Octavia Blake (
okteiviakom) wrote2023-07-08 03:16 pm
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Deck of the Cape Rouge, Saturday Morning
Octavia had been dreaming of many things, this week. Mostly Haven, mostly horror, but many other messy things, too. Sheep and tilling fields and glowing butterflies and a week on a farm (sheepskin blankets and bonedeep exhaustion and a warm voice in her ear talking about what use was fighting at the end of the world?) had featured in jumbled everything of it all, but that was not out of the ordinary enough for Octavia to have really paid it much mind.
(And, well, she always felt drawn to the woods. And particularly when traumatic shit had been going down.)
So this was just any old Saturday morning.
She had a coffee cup in hand when she emerged onto the deck, with faint plans of at least finding some nice stretches to do in a bit that wouldn't irritate her wounds too much. But of course, all that was forgotten when she looked up and saw a young man standing at the edge of the deck, just barely over the gangplank.
The cup fell from her grasp as she stared at him.
[ooc: Opennn.]
(And, well, she always felt drawn to the woods. And particularly when traumatic shit had been going down.)
So this was just any old Saturday morning.
She had a coffee cup in hand when she emerged onto the deck, with faint plans of at least finding some nice stretches to do in a bit that wouldn't irritate her wounds too much. But of course, all that was forgotten when she looked up and saw a young man standing at the edge of the deck, just barely over the gangplank.
The cup fell from her grasp as she stared at him.
[ooc: Opennn.]
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Her eyes stayed on Ilian, though, even then. Like maybe he'd disappear if she let him out of her sight.
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He grabbed the ladder leading to the wheelhouse and quickly scaled up it, ducking inside where he could be out of the way, but still within easy yelling distance.
Tried to remember what she may have said to him about Ilian, but couldn't concentrate well enough to bring anything to mind.
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Collapsed into Ilian, a little too heavy to really be a hug. Exactly heavy enough to be almost a decade of guilt.
She would be at the clinging for a while, and Ilian would let her, saying calm, quiet things near her ear.