thearena | ARENA 10-Placid Hollow

ARENA 10-Placid Hollow

The Tributes are taken early in the morning, most of their support teams seeming in good cheer as they dress them in warm clothes, getting them to their tubes. There is obvious comfort in the familiar for the prep teams, and they chatter with, or in some cases, over the heads of their Tributes as they get them ready and load them up.

20

19

18…

If the Tributes could see the area they are passed up into, they would see a deeply overgrown, dilapidated town green, with a large bandstand rotting away in the middle. The spoils of the cornucopia are not gathered in one spot, instead scattered throughout the thigh high grass and weeds around the town green.

Around the edge of the green, the old business stand a silent sentry, looming out of the fog as it thins and winds into them, providing much desired cover.

8

7

6…

But the Tributes cannot see the ground around them. The fog, thicker even than it will be in the rest of the arena, makes the world small around them. The sound of the count down echoes strangely, the tributes seeming too close as the fog brings sounds of their breath, their coughing, the snap of twigs under their feet right to ears of the other Tributes. But with the fog bringing visibility down to only a few feet, it's hard to tell what is a true danger, and what is only the fog playing tricks on them,.

3

2

1

The gong rings out, and the countdown's voice announces "the Arena is now open". The Games have begun.

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"I don't think you'll be coming across as Mr. Squeaky Clean after that shot of you in Enj's exposé, but hey, the Capitol's pretty open with all sorts of sex stuff." There isn't any judgment in Venus' voice or heart; to tell the truth, even before Joly had told her about the arrangement with Bossuet and Musichetta, she'd suspected he had those affinities. She's only been pleased that she hasn't seen anyone holding it against him. It had been a concern for her, given the time period their mutual friends all came from, but apparently it hadn't surprised any of them either.

She shudders again. "I don't want to think about it having a horde of smaller ones. Or, God forbid, babies. Something about them being small and plentiful makes it so much worse."

It tugs at some net of fear beneath her, capturing all her rational thoughts, pulling them down into the senselessness of panic inside her...

She nods as she heads into the bathroom of the shop, eyes checking the ceiling for any stragglers. "Patch me up and then we'll figure that out together." Even if it's just sending up a signal flare of sorts and killing any stranger who approaches. It's an efficient approach, although not one she imagines many of her comrades falling behind.

She starts the sink, hoping the water is clean as she runs her arm under the lukewarm output.

"My dear lady, morality and cleanliness must not be automatically exclusive." Joly answers, waving the comment off with a bit of a smile on his face. "Or rather, they represent a different brand of cleanliness. Perhaps the first is the sort that they consider closer to the spiritual, but that seems all the more reason such a platform as that may work."

There's a little smirk on his face, in spite of everything else, as the possibilities occur. "Why, one never knows. If I can manage to stay safe by following some simple guidelines and making sure to use my product." God help him, he sounds just like an advertisement. "Why, think of what debauchery I may help good citizens accomplish. So long as no hearts are broken as the result of course." He adds, a bit serious for a moment there. While there is a lot of room for leeways and sexual adventures, the idea of someone being hurt because of them is one Joly has never been able to face so well.

"Ugh, babies are an awful thought." One never knows where they might GO, after all. "But the smaller they are, the more likely to respond to other common methods to be rid of them I'd assume. And I saw nothing in the back there to suggest a nest of any sort at least. Besides, they will need to save some of them for everyone else."

So saying, he's following as well, scanning the corners of the room in another search for any stragglers before he's gathering a scrap of cloth to help with dabbing at the injuries to clean them out a bit.

"I am sorry to say that I think this may actually hurt a bit."

"I think that's a more forward viewpoint than some people in my time, you know." She raises her eyebrows a bit, thinking that while he's got a good spin for his hand sanitizer product, it would probably work better if he didn't have that persistent, choking cough. "I think you'd be too sweet to be a heartbreaker, honestly. I can't imagine you saying something cruel to anyone, really."

Which is a rare trait, even amongst the people Venus cares for most.

"Somehow I think I'll survive it." She gives him her best game smile, well aware that it's far from as gruesome as the injury she had when they first met. She doesn't even wince as he begins to wipe the last of the acid away, although her arms tense slightly, and her breath hitches for a moment as he dabs away at the raw flesh near her collarbone.

"Perhaps more forward than many at home, even." Joly allowed. "Not all of course, we do have our Romantics among us. Grand, stirring epics, excesses of feeling spilling everywhere, combated by, well, not so much, though I think the church would like it if they could."

As far as heartbreaking, no. Joly could never be that type, even if he really tried to.

"Heartbreaking? No, I have too much affection for those that I adore for that. Instead of that, perhaps adding new friends in the equation, as a way for all to benefit." Hey, it had worked once in that direction, after all.

"Oh, rather likely." He agrees, returning that smile. "I will be sure to alert you of course if it's caused you to..." he's pausing, trying to consider the most ridiculous possibility he can, only here, in the arena, maybe joking about those things is not to be, since it can be made to happen rather quickly.

"Well, I will let you know, at least." He promises, setting to work quite carefully, slowing at the hitch in her breath. "Easy. Nearly there."

"You just have so much love to give. You're full of surprises." She reaches over and rests her hand on his cheek, a gesture that would be a little too intimate if not for the nature of Arenas pulling people close. It's far from the professional relation of doctor and patient.

"Don't jinx it," she says with a bit of a smile, trying to reassure Joly while reading his very evident concerns. She closes her eyes as he works, as the pain freshens when new raw flesh is hit by air and then deadens from the cleanliness. "There's duct tape in the back to patch me up. I saw it."

"Am I so surprising, Mademoiselle?" Joly asks, smirking for a second at Venus. If he thought there was a nearby camera, he would probably wink at it. "Love, it's said, should have no limits or earthly bounds. I am not QUITE so good at it as others, but I make a reasonable attempt, I think."

The cheek touching is a surprise, and rather lovely, and for a moment, Joly lets himself rest against her hand. Not professional indeed, but well, the Arena has its way of overstepping traditional boundaries.

"You ARE probably right. I dare not say that you will sprout wings and the power of flight or any such thing. I would lend you a set of mine if I could do so, but somehow I doubt that I could spare them." Has he explained his friends' joke about his name? He's hardly certain anymore.

"Ah ducttape. One of the fine marvels that technology has brought about. I shall go and fetch it then, and we'll soon have you mopped up."

"Always," she says, matching his smirk with a grin, this one genuine and not just a front to pretend that the fresh air against her stripped flesh isn't painful. "And you're starting to sound like Marius now."

She saw that Musichetta came during the family event. She hasn't spoken of that, and won't. If he wanted to say something, then he would have.

"Your wings?" He hasn't explained it. She wonders for a moment if it has to do with the pun about Enj, but he's gone and grabbing the duct tape before he answers. She follows him back out to the storefront.

"Am I?" Oh perish the thought if that were serious. As it is, Joly can't help but laugh a little as he's grabbing the ducttape at hand.

"I WAS rather hoping to channel my poor lovestruck friend. I think I need a bit more vacancy in my expression, but his vacant and my terrified are rather close in looks, really."

He does, in a way, but it also is not as if he knows exactly what he wants to say about that now. That he had missed her, and missed her still more, though he is glad that she was able to escape this world before she could be caught up it in it and harmed, that he had hated telling her the details of this world, but that she had noticed every time he'd tried to hold something back, that Bossuet was not with her because he was dead, at home, as Joly was supposed to be. It was all a lot of information he still wished to process before speaking on it, so he held back for now, though likely not forever.

"Ah yes, my ailes, what they call "wings" in English, sound remarkably like to 'l's, you see. One night not long after all nine of us had started meeting, someone, Courfeyrac, I think remarked that if I had an extra l, I would be Jolly, and that it probably would fit me nicely. Not to be outdone by that, Jehan, our poet, wondered why we must stop there when I could become Jolllly and soar. And soar, I think I've managed, usually." He adds, now gesturing to the duct tape at hand. "Now, shall we see what can be cured with this?"

Edited 2014-06-20 05:18 (UTC)

"You need to do this with your teeth." Venus pulls her chin back so her front teeth are hanging over her lip, then, with a giggle, stops. "Sorry, that was really mean of me. We're being mean."

Although Marius does tend to invite it. Venus chews her tongue while Joly patches her up with the duct tape and some paper towels as bandages. Not the most sophisticated work, but good enough for now.

Her conclusion is evident on her face: the French are weird. "I think the humor must have gotten lost in translation."

Joly finds himself giggling a little too, because all of that put together, well, it IS a reasonable Marius imitation. "We really, really are." He can't help but snort anyway. "I do hope that is not footage he will see someday though." He admits, shaking his head a little. "Something about him HAS always invited it, but even so."

It's not the sort of thing he'd say to his FACE after all, unless he was extremely drunk, probably, because that seems to be a point when a lot of people lose their ability to be discreet about making fun of people. It does beg the question of just what the capitol can work with on the offchance Marius ever wins one of these arenas, and the thought is fairly horrifying, and fairly ridiculous at the same time, and if he looks a bit too amused while securing towels and tape to Venus, well, it's not actually because of the explanation of his name,which he does have to admit does not work quite as well in English, or well...

"You may have had to be there, really." He concludes, shaking his head a little. It HAS gotten a few eyerolls before when he tried to explain it, so there's that. "Or to know some of our...odder friends." Granted, he IS fairly grateful that it seems to be the largely sane ones, with the possible exception of poor Marius, who have ended up here. There's the possibility for so much else to go bizarrely wrong where some of them are concerned.

"It's probably the fact that he needs the jokes explained to him, and then when they are he doesn't get angry, he just looks like a kicked puppy." Something about saying that makes her feel like a bully, as if she's picking on someone who is constitutionally incapable of defending himself. Then again, Marius did punch her boyfriend.

Joly finishes with her bandaging, and she straightens her shirt, then holds her arm out to admire his work.

"Oh? I only saw the ugly guy during Enjolras', during his, ah, his television special. I was kind of surprised, honestly, the rest of you are all so good-looking that I assumed there was some sort of rope line outside your little cafe."

"He does, actually." Joly admits, sounding a little fond if that were possible. "I do worry about Marius, actually. In general, not just in the arena. It...feels as though he's Courfeyrac's very confused little brother sometimes. I've not quite worked out how to approach him beyond that, I am afraid, though he HAS had his moments of courage, as...unique as they are."

That seems to be the best way to describe him in general really, especially that moment on the barricades when Marius near blew them sky high. He wonders, really, even now, whether or not he would have done it, given the chance, but maybe Joly does not really want to know that after all.

"Ah yes, Grantaire. He's quite good company, actually. Bossuet and I spend time with him more than the others. I sometimes suspect that he came with the cafe itself, and just sort of stayed on after we arrived." It still seems likely enough, somehow.

"He seems like one of those fundamentally good people whose brains are a bit...potato-like." Wow, even Venus cringes saying that one out loud, as true as it is. "Very sweet, but just...not all the way there upstairs. Anyway. Grantaire."

She locks up the front, shoving a rack of shoes in front of the door.

"What's his deal?" Venus is good enough at reading faces that she definitely picked up on a little disdain in Enjolras' face, moreso than he occasionally directs at Courfeyrac and Joly and Marius (well, maybe not more than Marius). "Aside from being good company?"

"Potato-like." Joly mused, thoughtful now. "You know, I never would have thought about Marius as a vegetable, but if he WAS one, he'd have to be that, wouldn't he?" Poor Marius, though. It must be sad to be the potato of the group. Sure, you were a staple, but you were sort of boring at the same time. And just...bland. Predictable, usually.

He's moving to check out the windows, making sure no one can get in unless they're letting them.

"Grantaire's, good company, really." Joly couldn't help but grin a little, thinking of the man. "I've never met anyone who knew the city half so well as he does. If you ever needed a recommendation for dinner, coffee or dancing, or the best shoemaker, you need only ask. He's rather brilliant really, on almost any subject you could think of. All that said, it can be a little...hard to find beneath the protective layer of cynicism and alcohol. He and Enjolras are diametrically opposed so far as I can tell. Where Enjolras sees openings, Grantaire sees closings and so on and so forth. It is all rather sad."

"You can make a battery out of a potato, you know."

She shoves another shelf against the window and sits down, looking over their new domain.

"I think most people miss that Enj is an optimist. It's like, his secret or something." Venus smiles in that way that isn't for cameras, that shows a little too much teeth and a little too much squint, in that genuine way that makes it painfully obvious how in love she is. If she were aware of it, she'd be embarrassed. "I'd say I don't know how cynical makes good company, but it sometimes does. For his sake I hope I never meet Grantaire, but I won't be sad for my sake if I do."

"Really?" Okay, Joly looks pretty interested in that, though whether that has to do with actual potatoes or if he's thinking about some joke about Marius, it's very hard to say. Well, for a moment. Then the grin appearing on his face is probably something very like a warning.

"Well, I must admit I am a little shocked by that. Electricity itself, the ways that it is used continue phasing me a bit. But given a bit more time to understand, I am certain I conduit."

They roll off just like that, even as Joly finds a little crack in their window and tears off a quick strip of tape to seal it.

"He hides it very well, and most of the time, it actually has to be parsed out of whatever he happens to be saying, or doing." That smile and the whole LOOK right now definitely makes Joly want to smile himself. Enjolras has done extremely well, he decides, particularly because of how well Venus understands him. Both of them could use a bit more happiness, he thinks, which does not necessarily bode well when thinking of Grantaire, but, then again, the moment could be worse.

"He has that sort of humor where if you had a bad day, it can be refreshing, hearing him beat down everything in sight. Admittedly, there are those times that he vanishes entirely too far in himself, extends his metaphors too far, or gets caught up in them, or simply veers toward depressing, but overall, Grantaire is a good fellow. I dare say that it WOULD be bad for Enjolras, but for the rest of us...I cannot think that it would end so badly."

"Wow." She rolls her eyes, but laughs. "Wow, that was terrible. I mean, it started bad, but then it got terrible. I think you're reaching a new low for awful, awful puns."

She stretches her legs and straightens her shirt over the duct taped injuries. She leans her head forward, letting her hair dangle, the humidity curling the ends up around her chin.

"Oh, I meant for Grantaire's sake. To not be caught up in this could be a mercy."

"The spark of inspiration is growing a little thin." Joly had to agree, throwing that one in there anyway, because it was reasonable enough to end the puns on something of a high, or very low note. "I continue to reach for it, but I am met with such resistance. I can only imagine how re-volted you must be just now."

Grinning rather wickedly, he's taking advantage of the lull to pull himself up onto one of the counters, letting his legs hang free and dangle over the edge.

"As much as I miss him, even as much as I miss Bossuet and Musichetta and the others, I have to agree with that. Everyone here, including you, already set me to fretting. At least this way I know that they are either home, or have managed to find peace in death. It is so much more comforting to think of that than hope to see them here to suffer. With Bossuet's luck, or Grantaire's lack of a bottle, I do not wish even to consider what an arena may be like."

"Revolted. That's one word for it." The smile she gives him indicates that she's nowhere close to such a negative emotion. 'Endeared' is likely the proper adjective. She wonders if he can usurp his reputation as the hypochondriac with that of the punster in the Capitol's eye - surely there's some children's show out there in need of a jester.

And yet it's with serene seriousness that she addresses him again. "You don't need to worry about me, Joly. If I die here, I'm set free. If I suffer, I feel like I'm paying penance for the things I did as a kid. No matter how it goes for me, I win."

Self-hatred lends itself to the most perverse forms of optimism. The human mind polishes even the ugliest emotions to shining in order to cope.

Joly just grins back in return, glad, at least, that this time around, he's managing to be relatively calm enough so early into the game. It makes a change from last time's full on panic anyway. And as for reputation, why not both? It's not as though they had been separate things in Paris. Making that the reputation people thought of first though, that would make for a nice change.

He's not sure he can entirely accept her assessment there, entirely. Dying and being set free, yes, all right, that would be rather welcome if it could be managed. Penance, though, is another matter.

"I do not think that anyone could do something so awful for this to be their cosmic penance." he muses, a frown spreading across his face. "Theology is not my strong suit but I cannot imagine any god condoning this as an acceptable form of anything."

"Well, you've seen the TV special on me. Even if you don't agree, I'm sure you understand where I'm coming from." For that moment, her tone gets somber, and she isn't unlike a candle guttering in its own wax. And then the mood disappears, buried like a footprint under snow. "I'm surprised you didn't have a priest in your collective."

She gets back up. "Do you want to rest first or should I?"

"I do, actually. Understand I mean." Joly adds quickly, lest Venus think otherwise and that he actually believes any of that trash. "I...we all have our things from home we are not proud of, I think. I certainly have a few."

He's not sure whether spilling them for all of Panem is a good idea, particularly when he speaks of things even his friends, even ENJOLRAS do not know of.But for now, well, better to keep it quiet.

"At times I wonder. Enjolras was quite a priest in his own way, just one of the ideal, of the republic, instead of anything else. And well, we had our poet. Even though he was more Romantic than a priest has any right to be, Jehan seemed, at times, to be touching the divine.

I should be fine to watch for now." He adds, not wanting to make Venus stay awake after what just happened, and really, a bit too keyed up to sleep, considering.

"Somehow I doubt that." She grins, imagining that the trouble he gets into at home is relegated to the more enjoyable, mutually satisfactory forms of debauchery she saw on the television, that he's told her about with a surprisingly laissez-faire attitude.

But she wonders, perhaps. She's assumed that people look at her and see the friendly exterior, the warm smile, and not the wounds. She wonders if she's as certain of what people see of her as she thinks she is.

Perhaps the same is true of him.

"Wake me up as soon as you're tired. There's nothing worse than a sleepy guard."

"Oh, not in the neighborhood of..." Joly's not even sure how to put it, entirely. He would tell Venus actually, but at some other point. His deepest darkest secrets, the ones that only another doctor, or another doctor who has worked under combat anyway, might understand, are not those that he wants to give to an entire nation. "Well, it is not for here, at least." He adds, though a part of him does want Venus to know. "Someday." he promises. "When cameras aren't there to catch it."

And no, in Venus, there is much more than that. The first glimpse shows all of those things maybe, but as time has gone on, there's been much more to it than that.

For now, he is smiling, and nodding.

"Of course I will. I am so glad we've found each other here, you know. I could not chance that for anything."

She, of all people, may understand best the importance of things that need to be hidden from cameras. Things that need to be defended at all costs from the prying eyes of the uninitiated, the people who won't understand. So she nods and understands that that trust is a gift, and when he gives her his secrets she'll respect the gravity of them.

"Me too." She grabs a tablecloth, moth-eaten as it is, to make a sort of bed from. And she lays down, wondering what things will emerge from the mists to ally with or threaten them.

Re: Venus and Joly [Closed]

medecin - 2014-07-07 02:24 (UTC) - Expand

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