Octavia’s eyes sat on the boy and on the world around them. Glorall, in her mind, wasn’t much to look at. Nothing about this world was particular aesthetic big deal, but it was home. There was something comforting in familiarity, she guessed. It didn’t matter, but she was still here. Well, not still but… she’d come back. The girl had gone away and then grown up, deciding to do things on her own when she maybe shouldn’t have. It didn’t make sense that way, and yet here she was. Here was the creature that had missed all the important things—lawless. Beautifully and fantastically wild. High strung, sarcastic, and more out there than she needed to be.
And yet here was Tristan, and maybe she could admit that she had a weakness. The boy with the mask and the black saddle on his back, the boy that she sits beside and waits to speak. She’s bold and brash, and here he is with the manners and the feelings. At least he smiles. Octavia can appreciate a smile more than anything else. That helps. It always helps. “I um… I just got back, actually.” The girl’s hope was that he wouldn’t ask where, but another part knew that him not asking was unlikely. This was a conversation, after all. It made sense. How she hated it when things made sense.
“Where’ve you been?” Curious, on a personal level. It wasn’t like Tav was taking notes.
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