first one who touches the ground loses

At first, the feeling was pleasant. A sort of a... sense of being alive? Sneaking its way into Octavia's body and into her subconscious as she slept, like sweet and warm and enticing.

But then, of course, she woke up. And it didn't take her long at all for her to realize it wasn't a feeling she tended to wake up with. And while it wasn't really yet springtime on Fandom, the flora on the island did whatever it wanted, sometimes, and it was definitely a time of year that sometimes brought really specific sensations and urges with it, so...

Octavia was pretty sure she knew what was going on.

Which meant that she was pretty sure one of the other in the bed was going to be more or less immune, yet again (since Lucifer was both a celestial and, honestly, didn't need any help from the pollen in the first place), but the other one... Remained to be seen. Duke hadn't felt it, the previous year, but the one before that, he'd had to leave the island for the week. So who even knew how this one would turn out.

Octavia slid quietly off the bed, to her feet. Grabbed something to wrap herself up in - Duke's discarded cardigan, maybe not the best choice for containing her current state - and padded out, into the galley. Like maybe some water and... distance would help her clear her mind a little bit.

(Unlikely, but a girl could try.)

[ooc: For those two, if they so wish.]

As most days this week (and the one before that, and the one before that...) Octavia had spent most of the early parts of her day working around the marina. There was always maintenance work to be done, things to fix, areas to tidy. She knew how to do most of the usual things by now, too, and had less of a need for the local workers to show her the ropes, whether literal or figurative. She could just be helpful. Just that, and not a burden or a hindrance.

It settled something in her. At least a little.

But by now, her tasks for the day were done. She'd cleaned all of the maintenance grime off of herself, and was now sitting near where the Fin & Tonic was docked. Watching the water, listening to whatever noise was coming from elsewhere in the marina.

Thinking about home.

[ooc: NFB, open for all the usual with likely SP.]

So Octavia couldn't touch living plants without sapping all life out of them. So she couldn't go out into the preserve for fear of some young branch grazing her cheek and killing the entire tree. So Octavia was troubled, poisoned by Haven.

Big deal.

Duke was breathing easier than he had for months. Octavia wasn't sure she trusted it, that she could expect it to last, but the difference was too obvious to ignore. And that? That felt more valuable than whatever quiet suffering she was going through. No good ever seemed to come without a sacrifice, anyway. And, well, Blodreina was used to sacrifice.

Especially when it was her.

So she gardened with thick gloves on, and she didn't go to the preserve, and she ignored how it felt like the first several weeks (months) down in the bunker, when all, absolutely everything she'd wanted had been to go out and breathe and feel a breeze on her face, or the warmth of the sun, or something that couldn't be confined in a concrete structure underground.

She'd learned to contain that feeling then. She'd learn to contain it again.

So Octavia and her thick gloves carefully and clumsily harvested some peppers from the little garden on the deck, and brought them inside into the galley for one of the guys to use in their cooking later. She took no chances: she only took the gloves off once the peppers were safely on the counter.

She checked her phone for the time, and caught the date instead. It was October 11th.

She was 33.

Another year gone.

[ooc: Oooopen, of course.]

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!]

Right, to recap: Octavia's weekend had been replaced by one very long day. On Sunday, she and Duke had landed back in Fandom, and she'd failed to sleep much during the night, leading to her then passing out for most of the day, instead. And then she'd gone out to the Nest, gotten drunk, come back to the boat, and failed to fall asleep properly again until it had already been close to Tuesday morning.

And now that she had finally woken up again, she had no concept of what time it was, anymore.

But she knew her head hurt, and she felt nauseous and a little jittery. All of which felt like... oddly grounding things, after the past couple of days. Maybe it was the way her body finally felt fully as awful as the rest of her already had.

Anyway, she was keeping a close proximity to walls as she made her way out of the bedroom, finally, and towards the galley. Just in case she needed the support.

[ooc: Open!]

Octavia and Lucifer had been talking about a mainland shopping trip for a while, now, never seeming to actually get around to it. But so far, this week had been pretty calm and quiet, both for the island and within their household (... boathold?), so, hey! Might as well seize the opportunity for some quality time.

They were still on the street, for now, but getting closer to their main destination. Octavia had a takeaway cup in hand, one of those weird teas with the little balls at the bottom and the big straw.

"How long has it even been since we were last here?" she wondered, glancing up at Lucifer. "I mean, at least together."

[ooc: NFB, and for the Devil mentioned.]

Octavia had been feeling kind of... restless, this week. But keeping it to herself, because Duke had been having a rougher time, and anyway, it was fine. This feeling came and went, and Octavia was used to it.

(Though it really would have been great if Dr. Baker had been able to squeeze her in during some other time this week, after the regular Tuesday session got cancelled.)

It was Sunday now, anyway. Food and cider and hopefully a good time? Octavia had even channeled some of her twitchiness into prepping dessert, earlier. "The fruit's all ready in the fridge," she said, as she got up to clear away the dinner plates. "The white chocolate on them should have set by now."

Spoken like she actually knew anything and hadn't just grabbed the instructions from Google this morning.

[ooc: For the guy.]

Octavia had had a plan. A good plan, even! She'd come to the house early in order to get dinner and dessert ready before Lucifer showed up, and things had started out completely fine, but then --

Well, there were two bits of good news, at least:

One, dessert seemed to be mostly fine.

Two, most of the burnt food smell had already dissipated.

And maybe her order from El Burrito Loco might get here before Lucifer did? She wasn't counting on it, though. But she was going to crack open one of the Cokes she'd received from various polar bears over the course of the day (or maybe just the one bear, it wasn't like she was very well-versed in telling bears apart), and just wait and see.

[ooc: For that guy.]

At least things on the boat had settled down in all their post-trauma enough that Octavia no longer felt like going out into the preserve would be seen as a slight against someone, or fleeing, or something else like that. But of course, now that she'd used most of her Thursday on finally getting some preserve time in, it felt like she'd maybe overdone it, because when she got back to the ship she felt exhausted. Maybe it was all the target practice, or the walking around afterwards, or --

Or just the underlying exhaustion of having been through some rough times, recently? But no. Definitely one of those other things, not that.

Anyway, she'd gotten back, and changed into some comfier clothes (fully aware that she could probably also have used a shower), and then just sort of... slumped onto the bed. She'd get up in a moment, honest. Aaany time now.

Any time.

[ooc: Open for those that live here, and no of course this level of tired isn't method RP. Of course not.]

It had been a relatively quiet evening at the mansion, so far. But in an easy way, not a... Not a bad way. Octavia had requested for them to have their dinner - a nice salad, with a rich, chocolatey dessert - on the couch up in the bedroom, for a change. Something cozy.

Something easy about that, too, maybe.

"What did you say this green thing was called, again?" she asked, spearing one of the last bits of salad in her bowl onto a fork and holding it up for Lucifer to see.

[ooc: For that guy.]