And All My Wastelands Flower [Open]

[vissernone]

WHO| Eva and Open
WHAT| Diabolical schemes are set in motion and Eva commemorates an anniversary.
WHERE| A bar in the city.
WHEN| Week 5 of the Arena
WARNINGS| Mentions of death, potential mentions of sexual assault and alcoholism.

In a break from her usual routine, Eva doesn't order alcohol when she goes out tonight. She sits at the bar in a black dress with gold embroidery of ribs across her torso, nursing water, reminding herself of a time in her childhood when she and her family were so hungry that it was all they had to fill their stomachs for the night.

She'll need to be sober tonight, she'll need to be alert and vigilant. There are so many ways that she could create a snare for herself, find herself trapped with over thirty years of research and secrecy put to tragic waste. It's a risk she takes whenever she goes about dragging people into her web, and yet she sees herself not as the predator she is but as prey, scurrying from burrow to burrow under the watch of cameras and microphones.

"Put a dash of vodka in it," she says, not caring for flavor nor appearances. She convinces herself it's because she wants a trace of it on her breath tonight. She hums along with whatever moody song the bartender has playing and keeps her eyes out for her targets.

Comments

[swedeandlow]

Wallander was nervous. The fact was, most of his life he was nervous, but it wasn't usually of this particular flavour. He'd never been good with his love life - always seemed to make the worst decisions of any offered - and as he stepped into the bar he was wondering if this would be mistake number five hundred and four. (The number was arbitrary to the thought.)

He could still remember Eva's win, could still remember his friends dying, could still remember Ariadne, could still remember Eva on the television screens as her son was implicated in treason.

He'd done some digging, as she'd asked. He'd looked into what had happened to Marco, and the news wasn't good. He was debating telling her - turning over in his mind what he would want to hear, in her position, and unable to decide. It made him queasy, but in the end the truth was best - however little amount of it the Capitol actually allowed him.

He caught sight of her in the bar and felt instantly worse - his rumpled suit was nothing in comparison to her dress - the oppulence perfectly mixed with the morbid imagery. He gulped, forced a smile to his lips, and walked over with a wave.

He was at least a quarter hour late.

"Ah - Eva. Sorry. Got- tangled up. How are you?"

[vissernone]

"I've been worse." Of course she's been worse. There's a bit of a wry smirk to her comment there; the shadows of her two Arenas flit around every word she says, in public and in private and even in her dreams. It's a part of her and more than that, a part of her image.

She's already got shots of vodka and a glass of whiskey for the each of them; enough to start the night, but not enough to get either of them even slightly out of their faculties. She slides the vodka across the bar to him.

"You know, they serve halfway decent food here. And we can move to an actual table so no one thinks you're some slouch who has to drown his nine-to-five at the bar as soon as the sun goes down."

[swedeandlow]

"Mm, as if I haven't managed to make that impression already," He says wryly, taking the vodka and staring down into it for a long moment. He wants to drink it, he does, but first.

"Listen, Eva, I--" He cuts himself off. Half of him wants to tell her right now. Get it out of the way. Give her the option to just push him off and go somewhere else. However, at a bar, surrounded by people...?

He grips the vodka and offered her a pained smile.

"Food. Yes. That would- yes, that would be nice."

[vissernone]

"Well, I haven't seen you at this place before, so you have an entirely new audience of barflies to disappoint if you slouch." She reaches over and pats his back. It's an invasion of space, a slight one, an self-invitation into his domain. "I'm always telling my Tributes they need proper posture."

And she lets her hand linger on the small of his back for just a moment too long.

She kicks the vodka back. She's paid the bartender off before coming tonight; for the next few hours, her drinks will be water scented like alcohol. She picks it and the glass up and heads to the little veranda outside, where wrought-iron chairs and tables sit.

"Don't tell me yet. Whatever you tell me is going to ruin my evening, you know. I'd rather have my heart broken on a full stomach."

[swedeandlow]

It makes his skin prickle - just the slightest sheen of unattractive sweat rising to his brow, his back tensing under his touch. He sighs, and nods, tossing back the vodka - his all too real - and leaving it on the table, replacing it with the whiskey instead, before following her out into the veranda.

He set his glass down on the table before pulling out her chair (he tried to be a gentleman sometimes).

"Ah - yes, of course. Sorry. Was there something specific you wanted? I can get the waiter--"

[hit_girl_mindy]

Another night. One more at anther stupid bar, looking for something she wasn't close to yet. More people, more faces, more flickering on the screen of people stuck in this trap. Even she had some stupid bullshit to think about: Sandy, Clementine, Riley. Ellie. More people that they were lining up, to die and be brought back, or not.

And her. Stomach tight. Restless. A lit fire needing something to do.

So imagine her luck in seeing someone fairly familiar enter the bar: the same ways he always looked, far too serious, distanced from everything, so violent, unpredictable and sad that Mindy could never hate her.

She walked over, looking at the vodka "Usual choice, or a rough night?"

[revvinguptheharley]

Harley is looking particularly dressy tonight in a sharp green dress and matching bowler hat. Shiny black heals click along drawing attention to purple stockings that draw the eye up her legs.

It's to honor a friend of hers, at least she hopes he'll be her friend when he gets out of the arena.

At least she hopes he'll get out of the arena. The last time an Eddie was here he sure didn't.

Apparently here for herself she took a seat at the bar and tapped it to get the bartenders attention.

"Milk." She explained "Chocolate. And a big fat slice of cheese cake. That purple kind right? But I'd like that minty cream stuff you use in the coffee? Yeah you know!"

Her elaborate and somewhat childish order was taken with pleasure, because word had gotten out that if you played along with her games she was more likely to tip heavily.

Finally settling down she caught Eva's eye and grinned a broad grin that took up half her face raising her chocolate milk in toast. "Heya boss!"

[vissernone]

"Thank you." Eva decides against touching his hand again with hers just yet; she doesn't think he's drunk enough to not get suspicious at her sudden handsiness. She takes a seat, instead, running her fingers over the wrought iron.

"I'm sure the waiter will notice us. I'm not in a rush. Are you?" She raises her eyebrow in a bit of a coquettish smirk. Her guts feel like stone, and truly the idea of actually eating doesn't appeal right now. Not when she is painfully aware of the news Wallander may bring her.

How can she dine with an enemy over the news of her son's death? Or continued life?

But part of sheltering revenge is that it's a bad houseguest. It destroys everything else inside a person, all the old morals and sentiment and righteousness, and leaves tattered, scarred and mutilated remains in its wake.

[vissernone]

"Are my alcoholic tendencies that obvious?" Eva's well aware that she has a problem, but that hasn't stopped her; in fact, she's managed to weaponize it into a shield that she can use to escape consequences for her bad behavior, a cloak of low expectations in front of Peacekeepers and Tributes alike.

Eva raises her eyebrow and signals to the bartender that she's watching him, that she's going to know if he serves Mindy anything stronger than a sparkling cider. It doesn't matter that Mindy's old enough to serve as Tribute.

"What brings you to a bar?"

[vissernone]

Eva still hasn't decided on how she feels about Harley. She's decided on how she thinks of Harley, but hasn't been able to knit the disparate thoughts into a single emotion. She feels distrust and yet also a certain measure of respect, and a certain disdain still.

"Harley. Congratulations on your recent victory, by the way. At the rate you clowns are doing, I'll be able to retire without having to worry about the District Suite burning down in my absence."

She smiles, because she knows that the likelihood of a Suite fire is all the greater with Harley there permanently.

"Aren't you going to watch your figure, now that you won't be reset to your current physique every few weeks?"

[hit_girl_mindy]

Mindy did drink, but usually for information: she'd already had a full on real session with dad on this, a story she was sure would endear him to no one. People drank to get drunk, and when they were drunk, their defenses were lowered and they wound up saying things they shouldn't, essential things Mindy needed to know.

With Eva here, she might not need to do that now, so she asked for a ginger ale. "Word gets around, and that should answer your other question. I go for gossip. Not being in the games anymore, it helps to get the low down on anything happening in the Capitol."

[revvinguptheharley]

"Eva!" Harley cheered and giggled delightedly at her comment. They both knew Harley loved fire almost as much as candy.

"Well of course! Old habits die hard you know? I mean I may not be in the training hall as often as Mindy but I go every day." She smiled warmly.

"Just because I'm not in the arena anymore doesn't mean I'm done fighting ya know? It just means my battlefield has more fancy dresses, flirting and food."

Because despite her unreliable nature, she had been popping up at different parties every night trying to scrape together support for the tributes.

[vissernone]

"Apt observation." God knows the war doesn't end just because you aren't on television. The fight for your life is a daily battle. Just because Eva hasn't suffered a loss in that area yet doesn't mean that she can let her guard down.

"Have you found any targets with deep pockets yet?"

[vissernone]

"A good plan, as long as you don't make yourself too obvious about it. People don't appreciate feeling spied on, even if they'll tolerate it for a high enough payout."

Said as someone who's both tricked and eased people into being her lab rats.

[hit_girl_mindy]

"Of course you're not obvious about it. I'm not stupid. Talk too much or too little and you give everything away. You stay casual. Know what to say and know when to disappear when it suits you."

She looked around. "But you're not here to drink, are you?"

[futilecycle]

Sigma hasn't seen Eva since their Arena together, long enough for his fear of her to fade. So much worse has happened since that his inability to protect Eponine months ago is one of the least of his problems, and it is for this reason that Sigma manages to work up the courage to approach her while he is still sober. He hadn't followed her here. Sigma needs desperately to wash down the memory of Diana's skull caving in from the point of his own weapon, and he intends to make quick work of it. Still, if they're both intending to drink in silence, they may as well drink in silence together.

"Good evening, Eva," Sigma says tentatively, claiming a seat next to her more tentatively still. "Would you mind if I joined you?" As pleasant as he is, he is visibly bracing himself for rejection.

[revvinguptheharley]

"Well actually~" Harley had a wicked grin and snickered like she'd been caught being naughty. "I just got back from a "Private meeting" with Mr. McDuck of the McDuckles corporation?" She leaned closer in a conspiratorial whisper.

"He put on a one piece swimsuit and had me pour gold coins over him while he sat in a bathtub. I mean I've done some weird stuff before but wowzers! And he was totally into it! Like squirming and writhing under those coins. He's a real sweetie though. I hope he comes through on those sponsorships like he promised."

[swedeandlow]

"Ah- no." He looked embarrassed and offered a sheepish smile. "No, of... of course not. Just didn't want you to be - ah - wanting." He sat back, painfully nervous, painfully aware of the depth of depression that hung between them.

"Though I could use a drink."

He fidgeted, smiling weakly.

"I trust you've been well?"

[vissernone]

"Couldn't we all." She jerks her head at the waiter, indicating that he should go get what the bartender has been instructed to deliver.

She shrugs, making sure to keep eye contact on him. "My District feasts tonight. We've won more in the last year than we have in two decades."

[swedeandlow]

His smile disappeared, his brow furrowing.

"Well. They deserve a feast," He murmurs quietly. "I haven't been there in - god, it must be years. Not since I was working guard duty, anyway. I haven't even been back to District 2 since Linda moved here."

[vissernone]

"To be honest? You aren't missing much. You're missing out on seeing the EverHarvest technology that my people freeze for, but we reap the benefits here in eternally fresh apples, so it's really a quibble."

Menus get placed in front of them. Eva makes as if to read it.

"But I don't want my bitterness to flavor the dinner. We have alcohol for that." She raises an eyebrow. "Linda's your - your wife? Or daughter?"

[swedeandlow]

He looked very uncomfortable, shifting in his seat, and decided he wasn't really interested in eating apples.

(Not like he ever was. His diet was mostly fat and salt.)

"Ah- Daughter." His smile then was warm, if weary. "Mine and my ex wife's. She ah - she came here too, but ah... Decided there was more to the capitol than dreary old men."

[vissernone]

Daughter. Perfect. Now Eva has a name, at least, which she can start doing some investigating under.

A mischievous smile crosses Eva's face, and for a moment her smile reaches her eyes. "Dreary, maybe, but old? I doubt you're even my age, and I've been told I can still call myself fifty-four years young."

[swedeandlow]

He chuckled lowly. "No, I... I'm just a few years behind you. I ah, I remember. When you won. I knew the tributes from District 2." There was an awkward pause, and he tried to laugh it off.

"Practically ancient history, now."

[vissernone]

"I made them ancient history then." She doesn't sound predatory as she says it, nor satisfied. It makes the joke that comes next all the more jarring, the product of an unbalanced mind and not of anger. "Anyway, I didn't know either of them. Nosed them, maybe."

By ripping one's off.