Tell me do you think I'm dumb?

[iphigeneia]

Who| Felicity & Open
What| The TV special reveals that Eponine has been sneaking around behind Felicity's back. Let's just say she's not happy about it.
Where| D2 Suite ; D3 ; Training room ;
When| Anytime after the Caesar Flickerman TV special.
Warnings/Notes| Open to everyone, tag in however you like!

D2 Suites

Felicity wasn't just livid when she saw the broadcast footage of Eponine cuddled up with Grantaire. She was humiliated, utterly. At last, she'd started to come to terms with herself, with her attraction to women, lowered herself to Eponine's level, and now what had Eponine done? She'd carried on with a man! With Grantaire, of all men! The indignity of it all! Felicity could scream, she was so appalled by everything.

"I'll kill them both!" She declared to no one in particular as soon as the mandatory viewing period had passed. "Those awful creatures deserve each other!"


D3 Suites

She entered the third floor suite uninvited, not caring at all if her presence there was unwelcome at all. She was angry and she was going to make that rage known to whoever she happened to come across first. And then, when she was done, she'd find that troll of a human, Grantaire, and beat the hell out of him. And when she was done with that, she'd tell Eponine exactly what she thought of her. And then Felicity would be satisfied and superior once more, and all would be right with the world.


Training Room

Once she was sufficiently calmed, she made her way to the training facilities. She'd been bested by Roland last time, unable to use her weapons skills against someone who was simply stronger and faster than she was. It was something she'd need to work on. What good was a dagger or a bow if she was pinned down beneath a man who had the strength to keep her down.

She still was a bit clueless when it came to strength training, but she would work on it on and off by herself, peppering in her routines of fencing and archery as needed to liven things up. Four Arenas in a row she'd made it to the end. Arena 13 she would win, so help her God.

Comments

[dead_black_eyes]

He flinches at the violent motion of the door and stares at the dour-faced blonde behind it once he's regained his bearings. Sudden motions, especially when accompanied by loud noises, don't always agree with him... probably because he's so frequently hungover as hell.

"Looking for my friend... one of your District Mentors," he clarifies, sounding annoyed and tetchy. Mentors tend to be afforded a certain amount of respect by Tributes, even when they're from other Districts, so being scowled at doesn't exactly improve his mood. "When I came to your door, I confess I was about to go get someone with more authority than I have to remind you that Tributes are supposed to wait until they are in the Arena to kill each other. Is there someone in there I should be worried about?"

He cranes his neck, as if trying to see past her into the suite.

[iphigeneia]

"If you think it wise, alert the authorities." She crossed her arms defiantly, even as the tears welled up in her eyes. She didn't want to cry, but the indignity of it all was simply too much. "There is no punishment they can dole out worse than what Eponine the whore has exacted on me already."

With that, she turned her back to Linden, shoulder slumped. "You wish to see Torin, don't you? I haven't seen him. If I had, I should like to see him myself."

She could scarcely think of anyone who might do a better job of soothing her wounded pride.

[dead_black_eyes]

Years of Mentoring following his own very traumatic Hunger Games have somewhat tempered the sensitivity Linden is sure he once possessed. A lot of nuanced details of human communication have been blunted for him, but Felicity's glistening eyes and the coldness in her tone are pretty difficult to misinterpret or miss. And something about it... admittedly resonates. Linden has been slighted before, famously, and it's shaped a lot of the bitter, hollow person he's become.

"Torin is who I came to see... but I don't particularly mind waiting," he says, following the girl after she's turned her back on him. "He has a way about him, doesn't he?"

He settles onto the couch, folding his gaunt body up like a fortress, taking in the television's barrage of images and voices. "So... Eponine is a whore?" he asks, by way of making conversation. Even if Felicity wants to talk to Torin, perhaps the interested ear of another Mentor will suffice for now.

[iphigeneia]

She doesn't quite know what to make of Linden making himself at home in their suite, but there's very little she can do about it. Still, for whatever reason, she speculated that as a mentor, he might be worth gleaning some advice from, even if he wasn't her own mentor. There had to be a reason he'd won. He had to have some sort of insight on the human psyche that she simply lacked for whatever reason.

"She is literally a whore." Felicity's voice was flat, nearly lifeless. "And, as it turns out, she is also a slut."

[dead_black_eyes]

One of the aspects of life as a Mentor Linden actually acclimated to decently was the freedom that came with it; freedom not only from being murdered in the arena, but also from many of the rules that most Panem citizens had to adhere to. That freedom meant being a slave in other ways, but he supposes that being able to drink midday to the point of intoxication makes it a little more worthwhile.

"Literally a whore?" Linden asks, eyebrows both raised. "Sex for money and pleasure? That's not so uncommon in this Capitol, but it's clearly hurt you. I am sorry."

[iphigeneia]

"Yes," Felicity answered, swallowing back every ounce of emotion she could. She didn't want to expose her own feelings too much, but now that she'd started, it seemed difficult to put a stop to it. "She was one in her home world, and here she gives herself away for free to anyone who asks her, apparently. I told her I could have loved her. I told her--"

She caught herself then, sniffed back the tears which threatened to fall. "She said she wanted to love me. She thought she could. And the first chance she had, she fell into bed with Grantaire, and another one too, so I hear."

[dead_black_eyes]

She really wants to talk about this, doesn't she? Linden's a little bit uneasy with how the words just spill out, but he recognizes that this is a big deal to her. Maybe the fact that he's an absolute stranger makes it easier to vent, in which case... it's still gossip, and still interesting. He has absolutely nothing to lose by sitting and listening.

"I hate it when you could love someone and they throw it back in your face," he agrees amiably, the statement sounding bizarre from someone whose would-be lover slit his throat on national television. "But people don't really change, unfortunately... they can try, and they can improve if they work hard, but nature isn't something that just reforms into whatever would be best. It sounds like she doesn't actually know what she wants, and people like that ultimately hurt people who do."

[iphigeneia]

She listened to his insight eagerly, for though he may not be her mentor and his mind may have been numbed and clouded through the years, it was clear that he'd seen and experienced things which had made him wise in the nature of humankind. Felicity herself lacked this sort of connection to other people. She thought to much of herself, drowned in her own feelings and emotions and in the superiority of her whims. Sometimes she forgot (or neglected) just what it meant to look out at the world instead of simply looking inward.

"I should have known as much." She said at last, sighing a little so as to mask the abject sadness in her voice. "She never wanted to improve herself. She is happy being miserable. It brings her attention, you know. She is the center of it all when she lashes out like this. And what am I to do but be cross with her? After all, she's made a fool of me, and before the whole of Panem."

[dead_black_eyes]

Most people are not thrilled when they find out that Linden will be their Mentor, but he did win his Games, and his intelligence hasn't been entirely consumed by his vices. Usually, getting him away from the party atmosphere is crucial for him to actually demonstrate this.

"Oh, I know," Linden replies, a little too emphatically. "In the Capitol, suffering is a spectacle. It's all very dramatic, and a certain type of person will take advantage of it. But..." he sighs. "I don't know if this brings you comfort, but there will be other romances, other betrayals, and other miserable distractions. Give it a few weeks, and Panem will forget."

Unless, of course, she becomes a Victor, in which case every humiliation will be replayed at regular intervals for the entertainment of the masses.

[iphigeneia]

Did that make her feel better, to know that her suffering would mean nothing in a few weeks time? She had to decide that, didn't she? Would she be bitter and hold her anger close, or play the victim for a week and let it go? She had it in her to be the better woman. Or she had the breeding for it, at any rate. She could easily let the pain go. But wouldn't that minimize it? Wouldn't that mean that Eponine would get away with it?

"Is it better to forget it and pretend that it all meant nothing?" She wondered aloud, not quite expecting Linden to answer. It was as if she'd forgotten she was mid-conversation with him, as if he wasn't even there.

[dead_black_eyes]

He glances sidelong at her, quirking a brow. Though it's a question, he has the distinct feeling that it wasn't exactly intended for him.

"Maybe," he replies noncommittally, with a shrug of one bony shoulder. "Hey... while we're waiting for Torin... I hate to impose, but what does this suite have in the way of refreshments?"

[iphigeneia]

"I'm certain it must have something decent," she said hazily, wandering over to a prominent sideboard. She stooped down to rummage into the very back of the very bottom of it. "Our escort has forbidden us to drink, but I've seen some of the other Tributes stash away a few bottles in here. Ah yes, here we are. This is whiskey, I think."

[dead_black_eyes]

The report that they're forbidden by their escort to drink doesn't come as a surprise to Linden, from what he knows about this District. It also doesn't seem to concern him; he's District 6, after all, not bound by the same rules whatsoever. He perks right up when she mentions whiskey and procures it, and is quickly rising and joining her.

"Great," he comments briskly. "I'm pretty hungover and while this conversation agrees with me in many ways, it's also going to be a lot easier if I can take the edge off a little."

He'll wait for her to explicitly offer it, but he'll make every second she doesn't seem very long. He's too twitchy and anxious to really put many at what could be considered ease.

[iphigeneia]

"A little hair of the dog, then?" She asked as she unscrewed the lid and handed him the bottle. She'd been quite tempted to take a sampling of it herself, having dabbled in whiskey quite routinely during her schooldays at Spence. But that would just bring her sorrow, and she wasn't ready to delve back into that so soon after having calmed slightly. "Is that why you've come for Torin? To drink with him?"

[dead_black_eyes]

"Something like that," he murmurs, accepting the bottle and tilting it back for a dangerously deep swig. Like many Victors, he doesn't drink because it brings him sorry; he does so because it's one of the few things that hold his demons at bay for a little while.

"Torin doesn't drink," Linden replies, "so no, not exactly. He's actually one of the people I don't feel more comfortable drinking around."

He takes another deep drink. If he can get a good buzz going before Torin arrives, that's another thing entirely.