Octavia Blake (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
okteiviakom) wrote2020-05-30 04:17 pm
okteiviakom) wrote2020-05-30 04:17 pm
Entry tags:
The Woods, Saturday FT
It didn't take Octavia long at all to realize she was being followed. The woods were quiet, and he wasn't being as sneaky as he maybe thought he was. She let him tail her and Helios for a bit, before dismounting and hiding behind the trees until he'd crept closer. Close enough for her to jump him, put a knife to his throat.
"Why are you following me?"
Ilian drew a careful breath. "You won't survive out here alone," he said, slowly turning his head to face her. "Let me help you."
Help her?
"You've helped enough," Octavia spat out, letting the hand that held the knife drop down. He wasn't a threat, he was just a fool. She climbed back onto Helios. Didn't even bother asking how he was even here. It was pretty obvious Kane had cut him loose after she'd ran, probably.
"You spared my life," Ilian said, looking up at her. "I owe you."
Octavia swallowed hard. "I don't want anything from you."
The sky had been dark for a while, and now thunder rolled above them. Octavia looked up, felt a few droplets fall onto her skin - and felt them burn. Judging by the little hiss from Ilian, she wasn't alone in that. "Tripi rein..." he murmured.
Octavia stared up at the sky, pulling her hood up. Black rain. "Get on," she said without a second thought. Then, when Ilian seemed too confused to respond, she snapped, "Now!" and extended her hand down for him. Got him moving.
Told him to cover himself, as she urged Helios into a wild gallop through the woods.
-----
It was the same cave Octavia had used as a hideout with Indra, which meant she wasn't the only one who knew where it was. But that didn't matter. Wasn't as if anyone was going to come looking for either of them while it was raining water that burned. It had soaked through her cape and her clothes before they'd made it to the cave, and she was burning all over. She tore off everything she could, then fell to her knees by the little pond of fresh water to rinse off the rain. To put out what felt like tiny fires all across her skin.
Beside her, Ilian did the same, gasping and cursing.
"The black rain, what does it mean?" he asked, once the worst of it had been dealt with.
Octavia wished he'd just kept rinsing himself off instead of wasting his breath. "It means we're stuck in here until the storm passes," she told him grimly. "Doesn't mean we need to talk." She splashed one last handful of water over her face, then got to her feet. "I need to wash off my horse." Got her cape, tossed it in the water to soak it. It'd make scrubbing Helios easier. "Why don't you make a fire?" she drawled. "You're good at that."
They were stuck here together. Didn't mean she had to be nice.
-----
The storm showed no signs of abating. Octavia had made sure Helios was comfortable, then rinsed all her clothes and spread them out to dry by the fire, where she was also now sitting, clad in very little and caring about it even less. She was sharpening her knife. It was the only weapon she had on her, now. The sword she'd been using had gotten left behind on the cliff when Echo had stabbed her, the same with her other knife.
Felt right, somehow. She was running out of weapons the same as she was running out of -- everything else.
And yet Ilian still hadn't gotten the message about not trying to talk to her. "Where will you go, when the storm passes?" he asked. Waited for an answer that never came, and seemed unbothered by it. "I don't know, either. If I go home, I'll see their faces everywhere. In everything."
Octavia stared down at her feet. Between them on the ground was her phone. She'd taken it out of the jacket before washing her clothes. And now it was just... there. Reminding her she couldn't go back. Reminding her of all the stupid texts she would never be able to send again, all the pictures porgs and the drunken voicemails.
Reminding her she was stuck in a dying world.
And all the while Ilian kept talking. His voice was soft again, and Octavia thought that should've made her feel something.
It didn't.
"The windmill I helped my father build to grind the corn for the sheep," he was saying. "The room I shared with my brother. The fence -- the fence I tied my mother to... before I cut off her fingers. Before I cut my father's throat. Before I cut my brother's throat."
"Go home, Ilian," Octavia told him, abruptly, without looking over. "You're not a murderer. You feel the way you're supposed to feel after you take a life." Now, she looked at him. "I feel nothing." And away. "Now go back to your stupid sheep."
But now he was looking at her. She could see him out of the corner of her eye, shaking his head. "I don't believe you," he said. "I saw the pain in your face when you aimed that gun at my head."
"We're done talking," she told him flatly.
But he didn't listen. "You may not want to feel it, but it's there."
Octavia shut her eyes tightly. "I should've pulled the trigger."
"Why didn't you?"
Why hadn't she? "Just shut up."
"You think you're a killer, but you couldn't kill me," he went on, soft and kind and relentless. "Whatever escape from the pain you were looking for wasn't there anymore." As if he knew what he was talking about. "I told you my sad story. Tell me yours." He paused. "What made you like this?"
Octavia sprang to her feet, dropping the knife. "Just shut up!" she yelled, then dropped to her knees, staring into the fire.
Ilian moved closer, knelt by her side. Dropped his voice lower. Even softer, almost a whisper. "I think the person you were before this happened," he said, "is still in there."
But there was nothing in her but pain.
She raised her gaze from the flames, and saw the entrance to the cave. It was still raining, black rain just pouring down, ready to burn anything it came to contact with with radiation. "You're wrong," Octavia murmured as she got to her feet - and began walking, towards the entrance. It would take a while, before the rain would burn her body down, but she was okay with that. It was still pain that had an ending, pain that would end her instead of just making her wish it would. She spread her arms out as she was about to step out of the cave.
And then there were arms around her waist, yanking her roughly back, dragging her away from her release. She tried to claw at the rocks by the entrance, tried to kick out, to violently flail her way out of Ilian's grasp.
"No! I need this! Let me go! I need this to happen, I need to feel something!"
But Ilian dragged her all the way back. Shoved her to the back of the cave, and when she lunged at him with a punch and tried to run past him, he wrestled her into the ground and used the weight of his body to keep her there, his hands pressing her wrists into the dirt. Crying, she begged him to let her go, but he wouldn't. He just stayed where he was, crouched over her.
His face inches away from hers.
On a desperate impulse, she leaned up and pressed her lips to his.
He backed off, sat back on his heels, then pushed up to his feet, staring at her as she pushed herself up on her elbows. He'd kept her from walking into the rain, but he wouldn't give her this? Her voice sounded more broken than it had any right to. "Just make me feel something else." She saw confusion and pity in his eyes as she got back on her feet, and he spoke her name like he was still trying to calm her down when she stepped up close to him. But he didn't try to stop her when she went to kiss him again, or when she pushed him back against the wall, or when she pressed her body tight against his.
And he didn't say a single disparaging word when she abruptly stopped. She'd gone through all the motions, clothes had come off, hurried hands had done their work, and then -- She just couldn't, a roiling mass of guilt just suddenly eating her up from the inside. It was a useless, ridiculous, irrational thing - she was never getting back home, never ever, never never never so what did it matter what she did here? - and yet it was overwhelming.
(She'd asked to feel things. Well, here she was, feeling things.)
Ilian didn't say anything. He just pulled her in, tight against the warmth of his chest.
And she didn't stop him.
-----
It was finally light outside again when Octavia woke up. Quiet. Ilian was coming back from the cave entrance, putting his shirt back on. "Storm's over," Octavia said, almost just to say something. That was a new urge. Or an old one, making a return.
Ilian nodded. "Yeah."
Octavia nodded too, but mostly to herself, reaching for her shoes. "You have somewhere to go now?"
"I'm going home," he said, and Octavia was surprised to find herself vaguely, faintly disappointed. What did she care where he was going, that he'd figured it out and wasn't drifting like she was, anymore? "Back to my stupid sheep." Off her little snort, he added, "Walk into the setting sun, and you'll find it."
Then he shrugged.
"Or don't."
He got his things, and then she watched him walk away. He paused by Helios to give him a pat, and then he was gone. Octavia stared after him for a long moment. Then she, too, got her things off the ground. The phone, which she dutifully pocketed, and her knife. And then she stopped to look at the knife, except she wasn't really looking at it, more through it. Past it.
She tried to imagine a farm. Something peaceful, away from everything else, away from everyone else.
(Like a spot in the preserve.)
(Like a ship in the middle of the sea.)
The knife made a quiet splash as it fell into the pond.
-----
Ilian was on foot, Octavia was on horseback; it didn't take her long at all to catch up to him.
He didn't look entirely surprised to see her. "Get on," she said. "I'll take you home."
She held out her hand for him, and he took it.
[ooc: NFB, NFI. Taken with tweakage from The 100 S4 episode 7. CONTENT WARNING for attempted suicide. Post 1 of 2 for today.]
"Why are you following me?"
Ilian drew a careful breath. "You won't survive out here alone," he said, slowly turning his head to face her. "Let me help you."
Help her?
"You've helped enough," Octavia spat out, letting the hand that held the knife drop down. He wasn't a threat, he was just a fool. She climbed back onto Helios. Didn't even bother asking how he was even here. It was pretty obvious Kane had cut him loose after she'd ran, probably.
"You spared my life," Ilian said, looking up at her. "I owe you."
Octavia swallowed hard. "I don't want anything from you."
The sky had been dark for a while, and now thunder rolled above them. Octavia looked up, felt a few droplets fall onto her skin - and felt them burn. Judging by the little hiss from Ilian, she wasn't alone in that. "Tripi rein..." he murmured.
Octavia stared up at the sky, pulling her hood up. Black rain. "Get on," she said without a second thought. Then, when Ilian seemed too confused to respond, she snapped, "Now!" and extended her hand down for him. Got him moving.
Told him to cover himself, as she urged Helios into a wild gallop through the woods.
It was the same cave Octavia had used as a hideout with Indra, which meant she wasn't the only one who knew where it was. But that didn't matter. Wasn't as if anyone was going to come looking for either of them while it was raining water that burned. It had soaked through her cape and her clothes before they'd made it to the cave, and she was burning all over. She tore off everything she could, then fell to her knees by the little pond of fresh water to rinse off the rain. To put out what felt like tiny fires all across her skin.
Beside her, Ilian did the same, gasping and cursing.
"The black rain, what does it mean?" he asked, once the worst of it had been dealt with.
Octavia wished he'd just kept rinsing himself off instead of wasting his breath. "It means we're stuck in here until the storm passes," she told him grimly. "Doesn't mean we need to talk." She splashed one last handful of water over her face, then got to her feet. "I need to wash off my horse." Got her cape, tossed it in the water to soak it. It'd make scrubbing Helios easier. "Why don't you make a fire?" she drawled. "You're good at that."
They were stuck here together. Didn't mean she had to be nice.
The storm showed no signs of abating. Octavia had made sure Helios was comfortable, then rinsed all her clothes and spread them out to dry by the fire, where she was also now sitting, clad in very little and caring about it even less. She was sharpening her knife. It was the only weapon she had on her, now. The sword she'd been using had gotten left behind on the cliff when Echo had stabbed her, the same with her other knife.
Felt right, somehow. She was running out of weapons the same as she was running out of -- everything else.
And yet Ilian still hadn't gotten the message about not trying to talk to her. "Where will you go, when the storm passes?" he asked. Waited for an answer that never came, and seemed unbothered by it. "I don't know, either. If I go home, I'll see their faces everywhere. In everything."
Octavia stared down at her feet. Between them on the ground was her phone. She'd taken it out of the jacket before washing her clothes. And now it was just... there. Reminding her she couldn't go back. Reminding her of all the stupid texts she would never be able to send again, all the pictures porgs and the drunken voicemails.
Reminding her she was stuck in a dying world.
And all the while Ilian kept talking. His voice was soft again, and Octavia thought that should've made her feel something.
It didn't.
"The windmill I helped my father build to grind the corn for the sheep," he was saying. "The room I shared with my brother. The fence -- the fence I tied my mother to... before I cut off her fingers. Before I cut my father's throat. Before I cut my brother's throat."
"Go home, Ilian," Octavia told him, abruptly, without looking over. "You're not a murderer. You feel the way you're supposed to feel after you take a life." Now, she looked at him. "I feel nothing." And away. "Now go back to your stupid sheep."
But now he was looking at her. She could see him out of the corner of her eye, shaking his head. "I don't believe you," he said. "I saw the pain in your face when you aimed that gun at my head."
"We're done talking," she told him flatly.
But he didn't listen. "You may not want to feel it, but it's there."
Octavia shut her eyes tightly. "I should've pulled the trigger."
"Why didn't you?"
Why hadn't she? "Just shut up."
"You think you're a killer, but you couldn't kill me," he went on, soft and kind and relentless. "Whatever escape from the pain you were looking for wasn't there anymore." As if he knew what he was talking about. "I told you my sad story. Tell me yours." He paused. "What made you like this?"
Octavia sprang to her feet, dropping the knife. "Just shut up!" she yelled, then dropped to her knees, staring into the fire.
Ilian moved closer, knelt by her side. Dropped his voice lower. Even softer, almost a whisper. "I think the person you were before this happened," he said, "is still in there."
But there was nothing in her but pain.
She raised her gaze from the flames, and saw the entrance to the cave. It was still raining, black rain just pouring down, ready to burn anything it came to contact with with radiation. "You're wrong," Octavia murmured as she got to her feet - and began walking, towards the entrance. It would take a while, before the rain would burn her body down, but she was okay with that. It was still pain that had an ending, pain that would end her instead of just making her wish it would. She spread her arms out as she was about to step out of the cave.
And then there were arms around her waist, yanking her roughly back, dragging her away from her release. She tried to claw at the rocks by the entrance, tried to kick out, to violently flail her way out of Ilian's grasp.
"No! I need this! Let me go! I need this to happen, I need to feel something!"
But Ilian dragged her all the way back. Shoved her to the back of the cave, and when she lunged at him with a punch and tried to run past him, he wrestled her into the ground and used the weight of his body to keep her there, his hands pressing her wrists into the dirt. Crying, she begged him to let her go, but he wouldn't. He just stayed where he was, crouched over her.
His face inches away from hers.
On a desperate impulse, she leaned up and pressed her lips to his.
He backed off, sat back on his heels, then pushed up to his feet, staring at her as she pushed herself up on her elbows. He'd kept her from walking into the rain, but he wouldn't give her this? Her voice sounded more broken than it had any right to. "Just make me feel something else." She saw confusion and pity in his eyes as she got back on her feet, and he spoke her name like he was still trying to calm her down when she stepped up close to him. But he didn't try to stop her when she went to kiss him again, or when she pushed him back against the wall, or when she pressed her body tight against his.
And he didn't say a single disparaging word when she abruptly stopped. She'd gone through all the motions, clothes had come off, hurried hands had done their work, and then -- She just couldn't, a roiling mass of guilt just suddenly eating her up from the inside. It was a useless, ridiculous, irrational thing - she was never getting back home, never ever, never never never so what did it matter what she did here? - and yet it was overwhelming.
(She'd asked to feel things. Well, here she was, feeling things.)
Ilian didn't say anything. He just pulled her in, tight against the warmth of his chest.
And she didn't stop him.
It was finally light outside again when Octavia woke up. Quiet. Ilian was coming back from the cave entrance, putting his shirt back on. "Storm's over," Octavia said, almost just to say something. That was a new urge. Or an old one, making a return.
Ilian nodded. "Yeah."
Octavia nodded too, but mostly to herself, reaching for her shoes. "You have somewhere to go now?"
"I'm going home," he said, and Octavia was surprised to find herself vaguely, faintly disappointed. What did she care where he was going, that he'd figured it out and wasn't drifting like she was, anymore? "Back to my stupid sheep." Off her little snort, he added, "Walk into the setting sun, and you'll find it."
Then he shrugged.
"Or don't."
He got his things, and then she watched him walk away. He paused by Helios to give him a pat, and then he was gone. Octavia stared after him for a long moment. Then she, too, got her things off the ground. The phone, which she dutifully pocketed, and her knife. And then she stopped to look at the knife, except she wasn't really looking at it, more through it. Past it.
She tried to imagine a farm. Something peaceful, away from everything else, away from everyone else.
(Like a spot in the preserve.)
(Like a ship in the middle of the sea.)
The knife made a quiet splash as it fell into the pond.
Ilian was on foot, Octavia was on horseback; it didn't take her long at all to catch up to him.
He didn't look entirely surprised to see her. "Get on," she said. "I'll take you home."
She held out her hand for him, and he took it.
[ooc: NFB, NFI. Taken with tweakage from The 100 S4 episode 7. CONTENT WARNING for attempted suicide. Post 1 of 2 for today.]