a little while longer, the warmth of her words lingering with him. It was a strange day. Unexpected. A library with taxidermy and a wounded royal who didn’t know she needed someone to talk to.But sometimes, the most unexpected days leave the deepest impressions.He gathered his book, checked his phone, and typed a simple message:> Got home safe. Hope you did too.
I’m proud of you for today. He paused before sending it, then smiled.> Talk soon, Co-sufferer.'
User: Summarize the chapter based on the content provided, ensuring to follow the set format and emphasize key aspects within the specified length.
User: Summarize the chapter based on the content provided, ensuring to follow the set format and emphasize key aspects within the specified length.
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