thearena | (no subject)

Entry tags:

(no subject)

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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

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."

Now he was confused...more then he already had been.

Dumbly he sat down on the ground. OK he could understand if Parnasse or whatever his name was came back she'd be afraid of Orc getting hurt but "What about Howard?" He had gotten lost on that second part.

"He is your friend, isn't he?" She tightened her grip of Orc's hand, and reached with her other for his free one.

"He will tell you all sorts of nasty things about me."

"He already has." Orc replied honestly. He winced and tensed when she took his broken, bandaged hand in hers.

"Howard lies sometimes. It's how he gets things done." He tried to explain. "He's not strong so he has to be smarter. Tricky."

"What's he said?" She ducked her face, chewing on her lips. Poor Orc, and his hand all in bandages. She pressed just a little bit harder. That was for Aunamee.

Orc wasn't sure he wanted to answer, and thankfully she saved him the trouble by squeezing his hand making him his through his teeth and tremble. He fell forward so now instead of being on one knee like a prince, he was on both knees like a servant or a worshiper before an idol.

"Ow!" He grunted helplessly.

"Are you ill, M'sieur?" She looked at him in concern, chucking his chin with her hand. "Come, do not be silly. Tell me." She wasn't letting it go that easily.

He shuddered and sucked in a pained breath, face burning red as she cupped his soft chin. As his head was tilted back his flabby neck was exposed with marks from an attempted strangulation.

"A-aunamee choked me out." He mumbled ashamed, dark eyes looking like a sad puppy. "I think he broke my hand."

Another whimper as the pain continued to arc through his arm while she held him in firm control.

"Because you tried to kill him?" She looked at the marks on his neck carefully, gently tracing bony fingers along his neck. She did let go of his broken hand, though.

"You shouldn't have done it, you know?"

She could feel his racing pulse and he shuddered once more at the touch, ashamed that somewhere along the way the pain was being mixed with his hormones and his Pajama pants were suddenly feeling less comfortable and more like a threat to exposure.

"Y-yes...I know. I'm sorry." His husky voice choked out as he let the broken hand fall free of her grip.

"Don't say so to me, M'sieur." She leaned in and kissed him again. "But if you love me, you won't hurt him, will you? I will always love you if you do not hurt him."

Because that is what love is, isn't it? Bargains. Bargains and promises and bribes... Eponine's eyes strayed to Orc's pyjama bottoms. That's what her mama had always said, no? That a man's brain was in his pants? Perhaps she could teach Orc to do as she wanted by that.

"I can be kind to you, M'sieur. Orc. If you like." And she needed it as well. Anything - anayone, to fill the emptiness left by Marius.

The kiss was like a soothing cream over the pain and confusion spinning in his head now. Did he love her? Is that what this was? Would he ever get the chance again to know?

Could anyone love him really?

She could be kind, he felt her looking at him and tried in embarrassment to hide himself with his hands. "I...I don't want to hurt anyone anymore." He whimpered softly.

"And you shall not, Monsieur." She rose on her knees now, and went to put her hands on his cheeks so that he could not look away from him. His cheeks were so warm, and they positively pulsed beneath her fingers. Was that his blood? His tongue? Was he so excited he was shaking? Or shivering in fear? Eponine didn't know, and she didn't really mind, if truth be told. She still had him in her power.

"Stay here with me. Forget everyone else. We shall just stay here together and nobody will trouble us. Stay with me, please. I will be good to you."

She kissed him again, on the lips this time.

Tempting words. He couldn't do that though could he? He had to find Howard. He had to protect Howard, and maybe some others. He couldn't just protect her alone...

But the kiss was all too effective at clearing his mind. His eyes fluttered closed and he relaxed slowly, muscles unwinding from the stress of the pain she'd caused. He didn't need to worry or think, he was never that good at thinking anyway.

Just for this one moment...let him feel wanted. Not a burden. Not a hassle.

"Will you?" Eponine tried to make Orc's head move up and down. "Will you love me?" She wanted to prove them all wrong, and herself. She wanted to prove that women like her could be loved, just the same as ladies like Cosette. She wanted someone to quieten the wolf gnawing at her insides. She just wanted someone to hold her, as carefully as Marius held Cosette and tell her that she was beautiful. Perhaps, in a relationshiip with Orc, she could actually be the beautiful one for once, as well.

"Come, Sir, let me show you my bed. You can stay there as well. If you stay with me."

Love. The word made his tongue swell up like he'd had too many beers and couldn't find the words he needed.

Only as he stumbled to his feet did he realize how many emotions he could link to his alcoholism. That would make him feel bad if he wasn't being led to bed by a pretty girl.

"You have a bed?" He thought to ask trying to shake off a lusty cloud clinging to his brain. He needed to respect her didn't he? He may not need to think but he needed to make her happy. That was the right thing to do right? After everything he'd done?

"Yes."

Well, no. Not exactly. What she did have was a whole heap of clothes right behind the last row of dummies, kind of hidden from view. And what there were, was a lot of naked waxworks. But Eponine wasn't going to let that bother her. She had him now, definitely. She had someone that she could make love her, even in her vileness.

"It is not much, Sir, but it is a little more comfy than the hard floor. Not that I mind. I am quite used to sleeping on stone. When I was in prison, that was the only place to sleep, for the mattresses were so full of rats, you were scratched and bitten something terrible when you laid down. And with so many women and men in there, Sir, it was better not to fight for comfort."

"You were in prison?" That was all he could think to say to that long string of horrible images she provided him with. Thankfully even the naked mannequins provide a distraction in both a creepy and alluring way. His eyes only lingered for a moment though because a real live girl was guiding him to a bed like place and it was more then his fifteen year old brain could wrestle with.

Eponine nodded, and began to step her way daintily between the clothes, arms outstretched like a tight rope walker.

"Yes. Two months they left me there. Two months until they had to let me go - I told 'em I was fifteen, you see, Sir. That's too young to be tried for a woman. And my sister as well. We was in La Prison de Madelonnettes, my Pa in La Force and my Mama in St. Lazare."

She didn't seem particularly bothered by that little bomb of information, and quite happily settled down, patting the clothes beside her.

"And now, what do you think of me, now you know I am so bad."

Clearly, still bad. Even in Lottie's dress, she was unable to hide the Capitol cuff on her left arm.

He carefully shuffled his way through the clothes, lifting his legs up high enough so he wouldn't drag them on his bare feet.

"I like your accent." He confessed shyly and settled down next to her with all the grace of an off balance gorilla falling onto his rump.

"I still don't think you're that bad." He knew bad. Drake was bad. Caine was bad. He was bad. Eponine was just...confused.

"My accent? I do not have an accent." She laughed. "Or perhaps, yes. I do not speak French how she ought to be spoken. Now you listen to Marius, or Enjolras or his friend, or even that Cosette, for she has learned how to speak since she left the inn, and they speak proper French. Me, I speak where I am from; I speak the gutter."

She shuffled closer to him, apparently uncaring if her little nest got mussed up. And then she leaned on him, taking care not to touch his broken hand.

"I think you have a funny accent. And Howard. But so many people here sound the same to me."