thecapitol | Welcome Home?

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✘ eva salazar

Welcome Home?

Who? Eponine and YOU!
What? Eponine has woken up with two rather large surprises and a heavy weight on her chest.
Where? Either District 3 Suite or the Common Room - that is as far as Eponine is going.
When? Some time after she's been restored

WARNINGS - Body modification, talk of death and murder, tears.

When Eponine had awoken back in the Capitol, her mind went straight to what had happened in the arena. She had felt so helpless - no matter how much she had tried to stop herself, she HAD to attack Howard. She HAD to try to kill him. She HAD to. Draco's voice whispering in her head - urging her, making her... She had never hated anybody so much. Even her Papa or Montparnasse hadn't been able to manipulate her in such a manner.

It took Eponine a few minutes before she noticed the other changes to her body; the tang of blood in her mouth from where she chewed on her bottom lip with her re-sharpened teeth, the scratch on her wrist with her claws. She looked down at her wrist - and instead, her eyes became fixed on the thin hospital gown that covered her. Where it usually lay quite flat on her chest, now it simply bulged. Eponine sat up quickly, gingerly touching her breasts. HER breasts?

They were huge. Monsters on Eponine's skinny, starving body. She touched them gingerly, before pulling off her gown to examine them. Her eyes widened and her mouth dropped open in horror. What had Valeria done?

She spent the next two days hiding in her bedroom. How could she face anybody? They'd stare at her chest; Valeria had always wanted it to be her best asset, the thing that caught people's eyes... well, she had certainly succeeded. Eponine though, was mortified. She didn't do well at the centre of attention.

After a couple of days though, she had to get out. She wasn't sleeping. Nightmares of the arena, of Draco's voice, it was haunting her, sending her crazy. Was HOward even still alive? She had no idea. Eponine hoped that she hadn't killed her only friend. Because that was it. They surely couldn't be friends any more. Draco had stolen that from her. She HATED that man. She was scared that she'd hear Draco again, mingling in with the other monsters she sometimes saw when she was hungry. She was scared that voice would make her do things she couldn't refuse to do again.

Dressed in the baggiest t-shirt she could find, in vain effort to hide the size of her chest, Eponine made her way down to the common room, hoping to bump into somebody - anybody she could sit with for a while.

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Eva's in the common room again. Miraculously, not piecing together the psyches of her Tributes, who seem to be faring relatively well in this arena, despite the occasional dismemberment. She hasn't even had to go making rounds to the Sponsors too much this Arena, which is a relief.

She lounges with another book - Dreamtigers by Jorge Luis Borges, the cover obscured by the outside flap of another, trashier selection that's more appropriate for the Capitol. She turns her head to see Eponine enter, looking miserable and hopeless. Aside from the dark lines of makeup on her face like war paint, and the antler done up in her elaborate hairpiece, Eva looks outright sedate.

"Welcome back, dear."

Eponine flashes the briefest of smiles at Eva, and hugging her chest, goes over to curl up in the arm chair opposite, pulling up her legs to hide the lumps of her breasts as best she can.

"That was the worst yet. I didn't mean to try to kill him."

Eva closes her book, leaning in so Eponine knows that Eva's honestly listening and not just humoring her. "I didn't see. What happened?"

"I tried to kill Howard." Eponine closes her eyes for a moment, before she opens them again and looks down at her knees. Chest. She looks quickly at Eva, and then down at the book in the woman's hand.

"What are you reading?"

"Your friend?" Eva reaches over to put a hand on Eponine's knee, but instead of finishing the gesture holds the book out so Eponine can see it too. "Just a collection of short stories. Nothing special."

"He's the only friend I have ever had, Madame. I don't think he'll want to talk to me again now though. But I couldn't help it."

She takes the book off Eva, opening it curiously. She spells out the words carefully, and then looks inside.

"Why does the book have different titles, Madame?"

"Desperation makes us do ugly things, Eponine. It's alright."

She smiles, then raises a finger to her lips and gestures with her eyes towards the rest of the room; even empty, there may be cameras.

"I wasn't desperate... Draco did it. He did... Something. I kept hearing his voice in my head, telling me to do things."

She touches her own head. "He was in here, saying things. And I was trying to shout back but I couldn't. I tried to stop... But he made me use these on him, and my teeth."

She stretches out her hands, showing her claws to Eva. But by moving her hands, she reveals more the bulges her breasts create beneath her t-shirt. Her teeth, hideously sharpened, are all too obvious, along with her yellow eyes. Once she realises, though, she snatches her hands back quickly, once more crossing them over her chest.

"It was the most horrible feeling of all of them. It felt like I was truly going mad. And then someone killed me."

Eva can't help but feel a deep and unpleasant amount of sympathy. It's not the same, but so many times she's felt forced to do things against her will, here. At least she had the justification of maybe, someday, striking back.

The edges of her mouth tighten a little. "I'm sorry that happened. But people...they're understanding."

She sits back. "At least, I like to hope they are."

"I bet Howard will not forgive me. He was begging me to stop. I wanted to, but couldn't. Draco told me words to use - and I tore his lip off with my teeth, as if I was kissing him."

She sighs, and blinks. "He was the first friend I ever had, you know? And now I have none again. Eponine alone. He shouted at me last time for killing myself. He will not see me again."

She shakes her head. "Madame, I hate it here. I don't want to be here. I want to leave. Is there any way? Any way you know?"

"This place does have a way of severing friendships," Eva says, shaking her head. "I don't...I don't know of any way out. I don't know if I'd leave if I could. Have you tried applying to the release program? I could guide you through it, if you wanted."

Her heart aches for Eponine. She wants to say Eponine will be forgiven, but she doesn't know Howard, and doesn't want to lie to give someone hope. She'll lie to save face or to put someone in jail, but to argue kindness? She can't.

"I thought, perhaps... for once..." Eponine sighs.She had thought perhaps, for once, that somebody wanted to be around her because they liked her. Not because they needed her or wanted to use her. But that was done. Over.

"The release programme?" Her mouth twitches into a half smile.
"I do not think they'd let me, Madame. I cannot do anything anyway. I am clever but..."

It's difficult for her to phrase without being crude. All she knows is theft and dark alleys and now murder to boot. She doesn't know HOW to have a normal job, be normal.

"And anyway, there is no point, Madame. They will still have me. They can still do things to me - even my body is not mine; Valeria has grown it, see?"

She straightens, flattening her top so that her new breasts are obvious. She only remains like that for about ten seconds before bunching her top back out and covering herself properly again.

"I do not even look like me any more. She has changed my teeth and my hands and my eyes and now even my -" She shakes her head.

"It does not matter."

Eva reaches over and fluffs up Eponine's shirt a bit more, to hide her figure even further. "It's alright, dear. Most of my face and body isn't what I was born with either."

She racks her brains for some way to comfort her. Some life raft in this sea of unhappiness and abuse and loneliness. She keeps coming up short.

"There's a restaurant I know, where no one will look at you lecherously. And...there are styles of clothing, androgynous styles, that I might be able to find for you that will cloak your figure and won't upset your stylist too much. Genderbending is in."

She stands up and holds a hand out. "Come on, enough sulking."

"Valeria said they were my best assets. She wants people to look so they'll sponsor me. You know, she said at the next ball, that a - a- a 'wardrobe malfunction' could be beneficial. I thought it was a jest but... what if she does that as well?"

She stands up though, and takes Eva's hand, trying to smile. "Have they changed you so much then, Madame? Why do you let them do it? I would have run away a long time ago."

"I'll teach you how to sneak in an extra bra." It's all she can do to keep her stomach from rolling at knowing this is happening to the poor girl. She can't be more than eighteen.

Eva takes a deep breath and grits her jaw. "I'm a mother."

She hopes Eponine understands. She'd have given up long ago if she hadn't had someone who needed her more.

It takes Eponine a minute to even remember what a bra is - she's simply not used to the word, although underwear has become a more similiar part of her life, thank goodness. But she smiles at Eva and mutters her thanks. She just hopes Valeria will build in room for a bra. It's not as if she hasn't shown her body before - but it doesn't mean she likes it. Although, usually, she is better at hiding her distaste. Her increased chest has shocked her though, and she just feels completely overwhelmed. But still, her heart breaks for Eva when she utters that short sentence. A mother.

"I am sorry, Madame. I... I should not have asked. Do they play in these games, your child?

"No. He's much too old." She shakes her head quickly, but it's obvious she doesn't want to talk about him. Eponine will probably figure it out eventually anyway, or hear the rumors that follow Eva around.

"Come now, I think we can find you something distracting enough to keep Valeria satisfied. How does something with claws and spikes to keep strangers' hands off you feel?"

"Oh." Eponine murmurs quietly, all the while thinking of M'sieur Sigma and the other old people involved in the Games. But she doesn't press it. She knows a warning tone when she hears one.

Instead she smiles. "At least that will match my hands and teeth. That is the funny thing about Madame Valeria though - she does such things to shows me off, but then she gets angry if I say a man touches me. She doesn't want me to be a whore, you know? I think she truly thinks that this is beautiful."

"She does. It's what she's known as beautiful all her life. When I was a little girl...I used to have a magazine of the fashions of the Capitol, and I thought they were the prettiest things I'd ever seen. I just never thought I'd be able to afford them." It's a terrible consolation prize - lose your family, your soul, your sanity, but get nice clothes out of the bargain.

"And now that I can afford them, I think most of them are pretty grotesque." She heralds a car to take her and Eponine to a boutique.

Once in the car, Eponine settles back. This is the first time she's actually been in one, and she's kinda scared. She clutches the door handle tight - although at the same time, she tries to bluff that the car is something that is completely normal and mundane to her.

"Where are you from, Madame? Tell me about it. Nobody ever seems to talk of these districts we are supposed to be from."

She has no idea what a magazine is, but she can relate a little, and she nuzzles her cheek against her jumper.

"These clothes are the most beautiful things I have ever seen. I've not had new clothes since I was a child and now Valeria makes them for me every day, because when they kill me, I wake up and I am starving again. They are beautiful. But I wish I did not have to die for them. I wish they would just tell me what they want me to do - I do not care. But I want them to tell me. It is easier."

"I'm from District 9. We gather wheat, and..." She sighs. "We're a very poor district. We gather wheat, and we watch as others live in luxury, and we used to pretend we were very grateful for a chance to compete in the Games, but we can't even do that now."

She fidgets her hand against the seatbelt. "Back in the day when I won, the Victor fed her District for a whole year. Now we root for strangers we've never met."

"I know how that is... I used to stare into the big homes in Paris, at the children and the ladies in the beautiful dresses. It is not nice, that feeling." She offers a quick smile, still clinging onto the door handle. Now this contraption is scarier than the Arena by far.

"Why did you pretend, Madame? This is what I do not understand - why people fight. Why not just do as I did and sit? Although..." She pauses, thinking.

"Food for a whole year would perhaps tempt me to fight."

She's sure Eponine knows it. For Eva, it's a dim feeling, one she knew as a child but no longer has. Now it isn't luxury she pines for but freedom.

"Food for everyone you know. Everyone you love. It's something no one could afford not to fight for," Eva says quietly. "And who would have taken care of my son? My sister was dead. My parents were destitute."

She wrings one hand over the other. "And it was a long time ago. I was a better person then."

"I suppose... But now? This I do not understand. Theybring us here, they say fight... Why? They will not send grain to Paris. Will thry? Could I be feeding everyone in Paris?"

She shakes her head. "Madame? I try to understand, but I don't. In Paris, there was talk of fighting, but it was give us food. It was not just to fight. I do not know. I do not understand."

She glances at Eva butlooksaway quickly again. "Could he not look after himself, your son? You know, when they are left alone, childrens learn quickly. Gavroche learned to take care of himself quickly. And he was but a child when Mama sent him away. Are you such a bad person now? You do not seem bad to me."

Dressed strangely, yes... But Eponine had come to expect this in the Capitol and she barely blinked at Eva's get up.

"I don't think so. We only take from other cultures. That's what the Capitol is best at." She thinks back to what Elias told her, to what Ariadne argued with the Baron, that all the Capitol does is steal and polish from the Districts, and now from all these other worlds and histories too.

She tries to think of a way to put it, but really, it's madness here. How do you explain madness? Once you start breaking it down, all you find inside is dust and rot and decay. The center cannot, does not, hold.

"He was an infant, at the time. Not even a year old. He hadn't yet said his first words."

"I'm sorry, Madame." She speaks quickly, and it comes across as a little insincere. "But he was taken care of and you won, at least... I suppose your District were proud - i can believe that they still are.

Perhaps that is what I should do - go and visit District three. You know, before I came here, the only lights I had seen was the sunshine and candles. And now look - I fight for a place where they make all sorts of things. It is strange... But I'd like to see. I could, perhaps, live therr instead. Just go and never come back."

"Children still need defenses if their parents are Victors. Especially if their parents are Victors."

The car pulls up to a part of town where there isn't much in the way of passers-by, but those that are walking around are well-dressed. "That's not a bad idea. I may...hmm. I may have to consider that."

"To run?" As Eponine feels the car stopping, she slowly lets go of the handle and looks out curiously. She's never been to this part of town before, but the quieter streets are a welcome relief. She suddenly finds that she misses the alleyways of Paris - so easy to avoid people in the twisting maze. Had those alleys been here, she'd be able to avoid Draco AND Howard for almost ever.

But they weren't. So she climbs out of the car, and stands self consciously on the pavement. These people were very well dressed by Capitol standards, and Eponine feels distinctly scruffy all over again next to them.

"Would you run to your district? Back to find your son?"

"My son..." She shakes her head again. She can't say anything about him, not here, not to Eponine, not to anyone. It's too difficult; it makes her mouth go dry and her throat go tight and tears threaten to ruin her perfect mascara.

"No, not to run. At least, not yet." She gets out of the car and starts to lead Eponine to a restaurant - the Noir, a place where everything is eaten in pitch black. No one will look at them and there's a little more privacy there. "I believe there may be a chance to run in the future."

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Welcome Home?

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Getting a plot idea - I'll ping you on plurk later!

Plots are good! I'm always up for plots!!

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