I'm Looking for the Tower of Learning [Closed]

[celebrityskinned]

WHO| Venus and Enjolras
WHAT| Venus teaches Enjolras how to fight.
WHEN| Prior to the crowning.
WHERE| Training Center
WARNINGS| my ship tho. also mentions of bugs and nightmares.

She isn't new to nightmares. When she was little, the insects her older cousin put on her would crawl back out of her skin in her dreams, skittering and slithering across her belly button and under her shirt. When she was a teenager, the world was on fire, and she kept screaming and beating her little brothers because they wouldn't hear her, and she'd crack their faces open and reveal egg yolks on the inside. Then there were, of course, your run of the mill dreams about showing up to a red carpet event in the wrong clothes, of forgetting her bookbag to school and having to go on futile, circular quests to retrieve it.

The flavor of them has changed. There's a sort of dread to them now that isn't tied into grief, but a vague sense of loss, like grabbing through fog and finding nothing. Foreboding for the future, rather than sorrow for the past. She wakes up in the morning and there are names on her lips, and she listens at people's doors for the sounds of sleeping to ease the strange anxiety in her bones. Kankri snores a little. Enjolras is awake, and she can hear the rustle of pages in his room, but she doesn't knock or enter.

It soothes her bones but not her mind, so she goes to the Training Center. Dressed in a midriff top and spandex pants, she stretches on the mats, warms up with the acrobatic bars. She wraps her hands and puts chalk on them that's still there when she takes to the more combat-oriented exercises. It's still early enough that there's no one besides her there to hear the smacking of her kicks against a dummy, of the elbow she miscalculates on just enough to give herself rug-burn.

She pauses for a moment, breathing heavy but not yet sweating, and goes to the supplies rack to put a brace on her arm.

Comments

[orestes]

It wasn't as if he'd followed her. That would be strange, invasive on a level even their codependency isn't quite equipped to deal with. Still, Enjolras had heard someone moving through the suite, over the scratching of his pen in the early morning. The telltale sound of her voice softly humming some pop song or other hand, had led him conclusively to the idea that Venus was up and bustling around. Honestly, he'd only intended to wish her a good morning. Perhaps, if he were feeling especially bold, invite her out for a cup of coffee. Something that would allow them to pretend their weren't more substantial causes to their mutual insomnia.

As it is, however, he has followed her. Enjolras has made himself barely presentable, in knit pants and a loose cotton t-shirt. If she'd been headed anywhere else, it might have even presented him with a problem. One's image has to be maintained, after all. Venus had drilled that into his head more effectively perhaps than anyone else. His hair is still mussed from a night spent not-really-sleeping, and there are bags under his eyes as he watches her work out. At least he's over the scandal of seeing her in body conscious clothing. If he were to be honest, he'd admit that he still prefers her in a dress, but there is a certain practicality to leggings which he can respect, at least on face value.

"You seem half-asleep," he comments finally, as she makes to find a brace for her arm. It's unlike her to lack precision. Typically, Venus is terrifyingly competent in everything that she does. Any arbitrary mistake, he's begun to suspect, is little more than an affect to make her seem more approachable to an eager audience.

"It's four thirty in the morning," The contraction is almost automatic, as he continues. It's a sign he's been in Panem for far too long. "Most people have the decency to wait for five."

[celebrityskinned]

She knows he's there before he speaks, of course. The hypervigilance of the Arena has fused to her bones in a way that the superhero life never did. She isn't afraid, but she's aware of her surroundings, and notices without seeing or hearing that he's entered, as if by some sixth sense. And it's with comfort that she knows he's there, tangible in the way she doesn't have the courage to ask for yet in their relationship, and also with worry because they both should still be asleep.

"Hey, you." She finishes strapping the brace on and wanders over to him, reaching up to pat some of his hair down with a smirk that does the teasing her mouth doesn't have words for. "I figured I'd hit the gym before people got sweat all over all the good equipment."

The drugs that keep her asleep have made her a bit foggy even after waking and warming up, but given the scorn he set aside for Azula's pills, she figures it's better to just let her momentary lapse in skill be attributed to the hour.

"What were you reading this morning?" She holds her arm out and flexes with the brace, stretching all the way down to her fingertips. "I mean, I wasn't - I wasn't creeping or anything, I just heard pages when I walked by."

[orestes]

"Nothing important," he lies, not because he doesn't trust her, but because he doesn't trust their surroundings. It's hard to find a quiet space to talk in the Tribute Center. In the Training Center, Enjolras is almost entirely certain they're being watched. The assumption of privacy had already embarrassed him here once and he can tell her of his plans later, when they can entertain the hope it might be safe.

"Sartre. I find existentialism boring enough that I thought it might help me sleep." He reaches up, catching her hand easily and bringing it to his lips for a quick kiss. Public displays of affection will never truly be his thing, but the small gesture will play well enough for the cameras. Enjolras also takes a certain amount of pride at being able to master such things. A month ago, that level of familiarity with her would've seemed unlikely. A year ago, even wanting that kind of familiarity with another human would have seemed ridiculous. There's merit sometimes to being a quick study.

"It did not work as planned. I stared at the ceiling for several hours wondering how it is that anyone can question his own existence to such a degree. And, naturally, the hubris of putting oneself on a level with God." He's teasing back gently, in his own enigmatic way. "Your turn. You do not usually wake up so early, and even then, the Avoxes keep this place too clean for all of that."

[celebrityskinned]

"They do say we're crafted in God's image." The smile that wraps itself into the muscles of her face is genuine at the kiss. They've come to the point where small affections, adventurous ones, feel like stealing moments out from under the watch of their senses of propriety, but the guilt has lessened and turned into a sort of exhilaration. When he lowers her hand, she squeezes his.

"I've just- the body remembers, you know? I've heard stories about people keeping memories inside their muscles that they only recall when they go through certain motions. Since I can't sleep it off, I'm trying to work out some of that energy."

It's a thought that's circled around quite a bit ever since she got herself a human form, and one that tangles in the back of her mind with her opinions on Descartes. She finds she has a more holistic view on her self than most of these philosophers.

And how else to say why she can't sleep?

"Anyway. I need to keep sharp if I'm doing another Arena, anyway."

[orestes]

At the mention of the Arena, he frowns and squeezes her hand. Enjolras wishes he had the power to take her out of the Games, her and all of his friends, but even if he did, he doubts she's go. Not as long as others were forced into it. And it isn't as thought he can't sympathize. He'd never wanted to win, never wanted to have to watch the others fight and die, with no real way to help them. It's its own kind of torture.

"We should all keep fit. For anything that lies ahead of us." Hopefully that's ambiguous enough, or maybe they've just written him off at this point. Whatever the case, it needs to be said, repeated. The Arenas aren't the only fight ahead of them.

"If everyone in there is as talentless as me, you should win with no trouble at all."

[celebrityskinned]

She teasingly squeezes his upper arm. "I could teach you, you know. Basic self-defense, S-I-N-G, all that. I saw you try to take on Maximus and that seems a bit like learning to swim by jumping into an ocean storm."

The truth is, she's wanted to try and impart some of her skill onto him for a while. He's been a willing teacher for her mind, and she hasn't had nearly enough opportunity to return the favor - as much as she's taught him about managing his public image, it hasn't really been the same.

She pulls at his hand towards the mats. "Plus, it'll make me feel better knowing that Courfeyrac and Marius won't beat you up again."

[orestes]

He flushes at that, but he also knows well enough that it's gentle teasing. Moreover, it's not undeserved. Enjolras' face has mostly healed by now, he still can't deny the fact that he did essentially lose a fight, however ill-defined, to two of his best friends when none of them were even truly angry or trying to hurt each other.

If he were to be embarrassed, however, it would be because of Marius. Losing to Courfeyrac was not nearly as much of a blemish on his dignity or masculinity.

"You should know that the news footage made that look far worse than what it was." He follows closely behind her, only just letting himself be a little unsure of all of this. Training with Eva had been with weapons -- strictly hands off-- with Maximus, he'd been outmatched. Albert had been closer , but it didn't seem to bother him as much with a stranger, and particularly with a man larger than himself. Intellectually, he was confident in Venus' ability to take care of herself, but that didn't mean he wanted to play an active role in proving the point.

"We did fight in Paris, you know. I know fencing and canne de combat. My friend Bahorel was an accomplished boxer and I know some of that as well, though I would hardly call myself skilled. I have told you before, the decision not to fight has no bearing on my ability. Though I would prefer it if guns have been introduced into the Arenas earlier."

[celebrityskinned]

"Your face made it look far worse than it was." She pauses in her step to rise on tip-toes and put a light kiss on his nose, as soft as a brush of air, these strange impulses for intimacy that require so much more courage from her than the Arenas do. As quick as she does it, she's back to pretending she hasn't, wrapping up her hand back in the cloth to absorb clamminess.

"I'd rather not have to deal with guns, honestly. I don't even know how to load one, and the one time I tried to shoot I couldn't hit the broad side of a barn." It's the truth, although she suspects anyone who sees the footage will assume it's a strategic lie to downplay her brutal murderess reputation. Or some affect to put her less-skilled boyfriend at ease, as if she'd be that condescending.

"Anyway, the kind of fighting you do in Paris isn't what you do in the Arena. Okay." She stands two feet from him. "I dare you to throw a punch. Don't worry, I'll dodge."

[orestes]

"I am a decent enough shot. Better perhaps because I actually practiced now and then. Guns would end the Arenas faster, which is probably why they avoided them for so long, even as a gimmick." There's the nasty reality that she'd died by being shot last go round. Specifically, she'd died by being shot by the best friend who had given him the bruise now mostly faded around his eye socket. She would have died anyway, and honestly, he doesn't fault Courfeyrac at all for what he'd done, but it's strange to talk about all the same, and he's glad when she changes the subject.

Even though what she changes the subject to really isn't that appealing either.

"I beg your pardon?" He blinks down at her, eyes wide and not quite disapproving. "Surely you can explain it to me rather than going through all that." Just because she can dodge doesn't mean he should make her. It seems counter to chivalry.

[celebrityskinned]

She folds her arms. "Explain how to throw a punch? If you just punch the air you're going to correct your technique." Then again, if he punches at her she expects he'll hold back, if he does it at all.

She steps back, an exaggerated long-suffering sigh oozing out her mouth.

"Okay, punch the air. Fine." She tries not to be offended, figuring it has as much to do with just springing the notion on him as their respective genders. "I need to see what you're starting with, which isn't too shabby, if Courfeyrac's nose is any indication."

[orestes]

He winces, but it's less about some misguided chauvinism now than it is about the memory of throwing a punch at his best friend and closest ally, present company excluded. They'd all been mad, or rather he, Courfeyrac, and Marius had all been mad, but Enjolras had been the one to throw the first punch. It would be a while before he could stop beating himself up over it.

"If you insist," he says finally, in a placating sort of way, and swings into the air. There's power behind it, but it's difficult to really gauge an attack that isn't aimed at anything. Moreover, for as controlled as Enjolras is in every other aspect of his life, he's not when it comes to fighting. He throws himself into it, putting his full weight behind an attack. Even in this strange, hypothetical scenario, it leaves him obviously off-balance and leaning heavily to one side.

"Dare I ask what I'm doing wrong?"

[celebrityskinned]

Venus' mouth is twisted to the side in an expression that shows that while she's not too disappointed, she's not impressed either. She lifts one foot and gently taps it to his calf, then to his knee. "Well, you have your front covered, that's good - something you picked up from your boxer friend? But anyone who isn't playing by the rules of boxing is going to sweep your feet out from under you by hitting right here."

She reaches forward, across herself, and brings a hand to his shoulder. "Or pull you from here and send you crashing down from your own momentum." She leans in forward, twists, and grabs his wrist. "Or if they're Maximus, grab you by the forearm and throw you over their shoulder from here."

She steps back, putting her hands on her hips. He's not a hopeless case, but there's a lot to work on. Then again, he's a Victor. He may very well have all the time in the world to practice. "Most of your problem is your balance, honestly. Let's look at your stance, first. As soon as you're in danger, you'll want your feet wide and staggered, and to try and keep your center of gravity divided between both. Like this."

She stands alongside him and demonstrates, including the punch. "You can also run from this position."

[orestes]

He mimics her stance. The problem is that understanding the issues and applying her advice while stagnant is a very different thing from correcting his problems while in motion. Different still probably in a practice fight than in a real one. It does feel better, though, more correct and like he might actually be able to move from this point into another defensive position, rather than simply tumble from punch to punch.

And, while Maximus had seen fit to knock him down continually rather than throw him, it isn't something Enjolras is keen on leaving open to him if he's ever stupid enough to challenge the gladiator to a rematch.

"Alright, I think I follow your logic." He brings his fist up, holding them defensively around his face, shoulders curving in to complete the effect. It makes him seem smaller on top somehow, even as his legs are spread wide to afford him the balance needed to move. "I will say that this seems heavy, like I might be slower to move now that I have a firm footing someplace."

(after that train wreck with Felicity)

[orestes]

This rather discouraging message leaves Enjolras tugging on a jacket and dashing out of his room down the hall to find Venus. Had he misunderstood them again? After a few weeks of exchanging kisses, and going on so-called dates, he'd assumed things between them were understood.

Thus, it's with confusion that the raps on her door. It's a tentative sound. He can't help but feeling he's done something wrong, even though he knows he hasn't. "Venus? May I come in?"

Re: (after that train wreck with Felicity)

[celebrityskinned]

Maybe she wouldn't have taken it so personally if Joly hadn't earlier seem so surprised to find out about the relationship. Or if Enjolras hadn't lowered his voice when explaining the situation to Felicity. Or if she had any experience in this field at all, and hadn't been her family's skeleton in the closet (many skeletons, a multitude of skeletons), shunted place to place.

But it stings, and it fosters doubt, and she wonders if this fragile thing she was so excited about was made of smoke instead of glass.

She has to admit she feels a little satisfied with how fast Enjolras went from his room to hers, though.

"It's unlocked." She sits up on the bed and folds her arms. "So come in."

[orestes]

He's still not entirely comfortable just walking into a woman's room like that. It's fine when it's his room and he doesn't feel like some sort of interloper, but this creates a whole different set of expectations. Enjolras' hair flies around his face as he rushes into the room.

"You are angry with me," he says and he doesn't mean it be accusatory, but that's how it seems, even to him. It's logical. There are only so many ways one can read her reaction in the minute and a half he took to consider it before walking over to her. "I would like to know why. I thought that things were-- I thought we were alright with having feelings for each other now."

[celebrityskinned]

"I thought we were too." She folds her arms, staring intently at the wall rather than looking at him, the corner of her mouth working away in a sort of compulsive twitch.

"Unless you think that I'm some dirty little secret you need to sweep under the rug. Is that why it took Joly off-guard that we were together?"

[orestes]

It hurts that she won't look at him, but he doesn't want to waste time analyzing it. "That is probably because the last time I spoke to Joly about you, I had no idea where we stood and I did not want him speculating to you or to anyone else. Which I now understand was an incredibly futile hope."

He moves closer to her, still not feeling comfortable enough to sit on her bed the way she usually sits on his. It's awkward, just lingering in the room like that. "Joly has remarkably little discretion when it comes to talking about his friends to other people. You are not a secret, I simply think it best if we do not publicize ourselves in ways we cannot control."

[celebrityskinned]

"Bullshit. The last time you talked to Joly, you just got distracted beating up Courfeyrac." Well, that's a little cruel, and Venus recognizes immediately that she's being petty. She breaks the expression of anger long enough to apologize with her eyes for just a second, then return to boring holes into the wall with her glare.

It's never really been in her nature to stay angry, but Enjolras tends to bring that out in her. She should have known back when they chilled the suite for weeks that whatever bond they had was unusual in that regard. Still, the part of her that wants to forgive (that hungers to smooth the waters) gives a benefit of the doubt. "What does a 'mistress' mean to you?"

[orestes]

If she won't meet his eyes, he's determined to meet hers. He moves in the tiny space of the room, walking to stand between her line of sight and the wall.

"A woman with whom I am involved. Someone I care for, someone I can talk to and turn to for support. Someone who can rely on me for the same things." Enjolras studies her expression, all perplexed blue eyes and confusion covering his face. Is that what she's on about? A word? He could be angry about her comment on the fight, but that's unimportant right now. It's all secondary to his confusion over this sudden rift between them. "Why?"

[celebrityskinned]

"And you're being honest about that?"

She could continue to focus on anything but his face, but she wants to believe. She's a fixer by nature, a Pollyanna under the makeup and the blood and the warpaint. She'd rather have had a stupid misunderstanding than a real divide.

And from all these weeks of wondering what it was that was changing her and Enjolras from the close friends they were into whatever it is now, she hasn't been able to put words to the conclusion the way he just has. It's how she's seen them, too.

So she looks right at him and almost laughs at herself. "In my time it's a married man's word for the woman he sleeps with on the side. I thought you were implying I was something you were ashamed of."

[orestes]

"I am," he replies quickly, with a sort of uncanny sincerity that, under most circumstances, is what gets him into trouble. It seems to be what's needed here, however. He smiles with her when she explains the misunderstanding. It makes sense, in a way. It's awful, but in another life it's exactly the sort of thing that would be expected of him.

"Ah, there is our confusion. A mistress is simply a woman whom you are under no obligation to marry. It is-- Men take mistresses when they are young, and probably living away from their families. I stayed in Paris after I left my college, but many of my classmates returned to their homes, and were married almost immediately. Wives are not something someone of my status has the luxury of picking. Mistresses are." He pauses because that isn't the whole true and it seems somehow reprehensible to lie to her. For all he knows Joly will fill her in in a few days and they'll be having this conversation again, only with more animosity between them. "Love does not factor into marriage as much as one might think. It is about what is beneficial for the families. If I-- Were one to have a mistress of whom he was particularly fond, he might find an flat for her in the city, and give her an account to manage after he was married off. But I am not married and that is not the kind of life I want for myself. Or for anyone, if we are to be entirely honest."

There are things about Paris he misses, but that particular culture isn't one of them. Panem has one thing going for it, women seem to move freely enough through society that they are under no obligation to find men to put them up in such an arrangement. It's better for everyone involved this way, and critical though he is of the handling of the districts, Enjolras can see that at least. "Do we understand each other better now? I meant no offense to you."

[celebrityskinned]

She chuckles, and when her face averts to her shoulder, it's in more of a bashful expression. "Hmm. 'Luxury of picking', like we're fresh fruit."

A few of the particulars of their relationship start to make a bit more sense against this relief. Not all of them, mostly, but a few of them. It shades the lines that were previously in stark black and white.

She takes a deep breath and rolls her lower lip under her teeth, then pats for him to sit down next to her. "I'm sorry I jumped to the worst interpretation of it. But you're not calling me 'mistress'. We'll find another word for us."

[orestes]

"We could just refer to us as us but I fear no one would be content to leave it at that." It's with only a small amount of reservation that he settles next to her. There's a different expectation now that they aren't supposed to be mad at each other anymore, but at least it's the standard variety of awkward anticipation he's become used to experiencing around her. It isn't unpleasant, it just is, and he's comfortably uncomfortable with that.

With too much nervousness for it to be at all casual, he reaches back, resting his arm around her shoulders. It's better now that they're on the same level both physically and metaphorically. "I will call you whatever you like, and I'm sorry for the confusion as well. I honestly did not know the connotation it would hold for you."

[celebrityskinned]

"Apology accepted."

It's always a surprise to her when he initiates such affectionate contact, although a very welcome one. She exhales, letting his arms settle around her shoulders and her shoulder settle into his side, resting her head to the crook of his neck.

"We could use 'lover', although that kind of sounds sexual, I mean, not like-" Her face turns reddish. "Never mind. We could be boyfriend and girlfriend but that doesn't sound sophisticated enough, I guess, that sounds like teenagers. Significant others?"