thecapitol | Out tonight

Entry tags:

Out tonight

Who| Ian and open
What| Partying. And by partying we mean coming down off his two week binge of trying to forget the arena
Where| Bars, clubs, the streets of Panem
When| Current, at night/early morning
Warnings/Notes| Underage? drinking (not sure on the drinking age of Panem), drugs, breakdowns

He had told himself he was fine. He had died, woke up, got a shower and went out. Breezy pausing only to check the death toll. Blaine and Kurt had survived, they must have escaped. Well at least his dead hadn't been completely in vain. His escort had even congratulated him for fighting back, like they had expected him to just lie down and die. He had smiled and headed to a bar. He had just died, he figured he deserved a drink.

One drink had led to another, and one club had led to another, he had veered off from the main clubs by the tribute tower and had found a few ones that played decent music. Nothing he knew of course, but heavy and angry, matching his mood.

That had been two weeks ago, he had slept at times. Either back in the tower or wherever he found himself. Not always alone. Being alone was painful, as was being sober or not being high. He had all the money he wanted and so he spent it on forgetting.

Somewhere deep down he knew he was acting like Frank and it sickened him, a burning hatred that reared up whenever he was sober enough to think. Though he had always drank, and smoked shit it was never serious, just mucking about with Mandy or Lip. He had wanted to be an Officer, or if he couldn't be, his GPA was not the best, join the army and work his way up. It had kept him focused, kept him training, kept him out of the worst of trouble.

He didn't have that anymore, or more he had it in a twisted nightmare form. An eternal soldier, unable to die, not fighting for any cause just for entertainment. Killed and revived on the sick whims of a crazy futuristic society. It wasn't going to change, and they weren't going to escape, shit like that didn't happen. The Capitol had no reason to change, this worked for them. So what was the fucking point of trying anymore? So he had stopped trying, stopped thinking and everything had become so much easier.

Tonight was a night like the nights before, he moved from club to club, going with the crowds. Not knowing where he was, not caring. Escaping from his own head, because everything was shit and finding a way to make it not shit would involve far too much thinking.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"You must show me where. I do not know a fried chicken."

She laughed again, her worry about blabbing apparently forgotten, and she pushed open the door and staggered into the street.

"Come - come, Sir. Ian." She flinched as her foot hit cold paving stones, but she moved anyway, swaying slightly and falling against the wall with a chuckle.

"You need carried?" Why wasn't she wearing shoes? Surely her stylists had given her some.

"No! Come!" She laughed again, and staggered back to him.

"Come show me a chicken and I shall make up to you for stealing the food. Come - come wirh me! Only, if you do not want to be seen with me too much, I shall follow you, yes!"

"Come here," He reached out to sling an arm over her shoulder, in a friendly manner. "We will steal a shit load of chicken, and have a feast."

She laughed, and stood up on her tiptoes to whisper in his ear,

"You are a thief? And I thought you were a proper gentleman, Ian." She seemed delighted, though, that apparently the opposite was true.

"How the fuck did you figure I was a gentleman?" He raised an eyebrow, laughing some more.

"You are friends with Monsieur Marius." She trails her hands across the buildings as they walk.
"And he is a proper gentleman - he's a baron. And all his friends are true men. He is not one to truly be friends with the like of me or you."

"Oh." Ian shrugged, "No idea why he hangs out with the likes of me then."

"I went in his room once - he lived next door to me in Paris, you know. But he had a whole room to himself. And a mirror. And books, such books. I like the mirror. I went in once, when he wasn't there, so I could look at myself. I wished he were a lady then, so I could have a bit of his rouge. But still. It was nice to wipe the dirt off my nose and straighten my shawl."

She danced ahead of him, staggering drunkenly. "I would have taken him to see the stars, you know? They are so beautiful. But he is not one to sleep out of doors. That is why he must win the arena." She grabbed for Ian's hand, tugging him along. "He is too much a gentleman for this."

"A whole room to himself?" That was actually impressive, though it wasn't uncommon in Ian's world. He was just used to a house where everyone lived on top of each other.

"You got a plan? To help him win?" Because Ian agreed, he wasn't made for the arena, but winning was the only way out.

"A plan?" She stopped short. Nobody had ever asked if she had a plan. (And lets face it, ever plan Eponine has ever had has ended in disaster for her anyway.)

"I suppose... I suppose I shall have to fight. To kill. I could be bad to let him stay good... there's no hope for me anyway, so it doesn't make a difference. That is what I will have to do."

"And you think that will work?" He almost tripped when she stopped but soon regained his balance. "I mean, it's a good plan but... will you be able to kill?" He was pretty sure she was capable, just... mentally, would she be able to. And live with herself after.

"It has to. I have no other plan, Sir. Ian." She grasped his arm, quite in earnest. "Sir, I can kill. I have been brought up all my life by conmen and crooks. My husband is the most feared murderer in the whole of Paris. Often have I seen him, and helped him pull the dresses from the bodies. He has me dress in them, sometimes, when I am at his rooms, so that he might laugh at me and call me names. They are the finest ladies that he goes for - they have money, you see. I don't like it. But I know how to. And for Marius, perhaps yes. I am for hell anyway, so what difference does it make?"

Ian swayed against her, the words making his stomach clench. "You shouldn't have to kill." He told her softly, "We'll think of a better plan." One that didn't torment Eponine and turn her into a murder.

"I do not think I care any more, Sir."

She was too tired. She had fought for too long and achieved nothing. Sometimes it is easier to give in.

"Yeah." He put his arm round her. "You do."

"Don't let them win."

She leaned her head back, looking at the stars.

"It's easier not to. They are taking my dreams one by one and soon, soon they will take yours as well."

"Already did." He laughed to the stars, "I've nothing else to take."

She looked at him sadly. "Then we are two together." She held his gaze for a minute, but then she looked away.

"Come. We shall forget the chicken. Let me show you a magical sight in this city. We should have something nice to think of, sometimes. Come, we shall go to a garden I know where we can see the stars."

He met her gaze for a second and then tore it away, looking down. "The stars?" He stumbled, "Sure." He grinned stupidly, he was so drunk, but stars sounded fun.

She led him back through the streets, to the more residential areas of the Capitol, stumbling and swaying as she went. But even in her drunkenness, Eponine knew exactly where she was going. She knew the streets of the Capitol now as well as she knew the streets of Paris. After fifteen minutes, and a walk up a hill later, Eponine stopped outside a large house with a big front garden. Behind the tall gate, flower beds were laid out neatly, and the lawn was manicured to perfection.

"From here, you can see the stars perfectly. I sleep here sometimes, and it is so, so lovely, Sir. It makes me feel -" She touched her chest, her face suddenly alight with pure joy. "I love to watch the stars. It is one of my favourite things here."

Ian laughed, bringing his hand up to muffle the sound. "Ian, not sir." He reminded her as they entered into the garden. He whistled softly at the surroundings.

"You found a fancy stargazing spot."

"The best in the city. And honestly, they do not care when they find me on their garden. They give me breakfast, instead of chasing me away." She fell back onto the grass.

"Even, I don't think they'd care if we climbed through their window and ate their food." She laughed in sheer wonder. This place did not make any sense to Eponine, but the parts that pleased her, she was going to take full advantage of.

"Wow, fancy and kind." He flopped down beside her. "You got lucky."

"I think they just like a Tribute in their garden. I don't think they'd care who it was. But perhaps they will remember us next arena."

She grinned, and turned her head to Ian.

"Have you done this? Watched the stars? They are beautiful. I used to pretend they were smiling at me."

(no subject)

wantwhatiwant - 2014-01-01 20:15 (UTC) - Expand

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only