thecapitol | (no subject)

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WHO: Eponine and YOU
WHAT: Eponine has returned to the Capitol - or, at least, to the general population.
WHERE: Common room of the Tribute Tower
WHEN: Right now!!
WARNINGS: A very, very subdued Eponine - she's thinking about her execution and revival and the Capitol's dire warnings. Though, she's under strict orders not to utter a peep about the whole nasty business

&l ; Eponine was back. She had been released just before dawn, well away from the Tribute centre, and she trudged homewards, dragging her feet. One of her shoes flapped. They were so thoughtful. They had ensured that every detail was perfect, that her story of trying to run would be believed. Her shoes were covered in mud, and one was ripped, and flapped at her ankle now. Her dress - the same dress she had had on a month ago - was dirty too, and tatty. They had even made sure that she had dirty skin and bits of twigs in her greasy hair. She even wore the tacky jewellery that Howard had given her.

They had found her before she had even got to the border. They had approached her, trapped and executed her. She remembered it vividly. She had been so scared, all alone. She was tired of being brave. And then the world had faded - except - except, no. They had brought her back.

She hitched her jumper higher over her chest; it was cold in the morning air .
Once in the Tribute centre, she collapsed in the nearest chair. Her legs were drawn up to her chest, and her arms wrapped around them firmly. She moved only when an Avox appeared and handed her a mug of hot chocolate. She was back. Back and trapped and forced to compete like she meant it.

At least the hot chocolate tasted good.

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If he had spotted Eponine and her dirty clothes and disheveled appearance, he might have approached her and asked her if she needed help, and made a somewhat commendable effort at it besides. If he had.

But he hadn't. Instead, he overlooked her entirely, having been too caught up in his own daydreams, and walked past her and towards a wall on the far side of the room, which he leaned against with a small, weary sigh. Ever since he arrived at the Capitol he had spent his days sleepwalking and his nights plagued with vivid and horrid dreams of the barricades and the men who had fallen there. Sometimes he would think of Cosette and a temporary calm would come over him, a small respite to the confusion and desolation and lost-ness that aggravated him. But even those didn't last, and at this very moment he simply felt tired of it all.

And so his distant eyes fixed on a spot in the aquarium, although he looked straight past it, through it and into some private little world of his filled with gardens and his Lark and the moon and the starlight.

At first, Eponine, in all of her misery at her own situation, did not spot Marius. She had raised her mug of hot chocolate high, balancing it on her knees, and had sat, staring at the mug (when she wasn't sipping from it.)

But, the chocolate was soon finished; Eponine was famished, as she usually was when they brought her back after death. She had uncurled herself slowly, and moved towards where the little platters of food were always left. Piling her plate high - at least, if she had to be here, the food was good! - she suddenly gasped. Was that? No - but - but, yes. Was it him?

"Monsieur? Monsieur Marius?"

The pit of her stomach dropped, and Eponine began to feel nauseous. Marius here - was she happy? Of course - that her love - but - but - she would have to, one way or another, watch him die.

And such a noble man should not die.

For now, though, Eponine didn't move towards him. Didn't back away. Just stared.

He, in turn, still had his eyes on the aquarium, the shiny fins of a particularly colorful, almost otherworldly fish giving off a weak glare and snapping him out of his thoughts. His brow furrowed as he watched the strange fish dart inside the comfort of the multi-hued corals; he had certainly not seen one like it before, and it had looked almost as other-worldly as the bizarre costumes of the Capitol citizens.

After the interview broadcast and Enjolras's remark, Marius had become more aware of the Capitol ladies that took notice of him. If they had their own appeal it was lost to him. They were not Cosette. None of them could compare to the beauty of her standing in the middle of a wild garden in her simple white dress. He sighed again; he missed her dearly, he was almost suffocating without her, but for the first time in his life he did not desire for her to be with him. The likes of her should never learn how to wield a dagger, to kill another man.

Suddenly frustrated, he pushed himself off the wall. He didn't want to be here; the crowd was too noisy and the lights were too bright and his thoughts were too chaotic. He wanted to leave, and to do so he needed to cross the buffet table, so this was where he was headed to. Unfortunately, he was glancing completely in the other direction, and still he failed to observe Eponine's presence.

Her heart sank as she saw him move, and she sighed as she moved forward again, following him in her broken shoes. But she followed him anyway, darting through the room so she could reach the buffet table as he did. She practised, quickly, in her head, what she'd say to him.

"Monsieur Marius! How unusual to see you here.
Marius! - yes, just Marius - You see I am a lady too?"

But as she reached the table, she tripped a little over her shoe, and stumbled. But catching herself before she fell, she came after him again, and reached out to touch against his coat.

"Hey there, Monsieur." It came out as a mumble. After all of her planning, she had let herself down badly.

He didn't even hear the scuffling, barely observed anything that wasn't in his direct line of vision, until the touch on his coat caused him to jump slightly. Snapped out of his state of half-wake all of a sudden, he cast a glance at whoever had brushed against him and—

And he stared, eyes wide. He had been informed of her presence by her lover, Monsieur Bassem, but he had also mentioned that she disappeared.

And even without ever meeting her lover and engaging in that discussion, he would still be caught as speechless as he was now. It was strange, seeing her alive after watching her die. His eyes drifted for a moment to the place where she had been shot at the barricades, but although her clothes were tattered and disheveled, there was no blood, no bullet hole to be found. He found it strange and unbelievable.

He glanced back up at her face—so she was alive, although in a world that would force her to kill and be killed again and again, he didn't know whether it was a news worthy of rejoicing.

Regardless, after a moment he finally managed to find his voice. "Eponine."

Soft and gentle, like the kiss on her forehead a few moments after she expired in his arms.

She let out a breath she hadn't even known she was holding. He was happy to see her. He sounded like he wanted to see her - like he cared.

"You remember me." She came closer, reaching up to touch his hair. "Still soft. I never forgot, even after all these months. Nearly a year, I have been here. Did you miss me at home? I hope that Papa did not see you; I did what I could, Sir, but..."

She shrugged. That was a long time ago, though now, being brought back to life, she could still feel where Montparnasse had grabbed her, where Brujon had stood on her bare toes as the gang crowded her. Still feel the cool of Montparnasse's knife against her skin. It was a long time ago really, though. She knew that. She had been here for so long - so the fresh memories of Paris must be a trick of the Capitol. Perhaps. Or how the bringing-back-to-life worked.

"What the hell?" She smiled at Marius and he might notice perfect white teeth in her mouth for a change. The Capitol at least fixed those.

"When did you arrive, Sir? Your friend is here, though I have not spoken to him. I have watched him, though."

He tensed a bit when her hands brushed against his hair, but he didn't make a move to back away, head still reeling from their encounter. Her words barely register, although he did manage to catch how long she had been in the Capitol. Nearly a year? How could that be? Her death seemed like just yesterday. Perhaps it was another making of the strange technology of this world—almost like witchcraft, or even devilry.

At her last question he managed a weak, "A few weeks ago," followed by an almost imperceptible tilt of the head. A friend? Perhaps... "Enjolras? Yes, I have seen him."

And there was a pause as he recalled his chance encounter with Monsieur Bassem. (And he still owed him that suit, he remembered.) "I have met your lover, as well. He had been worried about you. Where have you been?"

Because he understood, all too well, of the devastation of losing a loved one could do to one's heart.

"So soon - so soon after I left. That will be why then -"

It clicked into place. Why she was a 'fan favourite'. Why they were bringing her back. Not to see her fight. Not to see her happy with Howard. But to see Howard unhappy without her, and Marius tortured without his Cosette, and Eponine, in the middle, completely abandoned and hated by Howard and ignored by the man she was desperately in love with.

It hit her like a ton of bricks and her smile evaporated. She didn't even listen to Marius until he mentioned Howard. She blushed. Her lover?

"He is not my lover, Sir. He - we - it is complicated. He is a stupid boy. But he was scared when I mentioned Montparnasse."

She shrugged. "I tried to run to District three - that is my District here. But the woods are.... vast. I got lost."

Which, if Marius ever paid attention to her, he'd spot as an untruth. Eponine NEVER got lost.

He held his stare, his eyebrows raised the slightest bit at the denial of her relationship with Howard. He would be lying to himself if he said he was not even mildly curious, but matters between two lovers—or almost-lovers, or had-been-lovers; he was not entirely certain anymore, after hearing her side—was something one must not pry into, although he wished with sincerity that all would end well for them. Eponine lived a pitiful existence, back in Paris, and though the reality of Panem was even worse, he hoped that at least she could find what she desired here. To find someone who could return the love he could not give.

And, perhaps sadly, he easily accepted her explanation of getting lost as fact. Instead, he latched on to the one thing in common they had in this world. "That is my District, as well."

She stared back, but only for a moment. She just HAD too look away, so abashed was she.

"Truly, Monsieur, we are not lovers. Do you think me to be that sort of a girl?"

She stopped short, realising that he probably DID think her to be that sort of a girl. And why not? She had lain on a bed with Howard, though they had done nothing more sinister than eat ice cream. Still, in proper society, she'd be con-

Her thoughts trailed off as she realised what Marius had said. Her whole face brightened; it was as if a bulb beneath her skin had been switched on, for she fair shone all over.

"District three? Sir, are you really? Are you really District Three? But you see what this means, no? We are to be neighbours again - but this time, I do not need your money, Sir. I do not think I shall mind being here so much if you are next door."

That sort of a girl? Marius was not certain of what Eponine had meant by that, but he believed that she was one capable of love; everyone had the capacity to love and to be loved, for it was what made the world spin. Without love than the sun would be extinguished. Without love than humankind would cease to exist.

But before he could tell her that, she had begun to speak again. He blinked, watching as her entire being lit up, his ears catching the joy in her voice, and again he was reminded of that moment on the barricades—I believe I was a little in love with you—and he found himself entirely uncertain of how to respond to her.

So he glanced around, instead, and faced once more with the opulence of all that surrounded him he suddenly felt the need to ask, "You have been treated well, then?"

"Treated well?" She laughed. "Yes, when they do not put me in an arena to die, Sir. They give me food and clothes and as much of both as I want. They have fixed my teeth too - you see they are as white as yours? And I have them all. Even in the arena, we are given clothes. Some people get gifts of bread or knives... but never do I get anything."

She shrugs. She's saying nothing of her execution, keeping her tone light.

"Even, if they do not like your body, they change it. They have changed mine. They gave me sharp teeth that stuck out - and sharp nails. And they enlarged - "

She looked down at her chest and blushed. They had enlarged her breasts at one point. But now, since they had executed her, everything was back to normal.

He fidgeted at that; of course they would have cared for the Tributes, somewhat, but there was always the impending reality that they would soon have to be released to an arena to fight and die. Almost like slightly more well-fed fighting dogs.

A flash of horror moreover crossed his face when she mentioned such drastic changes to her anatomy, and as she spoke he followed her eyes and quickly realized what he was staring at. He felt his cheeks heat up as he averted his gaze politely to one side, and replied with more than a little disgust, although not directed to her,

"The things they allow themselves to do to Tributes are preposterous."

She smiled, just a flash of a grin, at his expression, especially when he had glanced at her chest. It amused her for him to be so modest, it was lovely and something she appreciated.

"Sir, it is like Paris. Only now, you are like me. Perhaps, even, we are equals here. We are the poor. And they can do as they wish because they have the money and they have the power. So we must do as they wish if we want to stay alive."

His jaw clenched at that, and when he raised his eyes back to her his gaze was hardened. There was something that boiled inside him; perhaps it was because the ones with money reminded him of his grandfather and what he had done to his father, and to himself.

Additionally, the Capitol's treatment of the Tributes was simply unacceptable. No one owned them. He certainly was not some object to be toyed with and altered and then tossed inside an arena to be deprived of even the dignity of death.

(And there was little reason to stay alive, at least for him. What does it matter, if he was without Cosette?)

So when he spoke it was with a certain determination and contumacy. "No, we do not have to."

She in turn stepped a little closer.

"Yes, Monsieur. We do. Believe me, please, when I say that we do. We must do exactly what they say - fight and kill and... stay here. Believe me, Sir. We are truly trapped."

"Trapped perhaps, and with the appearance of having no choice, but we may control something yet."

Marius stepped away and walked a little ways past her, looking deep in thought. Surely it was impossible that no one else was thinking the same as him. Enjolras, at least, believed that the people will one day rise. And that was how it always was, wasn't it? Push the people a little too far, a little too hard, and they fight back. They revolt.

He stopped abruptly then, and turned back to her.

"I will fight, but know that it will not be for them."

In turn, Eponine Chased after him, and grabbed for his arm to gain his attention. But already he had turned back to her, and caught short, she stopped herself mid stride, rising up on her tiptoes to catch and still her momentum. Her hand, already awkwardly stretched, stilled too.She shook her head, turning her dull brown eyes to appeal to Marius.

"No - no, Sir. No rebellion here. It is not as France. Always there are magic boxes to watch you and hear you and they show them to the Game Makers and perhaps to their king. And there is a thing in your arm once you go to the arena that shows them where you are. Sir, it is not like Paris where you can hide in the slums. It is dangerous here, and not just in the arenna."

Marius - believe her - please believe her. She knows the feeling; she's been executed and revived to be stuck in this love - not a triangle - love line?- with him and Howard. And she didn't think she could stand to see Marius hurt.

"Sir, please do not rebel. For my sake. For that Cosette. For anything you care for. Please, Sir. Promise me you will play their game."

He was silent for a moment, considering the mention of the magic boxes that could hear and watch them. Another gadget, perhaps. It was strange how the Capitol could have such advanced and impressive machines and yet use them as instruments to further ascend their rule of terror. It was something else to keep in mind then, for any future plans.

And yet even he could sense Eponine's worry, and he felt the necessity to assure her somewhat.

"I know your concern, Eponine." There was a pause as his features softened. "Thank you."

But the promise didn't come, because he knew it was one he cannot keep.

Edited 2013-07-04 15:02 (UTC)

She shrugged and let it go, resolving to herself that she would follow him, keep him safe. And so, her only reply to Marius was a nod, and a sort of half smile, half grimace, and moved to let him pass. She would be watching, though. Always watching. She was his watchdog, after all.

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