Quench like a flame ‘cause the very last light is gone

[iphigeneia]

Who| Felicity & Open
What| Wallowing in self pity
Where| Tribute Center
When| Week 04
Warnings/Notes| N/A

Waking up had been humiliating in ways Felicity never knew existed. It was one thing to die, to be murdered. It was quite another to have her death mean nothing and go unavenged. She felt positively appalled thinking about it. And worse than that, she felt disgusted at recalling the details of her own demise. To die by Cinderella's hand was fitting and fine. To linger and whimper in the arms of Marius Pontmercy was another matter entirely. It was revolting.

Now she was saddled with that hideous burden of shame, at showing weakness and intimacy to an undeserving public. She swore she'd never stoop so low, and if this were truly her new reality (as it indeed appeared to be) she promised herself and whatever powers were at her disposal that she would never she that kind of weakness again. She was Lady Strength. She would return to that form soon.

But not before wallowing in her self pity awhile longer. She'd made her way into a common area at last, dead set on feeling sorry for herself and her fallen state before daring to explore her new surroundings or the strange people in it. A girl had a right to sulk, and dammit, she was going to exercise that right if it killed her.

Comments

[orestes]

What exactly her sex had to do with anything, Enjolras couldn't fathom, though less out of some progressive inclinations, and more out of a lack of consideration. Though unconsciously, over the many months in Panem he had taken to dealing with the female Tributes simply as men, ignoring the differences between them entirely. It was more convenient than trying to reason through a responsibility to chivalry, even if every so often he found himself prey to his upbringing. Besides, there was hardly a difference between men and a woman like, say, Shepard, anyway.

"No, I am not content to be kept as their slave. Nor will I be content with my freedom at the expense of that of others. Panem is sick and if we are destined to remain here, we must find a cure for its illness." He'd used the same analogy with Joly due to the man's profession, but it was appropriate enough. Rampant inequality and the normalization and institutionalization of oppression had rendered the people unable to even see that there was a problem. To fix anything would require not a revolution of force, but a revolution of thought. They could attack forever, fight forever, but until the people themselves saw the problem, nothing would come of it. It was a difficult shift in his thought process, but one that was intrinsically important to their success.

"And where do you stand, mademoiselle? Adjusting is hardly the same thing as adapting."

[iphigeneia]

"I've been kept as a slave to men my entire life. I was abducted to this place on the eve of my emancipation. I will never forgive them for that, and I will not have my freedom detained." Felicity's voice was ripe with a force she knew she possessed but was pleasantly surprised to hear again. She was not about to bow down and suffer in silence. However, she would gladly participate in the games so long as it gave her a cover, and a chance to remain in top condition.

Quite suddenly, she ceased Enjolras by both wrists, not caring that is was scandalous to do such a thing. Presently, she thought him less a man and more a plot device in this strange drama of her life. "I am my own weapon, sir. I can wield myself in any number of ways. But I need a bloody target. Do you understand?" Her grip was firm, but not unbreakable by any means. She held him for emphasis. "I am a scorpion. I cannot help but strike. But I want to make my strike a good one."

[orestes]

He'd been about to comment on her dramatics when she grabbed him. Though he could easily break her hold, Enjolras was, plainly, stunned by the audacity of the contact. The months in the Capitol had wrenched from him concerns over whether or not it was appropriate from a sexual standpoint. Women here were simply more forward than anything he'd ever dealt with in Paris. Nevertheless, there were still limits, even to their indiscretions. As such, the gesture was not taken as an advance, but rather, coupled with her words, it seemed the desperate move of a madwoman cornered.

She had seemed fine a moment ago. How had things shifted so quickly?

"You should aspire to be something of more substance, mademoiselle. Tigers make short work of their prey as well, and are not so low to the ground." His eyes, which had widened when she had grabbed him, narrowed again this time in an expression of admonishment. He didn't move to disentangle himself, but rather hoped she would take the hint and recover her dignity herself.

[iphigeneia]

There was no dignity to recover, didn't he understand that? Nevermore would she be the society lady, nevermore would she be the debutante. Her entire world was gone, and her understanding of everything along with it. If she could not behave freely here, even in this stifled manner, then what was the point.

Either way, she did not release him. Not yet.

"Clearly you've never seen a tiger before. When they hunt they are very low to the ground."

[orestes]

"A means to an end, mademoiselle." Were they seriously to argue the particulars of tigers in so odd a position? He tugged back from her experimentally, less to free himself and more to grab her attention. "Tigers disguise their intentions before they strike, but they truly hide or pretend to be less than what they are. Your scorpions are so small. One can admire their venom while still mourning the difficulties which no doubt imbued them with it."

The metaphor was beginning to lose its lusted, but by no fault of his own. It hadn't been Enjolras' manner of speaking in the first place. He couldn't be blamed for its failures. "Who do you suppose are your enemies here?"

you still spelled things wrong but i forgive you

[iphigeneia]

Felicity could have gone on to argue the merits of being a scorpion further, but she acquiesced to him, at last releasing his arms.

"That I cannot say. I do not even know who my captives are, if they are men or monsters." In her experience, it was likely a combination of the two. She met Enjolras' gaze again, blue eyes going colder. "I suppose the men who invented the means by which I was brought to this place should be near the top of my list."

the struggle is real sometimes

[orestes]

"Men usually create their own monsters," he replied passively, adjusting the cuffs of his jacket again where they had been covered by her palms.

"And though I would not wish to speak ill of our generous hosts, I do not imagine that would be a terrible place to start." Hopefully that was a vague to keep them from immediately honing in on her, but encouraging enough that she would follow the instinct. Even the Capitol had to accept that, at least on a certain level, anger was the natural reaction to an abduction.

Satisfied with his readjusted jacket, he eyed her, remembering what had first prompted him to seek her out. "The Games are a distraction. Playing in them is only giving our keepers what they want. You can choose to work within their system and embrace its cruelty for however it might be of benefit to you, or you can choose to recognize its futility and work for something better. I do not pretend that either path is necessarily easier than the other, but those are the options available to us."

preach

[iphigeneia]

"And you insist that is it?" Her blue eyes met his for a long enough period that it was nearly uncomfortable. "One cannot strive for victory while working to undermine the system?"

That seamed at odds to Felicity, not just because she despised being corrected or led by a man, but because she was sure there would be a way for her to win the Games while working against the Capitol. Perhaps Enjolras could not understand. He hadn't been through the things she had. She knew he knew nothing of the oppression of the female sex, nor the hideous evils a man could commit against his daughter, nor the wicked subjugation she'd been threatened with both in the Realms and in her real life. He was a man. He could be disobedient and not have everything taken away from him. She and her sisters did not have that luxury.

"This has not been a wasted recruitment speech, if that is what you are attempting. Whereas Paris did not rise with you, know that I will, when it is time." She cast her gaze aside then, tugging at the lace on her wrists. "Does that satisfy you?"

[orestes]

That caught him off guard. Despite her assertion that he was a player in some sort of history book, he couldn't help but be annoyed by how much she knew of him. The last person he'd told of his failed rebellion had been Diana and she'd disappeared months ago, long before it had ever had the chance to be relevant.

"Not particularly." He frowned back at her critically. The sentiment was appreciated, even if its speaker was less than satisfactory. "Insurgencies must have their discipline, and you, mademoiselle, seem ill-acquainted with the notion."

[iphigeneia]

"You must forgive me for speaking bluntly, Enjolras, but you are ill-acquainted with me entirely." Felicity rose from her seat then, taking the limited opportunity to loom over him. "And if I recall my history correctly- and I do- your attempt at insurgency ended in a bloody massacre."

[orestes]

His expression had been far from pleasant before, but that earned her an outright snarl. "Recorded history is all too often the luxury of the victorious, mademoiselle. We failed and we suffered the consequences for it, but we failed in the pursuit of something in which we truly believed. Moreover, none of us acted in any capacity that did not serve virtue."

With the exception of one man, but Enjolras had made short work of that himself. The consequences for that, both real and imagined, he would endure alone.

[iphigeneia]

"That is where you are wrong, sir. Your history was written by a Victor, but not the kind you assume." If she were not in this situation, she would have been pleased by her wordplay there. "You are remembered lovingly, thoughtfully. You are a noble hero, Enjolras. Those who have read your tale are destined to admire you. I don't need to be convinced of the righteousness of your actions in Paris. I know them well, and as I said, I will aid you should you do it again."

[orestes]

Everything about her words confused him. He wasn't the sort to miss a reference, or to feel somehow ill-prepared for such interactions and yet, this conversation had been one terrible mystery after another. Who was this girl? How did she know so much of him? And why, knowing what she did, would she bother herself about him? None of it made any sense.

Still, he severity of his expression eased slightly and he regarded her with a sort of weary acceptance. Too much of Panem was a mystery to bother too much with those particular to individuals. A promise of aid was a promise of aid. It couldn't be overlooked. "As you wish, mademoiselle. I should wish that all the Tributes felt similarly. If not for me than for the sentiments I apparently represent."

[iphigeneia]

Felicity would accept this as a victory. She did not smile at him, though she greatly wanted to celebrate her triumph. Instead, she settled for easing back into her chair as if it were a throne and she were an empress upon it. She did not look proud so much as serene.

"Enough of us do, monsieur. And those who don't may still be persuaded." You've persuaded me already, and I've read your book, you little frog. "I dislike being subjugated. Surely I am not alone in that."

[orestes]

"I admire your confidence, mademoiselle." He said, passively. Something about her serenity made him uncomfortable. It was again the keen sensation that she knew something he didn't and was neglecting to share the information. As their conversation was at a standstill, more or less, he had the opportunity to leave it all together.

With a polite inclination of his head, he rose, again adjusting his jacket to be presentable. "Well then, I should be on my way."

[iphigeneia]

"If you insist, Monsieur." She watched him fidget, staring at him still. "I look forward to our discussion next time."

[orestes]

"Perhaps it will have the opportunity to truly be a discussion." He wasn't looking at her as he responded, not really, anyway. This girl was bothersome, vexing. Pleasantries were all well and good, but he didn't really want to have another conversation with her.

"They have a certain phrase here about odds, but I think it is better if I just wish you good luck, Mademoiselle Worthington. On whatever it is you choose to pursue here."