From the Beach to Lucifer's Mansion, Monday Morning

This wasn't the first time Octavia had ever woken up on a rocky shore, coughing up water and feeling battered and cold all over. But the familiarity didn't really do anything to make her more comfortable. The opposite, if anything.

Just like she supposed she should've been glad the island had at least seen fit to turn her back in the clothes she'd gone to bed in on Friday night, but it was hard to find any comfort in a soaked tank top and pajama pants clinging to your skin on a chilly morning in January.

Octavia clambered up on her feet - great, no shoes either - and looked around. Didn't take long for her to figure she was -- well, not right by where Lucifer's house was, but still much closer to it than she was to the port.

And several far too long moments later, she was outside the mansion. She banged on the front door, and muttered to herself, "You better not be at the Rouge."

She hadn't noticed the seaweed stuck in her hair, yet.

Or the way she was beginning to shake from the cold.

[ooc: Primarily for the two, unless you really want to cross paths with her on the trek from the beach!]