Octavia Blake (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
okteiviakom) wrote2024-10-26 11:53 am
okteiviakom) wrote2024-10-26 11:53 am
Entry tags:
The Deck of the Cape Rouge, Saturday Morning
Thursday night was still on-going had been something else. Stupid, probably, but it had made Octavia feel alive in a way that had been in short supply in the past few weeks. And she'd come back, late at night but with no major injuries, taken a shower, crawled into bed. Played it all off like a long walk. A breather. Nothing too different from all the other walks she'd been taking.
Even just this morning, a full day later, she'd already taken one. Just around the island, nowhere near the preserve, or the woods, not even in the park. Streets and stairs and beach, confined. Thinking, whether she wanted to or not, about the dreams she'd been having the past two nights. Walking into the preserve and letting the undergrowth bury her. Her mother had been there, too, bathed in a golden light from somewhere beyond the treetops.
It all seemed a little heavy-handed, if you asked Octavia.
Anyway, the walk was over. She was yet to go back inside, although she felt like she'd probably need a shower soon. For now, she was sitting on the deck, right by her little garden. Like it was enough just to be near it.
Because it had to be.
She had to be fine. She was losing entire days to pretending to be, acting her usual self for Duke and Lucifer's benefit, doing the usual things, with her quiet snark, holding hands, playing her part while they fixed the shit between themselves. (Ignoring the ache that came with them doing it someplace she'd spent years developing a big stake in. Ignoring that she'd almost dropped by the house for a bath just this morning, only to find herself unable to actually go in.) Sometimes she pretended so convincingly she even fell for it herself.
And wasn't that the goal, really?
She had her phone out. Checking out the news for anything new on the chemical plant. That was where it had started, anyway: now she was just scrolling through whatever else happened to be there. Maybe she was stalling? Didn't really matter. Something caught her eye either way, in her recommendations. A fresh discovery in Pompeii.
She tapped it open. Read, scrolled.
Came to a stop when she came up on the photo of the altar. Two snakes, surrounded by greenery, painted two thousand years ago, but their color still retained, unearthed from the ash.
Something in her chest clenched.
(It all seemed a little heavy-handed, if you asked --)
[ooc: Expecting one, open.]
Even just this morning, a full day later, she'd already taken one. Just around the island, nowhere near the preserve, or the woods, not even in the park. Streets and stairs and beach, confined. Thinking, whether she wanted to or not, about the dreams she'd been having the past two nights. Walking into the preserve and letting the undergrowth bury her. Her mother had been there, too, bathed in a golden light from somewhere beyond the treetops.
It all seemed a little heavy-handed, if you asked Octavia.
Anyway, the walk was over. She was yet to go back inside, although she felt like she'd probably need a shower soon. For now, she was sitting on the deck, right by her little garden. Like it was enough just to be near it.
Because it had to be.
She had to be fine. She was losing entire days to pretending to be, acting her usual self for Duke and Lucifer's benefit, doing the usual things, with her quiet snark, holding hands, playing her part while they fixed the shit between themselves. (Ignoring the ache that came with them doing it someplace she'd spent years developing a big stake in. Ignoring that she'd almost dropped by the house for a bath just this morning, only to find herself unable to actually go in.) Sometimes she pretended so convincingly she even fell for it herself.
And wasn't that the goal, really?
She had her phone out. Checking out the news for anything new on the chemical plant. That was where it had started, anyway: now she was just scrolling through whatever else happened to be there. Maybe she was stalling? Didn't really matter. Something caught her eye either way, in her recommendations. A fresh discovery in Pompeii.
She tapped it open. Read, scrolled.
Came to a stop when she came up on the photo of the altar. Two snakes, surrounded by greenery, painted two thousand years ago, but their color still retained, unearthed from the ash.
Something in her chest clenched.
(It all seemed a little heavy-handed, if you asked --)
[ooc: Expecting one, open.]