Once the reached the beach, they sat down in the sand.

Octivan was grateful, since he didn't think he could go any further even wth Rachel's help.

It was almost sunset, and the sand was sun-warmed. The sun cast dying rays of orange, pink, and red over the calm blue waves.

Rachel knew he was trying to hide how much that little walk took out of him, but she could hear him breathing heavily. She interlaced her fingers with his, and he leaned his head against her sholder gratefully.

For a minute, they just sat there and watcbed the sunset.

Then, Octivan spoke. All of the arrogance, the smug, sarcastic, cocky, self-confidence was gone from his voice. He sounded weary, resigned, and defeated.

"They hate me."

Rachel sighed.

"Try and see it from their point of view. You did attack their camp, and they don't know about Gaia." Rachel said softly.

Octivan didn't look up.

"I know. They have good reason to hate me. I deserve it."

Rachel would have hit him again, but he seemed genuinely honest.

And possibly slightly depressed. Maybe Rachel should call a therapist. Did they make therapists for getting possesed by a demented Mother Earth?

Probably not.

"You don't deserve ig. Your a good, sweet, kinda dorky guy at heart. You just need to let more people see that guy, instead of that front you put on." Rachel encouraged softly.

"I don't know how to do that anymore." He murmured.

"I'll help you. And if people have anything else to say, they can talk to the hairbrush." Rachel said, and Octivan pitied the poor fool who got on Rachel's bad side.

"I can do anything with your help." Octivan said, and looked up to meet her eyes then.

They sat and watched the rest of the sunset in a quiet peace, Octivan's head on her shoulder, their hands twined.