okteiviakom | The Deck of the Cape Rouge, Thursday Morning

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The Deck of the Cape Rouge, Thursday Morning

Octavia had been having a lot of thoughts since her visit to Engelsøy the other week. About her past, sure, as always. About the present, likewise.

But the future, too. Her own, that of her loved ones, that of the planet.

A lot of that last thing, actually.

And all of those thoughts were beginning to trend towards action. Like there was a restlessness in her bones, reminding her there was still time, there were resources, there were fights to join and pursuits to engage in.

(Maybe even ways to make amends for everything she'd done wrong in her own time.)

She'd been quietly compiling things in two notebooks. In one, she was trying to collect every last bit of information she could remember about how the first Praimfaya had come about, whether it was something she'd been taught on the Ark, something she'd heard on the Ground, or something she'd read down in the bunker. Anything and everything, no matter how small.

In the other, she was putting all of her research into... well, the jumble things that were running the planet into the ground right now. Who the big players in fighting it were, and what the big things they were doing were.

Probably no surprise that Octavia had been sleeping progressively worse over the last week or so. Just the cost of throwing herself at something that called to her, for the first time in years. Still, right now on Thursday morning, after a too-early breakfast, she was working on something much more practical, easy, and very, very local: the little garden of planter boxes she'd ~~handwavily~~ established on the deck of the Rouge at the beginning of summer.

Putting her hands in some soil was doing a lot to center her.

[ooc: Open, ofc!]

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And a moment after that he would have a (somewhat overly warm) Duke draped against his side.

"I noticed. That was a really great idea, babe. Good job."

He pressed a kiss to Lucifer's shoulder. And neglected to actually take the cup of coffee yet.

"I bought the island," Lucifer said. "Ah, not for staying on, mind you. But because Octavia wanted to make sure the birds and the otters would keep their habitat."

He gingerly reached past Duke's shoulders and set his coffee down on Duke's side of the bench.

Then left his arm there.

Good call, sir. Duke settled in a little more firmly under that arm.

"That's good. We can have, like. A string of little nature preserves. She'll love that."

"I may have encouraged her to think about activism," Lucifer admitted.

He glanced down at Duke. Yeah, he could tell Duke wasn't doing well right now.

He was not hiding it well, no.

"She could be good at that. Probably shouldn't bring her sword to protests, though."

"If I were you, I would never imply to her that she would do such a thing," Lucifer said slowly. "In fact, I'm going to pretend those words were never spoken at all."

Duke snorted. "Is my filter a little broken? Sorry."

Look, a not insignificant chunk of his attention was on not exploding right now.

Lucifer sighed. "You seem a touch broken in a lot of ways at the moment."

"Sorry," Duke said on reflex. "Haven't let a trouble out in awhile. It's, uh. . . . Becoming pressing."

As in, he could actually literally feel things pressing against his insides. It was not fun.

"Have you figured out how to do it on purpose yet?" Lucifer asked.

His hand had settled on Duke's leg.

"Pretty sure I just have to, um. Bleed." He closed his eyes and took a slow, measured breath as the pain swelled again for a moment. "On something that isn't me. I just reabsorb it otherwise."

But he'd been avoiding it. Because without his dad's journal's list of troubles the family had taken, letting one out felt like playing Russian roulette with a hand grenade.

Seeing him like this hurt every damned time, but at least by know Lucifer knew better than to wince openly.

"Would it help if you bled on me?" Lucifer said. "It didn't seem to cause anything... troubling... when this first erupted."

"I . . . don't know," Duke said. "You're kind of a wild card, babe. Guess . . . we could try it?"

He didn't really want to try it. As much as he also didn't want to pass out from the pain again.

(He'd managed so far to avoid doing that in front of them, or in a way that made it obvious he had passed out rather than just laid down for a nap or something. And yes, he knew that wasn't the best way to handle things, but he couldn't quite make himself do it any other way just yet.)

"You're going to have to let it out at some point," Lucifer pointed out. "Might as well be in a controlled setting. Perhaps on the OceaNyx?"

"Maybe," Duke allowed. He knew Lucifer was right. He also knew that he wanted to keep the troubles in as long as possible. "I can hold on a little longer, though."

Lucifer let out a breath. "If you're certain," he said.

Duke let out a slightly pained laugh. "Uh . . . no. But I'll let you know if I feel like I really gotta let one out right away."

"Duke," Lucifer said. Hesitated. Then said it anyway: "Please don't push yourself too far."

"Not too far," Duke assured him. "Just . . . a little bit further."

The longer he could go without risking hurting anyone else, the better.

Lucifer sighed.

He reached up to run a hand over Duke's hair, and pressed a kiss against the top of his head.

Duke focused on those feelings, rather than the twisting in his guts.

"I love you," he said softly.

It sounded a little bit like an apology.

"I love you too, darling," Lucifer said quietly. He shifted a little, trying to make Duke more comfortable. "Take a rest."

"Feels like all I do, these days," Duke admitted. But he was getting heavier against Lucifer, as he let himself relax as much as he was able.

"Well," Lucifer said, "You are ill."

Duke let out a laugh-like breath. "Guess so. Not really how I've been thinking about it."

He tried to never think of himself that way.

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