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

[permets_tu]

"My better half." Orestes. His brows pulled down into a frown, his mouth slipping into an unhappy line. He does not precisely know what she alludes to though he has his suspicions. They are enough to darken his mood, turn him towards bleaker thoughts. He is reminded again that he has come here late, left behind, his arrival is troubled too deeply by all he has missed. Enjolras has spoken to this woman. He has left an impression upon her and she refers to conversations that he is entirely ignorant of. It bothers him more than it should. "If you are so well acquainted with the half of me that is worth more than the whole I expect you would know better than to imply I am a worthy match."

He will also confess surprise on discovering Eponine having dallied with her own gentler gender. She had not seemed to him the type to form such a friendship and had taken great pleasure in the parts he had to offer her, tongue and body both. The fact that she had neglected to tell him of her love for a woman did not trouble him so much, save for how it might affect his present health. The woman in question, Felicity Worthington, seemed full of violence, in tongue and body both and the passion of her anger was startling.

"Your mistress made no mention of you."

[iphigeneia]

"That does not surprise me. My mistress was once a whore, and no body, male or female, can redeem her of that flaw." Her assessment of him was cold, clinical. Or rather, she hoped it would seem that way. The anger coursing through her was taking its toll and it was all she could do to keep herself from shaking with fury. She had to tell herself to breathe, remind herself that serenity could and would save the day.

"But that hardly matters now, for she is no longer my mistress.." She wrinkled her nose to prove her point. "As for you, it is clear you are unworthy of him. But then again, weren't we all? At least we have his lovely memorial statue to look down on us as a reminder of what once was, what could have been."

[permets_tu]

Grantaire laughed, it could not be helped and he felt some anger suddenly pulse in him, some ugliness turn its head and find itself unleashed in the cadence of his bitter amusement. He knows his own worth, he is well acquainted with personal failure, yet to have a stranger throw it in his face as if she knows the full compass of his unworthiness is something different. He hates her suddenly, and is pleased with Eponine for disappointing her so well. Eponine, who had been amusingly forthright with all the failings of her own character.

"That statue! Oh, you would think it fine, she who cavorts with prostitutes and expects what, honesty? Fidelity? I do not pretend to know what you hoped to gain by that affair, though it is happily clear she has not granted you whatever is was you sought." He turned from her, his fists clenching at his sides and then turned abruptly back to her. "You would see beauty in shit, your observations fall to the surface only and you make a pretty show of genteel indignation. Did you think you could roll about in the mud and not find dirt in the crevasses afterwards? Spare me talk of statues, the imitation is an insult to more than just him, I never saw such vacant gentleness in his features and if you find some measure of familiarity in it I count myself lucky to have missed knowing him here and rejoice instead in my last memory of him!"

[iphigeneia]

Thank God she'd never let Eponine touch her. That solid fact was a source of great and continued pride and solace for her. Her mistake had been in believing Eponine could aspire for more. What a folly that was, to think that young woman could be anything besides a whining, vengeful whore. Felicity gritted her teeth to prevent her ranting about it right then and there.

"You never saw any gentleness in his features. None for you, anyway." She rolled her eyes at him, the only thing she could do to stop herself from ripping out his throat. She'd once seen beauty in his character, admired him for his devotion to Enjolras. Now she despised him. No, worse than that. She longed to skin him alive and present him to Enjolras, toss him at the man's feet and let him be stepped on and walked all over. Or better yet, stepped around. "But I needn't point that out."

How sorely disappointed she was in her literary figures. It felt like losing a hero.

"I always dreamed I'd be on the receiving end of some drunkard's tirade. Do have another go, sir. I so like it when there's a good rant to be had." She laughed sharply, bitterly. "Now, I shall give you some fodder. I offered comfort and friendship to one who no friends in the world, to one who cried constantly over men who beat her and raped her, to one whose heart had been crushed to smithereens by the uncaring and callous men who would fuck her and leave when they're spent, use her up and then forget her existence. That is what you do. That is what you all do. But I did not see beauty in shit. I saw a person who could be anything she wanted if she'd only do it. She needn't be defined by what men do to her and where their hands have been. I told her as much. I thought it might sink in. For a brief moment, it did. But then you came. How sad that she had her freedom in hand, only to throw it all away."

Felicity shrugged then, taking a step to stand beside Grantaire. "But she's French. That's to be expected, I suppose."