Lucifer Morningstar (
my_own_advocate) wrote2024-12-23 10:24 am
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The Pier on Cat Island, Monday Morning
Well, nothing had gone catastrophically wrong since Duke left yesterday. Octavia and Lucifer had taken their portal, and found themselves standing immediately in the sunshine. Whatever burdens had laid on Lucifer's shoulders, many of them sloughed off at the sight of the sand and the surf.
Sometimes he missed Los Angeles, still. The beach helped. And while the temperatures could have been higher, they were comfortable, much more so than Fandom. So he had stretched, and set up the Fin and Tonic for inhabitation for the next few weeks, and that had been all.
And now he was here. Sitting on the edge of their pier, a pina colada in one hand, wearing a swimsuit that didn't quite aspire to the heights (or lows) of Eric's small speedos, his legs kicking idly over the water. There was a peace here he was desperate to embrace. He could only hope Octavia could find a fraction of it, as well.
(And Duke, out there on his boat, processing his demons.)
[[ open for phone calls and she who is here ]]
Sometimes he missed Los Angeles, still. The beach helped. And while the temperatures could have been higher, they were comfortable, much more so than Fandom. So he had stretched, and set up the Fin and Tonic for inhabitation for the next few weeks, and that had been all.
And now he was here. Sitting on the edge of their pier, a pina colada in one hand, wearing a swimsuit that didn't quite aspire to the heights (or lows) of Eric's small speedos, his legs kicking idly over the water. There was a peace here he was desperate to embrace. He could only hope Octavia could find a fraction of it, as well.
(And Duke, out there on his boat, processing his demons.)
[[ open for phone calls and she who is here ]]
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Well, hey, that was a word! And the frustration wasn't even aimed at him.
Wasn't really aimed at anyone.
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"I'm sorry."
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Her jaw clenched, instead.
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She would hopefully manage a breath here soon that would ease some of the more extreme of her tensions.
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Beat.
"Would you like to punch something?"
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"Probably."
It also felt exactly as futile as anything else.
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A beat.
(This wasn't his fault, and she didn't want him to think she thought so.)
"But thanks."
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Hem.
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He sipped his drink.
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She was halfway successful.
"I hope you'll have an okay vacation," she muttered. "Regardless."
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Honestly.
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She was probably going to do it anyway, in the background.
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She gave his hand another squeeze.
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Tried to pull her in.
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