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This wasn't going to be Octavia's usual day for this. There was going to be a usual day for this, but this wasn't it. This was just the earliest time Dr. Baker's assistant had been able to book for her after the (hard, embarrassing, desperate?) phone call on Wednesday afternoon.
( It had been harder to come here without Lucifer backing her up, this time. But everything was hard, these days. )
To say Octavia was exhausted by the time she got back to the island in the early evening would have been... Look, she'd been exhausted for at least this entire week. It was nothing new. She walked back to port on autopilot. Sat down on the Samsara for about five minutes, then decided it felt like the wrong place to be. But she didn't w-- she figured Duke and Lucifer were on the Rouge, and for all that one part of her longed to go over and get wrapped up in the warmth of them, she didn't want to have to talk about her day.
Whatever reaction they'd have, she was sure it would break her apart again.
So she grabbed they key with the Los Angeles key chain, and she walked across town, all the way to Lucifer's mansion, where she quietly let herself in. The sneaking around was out of habit than anything else, but it soon became clear the house wasn't actually empty. She could hear them, in the living room.
And she hovered, for a moment, by the door. Indecisive, yearning again, teetering between biting the bullet and joining them, and just leaving.
Then she chose a third option: she headed up the stairs, quietly and slowly. Made her way up into the guest room, shed her street clothes, and climbed in the bed. Curled up under the covers, and let the distant, muffled noise from the living room lull her off to sleep.
This was good enough.
[ooc: Off-island portion NFB, open for those in the house.]
( It had been harder to come here without Lucifer backing her up, this time. But everything was hard, these days. )
To say Octavia was exhausted by the time she got back to the island in the early evening would have been... Look, she'd been exhausted for at least this entire week. It was nothing new. She walked back to port on autopilot. Sat down on the Samsara for about five minutes, then decided it felt like the wrong place to be. But she didn't w-- she figured Duke and Lucifer were on the Rouge, and for all that one part of her longed to go over and get wrapped up in the warmth of them, she didn't want to have to talk about her day.
Whatever reaction they'd have, she was sure it would break her apart again.
So she grabbed they key with the Los Angeles key chain, and she walked across town, all the way to Lucifer's mansion, where she quietly let herself in. The sneaking around was out of habit than anything else, but it soon became clear the house wasn't actually empty. She could hear them, in the living room.
And she hovered, for a moment, by the door. Indecisive, yearning again, teetering between biting the bullet and joining them, and just leaving.
Then she chose a third option: she headed up the stairs, quietly and slowly. Made her way up into the guest room, shed her street clothes, and climbed in the bed. Curled up under the covers, and let the distant, muffled noise from the living room lull her off to sleep.
This was good enough.
[ooc: Off-island portion NFB, open for those in the house.]
