first one who touches the ground loses

Octavia and Duke hadn't exactly been taking much time for just the two of them, lately. And since Octavia had to head out of town for a while today anyway, she'd finally taken Duke to New York with her. For lunch, and whatever else they ended up feeling like doing.

After she had her first in-person therapy session in like two months, first, anyway. Duke was going to go figure out food while Octavia was doing that, but she'd wanted to show him the place since he was here. Which was why they were now in a tall building, stepping into a cozy-ish office space where Dr. Baker's receptionist sat behind her desk.

Or at least Octavia assumed that was who this was, because she'd never seen this woman before.

The woman looked up and gave them a big smile. "Ah," she said brightly, then faltered just a little as she had to consult something on her computer screen. A few clicks, and her face brightened again. "Ms. Morningstar, right?"

"Yeah," Octavia said slowly.

It was one thing knowing that was what they had her on file as. It was another to hear someone actually call her that.

[ooc: NFB because of the distance, and for the dude!]

Octavia had seriously considered skipping therapy today. Between the way her arms ached from overdue sword practice, the pollen, and the clusterfuck of yesterday morning, it had been hard to find the motivation to get ready, take the portal, and go.

But it was hard every week.

So she'd done it, even though she felt like she had nothing to say this week. Or about this week. And last week was old news, now. (Any success she'd had there had been overwritten, wiped away.) So of course those things were what Dr. Baker zeroed in on practically as soon as she was through the office door.

( Well-timed therapy under here. )

Afterwards, Octavia found a local swim center. She tried, for a while, to get in some actual swimming practice, cobbled together from what she'd looked up online and what she'd previously eavesdropped in the pool, but her arms protested too much. So she just floated. A lot. And while she floated, she thought about the things she'd gone over with Dr. Baker, things they'd pick up again on Friday morning, because she was now officially up to two sessions per week.

Compromising. Learning to pause before reacting. Learning to open her damn mouth when it mattered (her words, not her therapist's).

The stupid homework assignment she'd been given.

Her head felt too loud in a way that even the strange muted everything of having her ears underwater couldn't fix. She almost, almost longed to be back on the island already. The pollen hadn't entirely had time to leave her system yet, but she knew the first lungful back on Fandom would at least shift some of her focus to other kinds of noisy thoughts.

But for now... She was floating.

[ooc: Open for calls and texts, post-float.]