In a Breath I Felt You Leaving Like the Setting Sun [Open]

[vissernone]

WHO| Eva and open
WHAT| Eva scouts for potential rebels
WHERE| Tribute Center
WHEN| Week 3
WARNINGS| Mentions of alcohol abuse and dead son.

Eva's always a little bit drunk the morning of the anniversary of her son's death. Then again, since going back to District Nine for the Tour, she's been a bit drunk all day anyway. With Eponine in the Arena, Eva doesn't have to worry about looking like a terrible wreck in front of anyone.

For the last week she's barely bathed, lounging around her house in a robe with a tangled nest of hair, drinking wine from the bottle, sleeping on the couch, watching her Tributes die on television. Harley Quinn, first death of the Arena coming from District Nine. What an embarrassment.

But on the anniversary of his death, she won't disgrace him with self-pity, so she blearily makes her way to the shower. She puts on makeup. She pulls her hair back tight and clips it with a pin made of orchids. She dresses plain, but clean, simple but not drab, in black.

Her son doesn't have a grave, and she doesn't have a place she goes to remember him. She doesn't need to. She remembers him in sunsets she could never get him to pay attention to. She remembers him in her handwriting. She remembers him in every waking moment when her subconscious whispers that he was only there in her dreams. She remembers him in the tastes of foods he liked, and of foods he hated. She remembers him in the mirror when she sees that that black hair that she gave his genes is streaked with grey now.

The best way to mourn him is to do right by his memory, and that means continuing to move towards her plan. That means gathering Tributes around her like little bullets to line her chambers for when she takes this all down.

She waits for people to come through the Tribute Center door, coming or going.

Comments

[revvinguptheharley]

After a week of entirely self indulgent behavior, and a week of moping about Harley is out and about once again laughing up a storm over her humiliating defeat. She's even been seen doing impersonations of the death for drunk patrons who laugh about it.

Despite acting like a fool though Harley never fails to drop in a few good words about her favorite fellow tributes. Donnie has lost some of his fans after stabilizing from his mental breakdown, Cindy, Mindy, Holiday, Susie, Barbara, sometimes Harley loses track of all the girls she's cheering for.

Today she comes rolling through the doors of the tribute center on a pair of roller skates with bags full of goodies. As usual she's been out shopping up a storm. One of the attendants politely asks her to take off her skates indoors but she sticks her tongue out and glides by, skillfully leaping over a sofa.

[vissernone]

It's Eva's brain damage that makes the sound of skating so entirely intolerable. It doesn't sound like the skid of wheels on polished tile - instead the clicks and whirrs make her feel as if she's in the chamber of a gun.

"Could you stop that?" she asks, not on behalf of the attendants who cower from her and Harley both.

[revvinguptheharley]

Harley's head swung fast to the direction of Eva's voice, her ponytails bounced looking a bit like a dog who just heard someone calling it's name.

"Huh? Oh sure boss!" Harley chirped cheerfully and flopped into a chair to take off her skates. While she lacked any respect for the authorities of the capitol or even the Tribute building, she seemed desperate and eager to please her mentors.

Slipping off her skates revealed brightly colored toe socks. Red and green stripes. She wiggled her toes apparently delighted by them.

[vissernone]

"Thank you." Eva rubs her hand over her temple. Her language skills have returned after so long healing from the last Arena, but the migraines have remained, as well as the sensitivity to light and sound.

"You're back too early, Harley. I'm disappointed."

[revvinguptheharley]

Harley groaned and hung her head in shame.

"I know right? It was all like, BAM! and next thing I know my brains are melting out my ears and I can't figure out who's holding me in my final moments...it was either Suze or Babs." She could always go look at the replay later.

"First I miss the Candy Land arena because of that nasty poison trick, and now I Miss the slumber party from hell. Some tributes get all the luck." She pouted crossing her arms like a child.

[vissernone]

"It was Susannah." That bitch. Eva holds grudges outside the Arena, and she has a deep one for the woman who hamstringed Eponine back on the island.

"Some Tributes put a little more effort into not dying." Eva doesn't let up when Harley bows her head. She sounds like a stern teacher giving a sorry pupil a lecture.

[revvinguptheharley]

"Aw Susannahhhh." Harley smiled weakly. "I'll buy that girl a bag of cookies or something to thank her for that." Harley seemed oblivious to the grudge. She had her own problems as a look of hurt filled her face and she shrank down in her seat like a child.

"I'm sorry." she mumbled without an ounce of playfulness "You know I try my best. Last arena I ran for like...almost twenty hours to try and ditch those raptors." In the end exhaustion had claimed her but it had been one of the more amusing deaths. Not to mention her "Running gag" as it was titled by the broadcast had killed some other tributes.

[splendid_roman]

Ian is keeping himself busy, trying to forget what happened in the arena and not have to watch what's happening in it now, as vain a hope as it may be. So he's up early, for him. At least the reporters leave him alone these days, his entertainment value shot away for not killing anyone, so he's cheery and gives Eva a smile on his way out, just before he yawns.

[vissernone]

"You're in a startlingly good mood." Eva's massaging her temple when Ian goes by. "It's almost upsetting for someone who so clearly lives on borrowed time."

[splendid_roman]

He stopped and frowned at her. "I'm alive, why shouldn't I be in a good mood?"

[vissernone]

"Not for long, if your footage is anything to go by." She brushes hair from her face. "Although you might not be looking for unsolicited advice."

[splendid_roman]

He raised an eyebrow. "I don't think there's anything to worry about." He knew what she was referring to, but surely if they were going to do anything they'd have done it by now.

[vissernone]

"In which case, you're in a cheerful mood and naive." She raises an eyebrow back, exaggerated the gesture in mocking mimicry. "You're tempting them."

[splendid_roman]

"Perhaps." He shrugged. "Maybe I've had enough of being told what to do."

[cherryblossomnoose]

Subaru has been more social as time passes. He leaves his suite regularly, and has even been brave enough to navigate parts of the Capitol now that he isn't feeling crippled by his emotions and unease.

Today, he's feeling the same confidence. Determined to learn more about the life style here and possibly if there is any possible way to leave this place and get back home, he's in the lobby ready to leave by midday. He's meditated and said the prayers of his clan for luck. He's donning a hat similar to his hat from home, treating this self given mission as he would a job.

As he approaches the doors, he notices her and gives Eva a warm smile, "Good afternoon."

[vissernone]

"Good afternoon."

Eva's smile isn't really warm in turn. She can't afford to be warm to people she barely knows. Besides, she doesn't have high expectations for Subaru, given how quickly he was (rather gruesomely) disposed of in his first Arena.

"You're new."

[cherryblossomnoose]

He catches the lack of warmth almost immediately, his own smile falling a bit, "I am. My name is Subaru."

Everyone here seems to know him and he hardly knows any of them. It's unnerving, but the only way to learn is to ask questions.

"What's your name, if I may ask?"

[vissernone]

"Eva Salazar." She pauses for a moment to see if there's any recognition, but of course there isn't - she's old news, a Victor from decades ago, hardly worth learning about when the Games are practically an assembly line of new winners.

"I'm a Victor for another District."

[thatwasme]

"Eva!" Barbara smiles, lifting up a parcel she's carrying to chest height after she comes in the doors. "Think fast!"

It's playful rather than an action she follows through on, pantomiming tossing the wrapped parcel Eva's way. She didn't expect to see her around, making her wonder why in particular now, why today, but she finds herself wondering that often about many others around this place. The Tributes, they make sense. The Victors pulled in to try and Mentor the lot of them, they're harder to read. It's as if more of them have been forcibly gathered lately, like the trip back to the Districts had stirred up some half-forgotten memory of who was supposed to be a staple in the old favorites list of the Capitol's eyes.

Still, if Eva looks prepared to catch, Barbara will loose her package in a lazy arc through the air into Eva's chest.

[vissernone]

It doesn't matter how many years have passed since her first Arena - and furthermore, the most recent one is fresh in the dead tissue its seared onto her brain. As such she jerks herself out of the way of the package as if she were dodging a bullet, no matter how languid its arc is. It drops to the ground.

She gives Barbara something of a reproachful look as she picks it up.

"You're late for Christmas, Barbara."

[thatwasme]

Barbara looks down at her hands in slight dismay. She clearly didn't have the hold on her package that she'd thought, though Eva's look of reproach rolls right off her with a laugh. "Christmas? Who ever has time around then? No, it's lucky you're in today, I wasn't sure when I'd be able to get this to you. Kind of a late housewarming gift!"

She moves to easy conversational distance, ignoring the looks of those who hung around the immediate area.

[vissernone]

"I thought I would be the one housewarming you."

The reproachful expression melts into a softer one, but there's still wariness in her eyes. There's still the residue of panic. She takes the gift to her chest and begins to unwrap it.

[thatwasme]

It's simply wrapped, revealing a bag of coffee beans (single origin, peaberry) and a complicated looking thermometer. The thermometer is wrapped in a sheet of basic, hand-written instructions. At the top, it reads, "Calibree Test Model."

"I think it'd be more of a welcome back," she says lightly, walking closer to Eva. Her eyes are on the unwrapping, hands up and gesturing as the coffee and thermometer come to light. "I talked with a bunch of folks over in the different coffee shops, they said something like this would be the most intense flavor." Barbara will be appearing at their coffee shop each morning for the next month. Connections and superficial favors have a price.

"The thermometer thingy is a question and something practical. It works like a thermometer, digital and all, but it also has an acidity readout? To tell you how bitter something is, in case you wanted to see what the coffee's ever like before you try it," she adds, shooting Eva a hopeful smile.

"I've been talking with one of the big guys in Calibree, trying to get a feel for if anyone could be drawn into the whole Sponsoring thing this arena. I'm not sure any of them are biting yet, what, with Harley," going out like she did, so fast, "And a handful of people with unknowns on record. They liked Mindy so far," she adds. "So he was telling me how they're trying to get this off the ground, looking for some variety of testing out in the field, all in house and practical like, past what they have now, and if there'd be any way to work on a kind of promotional deal or something. I said it couldn't hurt to give it a whirl, could I see how they handle motor oil? He laughed, said sure, why not? If we're interested, it could be a good bit of positive attention. Tributes of District 9, the handy help around the home."

She lets the words roll on our in a babble, as if she's trying very hard to impress Eva right now, like she's showing off that she can do this sponsor chumming thing too.

It's not what this is about, but she wants it to seem enough like that for the moment. It suits her just fine that way.

"There's all these settings to look for different things in all kind of -- I think he said something about solvables? Solvable liquids? Anyway, I figure I can pop around with some of the Tributes, see if Harley can make one go whacky on the sugars, see what the others can toss at it when they're back. Then if you had one too, well, it felt a little more like a team effort, you know? Like we all had a piece of the same puzzle to suss out."

[vissernone]

There's a precise violence to the way that Eva opens the package. It isn't exaggerated tearing; her hands stay intimately close to the gift itself. It's all fingernails, all little strips of wrapping peeling back like sunburned skin.

(These fingernails rent skin from flesh before. These hands ripped a boy's face off, decades ago in a memory that does not seem to fade at the same rate as everything she actually wants to hold on to.)

She nods, and though it's stiff, she smiles. It's a good effort.

"I don't suppose they're looking for creative input so much as data, but we should offer them Harley for branding, if they attempt to market any sort of sweetness." Besides, Harley has to stay occupied for the next few weeks. "You know I prefer bitterness."

[thatwasme]

Barbara's smile continues to be worn easily, though she looks almost pleased for a moment. It passes. "Yeah," she admits, "I know you do. This way, I just figure you can know exactly what's in your mug before you get to drinking. No nasty surprises!"

Given Harley being a topic of sweet conversation, and Eva's own self-proclaimed fondness for bitterness, the connection seems simple enough. Barbara remembers a half hyperbole warning about people who work in insidious ways.

You can know exactly what's in your mug indeed.

"I'm starting to believe Harley runs on sugar."