thecapitol | Just watching the night sky...

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Just watching the night sky...

Who: Eponine and OPEN
What: Eponine's pondering on a rooftop. Do come and join her.
Where: Rooftop of the training centre
When: Soon after the date auction
Warnings: Eponine - so generally quite dark thoughts... and I guess any warnings anyone else cares to bring with them.

At home, when Eponine had to think, when she had a lot on her mind, she walked. She walked and she walked sometimes, wandering the dirty streets of St. Michel until she reached the wider roads where the houses didn't bear down on her, and she could see the stars. She had a particular ditch she used to make for, a deep one, sheltered from the wind, and without too much mud in the bottom, cushioned as it was with grass. Sometimes, her nights in the ditch were the happiest she had had in a long time. She liked it at night better than the day; the streets were empty. There were no jeers or stares or catcalls, and she could talk out loud without people pointing her out as 'mad'.

She likes to walk in the Capitol too. Usually. She knows the place well by now, a year on. She knows the shortcuts and the places to avoid. But the stares - the stares she hates. She needs to walk now - there is so much on her mind after the date auction. Why she was strapped down for a start, but Howard and Marius too... and had that rock man really called her beautiful? She needs to walk... but at night, she is not allowed out of the Tribute tower - and she does not want to be shot again, so sneaking out is impossible. So she does the next best thing. She goes up to the garden on the top of the Tribute tower. Helping herself to an ever-blossoming lily, Eponine settles in the grass. Bringing the lily to her nose, she breathes deep, and just watches the stars. So beautiful... Slowly, in her croak, she begins to sing softly to herself.

"Mon ami me délaisse, Ô gai, vive la rose, Je ne sais pas pourquoi,Vive la rose et le lilas. On dit qu'elle est plus belle,Ô gai, vive la rose, Je n'en disconviens pas, Vive la rose et le lilas."

[Translates as My boyfriend dumped me, oh joy, long live the rose. I do not know why. Long live the rose and the lily. They say she is beautiful, oh joy, long live the rose. I do not disagree, long live the rose and the lily.]

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If she thinks him terrifying it is, to her credit, not entirely without intention. His kind was made to be so, but his caste in particular, revolutionised and specialised in it. Which is why he laughs at her horror, and grins without abashment.

"CAPITOL HAD NO HAND IN THE MAKING OF I. That is the Messiahs' work. AND WHAT SHE MAY SEE HERE AT LEAST, is no fallacy in form," he says, with a flourished wave of both hands.

He tilts his head back and catches her hand in his own. It wasn't like he'd have let her touch his horns before, but certainly not after his stint in the arena of having one snapped off. The pain of that was still fresh in his mind. His hand is calloused and cold with his blood, but he minds his claws as he gives her a firm look to say that the fondling of his horns will not be happening.

"MADE TELL TO SHE, that a silencing of the so-called meowbeast what sings, is disappointing, SISTER EPONINE. Had HOPED she might allow him to listen more. REGARDLESS OF WHAT BELIEF IN TALENT SHE HOLDS, she sings when he cannot."

Edited 2013-08-23 14:29 (UTC)

"The... the messiah?" Eponine had heard that word before, vaguely. But... where? She racked her brains - and at last, she connected it to church and therefore to God.

"God made you like that?" She looked doubtful. Eponine didn't believe much in a God of any sort - but belief was the right thing to do, it was what ladies did, and so she pretends. But even from the stories she's heard when she's begging in the church, it doesn't seem possible that their God would make a creature so nightmareish.

She stilled her hands, watching anxiously as the creature took them in it's own. But the touch, cold as it was, calmed her nerves. It was real. Whatever this thing was, it was real and she was not going mad. In sheer relief, she began to smile.

His words puzzled her, and she mouthed them after the Initiate stopped speaking, trying to make sense of them.
"So called meowbeast?" She puzzled aloud for a minute.
"Is that I... Sir? Do you call me a cat? My Papa used to call me an alley cat, a gat in the language we use. Do you... Sir, do you want me to sing more?"

She was so confused.

He was a confusing person to many, and so, he takes her confusion in stride. He lets her go, resettling when he's certain she won't try for his horns again.

"GODS, SISTER. Messiahs two," he corrects. Such sorry souls, he thinks they must be. Her and all the others who gave him questioning eyes and blank faces. So little sense or desire for the reaching of salvation and its other gifts. And of course, the nightmarish appearance of him, he would too consider a gift. All the better for survival.

"AND SO, A CAT OR GAT THEN. Only called at her what she herself claimed at to be. SHE MENTIONS THIS... MAMA AND PAPA, WHATEVER THEY ARE TO BE, CALLING HER SUCH. Think if she believes that to be true, then there is no matter, but if motherfucking not, THEN SUCH WORDS SHOULD BE DISCARDED AS WITHOUT WORTH. Does she not agree? " He asks, with a raised brow. "BUT IF SHE WOULD DEIGN TO INDULGE HIM, then yes. CALL HIM NOSTALGIC FOR THE PLAY OF WORD AND SONG."

Edited 2013-08-24 23:34 (UTC)

"But there is only one God. Monsieur, I am not as stupid as I look. You cannot trick me." Eponine laughs, honestly thinking that the Initiate's trying to play a prank on her, to show her up.
"I have been to church. They talk of one God, Sir. He made the earth and the people and he... he ate millions of fish. But he is not for women like me. But perhaps he is for... creatures... like you." She's doubtful though. If God cannot love her, can he love such a frightening thing?

"You do not know Mama and Papa - but, Sir, it is my mother and my father. Surely you know those words?"

She has to think through his other words, think them through to understand what he means. But eventually, she proffers, "Well, Sir, I do not care what I am called. They call me all manner of names, Sir, that I have learned to ignore. I shut my ears and do not listen until they shake me to make sure I listen... Sir, will you not laugh at me if I sing for you? It is only a silly song from my home."

She's a heathen, he thinks. His teeth grind, fists clench, and his face hardens. But of course she's a heathen. Everyone here was some sort of variation on heathen or heretic. A part of him-- no, the majority of him wants to challenge her ideas. Or even see how afraid he could make her be without voodoo. Not now, he has to tell himself. If he's going to do that he's going to do it right.

So he bares his teeth in as close a smile he can make it (it's not very close).

"Sister. I AM A PREACHER. From your world I am not, and familiar with your... god-- what ain't for she, as she says-- I am motherfucking not. BUT I GIVE ASSURANCE TO SHE; I know at what the fuck all it is that I speak. AND I PREACH NO HERESY NOR FALLACY NOR LIE," He grinds out the words from between his teeth. "As for mother and father, yes, THOSE WORDS I MAY KNOW BETTER. But they mean little to me, even as their name in my world, lusii. I SEE NEITHER BEAST OF THEIR KIND." This... was proving more stressful than he imagined it would. At least she didn't appear to be digging at such things with intention. He takes a moment to close his eyes, hold his moirail's face in his mind, and breathe. His fists unclench.

"She too sounds better off without them, he would say. I WILL NOT MAKE JEST UNTO A SISTER'S SONG. You have my word."

Edited 2013-08-26 01:41 (UTC)

Eponine backs off a little when the Initiate bares his teeth. Is he cross with her? Eponine decides she doesn't care - let him be cross. It'll do her good to have trouble other than Howard and Marius. She pouted as she listened, not at all impressed with what she could understand.

"You are a preacher? A priest?" She didn't much like priests - they threw her out of the church on the orders of their God. Although, that one, way out, at the outskirts, he had called her an angel. He had let her water his garden. Her eyes glazed over a little as she stopped listening to the Initiate and began to remember instead, the sweet smell of the roses, the damp grass under her head, the slight mildewy feeling that made her shiver just a little. She had been happy, or at least, as happy as Eponine had known how to be, that night. She wishes suddenly, that she could have that life back. As miserable as it was, it was at least simple, without boys and choices and frightening creatures that never went away.

She blinks though. "Well, Monsieur - I will sing. But I want something in return. What is your name, Sir? That is all - if I am to sing to you, Sir, it might be good to know your name, if it pleases you."

She had said her own world's god did not welcome her, perhaps she could still be saved for the Messiahs. She spoke heresy but it seemed more of ignorance than wilful decision. Patience and pondering. He would have to keep to that.

He bows his head just a little before her. "YES. I am. ONE IN TRAINING, but one to be neverthemotherfuckingless. IN MY FUTURE I AM CALLED THE GRAND HIGHBLOOD, HIGHEST PRIEST OF THE CHURCH," He says. "But you may refer to he as the Initiate, Fraysong. IF TITLE OVER NAME WILL SUIT, Sister Eponine."

"If you are a priest, why do you swear, Sir? You say 'motherfucking' as if it is nothing. Well, I do not care if you swear, but I think God would care, for it is a sin even to say his name."

Does she believe that he's a priest? No, not really. Not saying such things. But she waits to see how he justifies his vocabulary before arguing further.

"I will call you as you wish, Monsieur Initiate. Anything as you like; I do not mind!"

Her challenge actually prompts a laugh from him. Everyone got so surprised at hearing that one word, he's not sure what the problem with it is that they all seem to have, but it amuses in the moment. "SISTER, WHERE I AM FROM IT IS A HOLY, HONORING WORD FOR MY MESSIAHS TWO. It is what all of my righteous brothers and sisters say and have said for millenia. THERE IS NO SIN IN IT. And no sin lies in speaking Messiahs names lest one be a sinner already. AND THEN POINT IS MOOT, IS IT NOT?"

He chuckles once more. "A most gracious offering of she. MAY HE IN TURN OFFER THE MOTHERFUCKING SAME AT FOR HER CALLING THEN."

"Then I apologise, Sir, Monsieur Initiate, for using your Messiah's name... do you honour me in calling me so, then? Where I am from, it is an offensive word, not said by ladies and gentlemen, you know? But only by the people of the streets. But I do not care."

She stares back at the Initiate's laughing face, unabashed. "Well, thank you, Monsieur Initiate. Perhaps you are not the monster you seem, Sir?"

"Have at a talent for the discarding of care, don't you? MAY OFFENCE BE FORGIVEN NEVERTHELESS. It is habit as much as prayer. NO INTENT TO INSULT, no insult was up and intended." He grins. "BUT HE SHOULD SAY, IT WOULD DEPEND ON WHAT SHE DEFINES A MOTHERFUCKING MONSTER." And he doesn't elaborate on that. One way or other it amuses him. And one way or other, it might be deemed incorrect.

"Though if he is not a monster to she, perhaps she is not a sinner true in the eyes of others. JUST A MOTHERFUCKING THOUGHT UPON IT," He says with a shrug.

"I think sometimes not caring is best - then you do not mind what anyone says to you."

She shrugs. "I always thought a monster was something not real - something that watches me in the shadows for me to come and then it pounces on me and gobble me up... but you will not gobble me, will you?" She laughs. "Gobble... I like that word!"

"Well, perhaps I am not a sinner here, for we are all as bad as I."

That's actually quite a comforting thought.

"Wise words. WORD OF MOTHERFUCKING WISE SHE UP AND SPEAKS ON NOTE OF THAT." He gives an appreciative nod. He himself could never fully follow that. Not while trying to garner the respect required for a preacher of his desired status, that would gain hold in the minds and hearts as a channel to the Messiahs.

"Despite what all is claimed at by Capitol words, it ain't considered typical the gobbling of such all as a girl's self." He grins at the use of the word. "REAL HE ALL UP AND IS AS TOLD UNTO HER BEFORE, though shadows he does hold preference for-- NOCTURNAL AND DARKBOUND-- but if she speaks so, EVEN THEN HE IS NO MONSTER IN THE EYES OF HER." He chuckles. "Perhaps push further, girl. PERHAPS WHAT ALL SHE BELIEVES AT TO BE BAD, IS NOT TRULY SO. For what all meanings get about here are no longer standing at to where you know." He raises his brows as if in challenge to the notion.

Edited 2013-09-16 16:43 (UTC)

"I like the night better too, you know? It is quiet then - you can hear the thoughts in your head, the little voices that tell things to you and you can talk back."

She didn't explain that very well, and for a moment, she frowned as she tried to think to phrase it better. But nothing would come.

"At home, sometimes, I would stay out all night, just walking around Paris. And when I tired, I would find a doorway, perhaps, or a ditch, or even crawl under a bush or into a hayloft, and I would sleep there. Sometimes it was nice to see the stars... Do you really believe things change? I do not - here is not as it is at home, but still it is the same a lot too. But there is more food. I like that."

His expression gives way to surprise and it takes just a moment too long to clear it away. He knew what she meant. Perhaps a little too well.

"HE'S HEARD THEM," He says. "Think a brother can be about understanding. HE CAN AGREE WITH ALL ELSE. Don't know at if there are less stars here or if it's all to be the city what drowns them. THE SEA NEVER DROWNS WHAT STARS SHINE ON IT. Only the stars are safe from it even as they bathe." He looks up to the sky, so much darker than his home, so much noisier and without the wash of shore. He looks back down to her, meeting her eyes.

"BUT YES. He does believe that. INDEED THERE ARE CONSTANTS. Things what stay the same. THINGS WHAT ALL ARE TO BE THE WAY and nature of all what is to be. BUT THE LITTLE PATTERNS BLESSED GET TWISTED UP, MY SISTER. And the littlest change in pattern can alter a whole motherfucking system if so it were tried. OF THIS HE IS SURE."

"Do you look at the stars in the water, too?" He sounded quite poetic, and Eponine found herself sidling closer to the Initiate as he spoke. She had often stared at the stars reflected in the Seine, reached out to touch what seemed so close... especially those winters under the bridge.

"Perhaps here that is their twist? That the stars are only in the sky. Perhaps even they are not real, like the arena skies. Perhaps that is their pattern? And perhaps we can alter it somehow?"

"Yes. THAT HE UP AND DID. No shyness to them there, they are bolder and braver motherfucking things. THEY TAKE WHOLE NEW LIFE UPON IT. The moons as well, pink and green both." He reaches out beside him to touch an imaginary shore, seeing colors that weren't really there flow, shine and vanish, in between his long clawed fingers.

"THINK SHE MAY HAVE UP AND FOUND FOR A GREAT SECRET, HE DOES. A great secret he believes she has up and found. COVET THAT. Motherfucking treasure it for it is a true miracle what you up and hold." He speaks with utmost seriousness. "AND SO MAY WE CARRY IT UNTIL WE CAN EXCHANGE IT FOR THE STARS THEMSELVES BACK IN OUR REACH AND HANDS. If there is a means, he shall seek it. AND SO ONE SHALL SEEK IT UNTIL THE MEANS IS FOUND."

Change, he thinks to himself, sometimes must be sought.

"You have a moon as well? Two moons? But... it sounds impossible, and yet it must be so."

Eponine laughs, before sighing. "It sounds beautiful, a pink moon and a green one. I should like to see them one day. Yes, that is a thing to see, I think. Perhaps, sir, you will tell me about them some time?"

Eponine loved beauty. She craved beauty - especially that of nature. It relaxed her, calmed her, and she smiles now at the Initiate, showing her perfect, Capitol-white teeth.

She drops her voice to a whisper though. "Are you going to try to change things? I don't think they will ever let us. It reminds me of my home, sir. Discontent always, and whispers of rebellion... but there is nothing to be done in the end."

"Such as miracles are. SUCH AS MIRACLES UP AND GET TO PERVASION, MY SISTER," He says with a grin. Why not share it now? "Illuminate the paths they do and as well, the waters on the the bright nights of the dim seasons. OUR SKIES PAINTED IN PURPLE, TYRIAN, RED, BLUE, ORANGE, CERULEAN, GREEN, AND THAT OF MY OWN HUE. And so the night changes by the casting light. WITH LIGHT CAST IT UP AND CHANGES, SHOULD THE SEASON BE DIM NOT DARK. Many a tale for each. MANY A MOTHERFUCKING TALE. One says the pink moon was bled of the first Empress what was, bled in the water and the drop lifted skyward at to spy on the traitorous below. THEY SAY AT ON THE GREEN THE DEMONESS LIVES FOR EVERY TIME AND PLACE SHE IS NOT AT WORK. It is said that one of the Messiahs once walked upon it." He smiles back showing off too many fangs. His eyes are lit up and alive. He sighs and closes them.

"SHE IS CORRECT ON THAT THOUGH, DISCONTENTED MURMURINGS AND REBELLIONS ARE NOT BUT DEAD, USELESS THINGS," He agrees with a solemn nod. He raises a hand up, looking the arm cuff they forced on him over. "He knows this well. DESPITE WHAT ALL THIS CUFF SPEAKS OF ME, A REBEL I AM MOTHERFUCKING NOT." He smiles at her again. "The secret, my sister, is that there are other, better ways to make motherfucking change get occurrence."

It's difficult for Eponine to follow the Initiate's fluctuating speech patterns, but she does her best and gets the gist of what he is saying. She thinks.

"It sounds beautiful, Sir. Full of stories. I like that... only, is there a demoness really living on your moon? That is difficult to believe."

She moves back, just a tad, at the sight of his fangs. But at his words, her eyes light up a little, and she moves closer again so that they are almost nose to nose. In a whisper, she asks,

"What ways, Sir? Tell me. Please."

"IF SHE DOES NOT, it is only because there is never a time at which she is not at work. THE DEMONESS IS REAL AS YOU AND I. I would not dare speak otherwise," He says, seriously.

She moves so close so fast, he has to fight the instinct to flinch, to snap at her with his jaws, to do worse things after so many seasons of tearing apart trolls who weren't so close as this. His body tenses and he goes very still.

"YOU OUGHTN'T GET SO CLOSE TO A CREATURE WHAT HAS FANGS SUCH AS MINE. I may have no interest in gobbling you, but I am made to be so as she sees for a reason," He says, and it's all the warning he gives before carrying on.

"BECOME PART OF THE GREAT PATTERNS. A quintessential piece what can't be pulled apart by no motherfucking thing or person. BE THE NEEDED PART TO THAT WHAT MUST BE CHANGED AND SO CHANGE IT. There are many ways to do this girl. MANY MOTHERFUCKING WAYS. And you must understand that each is a secret to be found out for at of its ownself. YOU KEEP THAT WHICH WHAT MUST BE KEPT, EXHUME WHAT ALL MUST BE EXHUMED. You let no fucker tell at you it ain't all to be. YOU MAKE IT BE. You have faith. BETTER WAYS SISTER. Ain't necessarily without blood given for the effort. BUT IT IS A POSSIBLE THING. He has tale told he did so, in his own futures."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Just watching the night sky...

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Sorry! I had to finish my degree!

s'all good dude!

Re: s'all good dude!

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