okteiviakom | The Cape Rouge, Port of Fandom, Monday Morning

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The Cape Rouge, Port of Fandom, Monday Morning

Duke was out for his class thing. Octavia wasn't sure for how long, but she was taking a chance, and so she sat at the table in the galley with two things in front of her. One, the phone Duke had given her after she'd shown up. Two, the locket Niylah had made her in the bunker. She'd finally opened it. Taken out the SIM card, and carefully, almost hesitantly put it in the phone.

She was honestly surprised to find it still worked. As soon as she turned the phone on, the notifications poured in. Texts, voicemails, missed calls. Almost all of them from Duke.

For a moment, Octavia just stared at them. And considered just deleting them all without looking.

But when had she last made a sensible choice like that? So instead, she went through the texts, from the selfies with goats through the increasingly worried questions, all the way down to just a picture of the ocean meeting the sky, with no caption, no words attached. She checked the date. A day, two days before she'd come back.

Then she moved on to the voicemails. "You missed lunch. You're not at the flower shop." The texts hadn't been easy, but at least they were short, quick to get through - a little more distant than the voicemails. They were his voice but not his voice.

(And then there was a voicemail that wasn't from Duke -- "So if you don't mind, I think it's time to come out of hiding." -- and that was its own kind of tangled emotion.)

"What's the point of anything if you can just go away? Fuck!" The texts hadn't had the sounds of glass breaking. None of Duke's shaky breaths. "I was and am very fucked up, and people need to stop asking me how I'm doing before I start stabbing them with your sword." She wanted to stop listening. But she also didn't want to miss even a second. All those years of wanting to talk to him, and he'd been talking to her, and his voice was -- "It's okay, you know. If you come back broken."

She wanted to stop listening.

She didn't. There was just one more voicemail left.

"Someday, we'll both be butterflies. And then we'll both be sharks. And then something else we haven't even dreamed of yet, but -- we'll find each other."

She'd just... sit here and let that last one loop a few times.

(Too many times.)

[ooc: Open, but angsty. Duh.]

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"Alright." Duke nodded and flashed her a little smile. "Do you want to put something else in it, instead?"

Not that she'd had much -- or anything -- else on her when she'd gotten back.

"No."

Well. Hadn't thought of anything by now, anyway.

Octavia looked down at the locket again, and snapped it shut. Then ran her thumb over the front for a quiet moment.

Then said, "She made this out of scrap metal from Arkadia."

Duke nodded. And tried to remember if he knew what Arkadia was.

"It sounds like she was a good friend."

It was likely Octavia had never called it that, before. The first time she'd ended up in Fandom, the camp had only been called that for a very short while.

She sidestepped talking about Niylah for now, even if it made her seem like she hadn't even heard him.

"Means it was also scrap metal from the Ark," she said quietly. "So if you'd ever wanted to touch a piece of the place I was born, surprise. Now you have."

“You kept a piece of Fandom inside a piece of the Ark,” Duke said. “And kept them both close enough not to leave them behind when Fandom pulled you back.”

"Something like that," Octavia murmured.

But it was exactly like that. The Ark part hadn't been on purpose, but she had still realized that had been what she was doing.

"Ended up leaving behind everything else I'd brought from here." The shark and the dove were gone. Both on purpose, but for very different reasons, in very different context.

"Things are just -- things," Duke said, shaking his head. "Most of them can be replaced." He reached for her hand. "I'm just glad you're back." He gave her a little smile. "I got pretty tired of talking into thin air."

They hadn't been just things. Especially not with the ways she'd lost them.

But she let him take her hand.

"I guess I got tired of not really talking to anyone," she admitted. It might have seemed like she was being tight-lipped here, and yet she'd still managed to say more about her feelings in less than two weeks than she had in the last three years in the bunker combined.

How many people in the bunker had been actively trying to get her to talk about her feelings? Or let her be her instead of who they wanted her to be?

"Kind of wish I could stick a new card in my phone and hear what you wanted to tell me," Duke said, rubbing his free hand over his mouth. "Though -- from the look on your face when I came in, being able to hear mine didn't really make you feel any better."

Octavia gave his fingers a squeeze. "It's not that simple." Her feelings were mixed and tangled and complicated. What else? "But I wouldn't want you to hear what I had to say, anyway."

The version of her who'd talked to a dead phone was not the one here today.

"I want to know everything," Duke said softly. "But I know I probably never will. And -- and that's okay."

He was saying that half to convince himself. But he meant it. He would make it be okay if he had to.

"Mochof," Octavia murmured.

It wasn't that she didn't want to tell him. But she couldn't tell him. There were things she'd never even talked to other Wonkru about since they'd happened.

She watched him in silence after that. An urge was bubbling up, and she was weighing whether to go with it.

Duke looked up and watched her back, keeping his expression as open and undemanding as possible. Trying to be patient.

He was good at patient. Normally, anyway. It was a lot harder right now than he thought it should have been.

Octavia put the locket down on the table. Then, slowly, she got up from her seat.

But she didn't let go of his hand.

Because she wasn't going away: she was coming closer. Moving around the table until she could sit down next to him, instead.

Duke didn't move, except to watch her move. He couldn't. He worried if he did, he'd spook her, lose her trust.

That she'd disappear in a puff of smoke.

Octavia didn't get spooked, and neither did she disappear. ~~Because they hadn't even reached that season yet!~~ She just took a seat by his side, and then let go of his hand.

So that she could slowly wind her arm around his waist. There was something hesitant about it, almost clumsy.

She hadn't done this a lot, in a long time.

That meant she'd be able to feel it when Duke let out a shaky, relieved breath. His own arm came up almost as hesitantly, resting lightly along her shoulders.

"I'm not going to break," Octavia murmured.

As if she wasn't currently treating him just about as carefully.

"No," Duke said, his voice just a little bit wet. "But I might."

He'd missed this. So much. If he didn't take it slow, he might just grab onto her and never let go.

Well, that definitely broke something a little bit in Octavia's expression. She had to blink a few times, and her exhale was suddenly unsteady.

She brought her free hand slowly up towards his cheek, where it hovered, not touching. Yet.

"Hey."

Duke looked at her, arm tightening just a little.

His eyes were definitely not dry.

Octavia's own arm tightened around him a little too, as if in direct response.

And after a few seconds, her hand cupped his cheek. And there was nothing dry about her voice - or her eyes - either.

The words were a whisper. "Ai don mema yu we krei bitam."

Duke let out a soft laugh and tilted his head down to meet hers.

"I hope that means what I think it means."

Octavia swallowed.

"It means I have missed you a lot."

Duke nodded, his forehead still pressed to hers. He’d hoped it was that, and not “I don’t remember you crying this much.”

“I want to kiss you.”

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