thearena | Find Somebody Else That We Can Blame [Closed]

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Find Somebody Else That We Can Blame [Closed]

WHO| Venus Dee Milo and Courfeyrac, Venus and Kankri, Venus and Sam and De Winchester
WHAT| Sam Winchester dies, Kankri and Venus hang out, and Venus gets a puzzling Sponsor gift
WHERE| Second floor, Fossil Hall
WHEN| Week 3, week 5
WARNINGS| Death, Venus and Courfeyrac getting drunk and giving back massages

Venus hasn't been hunting De. Venus hasn't cared enough about De to bother, and besides, she finds something distasteful about tracking people down. The few moments of peace that people get when they feel safe in the Arenas are sacred.

But she does start following De around the second floor when they nearly bump into each other - Venus avoids detection by ducking behind a display about cacti in North America - on the second floor, and after a little bit of 'reconnaissance', Venus sees Sam, too.

Sam's physically intimidating, and Venus bites her lip when she tries to estimate how tall he is. She takes note of his stride, of the way he holds his shoulders slightly forward. It isn't a warrior's stance. He has the hunch of a brainy college boy. Venus starts inventing a story for him where he works nights at a gas station to put himself through physics courses, where he has his roommates cut his hair.

The two of them look similar enough that Venus assumes they're siblings or unfortunately indiscrete lovers.

When Sam's in the bathroom, Venus appears before De like a genie from a bottle. The gash across her face should make her terrifying, but it's a drop in the bucket compared to the utter confidence with which she holds herself. "Remember me?"

-/-

Since rescuing Kankri, Venus has been doing a lot of sleeping. She tells him it's to pay back sleep debt, but the truth is that she can't seem to find the energy in herself to do anything else. When she isn't encased in a shell of slumber, tears are leaking from her very pores, she feels.

She hasn't apologized to him for storming out. The feeling is there, right there inside her mouth, but the words are never quite what she wants to say, never arranged in the right order to sound as honest as she feels.

She gets up to patrol twice a day, but other than that either keeps watch or rests with a towel from the gift shop over her head, like a corpse upon a slab at the mortuary.

-/-

They've finally gone through the food in the cafe. Between the passage of time rotting the vegetables faster than they could eat them and the fact that neither of them are quite heartless to turn away people seeking sustenance (although Venus at least keeps it to allies), they've come down to the unfortunate dietary habits of all stale pastries, all the time. Venus expects she'll be seeing cinnamon rolls in her nightmares.

When she hears the ding of the Sponsor gift in the elevator, and her fingers are crossed that it's edible.

Venus pauses in front of the elevator, too stunned even to grab her Sponsor gift for a second before she plucks the glitter-encrusted card off the top. It's signed with the signature from one of her Mentors that she's come to recognize, although the sight of it tends to fill her with mixed emotions.

"The fuck?"

She grabs the heart-shaped basket (filled with bath lotion, wine and chocolate, and decorated with two silver balloons) and takes off for the fossil hall. When she's there, she knocks on the wall in the Morse code that is, in her opinion, the only useful contribution Marius and Cosette have made to this encampment, in an attempt to draw someone out long enough to talk to.

If anyone's going to understand what the hell Enjolras is getting at with this bizarre gift, it would probably be Courfeyrac.

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"It's a Camus quote. He hasn't sent you anything this Arena? I thought you were at least getting...you know, nevermind." She takes the note, back, a sad little frown sneaking into the corners of her mouth. And she sighs, not the heavy sigh of exasperation but the little mew of air that she can't quite keep inside her. "He makes me feel so...used up, sometimes."

She stretches her legs and starts to pull things out of her basket. She's brought too easily to tears the last few days, probably a side-effect of not having her medication, and she isn't going to waste precious water on Enjolras right now. She'll thank him to the cameras later, and then more importantly, ask for clarification when she's revived again.

"I think there are worse things we could do than have wine go straight to our heads. Here, let's do the chocolate too." She pulls a caramel out of her box and tosses it over onto Courfeyrac's lap, then pulls a bottle out of the basket. "Bubble bath? Where the hell does he think we'll get bubble bath?"

He hadn't the slightest idea as to who this Camus person was, but he resolved that he would ask Enjolras about it once he was dead. Such a depressing thought.

"He sent something, in the beginning. I have been unfair in my description of him." It was inaccurate to claim he'd been abandoned by his friend. He had the sleeping bag and the knife thanks to Enjolras. He and Marius and Cosette had eaten well in the first few weeks thanks to Enjolras' generosity. That said, it had been four weeks since he'd received anything at all, not even a note of encouragement. However, the more Courfeyrac thought of it, the more it made sense. Enjolras was not sentimental by nature. His passions existed in another realm. He dealt with life and loss and love and death in a way that Courfeyrac sought to understand but never really could. And if he, who had known and studied with Enjolras for years could not fully master his nature, how could Venus be expected to understand him innately?

"Our friend's favor always come with a tax. We each must decide if we are willing to pay in order to welcome him into our sphere. He is more intense than anyone I have ever known and I love him for that. And one cannot burn with such heat or light without engulfing their surroundings. If you choose closeness, you implicitly accept that he may light a fire in you as well."

Catching the caramel easily, he popped the confection into his mouth, savoring the sweetness. It wasn't like the candies from home, but it would do.

"Perhaps he is sending a message that you should make use of it before you return to him." It was smart and a little cruel, but he was certain Venus would not think him too rude in the moment. "It is alright. Marius felt I could benefit from strawberry massage oils."

"It might just be a Valentine's Day discount thing. Doesn't explain the note, though." In a way, it's comforting that Enj hasn't been lavishing attention on her at Courfeyrac's expense. It makes it easier to think it's just about friendship and not whatever else this might be.

"I'm used to intense personalities." Just not ones with depth, Venus is realizing. The intensity is all on the surface, a vivacious desperation that everyone in her line of work has, a willful self-delusion to believe that drowning themselves in glory and attention to cover up the lack of solid conscience at their core. "And I don't burn out easy."

No one who cares about anything that matters makes it to the top of Hollywood.

She waves a hand at Courfeyrac, snorting (although that has the unfortunate effect of a weird whistle as some of the air from her nose escapes the slash across her face instead of her nostrils). "Massage oils? And here you are without a girl to apply them. Whatever will you do?"

She reaches over to examine his cheeses.

"Ah, but this could be easily remedied, yes? After all, I have a lovely lady joining me for a delicious cheese dinner." Nothing skeevy, he promises. "Perhaps she could like a nice foot massage to take her mind off of... everything."

It isn't as if they can save this stuff and bring it back to the Capitol with them once the Arena is over. Which is a shame, really. The stuff may not be especially nice, but it would be a pity to see it go to waste.

As Venus examines the cheese, Courfeyrac uses his folding knife to pry the cork out of one of the bottles of wine. He doesn't even pause before taking a long swig of it.

"Not bad. I've had worse." He offers the bottle to her.

"Only if the gentleman would be up for a back massage, so I don't have to feel indebted. And only if the gentleman doesn't mind my gross manky toes." All the polish is peeling off, because apparently giftshop 'Rapunzel gold' nail art isn't high quality.

She takes the bottle from him and takes a swig. She winces a little at the bitterness - tastebuds are still something she's getting used to - and passes it back, nodding that it's not absolutely terrible.

"Have you been holding up okay back here?"

"I would never turn down a free back massage," he answers cheerfully, and while he isn't familiar with the term 'manky' and assumes it cannot be good, he has already made the offer and will not renege. However, his expression becomes a bit more melancholy then. "I do not know if Enjolras ever mentioned me to you before I arrived, but if he had, I am certain he would have explained to you that I am a social creature. I crave the company of others. I live for it. And these last several days alone... well..."

They've been torture for him. Still, he can't find it in him to leave the barricade just yet.

"He did explain that."

Venus wets her lips, both out of concern and to wipe the taste of the wine off her tongue before she loads more into her palate. The cheese doesn't go with it at all.

She decides right then that Kankri will have to just learn to deal. She doubts he'll have too much of a problem with it anyway.

"We have room in the cafe, you know. It'd let you get some good sleep, at the very least."

Courfeyrac closes his eyes, gnawing his lower lip. He isn't sure he's ready to give up the barricade just yet. Part of his feels as if that would be too close to surrendering. Marius and the others had helped him build the damn thing. He feels, on some level, that he owed it to them to stay and protect it, foolish as that was.

"I do not know..." His voice trails off, going a little hoarse. "I am not ready to leave yet."

She lets the the air hang with that statement, lets it capture that sad confession.

"Alright." She reaches over and takes another drink of wine, another piece of cheese. "But at least come over when you need to sleep, so you aren't leaving yourself vulnerable."

She gestures with her head over at the baskets. "My Prince Charming's going to be so mad if I let his best friend get killed in his sleep."

"He would be even angrier if you died on my watch, Venus." His voice is quiet, with a hint of somber nostalgia, but it isn't harsh. Clearly, he's exhausted but he hasn't given up his friendliness. "It is strange. I've become accustomed to this place. I've been in this barricade longer than I was in the Capitol, you realize."

He's been there long enough that it almost feels like home. Not exactly, but in a sense. Shaking his head, he takes the wine bottle in hand and fidgets with it for several silent seconds before drinking.

"May I ask you something, my dear? I do not mean to overstep or intrude, but my curiosity has gotten the best of me." Courfeyrac drinks from the bottle, sets it down on the floor between them. "Does he know you love him? Have you told him?"

She has the bottle to her lips when she asks the question, and is in such a state of shock when she tips it back that she forgets to open her mouth, spilling the drink all down her chin and chest. "Oh!"

She quickly wipes up what she can, face flushing almost as dark as the wine.

"What, um." She takes a deep breath and sets the bottle aside. "What gave you that impression?"

Because to tell the truth, she doesn't even know she loves him. Initially, for some reason she now understands to be pure foolishness, she thought a few weeks in the Arena would give her time to figure it out, and instead it's just pulled the blood-soaked knot pumping away in her chest even tighter.

Immediately he regrets asking her. He was wrong to put her on the spot like that, he realizes, though he somehow manages not to wince when she spills the wine down her front. Helpfully, he offers her the corner of his sleeping bag to wipe herself with.

"You must forgive me, Venus. I've overstepped myself, I fear." His answer is, of course, a non-answer in itself. He doesn't have the heart to tell her that he's seen how she looks at Enjolras and recognizes that longing. He's seen that expression many times, directed at his friend and at other people. Sometimes that look has been cast his way. It's second nature to Courfeyrac to know it well. But if he knows it and she doesn't, then it is a problem. "Forget I said anything, my dear. Have some more cheese."

She wants to accept his gracious recall. She would love to just pass it off as Courfeyrac crossing boundaries that she has all her rights to deny. She would love to just not be flushing furiously at this moment, but she can feel the heat coming off her face, can feel the way she can't stop from blinking.

"Bit of an overstep." She holds up a hand in a 'little bit' gesture and then takes some more cheese. "But, ah. Enjolras is the person closest to me in this whole world, and he knows that. That's all I have to say about that."

She still has to play her part for the viewers. She can't just outright say that Enj has given her the 'not looking for a wife' rebuff, or that she's fine with being friends - not the least because she doesn't believe it herself anymore.

Edited 2014-02-28 06:40 (UTC)

Courfeyrac nods, though he isn't quite sure if he regrets asking or not. It was impolite to be so upfront about it, but he's certain that, in time, the truth will out. With Enjolras, it usually does.

"These circumstances make for strange bedfellows, do they not?" That is the expression, isn't it? "The pressure changes people. I should think it would put the world into a new perspective."

Maybe it's the wine in her throat, warming up the area beneath her collarbone. Maybe it's just wishful thinking that she could blame this on alcohol that's hardly had a chance to kick in yet. Regardless, she laughs.

"Careful with those puns, brother, you're going to turn into Joly on me." And she can only handle one Joly. Courfeyrac's competence has been a blessing in this Arena, a load off her mind when his companions are Captain Overbite and his sheltered wife and a young man who melts into a puddle of terror at the sound of thunder. She's quickly come to see why, in spite of their many divergent traits and interests, Courfeyrac was one of Enjolras' two right-hand men.

"It's like being born again, in a way? I mean, maybe not for you, but for most of us - we come into this world, Panem, whatever, with nothing. We don't know anyone and half of us don't speak the language. It's not just pressure, it's...forced adaptation, I guess." She pops open the top of the lotion. "Smells like roses. Of course."

Courfeyrac scoots closer to her, inhaling the potent fragrance of the lotion as he nears.

"I do not know, sister, that it is an advantage to have the people you already love and admire here in this world alongside you. Perhaps it is a comfort in the Capitol, but here in the Arena..." It was hard to watch his friends die, one by one. He'd felt to helpless. He still feels helpless.

"I'm not saying it's an advantage. I don't..." She bites her tongue, thinking, then splurts some lotion out on her hands. "Come here, you're tense. You ain't relaxed your shoulders in what, a month? Anyway, it's different. That doesn't mean it's easier or harder. And either way we all end up either watching the people we love die, or dying first."

He obeys without any attempt to justify why his back is so tense. In truth, he's felt pent up like this since before he died, since before they'd been cornered in back in Paris. It's not easy to relax, he's so used to being on edge, but he'll do his damnedest.

"So, in a sense, the Arena is life, is it not? We must all watch our loved ones die or know that we will die before they do." He looks over his shoulder at her.

"Life in fast-motion, maybe." She pauses, thinking that if that's a film word, Courfeyrac may not get her meaning. "Compressed. Lots of little lives instead of one long one. Or almost-long one."

She undoes the top two buttons on his pajama shirt and pulls the shoulders of the top down, so she can access his body more, and starts to slowly work her thumbs across the tight muscle around his upper spine.

"But I don't think Enjolras or I would have ever paid any attention to each other if we weren't forced into this."

He can't help it, he squirms under her touch. It's been ages since he's relaxed. Even sneaking around with Cindy had served to make him more frustrated and anxious than anything else.

"So that is how you two became close?" He asks, raising an eyebrow which she cannot see at the moment. "How odd."

"Just lean back. I got you." This is one of the things Venus is good at. She takes her hand from his neck and grabs the bottle of wine, swallowing another bitter mouthful, before she returns to her gentle but firm work.

"Oh, it gets odder. I killed him in my first Arena. I thought I was doing him a favor, getting him back to the Capitol, but obviously he didn't see it the same way."

He laughs, though it turns into a rather undignified groan a second later. "You killed him and he forgave you. Yes, I agree, that is quite odd."

This development only serves to intrigue him further. It isn't something he'd expected from his friend. Enjolras could be severe and unforgiving. Unrelenting, yes, that word works nicely. The idea of him not only forgiving Venus, but then becoming entangled with her is a new and novel one. It shows a great change in Courfeyrac's friend.

"And how long ago was that?"

She'd snort at the noises he's making, but she's been trying to do that less in this Arena, since her mangled sinuses have a tendency to spray blood when she breathes out them too hard. It's one of the less dignified elements of her injury.

"Eight months, maybe? Nine?" She frowns a bit, rolling her thumb. "And then we fought about it for so long I think we forgot what we were fighting about. I think emotions were running a teensy-bit high all around."

"Yes, well. I suppose one should expect that." He eases back against her hands, grateful beyond words for what she is doing. "It isn't easy to be here, nor is it easy to accept that you might feel an affinity toward someone." This time, however, he isn't even talking about Enjolras and Venus so much as he is speaking about himself.

She pauses to shove the rest of the cheese into her mouth, using the time spent chewing as an opportunity to think.

"Especially for you Frenchmen, I suppose? I swear you're the only one of your collective I've met so far who hasn't turned into a drooling idiot in some way or another around women."

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