okteiviakom | 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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"Would you want to cook along whenever any of it is ready to be used?" Lucifer asked.

Octavia's face was doing that thing again, where something so tiny brought on something that looked like hope.

"... Yes."

And here Lucifer had tried to approach the subject with care, since he didn't want to insult her again. "Then we'll make that happen," he said. "I'm sure there are some excellent things we can come up with."

"I'm sure there are," Octavia murmured. Not insulted in the slightest. "And that's what all this is being grown for."

"We should get strawberry plants," Lucifer mused. "... Unless you already have them. I don't actually know what they look like."

Quelle surprise.

Octavia shook her head.

"I don't have any." She knew what they looked like, though. More or less. "We could get some. Could be nice, getting those right off the ship."

"I think you have these little pots that you can hang off of the side of balconies for strawberries and such," Lucifer mused. "Should be easy hanging those off the side of the ship, no?"

"Probably best if they're somewhere the porgs can't get to them," Octavia replied with a faint nod, since they already knew that was a real issue. "They will eat them before we get to."

Lucifer sighed. "Once again making me wish they did have proper language so we could have them housetrained."

Octavia wasn't going to touch that again, just to be sure.

"I can figure it out," she said. "I think they probably have to shield strawberries from the more typical birds of this world, too."

"True," Lucifer mused. "Might be an interesting project in more than one respect, growing strawberries on a boat."

"Just 'cause of the birds, or...?"

"I mean, it's a factor," Lucifer said. "Who knows what else there is?"

Octavia shrugged one shoulder, but she did think about it.

"Probably nothing too special unless we actually go out to sea?"

"A seafaring fruit and vegetable garden," Lucifer mused. "There's a mental image."

Octavia murmured, "Sounds like us."

Or what she might have liked for them, in a best case scenario.

"Perhaps one day we'll hang planters off every side of this ship and go for a journey across the world with our own personal garden," Lucifer said, mouth curved.

"I think the changing climates might become an issue," Octavia replied, with a touch of something wry.

She was getting to her feet now, though.

"I'm sure there's ways to work around it," Lucifer said optimistically.

He also, it had to be said, knew nothing about plants. Besides the obvious.

"I love you, but I don't think you know much about growing things."

She was coming over now, all the same.

"How dare you," Lucifer huffed. "I know a fair deal about growing weed."

See above re: the obvious.

"Can't believe you let such a good opening for a dick joke just float on by," Octavia rasped with a faint snort. "Also weed doesn't count."

She sat down next to him.

"Though I wouldn't say no to smoking some with you again. Sometime, in the near future."

"You left me stuck between a cock and a herb place with that particular opening, darling," Lucifer said, his arm sliding around her automatically. "But oooh. Yes, we should."

Octavia snorted and rolled her eyes - and leaned into his side, just as automatically.

"Good that you're on board."

"Might help Duke, as well," Lucifer noted. "Unless you'd rather stick to Date Night with it."

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okteiviakom - 2024-07-01 20:06 (UTC) - Expand