Eva Salazar (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
vissernone) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
thecapitol2013-06-06 10:23 pm
vissernone) wrote in thecapitol2013-06-06 10:23 pm
A Library of Tiny Books [Open]
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.
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.