thecapitol | New kind of victory.

He would surely look at a map of Panem and compare it to his memories of maps from back home. It wasn't completely comforting, but in a way it did give him hope to imagine that even in this hellish place, France might be only an ocean away.

"I prefer the sunshine, too. But that is because I am from the south." He felt the sudden pang of nostalgia in his chest, realizing that this was the first time since his resurrection that he'd thought of his home without immediately thinking of Paris.

A blink and the thought was vanquished however. What good were bittersweet memories of a languid youth when compared to the beauty of someone alive and present and real? If anything, or anyone could make him forget himself and everything else, it was the lady in his presence. What was it about her? He couldn't say precisely, he only knew that she had a beautiful smile and that she was utterly fascinating to him.

"Have you had much chance to travel in this world, this Panem?" His question was innocent enough. Having arrived not forty-eight hours before, he was unfamiliar with all of the restrictions put in place. Of course he could see they were trapped in this room, just as they'd been trapped throughout their voyage, but the ins and outs and all the rules were still fresh to him.

She had been about to ask him about his home, when he changed the subject in a sense. There were a few reasons why someone wouldn't want to talk about their home. The biggest one, here, seemed to be that life back home for them was terrible and horrific in ways no world should be. But the other was firmly in the field of being sad about not being home. Missing home. Missing a place that you considered to be a place of calming, of warmth, of memories.

Cindy had those feelings, at times. But then, her home was the world, and Bullfinch Street. Home was friends who knew you and the secrets you had to desperately keep quiet, here.

At least she never thought about that manor in the Homelands as home. Which in turn reminded her of the ball, and then the-- oh hell no. Cindy looked closely at Courfeyac, and decided that he wasn't Prince Charming. Which meant he was a much, much better guy then her ex.

"Travel around Panem?" Cindy asked, laughing softly. "I'm sorry, it's not you. You just got here! So you don't know." She leaned a little more, a hint more, against him.

"This is the first time any of the tributes-- us-- have been outside the Capitol. Not counting the arenas, of course." Of course, right? "Apparently they've changed some important things dealing with the new tributes and the victor ordeal." The way she said it hinted at much, much more. Would you like to hear more?

He felt as though she was urging him to lean closer too, but he was somehow able to resist her and allow her to press ever so slightly against him. It would be improper to do otherwise, no matter how he would have liked to. He was too honorable to forget himself entirely. But it was all very tempting to disregard everything.

"I see. That is very disappointing, isn't it." He tore his eyes away from Cindy long enough to look out the window again. He wondered how far and how flat the land in the distance was. How far away was the sea? Was France on the other side of that sea? Was his freedom somewhere beyond? Curse this Panem.

"They must be very confident that none of us will try to escape. It is certainly a risk to let us all travel so far away from their Capitol."

"It really is." Cindy nodded. She wasn't moving, and if he didn't mind it, that was good enough for her. As he looked out the window, so did she. What was he seeing? She didn't have eyes to see everything about a person, nor he ability to read minds. Some things would remain a mystery, which was why she liked.

Mystery. Intrigue. What she saw when she looked out that window? She'd never tell.

"I think that the natives were getting restless." Cindy tugged a little on his arm. "You said you'd go check out every floor with me, we should get started, shouldn't we?" It's when they start walking that she's able to speak a little more freely.

Walking around could hide a few things. "When the games first started, it was once a year, and two kids from each district got sent in, right? And they don't come back if they die. So, people in the districts are getting pissed off about the way their being treated here. Not that I blame them." Her voice is low, tilting her head slightly so it was just the two of them as she rushed quietly. "Those kids before us, they messed with the system. So now they bring in us, and the Capitol must have thought that would be good enough to placate them, right? And it's not working out like they hoped it would."

She leaned back a little. "Hence our little trip out here." She waved a hand.

He took hold of her arm gladly, escorting her out of their initial room and out toward the bank of elevators which would lead them to the other themed floors. He listened intently, though he'd heard bits and pieces of the story when he initially arrived. However, the perspective was different than what he had heard from Marius and Gabriel and Enjolras.

"What do they expect we will do?" His face was set into a frown, not directed at Cindy, but more at their situation and at being unsure as to what was expected of them. It was pressure that he was unused to and poorly equipped to deal with.

The elevator arrived then, shiny metal doors sliding open, then closing behind them once they entered. Their reflections looked distorted and skewed in door. "Where shall we venture to? To the top floor perhaps?"

"They expect that we will be so glad and happy, because the districts should be so happy that they're not longer killing their own kids. Just us random people who aren't from here, and didn't want to be." Cindy shrugged a little, sighing as she looked at him sideways.

"Top floor sounds perfect. We can work our way down that way." She smiled, leaning against the back wall and closing her eyes for a moment. It was such a whirlwind of things to do here, and after, they would go back on the train. And after that, the arena. Who knew what would happen after all that?

"They expect us to hate the Capitol, because of what we're brought here to do. This trip? Now we've met hundreds of people who we are saving from dying, or sending in two of their kids to die." She laughed. "After seeing how much they love us, do you feel angry about going back in the arena?"

What has Enjolras said? That they should still be angry, for everything. Something Cindy agreed with wholeheartedly. She was a damn good editor.

"Yes." It was almost embarrassing to admit that out loud, but Courfeyrac was angry. He was angry and his anger was fresh enough that he would be boiling if not for the distance between himself and the Capitol, and his present company. He'd died for people who hadn't believed in him, given his life for people who wouldn't miss him or even mourn him. And those were his people. How could he expect that the people of District Eleven felt anything genuine toward him. How could he expect anything at all? Three days ago, he was in Paris, shot dead outside the cafe.

The elevator lurched to a halt and deposited them on the top floor. It was an extravaganza of violet proportions, and it was striking enough to jar Courfeyrac out of his moment of self-mourning.

"Ah, here we are. Purple. And what does this floor have in store?" He offered his arm to her again. "It is a shame all of this is for us. Surely there are people outside of this tower who could use a good meal."

"Good." Cindy breathed out, just as the elevator lurched to a stop. Very good. He should be angry. And that anger should be used, put to good use. He would just have to be very good at hiding it, because if he kept up like Enjolras, then Cindy might be well and truly fucked.

Good. She took his arm, following him out of the elevator and into this purple madness. Holy shit, was there a lot of purple. And people. A lot of people, and they probably should prepare themselves for being photographed.

Nope, let's just go in this direction. "Purple fruit, mostly." She looked at him with a smile. "There are a lot of them. Only a few people got picked to be here, but that's not even close to the rest of the district." If there was some way to get this food to them, Cindy would do it in a heartbeat.

"I don't know how they might react if we ask for a bag of leftovers."

"I certainly wouldn't mind if they were scandalized by us." His English was still a little stilted, but he was sure she would understand what he meant. Although, when he considered it more, he was pleased by the double meaning to his words.

Smiling back at Cindy, Courfeyrac tried to lead her through the crowds of people eager to throw themselves at the Tributes. If he had any residual doubts regarding the state of this new universe of existence, they were rapidly swept aside at the start of their encounter. He'd never been under such scrutiny before, and while he craved attention and longed to be adored, it was already to a level he could barely stand. The gasps and murmurs had been audible as they'd departed the elevator, only to burst into an uproarious chatter when the pair attempted to avoid the crowd.

"They do seem rather invested in us. I'm afraid I don't know what to make of it." He shook his head, glancing sideways at Cindy.

"I'm pretty sure that them being scandalized is not the problem. You've seen how some people look and act around here, this is all one big game." And it is a game, and to avoid one persistent young man, she shied a little away, pressing into him again.

"Sorry, this guy could have taken my whole dress off if he stepped on it once he got closer." Cindy laughed. "Now that is a scandal I don't feel like making." Still, they were able to get to the food table, and try to ignore everyone. And it really was everyone.

"Here's a hint for all of this: use it. We are literally in their hands. When you're in the arena, these are the people who will send you food and water and weapons, and they will do it a lot." Cindy sighed, shaking her head. "Survive the game, and attract people." She looked at him, giving a coy little smirk.

"They'll try to get to know you. You're young, and new, and just be careful of where some of those hands have been." At that she laughs, and moves away, just enough so that she can bend down and inspect the... grapes? Purple grapes.

He didn't mind at all when she pressed against him, taking the opportunity to place his arm around her as a barrier of sorts. See, Cindy? It's okay, girl. He's got your back. And he even held his tongue when it came to the other young man. Courfeyrac didn't see the need to cause a scene about it. Not yet anyway. Instead, he stared at the man cooly and kept his arm around her protectively.

"I've never had a problem winning people over." There was a flash of confidence again. He'd always been a force of gravity, pulling people in and keeping them within his orbit. He was the common bond between his friends of Les Amis, he'd brought Marius into the fold, he'd played host and social coordinator. He was a people person, and more than that, he loved attention. It wouldn't be much of a stretch for him to amplify his charm.

That said, he did a poor job concealing that he was checking Cindy out as she bent over the table to inspect the grapes. A tiny, satisfied grin tugged at the corners of his mouth. "And you mustn't have difficulties with that either."

She looked back over, same little smirk playing on her lips. "That I don't doubt. You seem like the kind of guy who..." Tends to get what you want. "Doesn't ever lack for friends." Something she can respect. Maybe fiends wasn't entirely the right word. She didn't doubt he had friends, but you had some friends, and then there were 'friends'. Cindy was good at the latter. Her line of work didn't have her making actual friends very easily.

But knowing he's checking her out is great. Obviously if he was fifty and overweight, it wouldn't have the satisfaction that came with it. Some if he was, but definitely not the same kind.

Cindy straightened up. "I've been known to turn a head or two. It's always the witty banter that keeps them in, though. A good conversationalist is not always easy to come by. But I seem to manage fairly well."

Courfeyrac found himself standing up straighter to match her posture, slyly plucking a single grape from the nearest sprig. "You have proved to be quite... adept at it so far, Mademoiselle. I have no doubt there is no end to your admirers."

He cast a sideways look toward the other revelers, from the men hovering nearby for a chance to spy Cindy to the small crowd of women gathering to check out the latest and greatest Tribute for the District. He could hear them buzzing and chattering away, voices a dull drone that never seemed to cease. They were more annoying to him now than anything else. Those people were a distraction from his present (and enchanting) company.

"Your conversation is certainly keeping my attention." He knew he was being forward, but something told him Cindy would not mind.

"No end is in sight, unfortunately." It wasn't there for more then a second, but a brief drop in happiness. A split second, really, because she was already grinning when she looked back at him.

"And yours as well." She laughed, slyly looking over at their admirers. He really did need to make an impression with them, but for right now, she was selfishly thinking: some other time.

But the sound. It reminded her of her first ball. How excited and scary those murmurings had been! How she had been so nervous, but excited. Not to go marry the prince, of course. Not for that. But for spending time as a normal human being, or what she had always imagined them to be.

She hated it, now.

"It really does. And I would feel terrible with myself if I threw you to the wolves." Cindy smirked, taking the grapes she had and eating them slowly.

Watching her drop grapes into her mouth was far more interesting that it ought to have been. For some reason, Coufeyrac could not tear his eyes from her mouth. He was momentarily fixated, and he briefly wondered what it would be like to kiss her. She probably tasted incredible thanks to all the fruit from the District.

If he didn't stop thinking about it, he would surely drive himself mad thinking about her mouth.

"Do you not trust me to care for myself?" For the shortest of seconds he pouted, though the expression faded to a sly smirk just as the last of the words left his lips. "Or is this another aspect of this cursed game?"

You really did need to pace yourself, if you wanted to have a taste of everything here. But if you were in a dress like hers, you also couldn't eat much of it. Fruit was always a good standby. But good god, did she emphasize with people here. So many good things, just out of reach.

Catching him staring, for the briefest of moments, was an interesting, and exciting development. Must have been the grapes, of course, yes, it had to be the grapes. So she finished them slowly, before she answered. Done in the name of something for fun.

"I think that if we knew each other better, I'd know if you could take care of yourself." She matched his smirk. "I suppose some people could consider it an aspect of the game. I call it being a little selfish and not wanting to find someone new to talk to."

Courfeyrac's eyes remained fixed on her, though the rest of his face lost nothing of his playfulness. "I am not at all opposed to becoming better acquainted, Mademoiselle. Quite on the contrary, in fact."

He could sense the danger in his words, however. She was a potential ally– a beautiful and mysterious and altogether troublesome one at that. But likewise, in the Arena she could just as easily become his opponent. That was a distressing thought, as he was unsure if she would hesitate to harm him. He wasn't inexperienced, he knew how the femme fatale types operated. Was Cindy luring him in just to devour him, like some treacherous insect queen? Perish the thought!

"Consider this open permission to know me better. I am at your disposal. For you, I am an open book."

She could. She could stab him in the back once they got into the arena. It's not as if she'd never done that before. But if she likes someone well enough, she's had a history of not killing them in the arena. Though, she has been there to hold her friend's hands as they died, so maybe she was just bad luck.

His odds were an even 50/50. "You know, I do think you're an open book." She smiled. "That's pretty refreshing, you know. Not everyone here can say they are an open book." She reached out to take his hand, and then pulled away, leaving a plum there.

"These are really good, you should try them." Her smile gave way to a smirk.

Courfeyrac stared at the plum in his palm for several long seconds before popping the fruit into his mouth. Hanging on her every word in spite of himself, he ate the fruit and admired her thoughtfully.

"Exceptional. I have never tasted one quite like it." His mind wandered back to his friends then, to Enjolras and Marius and the important warnings they'd attached to everything. They were constantly being scrutinized. It was dangerous to reveal too much of oneself. There were spies around and no one could truly be trusted, not even other Tributes. It was foolish of him to open himself up to a total stranger, but he felt like he knew Cindy. She was dangerous and in control, and she was more like he was than any other woman he'd ever met in his life. He wanted to know her. He wanted to know everything, not at the expense of his friends but in addition to it. Was that really so bad? Was he out of line for that.

"But you are not an open book are you, mademoiselle. I do not blame you, certainly. Every lady is entitled to her secrets." He risked another smile, grabbing another plum for himself. "However, I should like to know all about you as well. Talking all about myself would be exceedingly tiresome."

She had such a good retort in mind for right then. Something about being an open book, just go to the library and look up a certain fairy tale book. It was all right there. Even though it really wasn't, but it wouldn't be a good retort if you said one thing and then went on to say 'just kidding, not really'.

"But it wouldn't be that tiresome to hear it." Cindy went back to a smile, her expressions shifting as fast as she thought of them. Lying required skill, but telling the truth required strength.

"I grew up in a place about as big as this. A small town, ruled under a monarchy. But the town was nice. Nicer then this, but just as small." She looked at the window. "I think that's why I like cities. The bigger the better."

"Then you are not an American?" The question was perhaps a stupid one, but he did not know any better. She had said she lived in New York, so he had come to that conclusion on his own. He really did have a lot to learn about... well, everything. Especially about Cindy, though. "Is your town anyplace I would have heard of?" He imagined a duchy of some kind. Someplace cozy and quaint, far removed from the rest of society, almost like a fairytale.

Deciding that he should indulge her by any means necessary, he gave her a bit more about himself. "I myself am from the country, though I was sent off to school in Paris when I was a boy. That is what is customary for men like me. My family is rich, so they sent their son far, far away to learn the letters and become cultured. Once I arrived in Paris, I did not look back."

He reached for something else on the table then, a handful of figs. He had never been as fond of them as he was of other fruits, but it would be a sin not to try everything. Eyebrows raised in a questioning expression, he offered one to Cindy as well.

"I'm an American." Cindy said with some strength behind it. It didn't matter if she was from a fictional town in the Homelands, or whatever. She'd immigrated here just the same as every other Fable. So they all were Americans, through the ages.

She took her time, listening to him intently as she picked up a glass of wine to have something to drink. Deep and dark, much like the color. She liked the color.

"Sending kids off to boarding school isn't that rare anymore, where I'm from." Grinning, she took one, looking at the fig. "I had some schooling, but it as once I was grown up, that I was able to get some more formal training."

The particular details of what made her an American or not would have been lost on Courfeyrac. His own sense of national pride was intertwined with his ethnicity to the point that he sometimes found it difficult to understand how one could become so attached to a place that held no ancestral ties. He'd have been curious to ask Cindy about how she came to America, but their friendship was just in its infancy. There would be plenty of time for him to ask to hear the story in the future.

"It sounds to me as though you have led a fascinating life, Miss Cindy." He ate the fig mindlessly, not caring to consider the flavor. It was a distraction from his other senses right now. It was distracting him from her. Though, if one were to get technical about it, Cindy herself was perhaps the most distracting thing in the room.

The room seemed to be getting a bit more crowded then, and Courfeyrac wondered if perhaps they should move along. There were other places to see, places which he hoped would not involve the two of them becoming crushed by the crowd of eager party guests. Offering her his arm again, he gestured to the exit. "Perhaps it is best if we move along. The evening is young and there are places to see besides this little room." His eyes fell to the windows across the room, to the faint lights in the distance. "There is an entire world outside."

Even when she was in the Homelands, Cindy never thought of it as her home. Not to the extent that other Fables did. Dear lord, Beauty was constantly harping on the fact that she didn't have any land to call her own, that she'd married into royalty and didn't have the background to match what her husband's was. Cindy had done the same thing. She married into royalty, and then she got the hell out of there, and never looked back.

Being a princess just wasn't as much fun as everyone said it would be. "I'm still leading that life, Monsieur Courfeyrac." She pushes the remnants of food away, and let her hand slide against his arm before stopping to actually take it, her wineglass in her other hand. "But I wouldn't mind someone else joining me for the ride."

She gave her usual slow smile/smirk, and began to tug his arm so they could get moving. "Let's go see the world."

New kind of victory.

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maybe start wrapping up in the next few comments?

bueno :3

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