Hair done, nails done, everything did

[molotov]

Who| Molotov Cocktease and you?????
What| Just a touch of R&R and maybe also some bloodthirst. They go hand-in-hand.
Where| Glamor Nail
When| Week 2, Day 4
Warnings/Notes| Drinking, lookin' fly, copious nail polish fumes that can be annoying

Molotov was actually... marginally disappointed. So far, the only real violence she'd seen was at the Cornucopia, with the explosions -- everything else seemed fairly tame. Maybe it had to do with everyone hiding all the time, making nests in their various little corners of the mall until they were forced to actually fight.

But she didn't want to start a war while she was so severely outnumbered. She'd heard about a few injuries starting to occur, and she figured that would start knocking down the numbers soon enough. There were things to occupy the time, of course -- hoarding supplies (she'd had to upgrade from a backpack to a duffel after the sponsor gifts started rolling in), hoarding food from the daily frenzy in the food court, threatening everyone who got close to her. She was still on the hunt for a pair of thigh-high red boots, but she was making do with a few pairs of black heels for now.

By now, she's managed to pick out the stores that garner the least amount of attention, mostly because they don't have real supplies in them, only bric-a-brac useless for fighting. But that didn't make the stores completely worthless, now did it?

Blaires Accessories turned out to hold a wealth of flashy jewelry, Molotov's favorite kind, and she picked up some massive gold heart-shaped hoop earrings and a bunch of rings. There were hairbrushes and decorative hair bits, and she commandeered a mirror to tie her hair up in a black scarf with red hearts. Some off-brand red lipstick and black eyeliner (both spot tested on the back of her hand for potential skin-burning effects) helped her feel like she wasn't an uncivilized cavewoman.

Next door, though, was what she really wanted.

Glamor Nails may reek of chemicals, but Molotov is a vain woman, and the scent of nail shops is nothing foreign to her. She takes her time painting her nails red, but her real goal lies toward the back of the shop, in the big leather chairs attached to the foot baths. She's not aiming for a pedicure so she doesn't fill the basin, but when she finally drops her kit bag next to her and leans back in the chair, it's with a low groan and an almost orgasmic, "Oh."

The massage on these things is powerful as hell, which is good because Molotov has enough tension for five people in her back, and she's got bottles of gin to aid in this relaxation. So now she sits in the nail salon, nearly melted in her chair, with alcohol and a boxed salad from lunch on her lap.

Now this... this is a death arena that Molotov can get used to.

Comments

[molotov]

Molotov laughs meanly, and fires at Eponine's kneecaps. "I already said that this isn't the forgiveness games, you thieving whore, and if it was, you would hardly be winning. Tell me, is it painful to be so stupid? In an arena where supplies and food are hardly in short supply, you try to steal from me? Maybe you should have brushed up on your Tributes."

[gardienne]

Eponine screams again as her kneecaps shatter, and she falls to the floor, unable to stand. Tears trickle down her cheek, burning her scar, and making her screams all the louder.

"Please - please, Orc died! I'm sorry! I'm sorry. I am so hungry. Please, he died to save me. Don't let him die for nothing." She gabbles, desperately.

[molotov]

There's another laugh as Molotov advances on her, hips swinging as she walks.

"You'll come back," she taunts, waving her hand, "so do not think I am giving in to your pitiful bullshit tears. Why would I save a nasty little thief anyway? So you can backstab me later on, when it means more?"

Once she's within range, she presses the barrel back to Eponine's forehead, between the eyes, and leans down. "From what I hear, you didn't even love him," she murmurs, her voice silk wrapping around the barbed wire of her words. "He died for nothing, and now, so will you. And I will make sure that everyone knows exactly why you are dead, you human trashbin. Everyone will know that you have no dignity. No class. And no place in your shitty little void of a heart for a boy who died, really died, to save your life."

And that's when she fires the fourth bullet, a clean shot that's aimed to head directly through Eponine's brain.

[gardienne]

"I'm not- I wouldn't - please!" Eponine tries to scoot back as Molotov approaches, but it's in vain. Her hand's bleeding quite heavily, staining her front, and she shrieks again.

But Molotov's words calm her - or no, not calm, but focus her distress into anger.
"You might call me as you wish, whores and trashcans and the rest -" she spits at Molotov. "But you hear wrong. You shan 't tell no one nothing. I l-"

The bullet to her brain kills her instantly, and Eponine slumps back, hitting a table of nail varnish supplies as she dies.

[molotov]

Molotov can't help but to smile, almost serenely, as she watches Eponine bleed from the hole in her head. She gazes at her handiwork for a moment, then returns to her kit bag, turning up one of the cheap red lipsticks she'd taken from the accessory store.

Strolling back over to Eponine, she hums happily as she kneels at the corpse's side, calmly using the makeup to write THIEF across the girl's forehead. She uses a knife to cut open the corset and ice skating outfit, baring the still sternum but leaving her covered to each side, reminiscent of Molotov's own catsuit from home. There, across that white skin, she writes I NEVER LOVED HIM, and draws a broken heart underneath it. Closing the lipstick tube, she tucks it in the waistband of the bloomers.

She takes the time to use some gauze from her first aid kit to stem the bleeding of Eponine's knees and hand -- no use in further bloodying this little oasis. That's when she drags Eponine out of the nail shop and next door, to the entranceway of the food court.

With rope she took from the sporting goods store, Molotov fashions a noose, loops around her prize's neck. Then she throws the rope over a rafter, between the words FOOD and COURT on the sign, and strings Eponine up for everyone to see. People have to know what they're up against.

And then Molotov heads back to her massage chair to finish her salad.

[hit_girl_mindy]

She was actually headed for the Food Court. She was foraging, and it didn't hurt to have something now that they'd added to their party. Dave and Donatello likely wouldn't stay, but Hotaru certainly was, so it wouldn't hurt to get something if they had it.

But huh. Had they added something to the sig...oh shit.

Well that escalated quickly. Mindy had her hand on the knife in case the person was around. She kept low to the ground, moving quickly, but looked for a place to inspect the body. Was this done to warn people, or to boast? Maybe both?

She looked up at the body and found, to her surprise, words written on...yes, that was Eponine. Thief. Idiot. Of course she would be stealing. She was still lacking skill, and so she was probably thinking like one of those French brats in the street, except they were probably good at stealing.

I never loved him. Well duh. Anyone with a brain knew that, though she imagined Eponine was saying otherwise. In any case, she was assuming that thief was directed toward a person and not the court itself, so off she went again. Damn, was she curious who'd done this though. It was so brutal, so candid.

God, she missed the old days sometimes. Why couldn't people here just be evil assholes? It would make things so much easier.