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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"Hello?"

Charles had been wandering lost for days now. It didn't seem like that big an arena really but Charles was the kind of boy who could get lost in his own neighborhood given the time of day.

The voice would sound familiar but the face would be new as a soft and somewhat chubby teenage boy came wandering into the wax museum. His right hand was wrapped in bandages and his PJs were adorably adorned with race cars.

Charles was creeped out by the figures.

"Monsieur Or-" And then Eponine stopped calling back, because she had turned around, and she had seen someone who definitely was not Orc. Was it too late to hide amongst the statues? She stood quickly, next to Gavroche, and froze. The Orc doll lay abandoned at her feet, and slowly, so that perhaps this boy would not notice, she reached her hand for the sizeable piece of glass she had tucked into Lottie's belt, so that she was at least armed.

Sadly Charles was not terribly observant as he shuffled through the room. His eyes traveled from statue to statue and he was very clearly unsettled by their stares.

"Hello?" He tried again turning around slowly, expecting someone to jump out at him. He stepped on the Orc doll which gave him a start and he twisted around sharply to look down at it. His face fell with confusion.

Kneeling down to pick it up he studied it carefully.

Then a soft smile.

"Guess they won't be making dolls to look like me now." He chuckled. But oh how little he knew about the merchandizing fetish the capitol had.

How was this oaf speaking with Orc's voice? He was as big as Gueulemer, and looked just as thick. Eponine eyed him with distaste. Perhaps he was a thug as well. Her grip on the glass tightened.

And then he stood on her doll, right in front of her, with his great big feet. Lumbering fool! Eponine glared at him - but then, then, right before her eyes, he spoke in Orc's voice. He said that that doll looked like him. But no... for Orc was made of rock, and not flesh like this brute. Eponine hated it. She was sure it was a trick, to unsettle her and make her easy to kill. Well, she would not have it. So instead, she said,

"Go away. I shan't have you here. Go away or I will kill you, Monsieur."

Charles' head snapped up sharply, startled by the voice. Eyes wide and mouth agape he behold Eponine in all her fury.

"Eponine?" He gaped dropping the doll in surprise and taking a step back.

"Monsieur, I do not know who you are or how you speak with Monsieur Orc's voice, but I will NOT have you mimicking him. Do you hear me? Who are you? Where is Monsieur Orc? Have you hurt him?"

Eponine's questions came thick and fast now that she was discovered. She stepped forward, advancing on Charles, completely unafraid, despite her obvious disadvantage against him. She raised the bit of glass so that it was level with his neck. Gone was any softness that might have showed in Eponine's eyes in the past. Instead, they were empty. No fear, no resentment. Just... gone. And now, she was prepared to do whatever it took to stay alive.

"Make no mistake, Sir, I will kill you, or allow you to kill me, before I allow you not to answer my questions."

Even Orc wasn't stupid enough to say it, but in this moment he could really see what Howard meant when he said Eponine was a crazy bitch. Then again most of the people Orc knew were a little crazy.

"No no no, it's me! I uh..." He looked lost for words fumbling a bit and scratching his head with his bandaged hand on instinct which made him wince.

"Fuck...we uh, oh we met when you were chained to that chair at that party." He offered "I brought you a drink? You like my sheep skittles!" Throwing out random bits of trivia that hopefully would prove he was who he said he was.

Because after breaking his hand, Orc was intimately aware of just how much weaker his non-stone body was.

"How do you know that, Monsieur? How could you possibly know?" Eponine stopped short. Could it be? They had made R come alive again; could they have made Orc not a rock?

"Monsieur? Orc, is it you? What has happened to your rocks?"

Somehow this brute standing before her looked even less likely to own a sheep than the rock monster had.

He relaxed with a shuddered breath. He hadn't realized till now just how frightened he had been of her with that glass.

"The Capitol fixed me." He muttered sounding sheepish. "I uh...got in a fight. And they punished me...and then fixed me. So I'm not a freak anymore."

Though he knew that he wasn't exactly normal anymore either. Gently he offered the doll to her, still clutching it in his good hand.

"So uh...surprise?"

She held the glass up again in return. "Yes, I know about your fight, Monsieur. I know all about that - you don't have to tell me. Who put Monsieur Aunamee in the hospital, eh?" She advanced again, her voice raising.

"Who nearly killed him? WHY would you do such a thing, Monsieur? You are ridiculous! PAH!"

She spat at him, but at least lowered the glass shard. "Do you not understand? Do you not see?" She shook her head. "You would make a team, you and he. You could be feared. And you could take me."

He became even more confused as she expressed anger at his fight. He knew she would be a little upset...hadn't they promised not to fight anymore? But would she cut him over it?

But then the last part completely wiped his mind clean.

"Take...you?" His face bloomed with the shade of red most commonly seen in strawberries and his eyes boggled a little as his teenage mind was flooded with filthy horrible images.

She couldn't have meant that right?!

NO! No, that was NOT what she meant in the slightest. Although... it did come with the territory, she supposed.

"Yes, take me." She spat out, impatiently. "Take me with you. I'll do as I did for my Pa. Take your messages. Get money, food, whatever. And as long as I do that, you keep me safe."

Was Orc really so stupid? It all seemed so simple to her. Aunamee, for what he could do. Orc's brute strength. And her. It was almost half of the Patron Minette reformed. And hadn't everyone been afraid of them? Well, not of her, but Montparnasse had scared people away... when he wanted to.

"Why did you hurt him?"

"O-oh..."

Of course she hadn't meant that. Now his blush was burning from embarrassment. How could he have been so stupid to think that any girl would want that after seeing him as a freak?

"He hurt Howard." Orc muttered sounding ashamed. "It was the only way to make sure he'd never hurt Howard again. But I couldn't even do that right."

His head was down now looking at the floor, shifting his weight like a child being told off by his mother despite the fact that he was a good head taller then the girl.

At another time, perhaps, Eponine would realise that Orc was upset. At another time, she might have cared. As it was, for now, her voice became acidic.

"Howard deserves everything he gets, and more, Monsieur. He is a nasty boy."

Once more, she lowered her glass shard, and tucked it into the belt of Lottie's gown that she wore.

"He is awful. Has he told you what he called me? He is HORRIBLE, believe me."

Well Orc couldn't argue with most of that.

"He is horrible." He nodded gently "He does bad things. He lies and cheats."

Orc shook his head gently and brought his gaze back up to her imploringly.

"But he's my best friend. He took care of me when I couldn't take care of myself. When I wanted to kill myself he kept me going. He doesn't always do what's right, or even what's nice...but he's not a monster."

He hadn't realized how important Howard had been till arriving in the Capitol. Now that they saw so little of each other it was more obvious how much they had been together before.

"I don't know Aunamee. I didn't grow up with him...and I don't care about him. I care about Howard and you."

Couldn't it be that easy?

"Me? Why? I wouldn't care about me. Nobody else does." She didn't believe that he cared for her properly, not for a moment.

And then it properly clicked. Why he had blushed. Why he might care. "Did Howard tell you?" She demanded. "Did he tell you that in Paris, I have a line of - what is his word? Johns waiting for me? Is that what you want as well? That was what he wanted, in the end. Just to touch. Well, I don't care. You can, if you like, Monsieur. I will let you touch me. I will do as you like exactly, if you bring me food."

And now we were back to this.

His hands flew up defensively like she was attacking him again "N-no no no! No...no just...no I mean...yes but no..." He shook his head having to clear it.

"I mean...hold on just...stop I need to." He brought both hands to his head trying to rub the thoughts clear, being particularly gentle with his right hand in bandages.

"You already told me about John...whoever he is. I don't care...you deserve better then him and better then Howard or Aunamee and WAY better then me."

The words were coming clearer now so he put his hands down and dared to meet her eyes. His own eyes were oddly like staring into the eyes of a dumb animal desperately trying to understand the world. Like skittles but less relaxed.

"You don't think you deserve better, and maybe Howard doesn't either but I know you do. And I'm not...I'm not like that. I might have been before I became a freak but..." He shook his head.

"God gave me a second chance. Or maybe it was the devil but someone...something. I'm human again I don't wanna be a monster anymore."

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.

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