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Ok, let's try this again.

Who: Eponine and open

What: Feeling hurt that Marius refuses to see her, upset at Howard's coolness to her (before THAT post), and fed up in general with Cosette's appearance in the city, Eponine has taken it upon herself to publish some of Marius' love letters to Cosette, which she has secretly 'borrowed'. Graffiti has been appearing for several days now.

Where: Around the streets in the immediacy of the Tribute Tower

When: The post takes place at midnight. The graffiti will last until whenever the Capitol officials clean it off - and perhaps the alien invasion will leave said officials a little distracted.

Warnings Slightly morbid love letters written by a slightly suicidal French man.

NOTE: All of this post is posted with Marius' mun's permission. Marius' note is also used with Marius' mun's permission. (Also mod permission). This is obviously a bit of a plot post, just something a little extra for you guys to perhaps notice as you're walking about the Capitol. Naturally, you're free to suspect Eponine and reply here - or just acknowledge it as yet more graffiti that is appearing.

Over the last few days, perhaps you have noticed the new graffiti appearing on the Capitol buildings close to the Tribute Tower. Or, perhaps in the uproar of the tunnel explosion, the scrawled words go unnoticed. Written in a bright red spray paint, though, they are difficult to miss.

As midnight passes, the big door to the Tribute Tower opens, and a thin figure emerges, clutching a shoulder bag to her chest. She slips from the doorway to the shadow of the building, and hugging the wall, she slips along first one street and then another. After a few minutes of quick walking, she stops at a piece of blank wall. Stepping back a little, she looks furtively around, before setting her bag down, and pulling out of it, a spray can of red paint.

Within ten minutes, she is done. Quickly bundling her paint back into her bag, she hurries back towards the Tower, her bare feet silent on the damp pavement.

Left behind, a fresh message glistens as the paint, sloppily controlled from the can, dries.

"You wishd for my deth and yet it is one I cannot give you. It appears now a greater posssibility, had you wishd for the bright and distant stars instead, I would have found a way to catch them all for you."

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Unfortunately R's blocking the entrance to the Tribute Tower - he's shuffling out while she's running in and she moves so silent he doesn't hear her until she's practically on top of him.

R sways out from around the corner, tall and grey and with a lot more weight to him than when he'd chewed her up in the Arena. Light glances off the muzzle, sunset gold instead of the usual silver, as his mouth sags open in a surprised gape at her as the light behind him plays over her face. Eponine. Oh man. First Shion and Marius and...yeah. The list goes on. R would turn tail and run if the connection between his brain and his body weren't tangled and rotted. He couldn't run even if he wanted to: all he can do is stop, stare, and remember her trying to be friendly and removing that muzzle.

She learned the hard way why it's there. R retreats into his shoulders and hunches like an old man.

"Ep...nine," R manages, miserable.

Edited 2013-09-29 08:43 (UTC)

It's the smell that Eponine notices before she sees R. A sweet, sickly, overpowering Capitol perfume burns her nostrils. She had slowedd, at least, before running into R - stopped completely the moment she recognised the slight smell of rot that invades even the most peaceful of her dreams and renders them nightmares of R eating her alive over and over.

She wants to push past him and run - or turn tail and flee into the night. She could sleep on the bench in the park, or under a bush, or even beneath the big, communal dustbin a few alleyways away. She could do all of this, and she wants to. As much as she hates to admit it, R terrifies her.

But Eponine doesn't often run away from horror. Avoid it, yes. But run from it when it comes - now that is shameful.

So she stops a few meters away from R, hands clenching into fists as she stares up at her nightmare. When he rasps out her name, her stance falters and she steps back a little, but she holds her glare steady, not looking away from his face.

"What do you want?"

Eponine looks at him a lot like Marius had - with horror, with her body going tense in a fight-or-flight reaction he's seen with basically every encounter in his new life. For a second he thinks she's going to choose flight and turn and run and he couldn't even blame her for it. Not only had he eaten her, he'd done it while she was still conscious enough to realize what was happening.

R wants to drop his eyes guiltily. They seem to be stuck in the same awkward, unblinking stare he really hates sometimes, frozen on Eponine's face that's gone pale.

"Sorry," R moans, sure he's said it so many times to so many people it's already lost his meaning. He's not sure why he keeps groaning it like a broken record. It doesn't change what happened. He can't even promise it won't happen in the next Arena.

It's all he has left, he guesses.

"Wish...didn't...huh-happen," R adds weakly. He'd like Eponine, from the way she was nice to him - and she'd liked Howard, too! - down to the way she'd tried to remove his muzzle. It was one of those bad ideas that still touched him. It also makes that feeble apology taste like ashes on his dry tongue.

Edited 2013-10-03 05:32 (UTC)

At his word, at his rasp of 'Sorry', Eponine began to laugh. Just quietly. Just a little. But it got steadily louder, steadily more manic as he added his apologies. But there was no mirth in her laughter at all. There was anger, fright, trauma of having to see him again, his face looming closer to her, the white hot, searing pain on her leg as teeth clamped down and ripped.

She laughed and she laughed and she laughed, until a tear trickled down her cheek, and she turned hastily to hide it, wiping her cheek with her fist.

"Did you know, Monsieur, that I was still alive?" Her voice was strangled. "Did you know that his axe had not killed me - that I was dying slowly - that I could feel the blood pumping from me, that I could see things going black - that I could hear Sigma's cries - that man is like a Papa to me. Did you know? Did you care? Did you even check to see before you tore into me, Sir?"

She sniffed, wiping her eyes again roughly. "Why? Why did you not let me die first? Do you know I dream of you always now? Do you know I can still feel it? Did you not hear me scream?"

She shrugged. "But then, why should you care? I am nothing."

Oh, she wasn't nothing. Not even close to nothing. And that was the answer right there - the one real answer in a world that went gray and rotted years ago to R, overgrown with weeds. The one thing that made every single zombie grab and hold on.

He cared because Eponine was something.

I ate you because you've got what we can't have. I try to stop but I can't. I killed you and I killed your boyfriend because you both are someone. R couldn't really put it into words that would make it out his mouth. Telling her exactly why didn't seem like a good idea - it hadn't gone that well with Marius and he doubted it'd be any different here. It didn't change that he'd happily chewed her up while she was writhing and crying on the sand. He hadn't let her die first because he'd been greedy. Because she was still something, someone, while she was fresh. There was a reason zombies didn't bother with graveyards and morgues or each other.

R stared at Eponine as she wiped the back of her hand across her eyes, still hearing that laugh ripping its way out of her ribs.

"Cared. Still...care. But..."

R trailed off, suddenly aware that everything with him came attached with a but. He started again.

"Can't...stop. Heard you..."

Heard but couldn't see and by then it was too late. His mouth was red and warm with her blood and if he couldn't stop, he could duck his head into the meat of her leg and try to pretend he'd gone deaf instead of blind.

"No - that is right. Something to you." She jeered. "Yes, something alright. I am food, am I not? For a monster like you."

She hoped that stung. She hoped her words chewed the way into his heart just as he had gnawed on her bones.

"All of us - we are all food. Well, you know, Monsieur, I have been that hungry too. So hungry that I could see the houses dancing ahead of me, and monsters leering down from the roofs to gobble me up and murderers in the alley waiting to slit my throat. I have been so hungry that I have not been able to stand, that I could barely lift a hand to beg a coin, and my own Papa left me there until someone had taken me off and given me a sous for his pains. Do you know? No - you do not know. I have been so hungry that I have seen a dead old man in the street and I think, 'such fresh meat', but NO! It is wicked, Sir, what you do. WICKED!"

She was quite near hysteria, uncaring of who might hear her, or catch her now.
"You are WICKED! A monster, not a man. You should have waited, even for five minutes, and let me have a peaceful death."

R stood there surprised at the outburst. Several heads poked out of nearby windows as Eponine's voice went higher and higher, growing shrill with anger as she hit him with everything that was boiling up inside. R flinched back at being called wicked. A monster. One who couldn't even reign it in for those precious five minutes. All stuff he'd thought about before in the past, even when he was trying to shoulder his way into a kill with the other zombies, his mouth gaping like everyone else.

"Not - you're...not..." R stumbled around his vocabulary, kicking vowels and consonants aside.

But she was. Eponine really was his food and even if he'd wanted to be friends with her on that boat, it hadn't saved her when it mattered. He couldn't control himself. He really wasn't a person. If Eponine had an inkling what the new hunger was like - if she could look at a dead man and think maybe - then she was right. Every word she screamed was right.

R couldn't change what happened but at least he could put the ball back in her court. Give her a way to defend herself if (when) they ran into each other next Arena. Tell her how to kill things like him. Maximus wouldn't be there next time with his machete.

"Head. Get...it," R said, his moan quiet. "You...should...know."

She saw those faces looking down at the pair and remembered immediately that she could not shout, that remaining invisible was imperative unless she wished to be found out. Instinctively, she pushed her shoulder bag behind her, the spraycans clinking as they moved.

"You're wrong. You are wrong, Sir. I am nothing - I am not me here. I ama dollfor the Capitol people to dress and paint and make nice teeth for, and a killer to let thwm have fun, and for Madame Eva and Sigma as well, I am a charity case, to make them feel good inside. And now for you, I am food. I hate you for that."

Her voice was quieter, no longer shouting. but she sounded so defeated, so utterly fed up.

"I wish you hadn't done it. i wish you'd let me die - but Sir. Do not ask me to kill you - for that is all the Capitol has not taken from me, and I will not give in to them yet. A murderer I will not be!"

But it's not the same, R said in his mind because it would never make it to his mouth without getting mangled. I'm already dead. It's not really murder.

It was the same as when he saw his other Dead friends die: he felt something, maybe even sadness, but he looked the other way and eventually he forgot how they even groaned. He viewed himself the same way. How to get Eponine to see she might need to do what she needed to? R had that same trapped look he probably died with on his face, frozen in a death mask, as Eponine lay it all out there. The fact she wasn't shouting anymore somehow made it worse.

The only thing he knew for certain was that she was wrong. She wasn't nothing, R wanted to tell her, she really wasn't. Coming from a zombie who ate her alive, that might not account for much. R remained silent behind his muzzle, casting about for words.

"Won't...be. But...might not...stop if...see you?" R sucked in a shaky breath to force a final word out. "Defense."

Not murder. Eponine was someone - she deserved to defend herself.

"I would rather run from you, Monsieur." She was completely firm, completely unmoving on this at least.

"I will NOT be a murderer for these people. Do you not understand, Sir? I am wicked. I am bad, all through, the very devil himself. Do you not see it? Can you not understand? That I have never killed is the only thing I have for myself, Sir, and I will NOT let these people take it away from me, not for anything. And I will NOT let you help them. I WILL NOT. They cannot make me and neither will you."

She shrugged. "You will do something for me, to apologise for eating me alive. When we are in the arena, you will kill me quickly or you will run far, far away from me and not come near at all. And perhaps you will find some chocolate for me - I do like chocolate, Sir."

If she was going to layer on the guilt, she may as well get something out of it. And she needed to bulk up before the arena, desperately.

It was definitely working. There was a limit to what R's face could morph into expression-wise - his nerves were mostly dead, the facial muscles rigor-mortis stiff - but he was starting to wilt and slump in on himself. He'd only met Eponine, technically, but did she really think she was that bad? Did she think she was "wicked"?

Running works, though. R could groan that running is a pretty good way to get away from him at his speed. A head shot would be more final, but running works.

"I'll...do...that," R croaked, hoping he wasn't making a promise he couldn't keep. Would Maximus's training actually pay off? Could he learn to control his new hunger? Hopefully it wouldn't come down to a dark corner, a scared girl and a starving zombie next Arena, R staring lost at Eponine.

One of these things didn't seem like they fit, though. R frowned, working it out until finally he could force it out of his mouth. "Cho...choco-late...?"

"You don't know chocolate? I thought everybody knew chocolate, Sir." Eponine couldn't help the note of surprise creeping into her voice.

"I had not had it before I came here, but Sir, it is one of my favourite things, beside ice cream. And so, if a person is your favourite thing to eat, then you must bring me chocolate, for that is mine. I have no wish to kill you, Monsieur. So you will bring me a different food, for I have no money left now, and I have no wish to thieve. Will you do it?"

She's bold, asking. But inside, she worries. Has she said too much?

Look, he knew what chocolate was. He just hadn't associated chocolate with...this. Eponine had to spell it out for him, R's face stuck in that blankness of a dead boy until she finishes. Oh dawned.

"Can't...carry, but..." R fished about for a solution, his face crumpling into concentration as if he was to get a hernia trying to think. "...This...hggh...help...?"

R reached into his pocket and held out the card his Escort gave him. The one he was supposed to use to buy things, he guessed. Eponine would have more use for it than he would. He would've been happy to give it to her whether or not he'd killed her, to be honest. She could've had it back in the boat, almost a lifetime ago.

"You're giving me your money?" Eponine eyed him suspiciously, before snatching the card from his hand.

"Why? I only asked for chocolate - it is not so much as this. Sir, if you are giving me this so that you might say that I stole it, well then, Sir. I will not have it. I will not be considered a thief, do you know? I will NOT be arrested for your cruel trick. I am more clever than that, let me tell you."

R gaped at her. How did she come to that conclusion? He wished he could groan to Eponine that zombies really, really aren't that sneaky. Emotions might run so slowly they appear to not exist, but motive wise, R always thought all Dead were pretty open about what they wanted and when they wanted it.

He didn't make a move to take his card back.

"Want...you...have," R said, his groan baffled. "More...use. More...cho-co...late."

(He hadn't thought ahead to what his Escort might say when she found out). This seemed very cut and dry.

"You're out late." That's said casually. From a girl who totally isn't suspicious, either. Being out there. Late at night. Lifting her eyebrow at the other figure.

She'd be in costume if she could get away with it, but since she can't, it's the much less imposing Barbara Gordon that's studying her.

"That is not a problem, Mademoiselle."

Eponine had jumped when Barbara spoke, but, being used to such occurences, she soon recovered herself and stared back at the other girl.

"Often at home, I walked out late. I like it when the streets are silent, Madame. There is nothing so wrong with that. And you yourself are out late. If I am in the wrong, then surely you are, too."

Oh, how she wishes she had her costume now. Somehow, this polite Madame stuff seems like it's a step away from throwing knives.

"Just thinking how many muggers like it where it's late and silent, too." Not that she's accusing you of anything. Though maybe you are a bit suspicious.

"Then you should be aware, Madame. Thieves are often cut-throats too, lurking in alleys to grab mademoiselles like you unawares. I would be careful."

She smirked, and went to push past Barbara on her way back home, paint cans in her shoulder bag clinking.

"Guess the clanking must leave you feeling safe. Nice warning system, huh?" she lifted an eyebrow, wondering what the sound actually was.

Did she break into something?

Eponine stopped, eyeing the girl suspiciously. Her hand went to her satchel now, clutching the flap anxiously.

"You are part of the Guard? The police? The peacekeepers, Madame? Are you here to arrest me? Well, I have done nothing so you have no cause to have me in trouble."

She glanced around, looking for cameras this time. She was sure they were somewhere. "Maybe we should have this conversation somewhere where they're less likely to arrest both of us?" she suggested, by way of response.

"Come."

Eponine assessed Barbara. Perhaps she wasn't of the guard.
Eponine turned on her heel and ran silently back down the alley from which she had last come. At the end was a huge metal bin on casters. She heaved it, pulling it out a bit, before wiggling behind.

"Mademoiselle!" she stuck a hand out, beckonin to Barbara.

"So not what I had in mind..." but it was a whisper under her breath, said even as she slid into the space behind Eponine. She wasn't a guard, and she had no intention of being caught out by one.

It was tight behind the bin - but Eponine hunched up. She waited till Barbara was settled until she asked,

"Now Mademoiselle. What are you to say to me?"

"Me?" she whispered. "I'm pretty sure I was just out for a walk." Hello fellow tribute.

"And so you think to accuse me of things?" Eponine sighed. She was tired now, worn out with Marius and Cosette and Howard and thinking and thinking it over and over. She just wanted to close her eyes and try to sleep for a while. And now this girl was questioning her with silly, pointless questions.

"That is not so polite, even if it is to only me. I have done nothing to warrant suspicion, Mademoiselle."

"It's the Capitol," she remarked, a little bitter. "Everything's suspicious." Everything is being watched. Nothing is actually private - probably not even this conversation. She's watched her friends disappear one by one, dying or taken or who knows what. She's lost any innocence she might have once had when it comes to how this place works.

"Well then, they will see nothing except me sleeping here. And that is not a crime. I do not think they will care."

Eponine was indifferent. Let them watch her. Let them see how angry and fed up she was. Let them see her trying to contain all of her frustrations. Let them watch as her frustration sprayed out in bright, wobbly letters on the blank Capitol walls.

"You're sleeping here?" That's a... What? As angry as she was with the capital, she wouldn't move out. Both because she didn't want extra attention drawn to herded just yet... And because, if she is going to rebel she is going to make the Capitol bankroll as much if it as possible.

"So what if I am, Mademoiselle?" Eponine glared at Barbara. "I do not like the Tower any more. I have had enough of stupid people. I should prefer the rubbish for company."

"Other than the fact that you're probably being watched right now?" she whispered, quietly, lifting an eyebrow. You didn't move out, separate from the pack, and not expect a special tail...

"Don't care." Eponine shrugged. "What can they do to me worse than an arena, Madame? I have died many times so that they might laugh. What do I care if they laugh at me here now?"

"Have you seen the avoxes?" Things could always get worse, in this place. They always break, and go bad. People get taken. Things get done to you.

"I am not blind." But nor does she care.
"They will not make me an avox. They care too much to laugh at me for that."

"For now..."T hey'll stop caring eventually, in all likelihood.

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Typos, oops

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