A Library of Tiny Books [Open]

[vissernone]

Who| Eva and anyone
What| Eva gets herself some contraband.
Where| A sidestreet in the Capitol.
When| Today
Warnings/Notes| None

There are a few things that still bring joy into Eva's world. Old books of poetry are one of them.

They aren't easy to obtain in the Capitol, of course - all of the most incendiary pieces have been censored or 'lost' to time, and only specialty stores carry anything that isn't one of those flash in the pan best-sellers. Most books aren't even on paper these days, so Eva runs the risk of inviting prying eyes to her personal business whenever she carries one in public. Still, it's worth the effort.

She has connections in the city, though. She's had plenty of years to build them up. So she's leaving a small shop in the Capitol with a bag several pounds heavier than when she came in, wearing an outfit that seems to be made of real oversized sunflowers. It's at odds with her normal, more provocative style of dress, but any day when she has good reading material and no Tributes to watch die is a happy day indeed.

She's busy looking over her shoulder for the cameras she knows exist when she runs into you. Her bag rips open and the two treasures she's been hoarding, a book of Neruda and a book of Lorca's plays, fall onto the marble of the street.

Comments

[revvinguptheharley]

"Yipe!" The unmistakable gasp of shock from one Harley Quinn was accompanied with the sound of books and bags hitting the floor. Harley was looking particularly like a dessert table in some kind of ridiculous pink skirt with wavy cream like patterns and a top with fruit patterns and the unmistakable scent of cotton candy. Her own bags of fabric and makeup dropped to the ground as she scrambled to pick the books up. "Sorry lady I...Eva?" She glanced up and grinned sheepishly at her sunflower clad mentor.

"Wow, between the two of us we're almost ready for tea. Where's a girl dressed in cups and saucers when ya need her?"

[vissernone]

"Oh. Harley." Eva quickly shoves the books back into her bag and jams it under her arm, so, they don't fall out the rip again. Just because someone's a Tribute, one of her Tributes, doesn't mean she can trust them with her little patch of metaphorical sunshine. "You look..."

Well, she can't really say fabulous. Harley looks a little bit like a cupcake.

"In the most platonic way, you look delicious."

[revvinguptheharley]

"Aw thanks tall dark and smoldering." Harley cooed and gave a little twirl.

"Still can't convince those girls with the sherbert hair to let me put my old uniform together. I figure they just need to see what it looks like on me. Like we have some kinda communication failure or something. Can you believe it? Someone who wouldn't understand me?" She laughed heartily.

[saisamour]

Marius should really stop bumping into other people.

Or, more specifically, perhaps he should stop his habit of physically wandering the streets while mentally living in a different world altogether, a world filled with starlight and wild, untamed gardens and her. But telling Marius to stop daydreaming of Cosette is like telling a rock to transform into a puddle of water, so all he can really do is apologize profusely once more after unfortunately stumbling into some other poor soul.

Which is exactly what he does, as he bends down to pick up a... book? He pauses for a moment, eyes looking over both author's names and failing to identify either of them. He gets back to his feet, slowly, and he's still staring at her treasures as he hands them to her.

[vissernone]

"Thank you. I'm sorry, I don't know where my head is." Marius doesn't have the self-obsessed look of a Capitol citizen, and she immediately pegs him as a Tribute. If he's one of hers, she hasn't been notified yet.

She takes the book back and brushes her hair behind her ear. Oh, to be young and unblemished.

"Are you heading somewhere? You look slightly lost and I've had quite a few decades to acquaint myself with the topography."

[saisamour]

He wants to inquire about the books—perhaps he can find some distraction in reading (note: he likely won't)—but his shyness prevents him from speaking right away, and then she's raising him a question and the moment has passed.

A glance around and he discovers that he doesn't quite know where he is. It's not as if he had been heading anywhere in particular, however, though now that she asks he finds that there is one place he wants to be. "Is there a garden, here in the Capitol?"

[akingalways]

A big, strong, manly hand reached down and grabbed them. Even after all this time, Jack did retain some of the better parts of himself. After all, a king always show respect to a la--

"Here. You should wa--oh." Standing up straight, he realized who it was he was helping and frowned. "Hello."

Of course, it had to be the crazy old drunk who ran into him. Of all people.

[vissernone]

Eva would apologize for bumping into someone, but Jack Atlas is on the very short list of people she doesn't have even the tiniest grain of respect for. Which doesn't make him much different than the other Mentors, honestly.

"You should remember that I'm not a pet dog who needs to be instructed after I collide with someone." She grabs her books. "Has District 8 changed its primary export to trained monkeys?"

[akingalways]

Well, it was Jack Atlas, official cheerleader of the Capitol. Not many other Mentors liked him either.

"WELL. Then I apologize for trying to be polite." He glared. "Has District 9 changed its export to rude drunks? As if we need more of those!"

[savedbyasong]

It hadn't taken Shion too long to track down almost every book shop in the capitol. But for, probably obvious reasons, he hadn't found this one yet. At least not until he walked straight into the woman on the street.

"I'm sorry." He scrambled backwards, eyes darting around, "I really am."

[vissernone]

"Oh, no, that's my fault, I never watch where I'm going." She drops to her knees and starts collecting her books. "I'm sorry, I don't believe we've met, and Capitol citizens never apologize to me for anything."

Not for putting her in the Arena, not for taking her child, and certainly not for colliding with her on a busy street.

[savedbyasong]

When it was clear she wasn't going to try and stab him or cut off his hand for bumping into her he crawled forwards and helped collect the books. He looked at them with interest, not recognising the authors. These were more like the books in Rat's room though, old and musky not like the others he had found around the Capitol.

Her words made him blink and he looked up, brushing white hair out of his eyes. "Are you a tribute too?"

[bangbangkerpooow]

Billy basks in the Capitol-produced media. He soaks in heroes who are always right and never wrong. He swims through plots that follow neat, predictable formulas where the good guys win and the bad guys lose and the good guys always get to have a speech at the end. He sees the movies that are advertised, the kind that have bass-thumping, curve-hugging, explosive-ridden trailers and television spots where Famous Actor Number 2 points at the camera in three-dimensions and says PREPARE FOR THE RIDE OF YOUR LIFE.

Billy basks in the Capitol-produced media, but Billy does not bask in Eva. When he sees her, he crosses to the other end of the street and clears his throat dramatically, roughly (passive-aggressively ) as though to emphasize how much he was ignoring her.

[vissernone]

"Oh, please." She brushes by, making sure her bare shoulder bumps into his arm hard. She stops there, head angled a little too high up to merely be meeting his eyes; she's turning her nose up at someone taller.

"How's the hand?" Eva's own grip clutches around her bag, around the two books tucked safely inside like eggs in the womb. It's the only sign of tension in her posture, in the exaggerated lazy loll of her eyelids and tilt of her shoulders, her hips and knees juxtaposed in a way that would be sassy on a teenager and looks formidable on an adult.

[showbizpanache]

[Kurt spots Eva while he's out walking and notices she's looking a little shifty. Curious, he follows her along a side street, more interested in her outfit than anything.]

Hello? Miss Eva?

[He doesn't mean to startle her, but when she drops her book he realizes he ought to work on his approach.] Oh, I'm so sorry-- Let me help you pick those up...

[vissernone]

Oh, thank you, Kurt.

[She takes the books back and hurriedly tucks them in the fabric of her now-ripped bag. At the very least, the contents will be covered. Some of the petals shed off her dress.

She makes a little gesture that he should walk with her.]

Have you been feeling alright lately?

[showbizpanache]

I'm fine, it's just--

[He notices how she squirrels the books away, and bites his lip, terribly curious. She's hiding them for a reason, he tells himself, so he stubbornly forces that curiosity down.]

I, um. I like your dress.

[lessthanelementary]

Everyone else in the Capitol makes staring at a communicator and walking at the same time look so easy. Neffa had only intended to prod at it long enough to check the map he was following into the city, but then he'd touched something he hadn't meant to and lost the screen entirely, and his conviction that he'll have it back in just half a second carries him smack into Eva, with an unflatteringly startled noise. He has only a brief impression of being elbowed in the stomach by a wedding bouquet before the books, and his communicator, are scattered on the ground between them.

He's on the ground to help in another half a second, and the motion lets him focus on the pickup instead of on his own wounded dignity, avoiding her face while he snatches at the Neruda lying on the pavement and puts courtesy back on. "Excuse me-- well, looks like no harm done, at least..." He trails off. The apologetic smile he'd meant to flash at her doesn't meet its target, because he's looking at the book.

It's not quite the same, the paper smoother-cut than back home and the title and author, of course, unfamiliar. But the idea is the same - this is a book intended to be read and reread, a spine intended to crack in many well-loved places-- he'd bet money that were he to open it, there would be notes penciled in the margins. The urge to open it up to smell is hard to quell.

"--I've not seen this one in any shop," he drops into the silence, tearing his eyes away from the cover and proffering the book to its owner (Who is, startlingly, quite familiar-- With the Games, but-- Capitol, yes?). There's a stamp-cut way things tend to look here, and obvious age is out of fashion - the book is an anomaly, and something in him hopes she won't put it away too quickly.

[vissernone]

His smile would have missed the mark anyway, because once Eva's noticed that the person in her way not a Capitol Citizen but a Tribute - Neffa a Reyeth, if she recalls correctly - she becomes more preoccupied with the reactions of the Capitol Citizens around her. Thankfully, aside from a few dirty looks, no one seems to pay them much mind; they're desensitized to violence against Tributes and Victors, and seeing a small collision on the street is nothing to gawk at. If it were two Citizens colliding, it would be different, but Mentors are always making some sort of trouble and the Citizens just don't have time for that nonsense. Eva gives a few reproachful looks at the crowd before turning back to Neffa.

"I'm so sorry about that, I should look where I'm going." She widens her eyes, communicating without speaking, and holds the bag open so he can slip the book back in it. He may not realize the value of it, but she still doesn't want to draw any unwanted attention to it.

But it doesn't make her want to put the incident behind her; in fact, the corner of her mouth twitches spasmodically, excitedly, at the idea of someone to share her treasure with. Not explain it, not teach it, but share it with. The last person who really appreciated the written word here was Katurian, and the Gamemakers have declined to revive him.

She covers the book up with the fabric of the bag, ripped though it is, and holds an arm out like a lady expecting to be led to a ball by her beau. She tilts her head in the direction an an alleyway, the way she came from. "You've been to bookshops, then?"

[lessthanelementary]

Neffa catches on quickly. The reason for her caution isn't immediately clear to him, but he slips the book back into the bag (not without a last, lingering look at the cover) and rises with another sheepish, empty apology, the kind that says nothing more to see here.

He can't decide whether or not to be suspicious of her sudden interest in his reply. A chance collision, a glimpse of probable contraband, an unspoken invitation to confess his own involvement-- half of him scoffs at the idea that the Capitol should waste time trolling the streets for rebelliously-minded Tributes, while the other half asks flatly why that of all things should seem unbelievable to him. He gives himself the seconds it takes to brush himself off and straighten the green tunic they've draped him in to decide.

In the end, it's curiosity that wins out. He's still new enough to plead ignorance, should this turn out to be a trap - and more than that, there might be books at the end of this, real books-- he hadn't realized until he'd touched one how much he'd missed them, compared to the lit-screen un-paper books he's been learning from, the ones the Capitol can monitor him reading. And so he takes her arm and allows himself to be led, for all the world as though he'd intended to walk with her all along; a stroll, taken by two acquaintances pleased to have happened to run into each other.

"Now and again," he replies, noncommittally. Bookshops he's been to, but none that sold anything like what she has in her bag. "I have a reader, of course, but some days nothing will do but to touch real paper. You know how it is, I suppose?" The crowd has long since ceased to be interested in their collision, but he mirrors her caution, hoping she'll understand the real question-- Where did you find a real book?

[polyturtle]

"Oh, hey there!"

A pair of turtle hands pick them up gingerly for her. Donatello leaned back up to give the woman back her books, and his eyes widened when he recognized who it was.

"Eva! Long time no..." He blinked worriedly at the stitches. "Are you all right?"

[vissernone]

"Sorry about that, thank you, oh- hello, Don."

She collects her books and stands back up.

"Oh, fine." She brushes at her hair so Don can see the injury, now just a faint line of stitches up in her hair line. "It's a fashion statement."

[polyturtle]

"Oh, well...if you say so..." At this, he spotted one of the book titles. "Neruda?...You read about Argentinian poets?"

[bratwonder]

Damian just gives her a look at first, clearly annoyed about being run into like this. He recognizes Eva a moment later, however, as his district's mentor, so he decides he probably has to try and do the right thing here. Instead of complaining and walking off (which he would much prefer to do), he bends down to pick up one of her books, holding it out to her.

"Distracted?"

...well, it's not exactly an apology, but at least he tried? Sort of?!

[vissernone]

"Always. It's hard to stay focused when you're always being watched." She takes the book back. "Thank you, I'm sorry for...Damian Wayne, isn't it?"

She straightens up and brushes the sunflowers on her dress back into place. He's one of hers, one she hasn't met yet for no good reason besides her own bad decisions. "You made quite a splash on the network."