first one who touches the ground loses

Octavia had no clear, good reason for why she'd been drawn to this task on this particular morning: why she found herself sitting out on the dock with all her various bladed weapons she'd gathered from the Rouge and her own boat (her sword, a bunch of knives of different types), making sure they were all clean and appropriately sharp, and doing whatever she could to fix them if they weren't.

She'd even taken one or two furtive glances towards the Rouge - she knew she had more weapons, old ones, down in the hold from when she'd emptied the old apartment, but... Maybe that day would eventually come, too, when she'd manage to make herself go down there and sort through the boxes.

Probably not today, though.

Anyway, that train of thought got cut short when some of the port's porg population waddled over to be curious at the weapons laying on a towel to one side of her. Maybe they were attracted to the way the clean blades caught the sunlight?

"Hey, nou ste gon yu, strikon."

Predictably, the birds did not give two shits, just burbled at her in indignant fashion when she leaned over a little to shoo them further away.

[ooc: Open!]

After running herself ragged on the streets of Fandom for almost three days straight, Octavia had spent most of Sunday either asleep, or close to it. In her own bed, on her own boat, not that she really remembered having made much of a conscious decision on that either way. She'd just... ended up back here. Autopilot.

But now Monday had rolled around, and Octavia finally felt up to getting out of bed. There'd been breakfast that hadn't been much - she'd have to stock up her small pantry later to make up for what she'd burned through whenever she'd actually bothered to eat between patrols - and now she was up on the deck of her boat, finally inspecting it for any damage last week's various threats had caused.

So far, it looked like it was mostly just small scrapes from the icicles. Octavia was still going to check it as thoroughly as she could, stepping onto the dock for a better view of the side. The last thing she wanted was a reindeer-made surprise causing problems down the line.

So, after nudging some bumbling porgs out of her way, she stepped onto the dock for a better view of the side, and wrapped the sweater she was wearing a little tighter around herself. The sleeves were rolled up some of the way, but everything about the way it hung on her betrayed it was meant for a much taller and broader person.

(That said taller and broader person had not seen it for several weeks now, well, that was less obvious.)

One of the porgs padded up beside her, and faced the boat exactly as she was doing. Octavia snorted, softly, as she looked down at it.

"Yu gaf sis ai au, strikon?"

The porg burbled at her.

"Yeah, that's what I thought."

[ooc: Open!]