Venus Dee Milo (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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thecapitol2014-12-25 10:58 pm
celebrityskinned) wrote in thecapitol2014-12-25 10:58 pm
Entry tags:
Sun Breaks Over the Same Human Race By Whom You Were Erased [Open]
WHO| Venus and you!
WHAT| Venus catches her second wind.
WHEN| Week three and onward, until a little past the end of the Arena.
WHERE|
WARNINGS| None.
When she first wakes in her bed, she's afraid to touch her face. She knows, deep down, that they won't have taken away the brand. She knows when she looks in the mirror and catches sight of that sprawling spidery blight, she's going to feel her stomach drop beneath the bed. She knows that the instant she puts her fingertips to her face she'll feel that warped, wrinkled slickness of scar tissue. She knows it'll destroy her all over again.
It takes her nearly half an hour of staring at the ceiling, making a mental list of the people she needs to make sure survived the Arena, before she reaches up and strokes her unblemished cheek. She all but catapults out of bed and stumbles to her dresser, to the mirror on top, where she stares with an uncharacteristic slackjawedness at the way she looks. She looks as if nothing has happened to her besides an unfortunate asymmetrical haircut. No being tied to a chair and mutilated. No nightmares that didn't end just when she left that jail cell.
It's stupid, probably, to care so much about how she looks, but it's difficult for a woman who's traded on her beauty to find purchase in anything but her body when it's mauled and mutilated, when its every corporeal reminder is one of torture and interrogation. And for a moment, just for a moment, she can imagine herself back in a time before so many of the people she loved died.
She can imagine herself renewed.
She returns to the Capitol with fresh energy, no longer curled into herself even though the windows in her have still been blown out. Her architecture no longer sags and creaks. She sings to the coffeemaker, sits on the couch of the District Suite with sodas and milkshakes, practices at the gym as a way to stay strong rather than merely to forget. She's social again, greeting people not out of a defensive way to hide her own pain but out of genuine interest in their lives.
She mourns, but it doesn't reduce her to some barely-functioning binge-drinking tragedy like it has in the past. At some point she realized that she was in love with all of humanity, rather than a handful of people. For the moment, she tries to hold onto that feeling, that hope that she so previously denied herself. For this moment, she makes herself free.
WHAT| Venus catches her second wind.
WHEN| Week three and onward, until a little past the end of the Arena.
WHERE|
WARNINGS| None.
When she first wakes in her bed, she's afraid to touch her face. She knows, deep down, that they won't have taken away the brand. She knows when she looks in the mirror and catches sight of that sprawling spidery blight, she's going to feel her stomach drop beneath the bed. She knows that the instant she puts her fingertips to her face she'll feel that warped, wrinkled slickness of scar tissue. She knows it'll destroy her all over again.
It takes her nearly half an hour of staring at the ceiling, making a mental list of the people she needs to make sure survived the Arena, before she reaches up and strokes her unblemished cheek. She all but catapults out of bed and stumbles to her dresser, to the mirror on top, where she stares with an uncharacteristic slackjawedness at the way she looks. She looks as if nothing has happened to her besides an unfortunate asymmetrical haircut. No being tied to a chair and mutilated. No nightmares that didn't end just when she left that jail cell.
It's stupid, probably, to care so much about how she looks, but it's difficult for a woman who's traded on her beauty to find purchase in anything but her body when it's mauled and mutilated, when its every corporeal reminder is one of torture and interrogation. And for a moment, just for a moment, she can imagine herself back in a time before so many of the people she loved died.
She can imagine herself renewed.
She returns to the Capitol with fresh energy, no longer curled into herself even though the windows in her have still been blown out. Her architecture no longer sags and creaks. She sings to the coffeemaker, sits on the couch of the District Suite with sodas and milkshakes, practices at the gym as a way to stay strong rather than merely to forget. She's social again, greeting people not out of a defensive way to hide her own pain but out of genuine interest in their lives.
She mourns, but it doesn't reduce her to some barely-functioning binge-drinking tragedy like it has in the past. At some point she realized that she was in love with all of humanity, rather than a handful of people. For the moment, she tries to hold onto that feeling, that hope that she so previously denied herself. For this moment, she makes herself free.
Christmas day
When Venus answers the door, Eponine won't be stood there - just in case. In case, because of that last argument over the Network with those stupid Capitol people that threaten both her and her friends. No, instead, she's crouched down near the couch, keen to see what Venus makes of the little present and the hand-written note that went with it.
It's not much, and what is there is wrapped in plain tissue paper, held together with string. When Venus opens it, she'll find a compact mirror and a necklace
The note wrapped about them reads,
'Theyr not stolen I swear. I think you shoud have pretty things to remember that you are thow. Happy Christmas Venus and thank you. '
She's not signed her name, just in case. From her place by the couch, she watches eagerly, hoping to see happiness on Venus' face. It will be something at least, to die and somebody remember her kindly.
Re: Christmas day
She sees the gift, and without thinking about why someone would have abandoned it there looks to see if anyone's around. She cranes her neck and sees familiar slender fingers around the edge of the couch, sees a lock of hair as Eponine's face vanishes behind the upholstery again.
"What're you doing behind the couch, kiddo?"
Re: Christmas day
"It's not much, you know? Just a Christmas present. It's not stole - you won't get in trouble, I promise. Only, you might if I come close, so I thought if you just had it and didn't see me, you'd be safe. Oh, but I wanted to see if you liked it. It's the first present I've given, proper, all done up and the like."
Venus is too nice to be caught up in any more of Eponine's messes after all. But how nice gift giving feels. How exciting, waiting to see if they like the presents. How nice. Eponine's never imagined it should feel so, and she wants to cling onto these good feelings on what she thinks are her last few days alive.
Re: Christmas day
It isn't that Eponine's someone deeply special to her, although Venus feels a pang of guilt that maybe she should be, given the present Eponine's placed on her doorstep. Venus hasn't looked at it quite yet, wrapping her fingers and thus the note around it to keep it out of sight so they can open it together.
Her room is a little messy, but artfully so. The bed has been made without an Avox's help, and a fashionable coat hangs over the back of the chair at her desk, which looks relatively unused.
Re: Christmas day
She follows Venus, and stops in her doorway, looking around, pleased with what she sees.
"You have such a lovely room, Venus." She goes in, and brushes her hand over the coat. "So soft." She looks around, picking up nick-nacks and all together acting as though she is completely relaxed.
Re: Christmas day
She glances up from where she's getting the gift out of her desk when Eponine speaks. "Oh, that? Bought it on credit. Didn't get much blood money last Arena."
She pulls the wrapped tube of scented lotion and drops of specialty bubblebath out. She settles on the bed next to Eponine. "Want to open them together?"
Re: Christmas day
"Yes - oh, I feel like I will burst to know what is inside!"
She begins to pick at the sellotape, peeling it away carefully so that the paper doesn't rip.
Eventually, the package lies open on her knee, and she examines the lotion carefully. "This is to make me smell beautiful, no?" She can't stop smiling. "Oh, Venus, so kind of you. Such a lovely gift. Thank you. Oh, thank you, so nice."
Re: Christmas day
"Oh my God," Venus says quietly, in that honest, touched way when she opens her gift. She can't help but let her gaze linger in the compact mirror for a moment, like a cockatoo transfixed, before turning back to necklace. She slips her own necklace off, unlatches it and then places the District Five pendant on the chain Eponine's given her.
"I'll wear it with my token." She reaches over and pokes at Eponine's gift. "One of these is for relaxing hot baths. And the other one will make you smell nice and keep your skin soft."
Re: Christmas day
"I just wanted you to see how pretty you are. I got it before the brand went. I suppose you know you are beautiful now though."
She turns her attention back to her own presents. She's never had proper smelly stuff given to her before, and she feels that it's a really special gift now. "Oooh, now that one will be nice. Soft skin... at least I will look so beautiful and smell so nice when they execute me." She smiles, though her chin wobbles. This could be her last Christmas, and it is just so perfect.
Re: Christmas day
"Thank you." She leans back, looking at the gifts then at Eponine before tapping Eponine's chin with her knuckle. "Hey, who says you're getting executed?"