Sail Away on Teary Seas

[gardienne]

Who: Eponine and OPEN
What: Eva's funeral
Where: In a Capitol building that everybody has had directions to
When: Perhaps a week or so after Eva died.
Warning: Well, funerals, death... talk of traitorship and pro-Capitolness.

The room is quite simple. It’s plain white: white columns flank the central space, which is currently filled with rows of white, wooden chairs. At the back is a white table, packed with refreshments, all of Eva’s favourites, and the sopas she taught Eponine to make. And on every surface possible, there are bowls and jars and buckets and plantpots and cups, even, filled with orchids – all kinds of orchids.

At the very front of the room is a stage. A microphone, a splash of black against the sterile background, stands in the center. To the left, on a large easel, stands an enlarged photograph of Eva in her younger days, wearing her crown from her victory in the Games. To the right stands a more recent one: Eva looks a lot older, a lot more careworn than her younger self. But in the photograph, her arm is around a teenager with scraggy hair and sunken cheeks. It’s a happy photograph, and perhaps it was selfish of her, but Eponine chose it to remind herself of the day in the park with the woman who has shown her so much love.

Eva’s coffin rests in front of the stage, next to the steps. Cyrus had secured a marvelous coffin for her, all shiny white and lined with a deep blue velvet. Eponine had dressed Eva herself. She had cried, yes. But it was all she could do for her mama now, so Eponine washed her carefully, wiped away the blood at her heart, wiped the dirt from her face and her hands, as Eva had done so many times for her. She painted Eva’s face as well as she could, and dressed her in the simple shift she had begged from Holly. Eva’s life had been lived in barbed wire, but her death would be softer by far. Gently, she had brushed Eva’s hair, half afraid still, to hurt her Mama. And then Eponine had laid her down.

In Eva’s folded hands, Eponine had placed flowers – orchids, the finest she could find, and a picture of Eva’s son. And then she had plaited and cut a lock of her own hair, and wound it through Eva’s fingers too.

As people come in, Eponine, red eyed, waits by the open coffin. That’s why people are here, not for Eponine. But once people begin to sort of settle down, she climbs the stairs to the stage. Her feet feel like they’re encased in lead. She doesn’t want to turn. Doesn’t want to say any of it. But she does.

There’s no opening, no welcome. Just… words.

“Eva was… Eva was a Tribute. She was a Victor and – and a rebel. She was fearless and she was brave, and she was dangerous. She was… she were a Mama. My mother. But her real son’s too. And she was the best mama that either of us could ever have, because she never gave up on either of us. Not ever. Not once did she forget him. Not once did she give up looking. And not once did she leave me alone. I love my Eva so much. I love her and I… I can’t believe she’s gone.”

She pauses to wipe away the tears from her cheeks. She can’t cry. Not now.

“But… but she were a traitor as well. And that’s why she died. She… she broke the rules. We can’t do it. We can’t, or we’ll all be dead. We can’t – Eva can’t die for us all to do so. Don’t let her. Don’t let my Mama die for nothing. Let her teach us to just… be good.”
She shrugs hopelessly, and scrambles back off the stage, to Eva’s side, and slowly, she bends to kiss her Mama on the forehead, just as Eva had so often kissed her.

“I love you so much, Mama. I love you. I…. I hope you’ve found him now. I hope you’re happy – but oh, please come back to me. Please. I cannot do it alone.”


So, most people will know about Eva's death, and perhaps they've been expecting Eponine to kick up a fuss. Anyway, she'll have been talking about it, and putting up slightly mis-spelled notices about Eva's funeral for the week, so feel free to mingle. Anyone can attend!

Comments

[president_evil]

"Yes, Ms. Salazer..."

Wesker murmured quietly to the pale, drawn figure after Eponine had drifted away. His own deathly features impassive as he looked down into the coffin.

He had never feared the dead. Even after they'd begun to climb from their graves. He'd spent far too long with them, as one of them. (That deep, deep sleep. The nothingness, as the virus slipped slowly into his veins. Changing him. Making him new. Making him better.)

"We will make it worthwhile."

[gardienne]

It was a good while later that Eponine came to find Wesker. She was a bit of a mess. Her unbranded cheek was streaked with tear stains, her eyes red and sore. Unlike most other people at the funeral, she was dressed down in a green hoodie and jeans. She approached somewhat nervously, unsure how Wesker would react to her after so long.

"Sir? You came to say goodbye to my mother?" She paused, licked her lips, glanced back at the coffin. "Thank you, Sir."

[president_evil]

He'd expected it. Such questions. Whispers. It was a risk to be connected to anyone so tarred by the Capitol, but he was confident in his position. In his ability to play it off.

Respect, they would say when he was done. From one victor to another.

(From one killer to another.)

"She was an interesting woman," he replied casually, an easy purr as a hand slipped into his sport coat, dipping into an interior pocket and pulling out a square of silken fabric. He held it out to Eponine. "Such a waste."

[gardienne]

Carefully, Eponine wiped her hands with the handkerchief, snorted a sigh of a laugh, winked and pocketed the cloth.

"She... she was a traitor in the end, though." Eponine looked back at the coffin as her fingers traced the brand on her cheek. "It's what happens to traitors, innit? That's why you've joined them, yes? Why I..." She shook her head.

"Don't matter, does it? I wish she hadn't done it. Or, I wish she hadn't done it as she had done."

[revvinguptheharley]

Harley hates funerals.

She hopes someday, when she inevitably bites the dust her friends and loved ones and even enemies can enjoy her funeral. Tell stories of her being silly. Make fun of her like it's a roast.

She wishes she could put the "fun" back in funeral.

And so despite the somber occasion she's smiling softly in her shiny, dark purple funeral gown and veil.

"She did what she wanted. She died on her own terms. Not many tributes can claim to have done that." She sighed admiring the woman and laying some red and black flowers alongside the coffin.

[gardienne]

"Why are you here?" Eponine stands guard over the coffin, as if she's afraid that somehow Eva would disappear completely. She's going to be buried, yes, but... but not yet.

Eponine wants to spend as much time as she can with her mum before they part forever.

"Please, Harley, do not ruin this day for me. Please."

[revvinguptheharley]

Harley's lip curls into a sneer and she leans close enough her veil brushes Eponine's nose.

"In case you forgot frenchie, Eva was MY friend too. And my mentor. I won because of her and even if some of us are gonna pee all over her memory..." she pointed a finger at Eponine, "I intend on carrying on her legacy with pride."

Oh yes. She just said that.

[hit_girl_mindy]

This was hard.

It was harder than Mindy expected it would be. She thought she would come and pay her respects and leave, because the last thing she wanted was to get caught up in the Eponine show, which was bountd to happen. No, this was not for just anyone. It was the mentor of her district, and to some people the only person they saw as the mentor since she'd been for so long.

Mindy was dressed appropriately, a rose in her hand, looking so dressed up that her brand seemed to show even more now. She was quiet, somber for once, and was keeping to herself, listening patiently as Eponine gave her farewell letter to her mother.

[gardienne]

A few moments after her speech, Eponine quietly slips over to Mindy. Keeping her voice low, she says,

"I want you to leave. Now. This isn't for you."

And my favorite quote from Gul Dukat!

[hit_girl_mindy]

"Are you still here?"

Mindy ignored her. This was exactly how she did this, of course. You fed into her bullshit, you made a fool of yourself in public and then you find yourself a topic of conversation for the Capitol. No thank you.

She approached the casket, sighing. Seeing her like this, she looked...at peace now. A part of her could even be envious. She didn't have to suffer anymore, there was no more games to play: just one last shot to show who's side she always was on, and then evading the public execution. She was lucky. Sort of.

[biomechatronic]

This was...awkward. He found himself wandering the city again, looking for some distraction, but every place seemed to grate on his mood. He couldn't go to a bar, pretend to be happy, and he had no desire to become a limp, maudlin drunk. The never-ending carnival was a downright offense. He could go on and on, but he'd found himself here, instead. He hadn't intended to come, he didn't even know this 'Eva', but the tone suited his mood, he felt, settling in.

At least someone was mourning. At least death meant...something here. At least to someone.

...he recognized that someone, and he felt his face flush. Her. Oh...dear. He almost gets up to leave, because her grief is private, and he doesn't want to intrude...again, with his clumsiness. But there's no way to slip out quietly now, while she's speaking. So he waits, wringing his hands, listening to the kind of grief he hated, the kind that had made him go into his field in the first place: so no one would have to suffer loss, not like this.

He has to say something, so he edges up to her. He's not afraid she's going to kill him: this isn't an arena. But he does worry about the, uh, other things she might remember from then, so he's careful to keep his difference. "I'm. I'm sorry for your loss." Surely that was all right?

[gardienne]

"Are you?" If she remembers him, Eponine doesn't show it. She's not interested in a man from an arena, really. What does it matter? As far as she is concerned, he is one in a long string of men.

"She... she were a traitor to the Capitol. You shouldn't be sorry for me. She got what - what she deserved."

[biomechatronic]

It matters to him, because he doesn't want to be seen as a creeper. He isn't a creeper. He'd just like some, you know, verification of that.

Now's not the time for that. "Of course. You don't have to agree with someone else's choices to care about them, and to feel their absence." He's so clumsy at this.

[iflipmyhair]

There is someone simply sitting, near the front row, dressed in black out of respect. Watching as Eponine made her speech. Her fake, practiced, desperate speech.

Homura would have disagreed with Eponine's sentiments, if she believed that the girl truly embraced her own words. What she did, was doing, was for selfish reasons, no more, no less. Not out of pride or love for the Capitol. Surely only the truly insane among the Tributes genuinely supported the Capitol, by now.

Slowly, she stood up, walking over to the coffin. Kneeling as she'd learned, long ago, in her old life before moving to Mitakihara, she made the sign of the cross, clasped her hands together, and mumbled a prayer for the dead as she brought her head down.

She doubted God, if it was out there in this place, would really hear whatever she had to say. Or really whatever anyone had to say, whatever prayers the oppressed masses of this disgusting world wanted to offer up. Nor did she know Eva. But regardless, someone had to do it, with the opportunity given. Someone had to give her that respect.

Because the Capitol wasn't.

[gardienne]

"Are you religious, Miss?" Eponine looked over, puzzled, at Homura. She hadn't pegged Homura as Christian at all. "I didn't know you knew Eva."

[iflipmyhair]

Eponine's words pierced through her concentration. Truth be told, Homura looked a little surprised at seeing Eponine address her. At least, addressing her in this way, without anger towards Homura herself.

"I was raised in a Catholic house for children, and I went to Catholic school. I guess in some ways, even now, its still ingrained in me." She looked back at the coffin. "I didn't know her, but its not often that anyone here is able to express any kind of...real decorum towards the dead."

Looking back at Eponine.

"She looks lovely."

[shenunigans]

There's pretty much nothing about this that isn't uncomfortable for Dave. The suit is uncomfortable, the situation is uncomfortable and he feels like he sticks out even though he's one of many people waddling around in a suit. It feels weird to be here just because he's in District Nine, especially since he didn't have a great many treasured moments with her.

But he's here. And he appreciates what she did. More and more people are putting their lives on the line for the end goal here. It makes winning seem both entirely out of reach and all the more realistic at the same time. Deep.

He's milling about by himself once the more official parts are over, not really sure what to do with himself in a situation like this. He's kind of trying his best to avoid looking at the coffin, just milling around the back with his sunglasses on because nobody has told him to take them off so far.

[gardienne]

"Why are you here, Dave?" Eponine, under-dressed in a dark green hoodie and jeans, comes close to him, pressing herself against the buffet table plonked at the back. She looks exhausted: her olive skin's greyish, and their are dark circles beneath her eyes.

"Please. If it is over me, not today. Please save the shouts until my Mama is dead. Then I will take everything you wish to say to me."

[shenunigans]

"I'm in her district." He answers quickly, as if he really feels the need to justify being here. "I mean. I was." He corrects quickly, trying to breeze past that. He can't say that there's no way he couldn't come just knowing that he had a deep respect for the scary lady. Not out loud, anyway.

"What?" He raises a brow, but he isn't showing any anger or irritation. He seems pretty tired himself, too tired to fight. "I'm not here to yell at you, I'm here to pay my respects and respectfully eat some funeral food. Promise."

[futilecycle]

In the Nonary Games, Sigma had been forced to come to terms with his low threshold for friendship. People became dear to him very quickly, especially in the case of friends forged in shared circumstance - and if they were rent from his heart too soon, he bled. Eva was his friend. Perhaps the feeling had never been mutual- perhaps he was just someone with which she shared a goal- but the Doctor had come to care deeply for her. Before that, Eva Salazar was a human being and deserved to be mourned. A beautiful woman had died last week, and in days following her death, Sigma waded through life in a cloud of grief.

As emotional a man as he is, he hates being caught crying, and slinks towards the back corner of the room to find solitude. Eponine’s eulogy brings back all of the memories and what-could-have beens and makes Sigma sick to his stomach. He bows his head, hand on his forehead and elbow resting on his knees, and weeps quietly. He briefly loses his composure as Eponine bends to kiss Eva's forehead, and his face becomes stained a dark red from tears. Eponine was brave, far braver even than her mother, and he would not have had the strength to do half of what either of these women have done. He worries if Eponine had, perhaps, taken his words too much to heart, but that remained to be seen. It would keep her safe, and for now, that would suffice.

As the funeral ends, Sigma approaches Eponine, ashen-faced, deadeyed. He has hooked an orchid into the lapel of his jacket. He does not approach her out of pity. They are united in grief.

“You did very well, my dear,” he sighs. He stares into Eva’s coffin regretfully before holding out his arms to Eponine. “She would have been very proud of you, as I am.”

[gardienne]

It's not until her face is hidden against Sigma's shoulder that she lets herself go and cries. She sobs unapologetically, silently though, her shoulders, her whole body shaking with the grief. She can't do this. She can't be calm. She can't call Eva names. She can't do any of this alone. She doesn't feel brave. She just feels like she's all alone with Sigma in a world where everybody hates them.

[futilecycle]

It physically hurts Sigma to see Eponine like this, and he would do anything to take away her pain, to bring Eva back to life. Sigma wraps his arms around her gently, rubbing Eponine's hair, her back, her shoulders, whatever he thinks might help. He does not shush her or tell her to be calm. He is her rock, now, and she may cry for as long as she needs.

After some time, when Eponine is ready, Sigma pulls away. He has wept for Eva, too, and fresh tears mark his face. "Is she being buried? I would like to accompany you, if you would allow me..." This is very much Eponine's space to mourn, he is but a guest. He feels it is right to ask for her permission.

This tag is so late, it's embarrassing

[beastlybeauty]

Justine approaches Eponine slowly after the crowd has thinned. She has to steady herself on furniture, with the bandages around her arm and torso, barely visible beyond the modest black dress she has chosen to wear for the occasion, as well as a black veil. In her hand, she bears a hibiscus, not unlike the one she gave Eponine on the first day they met in person.

"I thought, perhaps, it was the least I could do. I'm afraid it's not very much." She offers the flower to Eponine, her eyes carefully sympathetic. "Would you like me to put it in your hair?"

not a worry!

[gardienne]

"Are you still unwell, Miss?" Eponine returns Justine's sympathy with concern. "It still hurts?"

She smiles at the sight of the flower. She had been mourning Orc then. This hurts so much more than Orc, though. And to think, another woman touching her hair? No - not Eponine's hair. Not now. That was Eva's special thing.

"Eva does my hair. Did my hair. In plaits. I don't want - do you mind terribly, Miss? Might I just have it? Do you mind?"

[beastlybeauty]

"I don't mind at all. Don't you worry about me; I'm fine."

Justine offers the flower to Eponine, giving her a gentle smile. "You know I'm available any time if you want to talk, correct? Or we don't even need to talk. We can go have a night out on town. Whatever you like."