Octavia Blake (
okteiviakom) wrote2023-04-26 06:54 pm
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The Deck of the Cape Rouge, Late Wednesday Morning
As far as Octavia was concerned, it was a perfectly normal day. She'd woken up, had breakfast, and had just now rolled out her mat on a nice spot on the deck and was getting started on a little bit of yoga to get the day going.
Or, at least she had been: there was a rustling that seemed to be coming closer along the docks, catching her attention.
She squinted towards the approaching form. "What the... ?"
[ooc: For those two guys who aren't going to like this.]
Or, at least she had been: there was a rustling that seemed to be coming closer along the docks, catching her attention.
She squinted towards the approaching form. "What the... ?"
[ooc: For those two guys who aren't going to like this.]
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If it turned out this was in fact Octavia, he'd apologize profusely later. And maybe invest in a taser. Or like. A tranquilizer gun. (Or several, and stash them all over the boat alongside his regular guns, and some cattle prods, maybe load some of the regular guns with rubber bullets too? And something that could take down Lucifer if he ended up going evil for some reason? Something nonviolent of course and this wasn't the time for this particular thought spiral right now, Duke, refocus, your boyfriend is BLEEDING. . . .)
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He spat up a bit of blood, and felt the first inkling of something beginning to knit together.
Tried to sit up.
Laid back down.
What...?
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Thankfully, it was just a little too far, and its vision was blurry.
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And would keep hitting it as much as he needed to to get it to stop swinging at them.
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But he had a hand on the deck now, and he was pushing himself up.
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Of course it was really the hyena, first, getting that one last fateful impact from the pipe and stumbling over. Then, it was Octavia thumping against the deck.
Looking completely fine, but very much unconscious.
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And staring wide-eyed at his unconscious snogon on the deck, and his boyfriend's blood on the deck, and the bullet holes in the deck, and working very very hard on not hyperventilating over all of it.
He swallowed thickly. (Can't hyperventilate if you're not breathing?) "Well. That answers the 'is it actually Octavia' question, anyway."
He was maybe going to be sick.
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He gestured helplessly at the rips and blood that wouldn't magically go away even as the injuries did.
"If she's not bleeding I can help."
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Just a few steps. And there he was. Lifting her up. Carefully.
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The deck was covered in blood.
And Duke was useless when there was blood around.
He shoved his hand into his hair, squeezing his eyes shut, and nodded.
"Make sure she's okay. And if she wakes up before I'm -- tell her I'm sorry."
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At least it felt like the big gaping chest wound had healed.
He turned around, Octavia in his arms. "Now go on ahead to the bedroom. I don't want to risk bleeding on anything on my way in."
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"Right." He nodded again, sharper this time, and hurried past Lucifer into the boat proper, careful not to brush against him as he went. He'd prep the bed, get out one of his insanely large first aid kits. Some painkillers and ice packs. (Nitron gloves so he could check Lucifer over in case the wounds hadn't closed up properly for some reason.) A radio, so they could check what the squirrels might be saying.
Booze. A lot of it.
Okay then.
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As he ran the shower, he vowed quietly to himself not to lie, but to simply save the truth of just how bloody much everything hurt right now for about five thousand years or so. Duke would be over it by then, surely.
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He had a lot more trauma coming down the pipe someday, that'd probably help!
For now he was busy working on compartmentalizing it all by being useful. So there was that, at least.
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"Would you mind passing us some clothes?" he asked, sticking his head out of the bathroom for a moment.
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"Here you go. She's still out?"
How hard had he hit her? If he'd given her a TBI. . . .
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Yes. Yes it was.
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He got her into her tank, and then-- carefully slid the leggings up her legs.
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He went back to
fussing withprepping the supplies he’d gathered.no subject
...
He yanked on the trousers (that shirt did not match), and finally left the bathroom with Octavia in his hands. "There we are."
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He looked up, eyes drawn first to Octavia — still clearly sleeping — and then to Lucifer’s bare chest.
“Are you okay?”
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