[ If there's anything Octavia hates, it's being trapped in a small space. She spent so much of her life beneath the floorboards, frightened, and that feeling comes right back whenever she's confined. At least she has a little room to breathe here, but hardly any to move; she's got her back pressed up against a mirror, knees pulled up to her chin to make herself smaller.

In the few months she was on Earth at ground level, she never experienced more than rain and puddles. Inclement weather is new and uncharted territory for her. She hasn't the slightest idea what she'll do if the water rises any higher. Go under, she supposes, and try to make it quick.

She breathes in slowly through her nose, breathes out slowly through her mouth. ]

I am not afraid, [ she mutters, a mantra to keep her cool. She thinks about death all the time, but not like this. This isn't a warrior's death. ] I am not afraid.

[ By the time she makes her way to the locked room, she's fed up with this Wonderland nonsense. The mirror before had fallen apart at her touch, and it's the first thing she tries. Instead, she just feels like she's being sucked in, and she rips her hand away with a significant amount of effort.

Fine. Looks like this one will take a bit more coaxing.

She rips a piece of cloth from her jacket and wraps it around her knuckles before full-force punching the mirror, regardless of anyone on the other side's protests. It hurts like hell, but the mirror cracks, at least. She breathes a sigh of relief, thinking that perhaps if she breaks it, the same thing will happen like before — a new path will open to her.

As quickly as hope came to her, though, it's drained away. The cracks from her strike start to mend themselves before her eyes. ] Dammit.

[ She strikes the mirror again. Again, it mends itself. Angry, she follows up with another. And another, and another— ]

[ Do your worst! Prose or brackets are fine w/ me. ]