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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"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."

He tentatively, with a flood of excitement put his arm around her feeling empowered by the act. This was cuddling! He'd seen couples cuddle before and the warmth he felt blooming in his chest was evidence of it's appeal.

"I just like hearing you say all those french names I can't even say." He tried to explain. "It sounds pretty and smart."

Cuddling. He was - someone wanted to put their arm around her and hug her and love her! Eponine couldn't help but snuggle into Orc, resting one hand on his chest. This wasn't just pretence, not done for show. She truly was grateful for the love he was showing her, and she couldn't help but reciprocate, just a little bit. And he thought she sounded smart. Now that stoked her ego just a little bit more.

"Marius and Enjolras, they are usual names in Paris. My name, now that is a strange one. My mama read a book and saw it and thought it beautiful. And the same for my sister, Azelma. And my brother, Gavroche, also. But to me, Orc is a funny name. It sounds silly to me."

He nodded gently "Just a stupid nickname." He muttered and felt his chest tighten a little as he approached the subject.

"Orc was a monster." He began "Orc hurt people. I don't want to be Orc anymore."

Shyly once more he met her eyes with his beady dark ones, sunken into his fat face. "My mother named me Charles...can you call me Charles?"

"Charles?" She laughed in sheer surprise. "Charles? That is your name? But why Orc? Charles is much nicer, you know? It is distinguished. It would be like me calling myself 'Weed' or something. No - you are always to be Charles now."

She cuddled in closer. "I do not believe Orc to have been a monster either."

His plump lips curled into a smile, pleased that not only would she use the name...but that she liked it.

"People called me Orc in school because I was big, and mean and ugly." He explained without bitterness. He had embraced the name. It made people scared of him.

"Orcs are like...scary pig monsters." He continued "They're big and strong."

"I slept in with a pig once. I think it was a pig... It was fat, like you, Sir. It ate more than I ever got, and such food. I ate it as well, the whole night. Bits of apple and biscuit and some vegetables - such a feast! Perhaps that is why you are a pig, such feasts!"

Because 'pig' was the important bit to focus on. Obviously.

"I do not think you would ever scare me, though. You are big and fat, yes. But I am quicker and cleverer."

He wilted a little at the constant repeat of the word "pig" after all sure she said being fat was a good thing but...that was a difficult subject to wrap his head around.

"And you're sure that fat is a good thing?" He offered again "Is being a pig good or bad?" French people were so confusing.

"I don't know?" She shrugged against him. Really, Eponine wasn't very educated in farm animals.

"Does it matter so much? If you do not like it, you can change? You can stop eating, no? If you have no food, you would be as thin as I am, but that is an ugly thing to be, I think. When I was in Paris, if I had had a choice, I would not have stayed as thin as I am. I would have eaten and eaten until I had a proper curve and men looked at me."

He nodded in understanding.

"If you think I look ok then it's not a big deal. I like you how you are but if you want to get bigger can't they do that?" He'd heard about all the things the Capitol could do after all, some of which they'd already done to her.

"If eating yourself fat is too slow that is."

"They are never going near me again. I hate them." Eponine spits out, viciously. After all of the changes they put her body through, and her execution and forcing her to watch her love marry and to imprison her in a district with him and - oh, they just loved to see Eponine unhappy.

"They won't do what I wish anyway, so it doesn't matter. They like to see me upset, I think. They loved it in the District, that I was crying."

"Hrmmm." He couldn't think of much to say about that.

"Someday this will all be over. And then we can eat and relax and you can get even fatter then me."

His arm squeezed her affectionately to try and encourage her on that dream.

"If this is over, I will be dead anyway. If I go home, I will be dead within six months, Sir, from either hunger or cold or Montparnasse or my father himself. It will be slow, I think. They will want me to hurt, because of what I have done. And then they'll chuck me in a ditch to be found when the snow melts. That is all there is for me." She spoke dispassionately, apparently unmoved by the predictions for her own death.

"But yes... one day, we shall go home, and perhaps you will have a nice life. We must hope for one of us, no?"

His face fell more, he let his arm slide off her and he took a deep breath, letting it out like the air in his little balloon of hope was deflated. What a way to spoil a nice feeling like cuddling a pretty girl.

"Things might work out better then that." he tried feebly.

She flinched away, as soon as she felt his arm shift. Of course he would not want her really. Even this great lump wouldn't want her. Nobody would ever want Eponine ever again. Not that they particularly had before. But now...

She pulled her knees up to her chest, balancing her chin on her knees. She wrapped her arms about, pulling herself in close.

"Perhaps. But I do not think so. Everybody wants me dead. I shall die all alone, over and over, until I die for good."

Seeing her reaction he leaned into her to try and show he wasn't completely giving up this fast.

"Not everyone wants you dead. The important thing is that you shouldn't want you dead. If you're dead there's no chance of things getting better."

A pause and then.

"If I had killed myself one of those times I tried then how would I have ever met you? I'm happy I got to meet you. R-really happy we got to ya know...be close." He mumbled the last part glowing with red.

"I don't want you dead. I want you fat and happy and living as long as you care to."

She half turned, to push her face into his chest.

"Truly? Do you really mean it, Orc? I mean, Charles?"

He put his arms back around her to hug her there and kissed the top of her head.

"I'm not a very good liar. If I didn't mean it you'd be able to tell." He tried to reassure her.

She extradited her arms from his embrace, only to hug him back.

"You are so good to me, Charles. So good. I have never met a man such as you before, you know? You'll treat me right, won't you?"

He nodded once more and nuzzled into her hair affectionately.

"Anything you want. I promise."

If only he knew just how much that promise, made in the heat of a new found romance would cost him in the long run.

And it would. Not by design, not by conscious design, at least. But it would all the same, the poor bloke.

But for now, for now, she cuddled in, enjoying his warmth, the weight of his arms about her. And she enjoyed, at last, that someone was completely loyal to her.

"I love you, Charles." And in that moment, in her own twisted way, she actually meant it.

Fade to black?

callmecharles - 2014-01-25 23:56 (UTC) - Expand

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