thearena | (no subject)

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Who? Eponine and Orc... or Charles. Closed.
What? A reunion in Eponine's dressing up box - aka the waxwork hall up on the sixth floor
Where? The Sixth floor
When? The fourth day in
Warnings? There shouldn't be any... Subject to change.

Eponine was actually having quite a nice time in this arena for a change. Well, as far as she could find it in herself to have fun. The sixth floor, for now, was quiet, and she revelled in that. It hadn't taken her long to find the waxworks at all, nor to discard her pink onesie in favour of Lottie's pretty dress. Lottie's dummy stood in the back now, with Eponine's onesie draped over her.

The quiet was nice, though. It gave Eponine time to think, time to reflect on her attempt at seducing Marius, and on her argument with Ian, and her regret over Howard. It gave her time to worry about her return to the Capitol, to what they'd do to Aunamee and Eva. She spent a lot of her time crying, at first. But when the tears had dried, the quiet let her form a plan.

For the last couple of days, she had creeped down to meet R, to receive his presents to her, and to get as much out of him as she could. One day, she had ventured into the gift shop, and found the dolls. She had always wanted a doll. She settled for one of Orc - it wasn't the pretty doll she wanted, but it was good to have it with her in the hall of Tributes. It was almost like having a friend close.

She talked often to the waxworks. She had punched the Javert model, and kicked it and slapped it. It did nothing, of course. But it made her feel better anyway. She chatted to Mona. She didn't even mind that the waxworks seemed to glare at her sometimes. It made their imagined replies all the more real in her mind.

Today, she was sat, in her princess dress and cuddling her Orc doll, in front of her brother's waxwork.

"You know, I didn't ever say thank you for that apple you gave me, Gavroche. I should have done... but no. I'm glad they killed you, though. Yes I am, and I hope they never bring you back! Oh, and what you'd say to me if you were here. You would tell me off properly." She laughed, and it echoed up the hall.

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She pushes her tongue into the left side of her mouth, running it over the rough surfaces of her teeth. She feels awkward, definitely awkward.

"Do you really believe in God? I don't think I do any more. It's not him who gave you this body. The Capitol did, like they gave me teeth and bigger breasts and all sorts, Sir."

She shook her head. "Are they God then?"

It made her feel sad, really, that Orc thought that she deserved better than the rest of him. She didn't, and she was more than aware that she didn't, and even if she did that she'd never get it, but it was nice to hear it even still. And did Orc really say that he wanted to touch her?

That was much too big of a question for him to work out completely. So he shook his head.

"They aren't god. Maybe they're a tool of the devil. Maybe this was a way to make me like them...but they aren't god."

He took a deep breath and let it out, his shoulders slumping as he looked her over once more. Why did she have to say bigger breasts? Now he was picturing it.

"The dress looks nice on you." He muttered dumbly, struck for anything else to comment on. "Like a princess."

An angry, freaked out sort of crazy princess...but a princess.

"Well, I do not know about God, but I know that the devil lives in me." She snorted a laugh. "Always in Paris, that was what I was told. By priests, even! So it must be true... did it work? Do you like them?"

She held out her hand, for his. She wanted to touch, to see if his skin really was as smooth as it looked. How could this cruel place do such miraculous things?

"You think I look like a princess?" That softened her up a lot. "Always, I have wanted a dress like this. But when they gave me one, it was when I was trapped in a nightmare, and it went back to my old rags. And now, it shall be my death shroud."

He knew he shouldn't like the Capitol any better for the gift they'd given him. It wasn't even on purpose was it?

But he kind of did.

Seeing her hand he gently brought his own hand up to it letting her take his much larger hand to touch. It was such a sharp contrast to the heavy rough stones from before. His skin was soft and smooth, not at all fitting his brutish shape. It was warm and under the layer of softness there was muscle and bone just the way it should be.

Death shroud sounded ominous, but he supposed she knew she didn't stand a chance of surviving this arena either.

"It's really pretty. Maybe they'll give you one when you get back to the capitol if you ask them?" He blushed when she did touch him, looking more like a little boy then a young man.

She laughed, less scary than before. "I don't think they will be giving anything to me. I am in trouble with them. If they give me anything, it will be another cuff on my right wrist, perhaps."

She stroked her hand over his skin, so much softer than Eponine's. "You were well looked after, weren't you? To be so fat, and to have such soft skin... you didm't know of this sort of thing, did you?"

He wasn't sure he liked being called fat. But as for being looked after...that was just a way of life.

"I didn't used to be this fat." He muttered embarrassed but letting her continue to stroke his hand. "That happened after I became a freak. I'd just drink and lay around for hours. Then I'd go work in the field. Maybe break up a fight or lift something heavy, then try to drink myself to death some more."

"But before the FAYZ? Yeah...life was alright. Nothing like this or the FAYZ. No nightmares."

"Is it not good to be fat?" She didn't really understand Orc's reaction. She herself longed to be more filled out than what she was. "At home, if you were rich, you could be fat. I would like to be as rich as that.

She measured her hand against his, before lacing her fingers through. She had never felt such soft skin before: it felt nice, warm... a little bit safe almost.

"There is no sense in drinking to the death, you know? If you want to die, a knife is the best way. I was going to drown myself once, you know. It was so cold, I didn't think I could stand another day outside. But... no. It was too cold, and I knew my Pa would be cross with me if I failed it. So I didn't. But that is a better way as well, than drink."

He couldn't agree more. A knife was a much better way to do the deed properly, but he'd been too much of a coward for that.

Feeling her small delicate hand in his own made him feel stronger, like a real man should. Not a monster just a man. He tried to puzzle out the fatness issue in his head and all that he came up with was an image of a curvy voluptuous Eponine.

Damned hormones.

"Where I come from fat means lazy...and disgusting." He paused and then added "I don't think it should always mean that...but that's what girls usually think back home."

His parents had both been fairly large so he'd grown up with an appreciation for people with meat on their bones. Not like how the FAYZ had reduced so many kids to walking skeletons.

"Well, I think it is lovely to be fat. It shows that you have food." Better than being a walking skeleton with sunken cheeks and a rumbling belly.

"Perhaps you ought not to listen to stupid girls. My Pa says a woman ought to be seen and not heard always - well, he never gets that with us, for if my Ma ain't berating him, it's me. But I think perhaps the girls at your home would do well to remember that, Sir."

She hated the girls from the FAYZ already. Calling Orc lazy and disgusting... stupid girls.

"You have the softest hands I have ever felt. To me, that is rich. In Paris, it is if you are like me, you are lazy and disgusting. Perhaps we are both that?" She was trying to make a joke and she laughed.

He smiled, a rare thing but becoming more common. The first time she'd ever seen his real face smile.

"You're not lazy or disgusting. You're a princess. And you should be fat and happy." He decided. "When we get back to the capitol you should eat till you are as fat as you dream."

It sounded like such a strange dream, but at least one of his friends should be happy in this weird level of hell.

He ran a pudgy finger over her hand gently, a slow circle feeling her own skin against his. So much more sensitive now that he wasn't made of stone.

"I used to do that, with Howard. We would eat and eat, and I would be sick, and he would, and still we ate more. Now... I don't want food. I don't care any more. It doesn't matter if I'm ugly now." She resisted the urge to move her hand or laugh, instead holding perfectly still.

"Can you feel it now? Can you feel me?"

Not wanting food sounded impossible to Orc, Howard must have really messed her up for that.

He nodded and his mouth felt very dry.

"I-it feels...really nice. Soft and warm..." He mumbled looking down at her hand in his. He wished his other hand wasn't broken so he could feel with both of them, but that hand was like shards of broken glass right now and even the faintest touch sometimes made him whimper.

"That's a lie." She laughed again. "You're feeling your own skin. My skin is rough - can you not tell? Perhaps it is my turn to be a rock? But it is nice of you to say so all the same."

She looked back at him. Was he ashamed? Of being seen with her? Or embarrassed? Shy? She didn't know. She couldn't imagine Orc being either of those.

"You don't have to hold my hand, if you do not wish to. I will not be offended, you know?"

He shook his head gently and squeezed it a little tighter. His stomach flipped and he confessed "I've never held a girls hand before. Let alone a pretty girl like you."

And all across the capitol fangirls were uttering "Awwwww"

"I don't know what I should be doing." He added.

Eponine opened her mouth out of sheer surprise. Pretty? Did he just call her pretty? Even though she had sunken cheeks and circles under her eyes and rotten teeth? He still thought she was pretty?

Her bony grip on his hand tightened. She didn't love Orc. She liked him. He was a friend, and someone now who would help her stay alive. But love him... No. Eponine was more superficial than that. She wanted a prince as handsome as Marius, or Montparnasse at least.

But that didn't stop her now. She needed, after so much rejection in the last few months, she needed someone, anyone to love her. So she tried to be flirtatious, and appealing.

"Well, Monsieur, it depends what you ahould like to do. We hold hands now, so a kiss is perhaps the next stage?"

His eyebrows rose in surprise and he looked startled by the proposition. He had imagined kissing her yes but he'd never imagined her asking.

"I...you...really? You think we should? I-I mean." He stammered and fumbled over his words gripping her firmly in hand.

"I mean...you want to...would you like to?"

"Kiss me." Her reply was firm. She just needed someone, anyone, to be head over heels in love with her. She needed to show Marius and Cosette and Howard and all those people who had pitied her, that she could be loved as well. More, even.

And what better way to shove it in Howard's face than with his best friend?

She closed her eyes and puckered her lips, waiting for the kiss.

Between his hormones, and a natural inclination to take orders Orc never had a chance.

Eyes wide and face red he could hardly believe what was happening. Here, in an arena where people were trying to kill him, after only being human again for a few weeks he was getting his first kiss?

Gently leaning in, he gave a shiver as he got close enough to feel the breath from her nose. His eyes clamped shut and his lips pressed to hers.

The only thoughts that filled his simple head after that were soft and warm.

And Eponine? She thought, "I hope Howard sees."

What would he do, she wondered, if he just happened along now? Would he hit her? She was fairly certain that Orc would hit him two weeks from Sunday if he tried to touch her. Now, that would be funny.

She opened her eyes wide when he kissed her. He wasn't so bad at kissing. She had had better... Marius would be better, of course. But he was better than some of those horrible old men who had held her head back and forced her mouth open and... and, was he scared? Was Orc scared?

After a minute, she broke their rather pure kiss, and smiled. "Have you never kissed a woman before, Monsieur?"

If he was red before he was glowing with embarrassment before. He shuffled his feet like a child caught being naughty and nodded shyly.

"W-was it OK?" He mumbled, daring to be hopeful as he brought his eyes up to meet hers.

In response, she stood on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek.

"You kiss me as if I am a princess." That was definitely true. He wasn't hungry. He wasn't forcing it on her. And he looked a little bit scared of her. She liked that.

"It was perfect, Monsieur. The most polite kiss I have ever had, and the first I have ever asked for."

A dopey smile crossed his features and he happily let all that anxiety he'd felt in his stomach rush out to his fingertips and toes. The tingling left him feeling lighter then air.

"I uh...I think princesses also get kissed um...like this."

Nervous again, feeling foolish enough he couldn't meet her eyes right away he took a knee, just like in the movies and took the hand he'd been holding to brush his lips over it. His lips were wet now and left a bit of that wetness on her wrist. Hardly the most suave and romantic of gestures but he was trying his best for her.

Oh my - was it - was this really happening? Did she really have a man on his knees in front of her kissing her hand?

Did somebody love her so much as to want to please even the most ridiculous of her desires?

If Orc had hit Eponine with a feather just then, she would have been floored, so shocked was she!

"And so you... you are my prince?" She liked that thought. She liked the idea of being a princess. She wanted someone to love her and spoil her and feed her conceitedness. Perhaps, in time, she could learn to love Orc... or no. But perhaps it wouldn't matter. Perhaps... She couldn't keep a smile off her face, or a giggle from her voice though.

He finished the kiss and squirmed some more, clearly flustered by the entire experience. But her smile soothed him, let him know he had done the right thing.

"I dunno if I'm a very good prince." He muttered sheepishly "I'm not really that smart or handsome...but I already told you I'll protect you."

He brought his eyes back up to hers again, he was such a simple creature that all his emotions were right there in those beady little orbs. Confusion, hope, lust, joy, embarrassment and a surprising amount of innocence for someone who had lived through such harsh things.

"I just want you to be happy." He promised.

"Well, I think you are too good for me, Monsieur." She sat down opposite him, crossing her legs beneath her voluminous skirts.

"You are a caring man. More so than anyone I have been with. Even Howard. And by far better than 'Parnasse..." She swallowed. "Make no mistake, though... if he comes... I will have to go back, and you are not to mind it, okay? Or he will slit your throat and I do not want that!"

Which was true. She'd hate Orc to die properly. She liked him, and in her own way, she genuinely did care for him. But perhaps she did not love him.

"And, Sir, we must say Howard as well, for I shan't have you shouting at me later."