thearena | My Unstable Ways is My Solution [OPEN]

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My Unstable Ways is My Solution [OPEN]

WHO| Venus Dee Milo and Pansy Parkinson, Venus Dee Milo and open
WHAT| Venus kills Pansy with a hair dryer and hangs out making her hair pretty.
WHERE| One of the salons.
WHEN| Week 2
WARNINGS| Death, mentions of torture.

Venus hasn't slept. What few snatches she's got have been interrupted with strange figures, with shadows that leave chills in their wake. It's been two weeks since she last had a dose of her medication and the booster shot is wearing off; given that she can't have Sponsors, Azula hasn't been able to provide her with anything to take the edge off, either. When she lies still on her bed of stolen clothing and a sleeping bag from the sporting goods store, she feels as if there's layer between her and her skin, and little electrical impulses and miniature rodents run along inside it.

She refuses to see Kankri on his terms. Instead, she visits him once a day. She doesn't want to snap at him when he invariably fusses over the brand on her face or the burns on her hands from the fryer oil. That means she's been spending most of the Arena alone and in silence, at least, if you don't count the endless Sleigh Ride loop.

Her feet are swollen from running barefoot on splinters of glass for the last two weeks. As she sits up in the salon today, she doesn't particularly feel the urge to go hunting for people, to grapple with the part of her that's evolved beyond a ruthless killer, that doesn't sit well with tracking people down and beating their brains out with household objects.

So instead she unbraids her hair and uses a flat iron, and turns up the radio next to the hair stylist's dock. Mercifully, the little radios are programmed to something besides Sleigh Ride. Were she not someone who could take care of herself in a fight, it might be stupid to make noise that announces her whereabouts.

Once upon a time she had a recording contract. Her voice is rougher now, older, but she sings along. She turns up the radio as loud as it'll get, blasting that some goddamn top forty song, and waits for her enemies to come to her.

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In a way, a silly sort of style might be fun at some point, but for now, Joly is humming in assent there, glad to have an intricate focus to keep his mind on things. When you've spent a lot of time in the FunCenter, not having fun, but listening to demonic laughter from games and the animatronic horrors, the more you have to focus on, the better.

"I am not sure, actually." He admits, frowning thoughtfully as his fingers deftly work a bead into her hair. "That is, not in the same sort of way. I would not wish to extend life beyond someone's own wishes, or to perform the sort of cosmetic surgery that is done purely for that purpose. That is, I would hardly give someone wings simply because they wish to have them. It is so...unnatural, somehow.

I would happily perform surgeries that corrected injuries or accidents of birth that a patient wished corrected, though. Peeta, our mentor, has lost a leg and had it replaced. I would like to do that sort of work, to offer people who wished to be as they were, or to have a life made easier by being placed on a level closer to their peers, and to relieve pain and suffering. If being a doctor here required being able to perform re-makes, just for the purposes of remaking someone...I do not know that I could. There is nursing now, or being the first to respond to a situation where someone is badly injured, to keep them alive until a doctor is able to help. I could slip into one of those quite easily as well."

At that, Joly wants to frown, mostly because Venus never lets herself do things like that where she might be seen. It makes him wonder, and worry, what must be happening to her, and if she will be all right here for much longer without treatment. Though that is just for a moment, until she speaks again.

"I think that would be wonderful. It would be good for you to see that you are smarter than you think, and that you could have the chance. You are most deserving of that."

She often wonders where pureheartedness comes from. When she was a child, she was inculcated with the belief that no heart was pure until it was a throne for God, that something (someone) external would descend from on high and place the seeds of goodness like a diligent farmer. She stopped believing in God a long time ago.

Perhaps, she realizes, it's more important to believe that goodness is innate, that Joly is one of those souls born looking for cracks to bloom from. That perhaps she, too, just hasn't found her cracks yet.

She can't explain how beautiful and inspiring she finds her friend.

"I think you'd make a wonderful EMT." Her eyes flick open to see the blue beads in her periphery, then closes here eyes again. "You might have already saved my life more than once. And I think- sometimes I think I'm not as stupid as I call myself."

Venus is certainly not stupid, and definitely not so stupid as she seems to think, so hearing that makes Joly smile, not at the compliment to himself, but at her realization there. Goodness, and strength both come out sometimes, in different ways, and really, when it comes down to it, it is the same with intelligence.

There's something about understanding the world that counts a bit more, in some settings than knowing facts, though both sorts of intelligence, are more than welcome, and appreciated. And seeing one who understands the world, and that it is not so good, but who does their part to make things right anyway, like Venus does, well, it is an honor to be among them, if nothing else, and Joly is particularly happy he has had the chance.

There is good that can be found in nearly any situation, yes, but it is sometimes in the details, rather than the entire picture. A cause, a world, or a person can be good, even if they hold dark secrets. One does not, after all, have to turn into a saint of any kind, and he would contend that many of the saints had their weaknesses too. And the details of Venus, herself, are shining through, illuminating the darkness of many awful places. She's brought him hope, and trust, and seeing her brings all of those things back, even when things are the hardest.

"Good." He's smiling, slipping another bead through and continuing twisting the strand he's working with.

"I think that is perfectly true. It can be hard to see through those things which bother us, and past weaknesses, but challenging those...hangups?" He thinks that is the word at least. "Challenging those hangups help us grow, I'd say. I am glad that you are able to do that."

"Slip just one red bead in. Like a highlight." Something about Venus these days abhors uniformity, and that extends to the idea of her decorations being all cut from the same palette. There's something about that level of polish and perfection that makes her recoil, something in her that pulls itself towards things that are unresolved, broken-up.

"I've grown so much since getting here, Joly. No one ever tells you that becoming a better person is so rough, you know?" And Lord knows she's been trying. She thinks of baby chickens hatching wet, gangly bodies out of cramped eggshells, the awkward positions the must have to work themselves out of, the work of it. She thinks of the scrape of chisels against marble as statues are wrought. To make anything means effort and damage and pain, an in-between stage that does no one any favors.

"I wonder if there's an end stage to growing. Or if that's just death." The completion of one's potential.

"Ooh I like that. Subtle, but juust enough that it should drive some stylists crazy."

There's something so insidiously amazing in that that even though Joly tends to think his stylists are insane maybe only half the time, he finds it amusing as Hell. And, the spitting in the face of the standards as they are in general. It seems pretty fitting that it's Venus taking the lead when it comes to things like that too. Not playing along nicely anymore, is she? He loves that. And he is promptly choosing said bead to do just that.

"That they do not." He has to agree there. "I suppose not everyone becomes one in the end, so that very few of them actually would know. Those who manage it seem to be...fairly few and far between." It's a truth he's had to acknowledge several times over, with the other medical students in Paris, with childhood friends, even with Republican friends who he found cared more about the lip service of caring than actually getting involved in it before he'd found his way to l'ABC.

Every step along the way, it's, well, he thinks that the expression 'sucked' is apt here, as a metaphor as well as a general descriptor. There is something of one's faith that gets sucked away with every encounter along those lines, as you learn a little more that the world is incredibly difficult and takes so very much effort, and getting caught, and working yourself into and out of things, that it can be hard sometimes, incredibly tiring.

"I certainly do not think there is an end to learning, so perhaps growing goes along with that." He muses, fingers slipping over to start on a new section of hair, "There is a comfort in getting closer to becoming someone we can live with, but maybe it is good that we do not get too complacent in ourselves and our worth as people. It keeps things fresh, I think. Though sometimes it is so tiring."

"A lot of them are super obsessed with symmetry. It's kind of creepy. I'm lucky, Claudia's kind of got a kitchen-sink approach to fashion."

Venus presumes two potential interpretations of Joly's comment, both of which make her anomalous. Either she's one of the lucky few people who improve beyond their initial human capacity, or she's one of the unfortunate few playing catchup to the baseline. Where once she may have gravitated instantly to the latter, now she holds herself in equilibrium in choosing between the two. She wonders if she would have if she didn't have people like Joly in her life.

"I'm trying to think of it as like, exercising my soul. Hoping to get that endorphin rush at the end. Did the doctors here tell you about endorphins?" Her eyelashes catch his hand for a moment as she blinks when he beads a front lock.

Joly could agree with that one, certainly, and as it came to Claudia, well, he'd seen enough of her work to have SOME opinion. "I do think there are things that no one but Claudia could manage." He considered, thinking of the possibilities therein. Sheep, maybe? Sheep were in, weren't they?

Well, that is somewhat of the idea, but perhaps, instead, it is also that Venus has only had the chance to realize that capacity in here. It can happen that way, he is fairly sure.

"I've read a bit about them. I must say that it makes a lot of sense." He's pausing then, with those lashes, staying there a moment and studying her. "Soul excercise. I think we can use them from time to time."

"Maybe things no one but Claudia would even try to manage." It's a bit of a backhanded compliment, but Claudia's done her no good since she was branded, acting as if the great tragedy was the extra work of trying to match textures of fabrics to Venus' mutilated flesh. Venus is short on patience for her Stylist lately.

Short on patience for most people, honestly, except for Joly and Albert and Kankri. It's a small, small world of people.

"Did your cough stop you exercising when you were a kid?"

"True. She seems to have a...well, unique approach to things. Daring, even."

Joly could admire daring things, from a distance. Having to wear something like...a lawn chair seat hat and shirt made entirely of paper plates with dinosaur earrings on the other hand? He was glad he managed to avoid that.

Matching fabrics to her flesh though? Christ that's morbid. Emphasizing differences in structure is one thing, if Venus wants to do it, but anything else to call attention to it? Disgusting. Better to talk about that instead.

"It did, a bit." He winces a little, in memory. "Well, not so much in the summers, and it was warmer, where I grew up, so that helped, but it DID make things...quite difficult at times. Chasing kittens and siblings around the vineyards...I never did manage to win those games, and usually could be found out by my coughing when I tried to hide." Sad, but true. Well, kind of funny now.

"Unorthodox. Singular." Venus smirks a bit as Joly works his way through another row of beads, thinking herself a thesaurus for damning praise for Claudia. "Unparalleled."

She listens, wincing at the same time as he does even without seeing him do so. It's empathy that extends beyond words, the two of them in tandem on plane that moves like a trampoline under force.

"I was the best at childhood games. I guess I've always been a little bit competitive? Like, not intentionally, but..." She shrugs while not moving her head even an inch. "Hard to believe I was once a spritely little thing, huh?"

Joly giggles, actually giggles by the time Venus gets to 'singular' "She walks the fine line between astonishing and threadful." he manages, finishing up a twist, then holding a mirror so Venus can get a look at the beaded twists on one side of her hair.
"Of course, I do not mean to be insulting if I might skirt around looking that way. It seams as though I might be far too critical. It might have spun too far ahead."

They are, rather. Sometimes Joly suspects that they've been breathing in the same pattern ever since his first arena, and there is no real way of stepping back. They are simply there, part of each other, and maybe that is the best thing of all in this.

He does laugh at the description though.

"Competitive? You? Oh perish the thought, my dear."

No, he can certainly see that, and his smile is bright as he glances at her a moment.

"A Venus Victrix, as the Romans would have put it when given their ovations and their crowns of myrtle. That particular namesake did grant and appreciate victories. Competition feels rather a large part of that."

Venus is glad that Joly's done putting the beads in her hair, because she has a hard time keeping her head still as she laughs. Each pun, it seems, is an extra push of air in the syringe, pushing her mood a little higher.

"I think that's a pretty fitting description of her. Tailor-made, almost." She calms her laugh into a a giggle and absentmindedly picks at her cuticle, a drowsy smile on her face as she examines herself in the mirror. Her eyes move around rather than through the brand, as if it's not something to see but a light too bright to focus on, brighter and more painful to see than the sun.

"You know, when I first got here, I thought it was just the name of a statue? I didn't realize she was a Greek goddess. Or, I mean, Roman goddess." She gently fingers the beads. "It's beautiful, Joly. I'll keep them in all Arena."

And Joly is rather glad too, considering his fingers would have started shaking when he joined in laughing, and they would have soon had beads scattered everywhere. Actually, come to that, beads would make a decent deterrent to any would be attackers. Anyone who entered too fast would end up falling on their arses before getting very far, and by that point, well, the aftermath is actually very clear.

He snorts at the commentary there, grinning as Venus fires those off. Brand or no, she is still Venus, and he is grateful to whatever providence exists that they did not manage to beat her down to the point of breaking. Obviously, her life must be different, and difficult now, because of that,but she is still much the same Venus, his Venus, in every way that matters.

"Did you, then? I suppose not many stories of the older gods make their way around a modern world. Even in my own, they were not much spoken of after we had become enlightened. That all said, you are still my favorite Venus of them all."

Then Joly is grinning at the praise, and taking in the full effect. "They suit you. But if you wish to change before we've gotten out of here, you have only to ask, of course. I would be more than happy to oblige."

Working with his hands to keep from going crazy, and finding, and adding to the things of beauty, even in an arena as tacky as this has proved, have, after all, been a great balm for him as well.

"Wait until I introduce you to the tennis player. I may end up with competition."

She gets up and takes his face in her hands, looking into those sea-colored eyes before planting a kiss on his forehead. It's the only way she knows how to express gratitude for him right now. No combination of words would create enough sounds to encase this feeling.

She loves him as the brother she wishes she had, and not for the first time she wonders what would have become of her own siblings had they not died in her youth. There is truth to the notion that family isn't determined biologically. He is closer to her than her own flesh wrapped around her bones.

She leaves a little trace of icy pink lipgloss on his forehead.

"Oh, we can make this a thing? In that case I want a new set of beads every three days, and I can shave you that often, too. Then we'll both be wandering around this Arena looking stylish." Not beautiful, never beautiful when her traitor's brand is there across her face like char on a lightning-struck tree, but stylish. And together as friends.

"More popular a name than I had thought, then. Still." Joly can't help but grinning fondly at her. "I think it would sway back to you. One might say I am without your orbit, if I may."

And he's reaching across to hug her tightly after that kiss, before returning the gesture, as he would with Courfeyrac, or Combeferre, or many of the others. Those not Enjolras, at least. It always seems odd to lavish any sort of physical affection there. With Venus, it is easy, for all that she has become to him.

A sister yes, a best friend from another world, a voice of sanity, when he needs it, and levity when he needs that, and well, that is rather how it all fits together. If there is ever a path back to home for either of them, he will miss her more than he can say.

For now, he is nodding, instead, as the moment passes. "That can easily be arranged, so long as we both are here. It only seems reasonable, really. As far as I can tell, one point of the mall experience is wandering around looking stylish with one's friends." At least from what he'd seen so far. "That IS the only way to go about this, I would think."

"Would you say I'm your shining star?" Venus places her hands on her knees and bats her eyelashes in a coquette's grin. Her teeth are whiter and her laughter lines deeper than her scar is disfiguring.

He kisses her as if he's blessing the ruins inside her head, the landscape ravaged by fire and lush with new growth. She gives him a squeeze around the waist, loath to let him go for fear he might vanish. She's turned her back too many times in the Arena and found bodies when she looked back around, faces in the sky or mannequins in the department stores.

"You're going to become a modern man, Joly. That's absolutely what the point of a mall is." She holds out her hand. "Shall we stroll?"

"There IS something about you that is incredibly endearing and becomes moreso rather quickly. Cosmosis, I think. As though the more time with you rather increases the odds of you becoming that. It improves, rather than mars my impressions of the night skies, so, yes, in a way, you certainly do meet the description." He's batting a few of his own long lashes back, because he has that ability and has practiced it a fair few times (don't ask what he and his boyfriend get up to that made this a skill he's learned. Just...you are all safer not knowing that).

If that were possible, then he would gladly do so, and issue that blessing straight away. And letting someone go, in one of these, particularly given that some of his friends have not returned from vanishing in the arenas is worrying now. It's hard to let go of anyone, knowing things like that.

"Ah, good. Moving up in the world," He accepts her hand with a exaggeratedly polite bow of his head, "is something I had hoped for. And yes, I would like that."

"I don't know enough about space to keep up with you on this one," she says, letting the end of the sentence get swallowed in a quiet giggle. She rises, her eyes tracking the swing of the beads in the corner of her vision. It's something miraculous, she thinks, to be found lovable by one so inherently lovable himself. She hopes it's that kind recognizes kind.

She gives his hand a squeeze. "Let's strut our stuff and get some lunch."

She intends, also, to keep him safe while they grab the daily buffet.

"Nor do I, at that." Joly's been to a few lectures; nearly everyone in Paris interested in matters of science has, but he is by far no expert, and he does not know very much about space beyond the fact that Zoidberg's home was somewhere there. "It may be better to stop while I am ahead."

He squeezes back and nods, then goes to grab the few things he's been dragging along, including the broken blades from his skates. He's lucky as well, to have her friendship, and the support that is getting him through all the worst of this.

Protection is nice, but even more important is the companionship, and he wants to pay that back as best he can. Perhaps he'll find his way, even if he intends to spill no more blood than needed.

"Good idea. I will watch your back if you watch mine." After all, he might as well at least attempt to do his share. "Perhaps we will get lucky and have a few moments of peace along the way."

Some things can allow for that, yes?

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My Unstable Ways is My Solution [OPEN]

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These Two! ;_;

Re: These Two! ;_;

(This is so late, I am sorry!)

Worth the wait, my dear!

Re: Worth the wait, my dear!

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/wrap here?

Sounds good!