Name: Octavia 

Species: Satyr Planeswalker

Gender and pronouns: Transfem She/Her

Color identity: GB

Height: 6'0"

Weight: ~170lbs

Age: 20yrs (AR)

Plane(s) of residence: Shiv, Dominaria (current), Arcavios, Innistrad

Plane of origin: Theros

Affiliations: Witherbloom College, Strixhaven (former student)

Titles/ranks/positions: N/A

Allied organizations: N/A

Companions/associates: Rain (ally, crush, source of immense frustration), Biilzie (Friend/it's complicated)

Likes: Insects (especially bees!), Mushrooms, Moss, zombies, dancing, hunting

Dislikes: Large groups or crowds, mirrors, swimming

Bio: Born on Theros, Octavia was often the black sheep(pun intended) of her community, due to her lack of interest in the hedonism and revels of most Satyrs. She often found herself alone in the woods, exploring, hunting, or gathering herbs to study. 

She sparked at 15, when she was attacked while out in the woods by a group of Nylea's followers, who had chosen to interpret their God's ire for Xenagos and his ascension as a call to violence against Satyr kind and their revels. 

Grievously injured, she Planeswalked to Innistrad, finding herself in the care of an elderly witch. There, she learned the basics of necromancy, studying the old shamanistic ways which predated Ghoulcalling and Stitching. Only months into her stay on Innistrad, her mentor was caught up in the Travails, and killed by the Flight of Moonsilver as a heretic. 

Octavia planeswalked again to escape, eventually finding herself on Arcavios. Learning of Strixhaven, she took the opportunity to join Witherbloom college to continue her studies in necromancy and botany. She stayed there until the Phyrexian Invasion, when she, a long with other students, worked to repel the assault.

After the invasion, Octavia once again found herself unsettled, feeling unsafe in the place she had called her home for 3 years. Rather than stay and assist with the rebuilding efforts, she elected to travel the realms, trying to find someplace she could feel at home. Eventually, she ended up in Shiv on Dominaria, where she met the artificer Rain. Intrigued by him and his project, she elected to stay in the area for the time being, to assist him, and travel with him to find the parts he needs to repair the ship.

Cards: Coming soon

Rain slides the communicator away, grumbling as he puts the ruined welder onto his desk. It would have to be scrapped. Completely rehoused, if there were still any working components in it. He went to the engine room, pulling one of the batteries from the generator, and replacing it with an empty one, carrying the battery back. He hooked up a second welder to the battery and continued his work.

It'd been years since he needed to do that. He had managed to power smaller, hand held tools without a battery since he was 16. He wondered why he was having surges now. He knew his magic, his electricity was based on his emotions. If he got angry, he sparked and had a constant charge going through his body, but he wasn't angry, or stressed. Right now he just felt… nothing?

Maybe he should examine that more. Instead he continues welding the vent he had noticed damage in. The damn pigeon-rats had chewed through another section of wiring, and he had to burn out part of the vents to get to it. He shouldn't be doing this. His arms ached, and his back screamed for relief.

He wondered where Octavia was. She was visiting Chortos but that was hours ago, surely he would be asleep by now? He pushed the thought away. She’s fine. It's not his place to worry anymore, anyway. They had both made their decisions.

A few sparks crackled off his hair.

Rain looked at the patch job he did, examining the edges where the damage ended, and sighed with satisfaction at the inability to tell where the damage had occurred. No one would see this, except maybe 3-V, but that didn't mean he wanted to do shoddy work. He stepped down, letting his muscles relax.

He picks up his communicator and flips to Octavia’s contact. His fingers hover over the buttons to message her… before he puts it down with a sigh. It's not his place. He had made his decision. Now he lives with it. She was fine.

He hoped.

Part of him wished he didn't care, wished he could accept that Octavia was somewhere. Or wished he could lie to himself better. Convince himself she was out partying, or having fun with friends. Wished he hadn't noticed her exhaustion. He pushes those thoughts from his mind as well.

A few more sparks.

For the hundredth time that day, he told himself, again. It wasn't his place. He'd made his choice, and she'd made hers. They were friends, and barely at that point. Then he shoved the thoughts away, and began planning tomorrow.

More sparks.

Tomorrow was Leta’s funeral. Tomorrow he needed to be on his best behavior. Koda needed support, and Rain didn't know if he trusted anyone else who would be there to give it. He'd have to push more of his anger down.

This was his place, now. Because of the decisions he'd made.

A single spark fell, as the dull, empty feeling washed over him again.

Tomorrow was a new day.

He hoped it would bring new problems, not more of the same, but he doubted it.

It had been an odd day for Octavia. She had gone to visit her brother... She thinks. She remembered listening to him at the table. That was probably real, she remembered the feeling of the pencils in her hand and she doodles with him.

But she also remembered feeling like there were ants inside of her hands, so it was hard to tell.

She closed her eye for just a moment, and it was so dark when she woke up. How long had she managed to sleep? No one came rushing to help, so she must not have woken up screaming this time. She was so tired. The nightmares wouldn't let her sleep.

She dropped off Chortos' plushie in his room. He had been sleeping, fitfully, but he calmed down once she had carefully tucked the plush under his arm. She was jealous. And she knew it was irrational. She wanted to rest like that. To feel safe. She was so tired.

It took her a while to get down the stairs. Her balance was off, but the way the stairs swam and bent didn't help. She stopped into the kitchen for a snack on her way out. She saw Froggy in the cupboard when she opened it for snacks, but she'd been seeing a lot of things that weren't there lately, so she ignored her.

She needed to get back to the Silverwing.

Rain was...

There.

Not really waiting for her. No one was waiting for her. She had all the time in the world to...

Do something.

FRG-NUL-47, who may or may not have actually been there, was staring at her. She must have fallen asleep for a few seconds. Again. She smiled at the vision and closed the door. She had spent enough time intruding upon Lethaltooth and Silentsign's hospitality. She was mad no one had woken her up. She had work to go to. She needed to keep busy. She was so tired.

She had no more tears to cry about it, she had already cried the last time she woke up from a nightmare and it took a while for her to stop. Piloting training was on pause after she (allegedly) fell asleep at the wheel. Rain was still upset about that one. She could see his shadow hovering outside of her door sometimes when she was failing to sleep. Her bed felt so cold and empty and even after everything, unsafe. She may be co-owner, but what use was it if she couldn't get though a conversation without falling asleep for a few seconds at any slight lull in conversation? She was so tired. She was so tired. She was so—

On Innistrad. Not the ship.

This was not where she had meant to planeswalk.

Did she fall asleep while planeswalking...? The burned out wreckage of her mentor's home was right where she had left it and so were the grave markers and the grass had begun to regrow over the churned ritual circle from when she had trained with her friends and the leylines hummed deep in the earth in a way she always found comforting.

She needed to be closer. Laying in the churned earth as she had come to be was not enough. The basement. There was a basement. That's when she kept the last of her mentor's things. It had survived the fire, and the angel, and the things and the monsters.

Sanctuary.

She was so tired.

Maybe.. maybe it would be a place to rest. Quiet as the grave, like they always say! And she needed to get inside. The shadows outside of the clearing were beginning to roil and writhe in a way that could be very real on Innistrad and not just her fried brain or eye failing her and She was so tired.

The stone of the cellar floor hummed with power, enough she could feel in crawling across her skin. Or maybe that was the ants again. She floor was nice and cold, even if it was hard. She dragged whatever cloth or coverings she could find, creating a nest. But she left enough space that her hand could touch the ground. The leylines still pulsed soothingly and she wanted to feel them. The cellar door was firmly bolted, and she was finally alone. She had started crying. Probably when the tiles of the floor began to wave and swirl. She was thankful for the snack that FRG had given her. At least, she's pretty sure that's what happened. It was hard to tell when She was so tired. She was so tired. She was so tired she was so tired so tired so tired so

COLD! She woke up shivering. But not screaming. And the walls weren't melting this time. There was daylight streaming through the cracks of the cellar doors. The leylines still hummed soothingly below the stone below her freezing hand. She would need to get back to the Silverwing soon, if she hadn't returned last night. Rain... Might be worried. But probably not. He could wait for a few more minutes anyways.

Octavia took a few minutes to enjoy it, the quiet. The feeling of having rested.

Even if it was only likely for a couple hours.

And she was still kind of tired.

She was in the closet again. 

She found herself there many nights, closing her eyes and waking up in the cold, dark closet, alone with her face pressed against the rotting wallpaper skin of Duskmourn. Sometimes she was alone, sometimes she wasn't. Tonight, Telete was there. The phantom of her mother's smiling, serene face leered at her, knife still through her throat and blood still on her mouth.

Octavia hated how happy she looked. 

Like she didn't have a care in the world. 

Like she had truly gotten everything she wanted. 

Like it didn't matter that some part of Octavia was happy she was dead. 

Like Octavia wouldn't wake up from this dream and wash her hands raw for the hundredth time, hoping to stop feeling the hilt of the knife and the warmth of the blood.

"You were so eager to take a life! You broke the tip of my knife off in my altar. I'm so proud of you, Octavia." Telete's mouth moved out of sync, fuzzy as her brain tried to string together enough memories to even guess what Telete would look like saying those words. But she still looked as happy as she had when she had died. The smile she wore when she was playing nice and being subtle in her cruelty. 

"You wedged the tip into the stone. You know, when you stabbed me." The wallpaper against her face felt wet.

 "No one actually believes it was an accident. They all know how much you claimed to hate me." It was blood again. She could feel it running down the wall, mixing with the coating of oil on the floor.

"And now you've proved it to them! And you've proved to me how much you love me. You brought me home, to Nyx, to find our god." It was already beginning to slowly fill the doorless room. She didn't bother trying to stand. She remained seated as it began to rise past her hips.

"He's not gone. And neither am I."

Octavia knew that was truth. Telete would never be gone. Was it grief, that kept her here? Or anger? Was it a bitterness that her own cruelty hadn't been enough to hurt her mother in her last moments? 

Bitterness that Telete had died happy, after failing to kill two of her children and being sacrificed on her own altar?

Was it the look on Nona's face from the shadowed edge of the clearing as she was pulled away by Vasro? The horror and haunting grief and regret on her younger sister's face, which she had hoped mirrored her own? (It didn't. She knew it didn't. She hadn't felt much of anything for a while afterwards, and her face reflected it.)

As the blood reached her neck, she wondered idly who would be there to not pull her out this time. Rain, looking down in disgust as she drowned in a crimson tide? Biilzie, grinning, watching her flounder in the disaster she had created?

... It was Chortos again. The heart broken and haunted look on his face as he watched her drown again in their mother's blood. He turned away before she slipped under every time, lead away by someone she couldn't see. It always hurt the most when she woke up choking after that.

She scrubbed her hands raw with cold water in the bathroom. They stung, at first, before they went numb from the temperature. She didn't bother looking in the mirror as she pulled out her concealer, an ancient bottle she still used from Lake at Strixhaven. It would cover up the bags under her eyes. 

It was only noticeable when you got close. No one would notice.