Venus Dee Milo (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
celebrityskinned) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
thecapitol2014-03-21 05:40 pm
celebrityskinned) wrote in thecapitol2014-03-21 05:40 pm
Entry tags:
I'm Looking for the Tower of Learning [Closed]
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.
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.
no subject
"Partners," he offers, letting his thumb play with the sleeve of her shirt. "But that might make us sound like criminals. I do not might lovers. Significant others seems cold, like a position one might apply for rather than a state you should find yourself in. It's also needlessly difficult to say."
And indeed both words together play hell with his accent. It would be embarrassing having to imagine repeating the words over and over until some fluttery Capitol idiot was able to understand them.
no subject
Her arm slips behind his back, wrapping around his waist.
"Lovers, then. And you're my mister. And we should both stay off the communicators for our own good, or we'll give ourselves aneurysms."
no subject
"This is the second conversation we have had on this topic. You would think I would learn by now that that thing brings me nothing but trouble." It also allows him to vent his thoughts and while they're only usually minimally successful in reaching people, it's worth something in that respect. "I am amazed by the idea of such rapid communication, however. Telegraphs seemed fantastic and now you have moving pictures. Human invention is a powerful thing, indeed. I just wish it could be used more effectively."
no subject
Someday, she'll tell him all the horrible things people have done with technology, when he's braced for disappointment and she's braced to disappoint.
"Do you want to sleep here tonight? Just to sleep, nothing hinky or anything." Goddamn, she sounds like a Scooby Doo character when she says that.
no subject
"I-- we would only be sleeping?" His voice is soft and hopeful, willing her not to be offended. It isn't as though he doesn't want her, it's rather that they're so new at this. Moving too quickly is dangerous and could ruin everything so tentatively built between them. "I should my things, but... I think that I would like that."
/wrap?
And, to tell the truth, she's glad that it'll just be sleeping, although she anticipates more philosophy lessons for pillow talk. She may suspect he's not ready for anything more, but she knows she isn't prepared. The idea, not of sex with Enjolras but of sex as an abstract concept, fills her bone marrow with snow. There's an element of expectation she isn't prepared to handle, as if years peddling sex appeal is supposed to turn into actual confidence in the act, and when she fails to live up to that the sham will be blown, the jig will be up.
But sleeping next to each other will be good. The physical proximity will mend any residual fears from the tiff moments ago, the misunderstanding she allowed to morph into insecurity inside her head. They'll rest in a state of vulnerability next to each other, not the forced sleepy helplessness of the Arena but a willing action of trust. And she does trust.
She didn't realize how much her body longed for trust until she had it.