Dᴏᴍɪɴɪǫᴜᴇ ᴅ̶ᴇ̶ Cᴏᴜʀғᴇʏʀᴀᴄ。 (
libertin) wrote in
thecapitol2014-07-07 06:47 pm
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Entry tags:
Freedom is within you
Who| Courfeyrac & Open
What| Post-Arena life adjustments and such. Basically, Max & Cindy are both gone and his world is a bit more dim.
Where| Training room, or elsewhere if you prefer.
When| Forwarded to after Max is killed by Kevin in the Arena, but before she's come back.
Warnings/Notes| Talk of character death? Tag in whatever format you like, just specify location!
Courfeyrac felt numb. Every ounce of emotion had been drained from him, every hope was gone. He'd been almost glued to the television once it got down to the final two. Max and Kevin. Vengeance would be hers and she would win and then he could go back into the Arena knowing that she was safe at least. But fate had other ideas, and as he watched the screen helplessly, his sister was turned to a bloody, lifeless mess.
It was enough to make him sick. It was enough to drain him of every human feeling, and once he felt empty, he was quickly overcome by a second wind of unstoppable rage.
He stalked out of the common area of the District 11 suite and toward his own room, literally knocking things over in his fury as he stormed passed. Furniture was kicked over, mahogany table flipped. If there had been china or glass around, he'd have thrown it to the ground. All he could see when he closed his eyes was her body, bloodied and mangled, with Kevin looming over her like a giant. Courfeyrac hadn't been so pissed off in a long time.
But that might've been it. It could have ended there. A day or two of rage over the injustice of watching Max die and he would have gotten over it. Except the hours continued to tick by and she had yet to return. He'd expected that she would come running to him, or bound up to him and scold him for fretting, at the very least. Instead, she was gone. Vanished. No more. Just like Cinderella.
He was so close to becoming morose over it all. That happy, jovial gent was ready to retire for good and let the sullen, mournful brat replace him forever. He didn't care about anything anymore. He had nothing left. His lover was gone. His language was gone. And now, the one bright spot that he'd cherished had disappeared too. Of course, there were friends and other company, but what good were they when he'd left his dear little Max all alone to die?
He couldn't stand the guilt. So instead, he took to beating the crap out of the available training dummies. He might not get the chance to kill Kevin with his bare hands, but he'd avenge his Max somehow.
What| Post-Arena life adjustments and such. Basically, Max & Cindy are both gone and his world is a bit more dim.
Where| Training room, or elsewhere if you prefer.
When| Forwarded to after Max is killed by Kevin in the Arena, but before she's come back.
Warnings/Notes| Talk of character death? Tag in whatever format you like, just specify location!
Courfeyrac felt numb. Every ounce of emotion had been drained from him, every hope was gone. He'd been almost glued to the television once it got down to the final two. Max and Kevin. Vengeance would be hers and she would win and then he could go back into the Arena knowing that she was safe at least. But fate had other ideas, and as he watched the screen helplessly, his sister was turned to a bloody, lifeless mess.
It was enough to make him sick. It was enough to drain him of every human feeling, and once he felt empty, he was quickly overcome by a second wind of unstoppable rage.
He stalked out of the common area of the District 11 suite and toward his own room, literally knocking things over in his fury as he stormed passed. Furniture was kicked over, mahogany table flipped. If there had been china or glass around, he'd have thrown it to the ground. All he could see when he closed his eyes was her body, bloodied and mangled, with Kevin looming over her like a giant. Courfeyrac hadn't been so pissed off in a long time.
But that might've been it. It could have ended there. A day or two of rage over the injustice of watching Max die and he would have gotten over it. Except the hours continued to tick by and she had yet to return. He'd expected that she would come running to him, or bound up to him and scold him for fretting, at the very least. Instead, she was gone. Vanished. No more. Just like Cinderella.
He was so close to becoming morose over it all. That happy, jovial gent was ready to retire for good and let the sullen, mournful brat replace him forever. He didn't care about anything anymore. He had nothing left. His lover was gone. His language was gone. And now, the one bright spot that he'd cherished had disappeared too. Of course, there were friends and other company, but what good were they when he'd left his dear little Max all alone to die?
He couldn't stand the guilt. So instead, he took to beating the crap out of the available training dummies. He might not get the chance to kill Kevin with his bare hands, but he'd avenge his Max somehow.
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"I was thinking perhaps discussion, somewhere private, but --" He gave a slightly wry smile, and a shrug. "You do not appear to be in the proper mindset for that sort of thing. There is always, I suppose, drinking, or writing may help."
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He trailed off, eyes drifting to the exit and whatever mysteries lied beyond the walls of the gymnasium. Yes, perhaps there was a better way to cope with himself, something besides pulverizing the practice dummies. And he had missed the old days of time spend beside Combeferre, punctuating his conversations with Enjolras with some much needed color commentary. Even if he was in a dour mood, a rehash of Paris sounded brilliant.
"However, I would be a fool to turn down a drink. The wine here is lousy, but we can make do."
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And, hopefully, the wine would cheer Courfeyrac some. It was always troubling to see him in a bad mood.
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"I know a little place that will suffice," he declared, springing back into his normal, animated gate. "Come. I must fetch my hat, and then we shall dine on sausages."
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He took a moment to adjust his own hat -- certainly his clothing was nothing fine, but he looked respectable enough, as it were. "And sausages sound wonderful," he added, with a slight smile at Courfeyrac's renewed enthusiasm. "Lead on, then, my friend."
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"You must forgive my feeling morose, Combeferre. I am too easily distracted. I never had it in me to be as serious as you are, or Enjolras." He adjusted his hat, once the two of them were outside and in the main plaza which led to the tribute center. "I never was able to fully extract myself from the matters of the flesh."
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"Come, you make it sound as though I am a monk. Surely I am not as dull as all that? If I am, I must certainly attempt to change that, here." With a glance around at the assorted buildings, he added, "That should not be too difficult."
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"I would say you are a human one. People may be forced to do terrible things, it does not make them less human."
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"You say I am a human now, but I sometimes think that I am a monster." He reached up to adjust his hat, elegant and seemingly unaffected by the hollowness of his words. "I still cannot understand why I killed those people, Combeferre. There was nothing in it for me. I had no desire to win, and yet I still played their game."
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"To stay alive, then," he suggested. "Even with the -- tools they have here, you could not have known that when you first arrived. I can stil scarcely believe it myself. I submit that the need to live, to stay close to the ones you care for -- that desperation perhaps moved you to do so. Man is not quite as good as the church makes him out to be, we all have our baser instincts."
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"I've no desire to win still. I've only the desire for revenge." He cast his eyes upward, toward the heavens. "I am in danger of embracing my own selfish tendencies, I'm afraid."
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"Perhaps," he allowed, with a slight nod. "But we might be able to motivate the desire in another direction."
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"Not upon the tributes, of course," he added, wishing to make his point entirely clear. "But the system."
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"It sounds quite selfish to say it, but I do wish we had some of the others here. It would make things such as this much easier."
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"Of course we are not, I cannot see how anyone would tolerate this sort of thing. I just have not met the others, yet."
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"Then allow me to rectify this on your behalf. I have friends. I shall make the necessary introductions."
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"Ah, excellent. And perhaps we will even find you a mistress while we are at it." Courfeyrac said with a twinkle in his eye.
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"Perhaps," he allowed, with a nod and a small lipquirk. "I would say that we've more important things to concentrate on, but --" There was a shrug. "In this place, there are so many things to think of, aside from the cause."
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"It may end up doing some good. Or at least find us some useful allies."
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