The Drum Room, Cape Rouge, Friday Noon

[okteiviakom]

Octavia had been... holding it together. So far. For the most part. Sure, all this was annoying as hell, being at the mercy of her pollen-addled hormones while being the only affected person on the Rouge, and while her stupidly attractive partners had somehow thought it a good idea to go on an off-island date on the one evening this week she'd had actual reason to be away from the boat even if the club shift had been a handwavy one thanks to RL.

Ahem.

Anyway, she'd been handling it. Mostly by going on jogs and generally keeping herself physically active in ways that made her too tired to focus much on other ways of being physically active, because she felt some unease about making any of this anyone else's problem, especially knowing the issues Duke had had in the past.

By Friday, her legs were kind of beginning to protest any more running, though, and she had to turn to something else. And the something else... Well, she'd been avoiding the drums ever since she'd set up the kit and finished the room. But guess today she was just too tired and desperate to be afraid anymore: ultimately, there had been barely any hesitation at all before she'd slipped into the new drum room/cabin, and taken a seat behind the kit.

And picked up the sticks, suddenly so familiar in her hands that it was almost as if a decade hadn't passed at all. Although, actually playing...

So far, it was just a whole lot of very loud noise, but it felt good. And that was enough, for now.

[ooc: Open, of course. ETA: NSFW, surprising absolutely no one.]

Comments

[my_own_advocate]

That was... a lot of noise. And Lucifer had wanted to leave her to her devices, he really had. But eventually...

"Darling, are you all right in there?"

[okteiviakom]

Octavia couldn't actually hear him. Not over all of the noise in question. Thanks to the soundproofing on the room it was actually even louder in the room, symbals crashing and bass drum thumping.

(There was the occasional rhythm to it, now. Something coming back.)

[my_own_advocate]

Lucifer sighed. His hand slid down to the doorknob, and he pulled it open... gently.

Oof. Yes, a lot of noise.

[okteiviakom]

Octavia was Octavia, so the kit faced the door, and so it didn't take longer than a few seconds for her to realize the door had opened. She finished whatever cacophonous flourish she'd been working on, and let silence fall.

Sort of. She was very out of breath, so that was still a sound. She also looked sweaty and more than a little flushed in the face as she looked up at him.

(Her ears were ringing faintly. She should probably dig up the stuff to keep that from happening.)

[my_own_advocate]

Lucifer couldn't quite keep the amusement from his face. "Are you quite all right in here?"

She looked gorgeous and quite sexy, actually, but he wasn't going to bring it up.

[okteiviakom]

"Yeah," Octavia said. "I'm drumming. Finally."

The demonstrative wave of the sticks would surely distract from how loud and chaotic it had been.

[my_own_advocate]

"Ehn-uh," Lucifer said, with an equally sort-of-in-between movement of his head.

[okteiviakom]

Octavia promptly frowned at him.

"What?"

[my_own_advocate]

"I'm sure you'll catch a rhythm soon enough," Lucifer said.

He was not good at diplomacy, she knew this.

[okteiviakom]

And Octavia was getting increasingly annoyed this week, and he was traipsing dangerously close to saying something undiplomatic that could do actual damage to an already fragile thing.

So.

"Leave."

Maybe in a second she'd remember how to make that a request.

[my_own_advocate]

"Right," Lucifer said, raising his hands placatingly. "I'll be in the galley, making cake."

He backed out through the door.

Perhaps they should have worked harder to convince her that sex was all right?

[okteiviakom]

Octavia wasn't glaring at the door, waiting for it to close. Honest.

... Okay, maybe a little bit.

[my_own_advocate]

It closed!

Lucifer skittered back to his cake.

[okteiviakom]

And Octavia... continued to just sit there. Stewing, suddenly unable to just get back to it.

Goddammit.

[my_own_advocate]

Unaware of the chaos he had organized, Lucifer walked into the galley to eye his dough. Surely it had risen enough by now?

He eyed it critically.

[okteiviakom]

Octavia stood up slowly - and then just sat down on the floor next to the drums, instead.

Maybe she needed to cool down, anyway? (As if that was possible.)

[my_own_advocate]

Lucifer reached over for the cake tin and started to fill it with the dough. Seemed good enough.

[okteiviakom]

It was too quiet, now, but Octavia didn't know what to do about it now. Something felt all... twisted up. Or twisting.

Even slower than she'd moved the last time, she sank fully down onto the floor, onto her back. Squeezed her eyes shut until she saw nothing but black.

[my_own_advocate]

Lucifer opened up the oven, and placed the tin inside. He closed it and considered it.

Yes, that would do.

...

Had it gone quiet?

[okteiviakom]

Very quiet.

Octavia opened her eyes again, and stared at the ceiling. There was still a pleasant enough ache in her arms, but even between that and the slowly fading surge of annoyance, she could feel the restlessness stuck in her body that doubled as an itch in the back of her brain.

She hated it.

[my_own_advocate]

Lucifer frowned.

He paced back out of the galley, back to the drumming room.

He reached out and knocked. Cautiously. "Octavia?"

[okteiviakom]

A brief stretch of silence followed.

But this wasn't really his fault, so... "Still here." Raspy and mild and just loud enough to still be heard through the door.

[my_own_advocate]

"... Can I come in?" Lucifer tried carefully.

[okteiviakom]

"If you won't be an ass."

He would probably be allowed to be an ass about some things.

[my_own_advocate]

"I will do my best?" Lucifer tried.

He opened the door. Slowly.