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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.
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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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."
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"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.
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"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.
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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."
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"I just like hearing you say all those french names I can't even say." He tried to explain. "It sounds pretty and smart."
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"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."
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"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?"
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She cuddled in closer. "I do not believe Orc to have been a monster either."
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"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."
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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."
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"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.
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"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."
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"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."
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"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."
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"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.
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"But yes... one day, we shall go home, and perhaps you will have a nice life. We must hope for one of us, no?"
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"Things might work out better then that." he tried feebly.
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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."
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"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."
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"Truly? Do you really mean it, Orc? I mean, Charles?"
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"I'm not a very good liar. If I didn't mean it you'd be able to tell." He tried to reassure her.
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"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?"
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"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.
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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?