The Samsara, Port of Fandom, Thursday Noon

Octavia had spent most of yesterday cooped up on her boat, staring at the three red trunks that had been taking up most of the floor space. One had said THE BUNKER. Another, THE GORGE. The last one, THE VALLEY. That third one had had some intricately, lovingly painted flowers and trees all around the text.

Octavia hadn't really needed to check the little luggage tag on one of the handles to know it said THE FARM.

(She'd done it anyway.)

The trunks had made it difficult to move around the cabin, but that hadn't mattered much. Octavia had spent most of the day sitting on the edge of her bed, just staring at them. Letting their silent accusations sear themselves into her retinas.

The trunks and all the other bags in varying shades of red were gone now, but - post-breakfast barring any Jossing in SP - she was still here. Reading, now. Or pretending to herself that she was reading, even as her eyes passed over the same strings of letters over and over, not processing any of them.

Might as well have been still just seeing the trunks.

[ooc: Open, if you dare.]