my_own_advocate | The Cape Rouge, Saturday Morning

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The Cape Rouge, Saturday Morning

Haven was even worse than all the stories. And so, after the absolute disaster that had been yesterday and its ensuing revelations and fights, Lucifer had - over Duke's initial protests and then quiet acceptance - thrown everyone into the Rolls Royce and driven them home through a bloody portal.

He'd been keeping it together quite well, all in all, he felt. Compared to both of his partners. He was good at that, occasionally, being the one who didn't fall apart at the sight of personal trauma.

So why couldn't he sleep?

He'd given up the fight at some un-Himly hour. Found himself pottering around, lurking on deck, lurking in other places, drinking. Now he was back in the galley, contemplating the last of their scotch, and the inevitability of their eventual return to Haven.

He almost missed the noise outside.

[[ for the cape rouge dwellers plus one ]]

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"Mom, you're amazing," Rory said. "You go through all of this stuff and then you go and become the best mom anyone could've asked for. You know how badass that makes you?"

Octavia's inhale was a little noisy. Shook her a little.

"That's not me yet, strikon."

She deserved a medal for managing to get that 'yet' in there, despite all the feelings she was feeling this morning.

"It's gonna be you," Rory mumbled. "Everything so far is how I remember you guys telling me it went--"

Oh. She probably shouldn't have said even that much.

Maybe.

"Why would we tell you?" Octavia murmured, more rhetorical than anything. "This isn't -- we're not at our best."

(Oh, she knew them, and knew herself. She knew why they would be honest.)

"Because you're not at your best. 'Cause nobody is ever always at their best." Rory's voice was quiet, but it was clearly something she'd heard before. "'Cause even when you're at your worst you're still worthy of love."

Octavia exhaled a sigh.

"Your dad's learned something, huh?" she murmured. Might've been a joke. Definitely would have been the first attempt at one in a while. (Probably the last, too.)

"More like you bludgeoned into him," Rory said, laughing just a little bit.

Edited 2022-04-02 21:49 (UTC)

"I've tried," Octavia murmured, and if there'd been anything joking in her tone, it was gone now.

She finally pulled back, at least enough to see Rory. (Her eyes were wet, now, but that shouldn't have come as a surprise.) To look at her.

Oh. Well.

Now Rory's eyes were wet, too, and she managed a wobbly smile.

Octavia's hand slowly slid up to cup Rory's cheek - but very gently, as if she was worried she might break something otherwise.

Her eyes were looking over the girl's face, from the tip of her chin to the arch of her eyebrows.

"You look like us," she murmured.

"Isn't that how genetics work?"

Rory knew the joke was weak, too. Especially when it was this wobbly.

"You're descended from gods," Octavia muttered. "So I wouldn't know."

She faltered. "Well, apparently it does," Rory said. "Because. Yeah."

Octavia's fingers on her cheek got just a little bit firmer, more present.

Still reverent.

"Meizen," she murmured.

Rory had lived on the Rouge for almost half her life, with a mother who was fuller, more wizened, both wryer and softer. But this younger version of her-- it called to mind old memories of her mother, digging into the soil, learning to coax living things into growing.

"You're a great mom, you know."

She wasn't sure where that came from.

Octavia's inhale was a little noisy.

"I'm sure you make it easy."

No, her voice didn't almost break, how dare you.

Rory managed a quiet laugh. "I think you might be the only person who thinks that."

"I might still be right," Octavia sighed, and finally pressed her forehead to Rory's.

Rory closed her eyes.

This was mom's thing, the forehead touching. It always made her feel-- protected. Loved. Even from this younger version of her.

She smiled. "Ai hod yu in," she mumbled.

There was only one reply to that, delivered quiet and soft and full of feeling.

"Ai hod yu in seintaim, strikon."

Didn't need to have known her any longer than this to know that.

Rory huffed a watery little laugh. "Not so tiny anymore, mom, I keep telling you."

"You're about fifteen minutes old to me at this point," Octavia murmured, "you will have to deal with it."

That... probably didn't deserve the loud, snorting belly-laugh that it got. "Yes, nomon."

'Deserving' was neither here nor there when the sound of it was that beautiful.

"Chof," Octavia managed, a little choked up.

Well. Now Rory had to hug her tight again, didn't she?

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okteiviakom - 2022-04-03 17:25 (UTC) - Expand

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