thearena | Eponine's Suicide

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Eponine's Suicide - BACKDATED

Who? Eponine, Howard and Sigma at first, and then Wesker to help her on her way to Capitol heaven please
When At some point towards the end of the first week - late at night
Where In the crevice where she has been hiding out with Howard and Sigma, and then out in the open nearby. She won't be getting far
WARNINGS DEATH (Suicide) Naked French girls, awful (accidental) gooeyness. Possible rage.

It's cold in the arena at night, bitterly cold. Next to Eponine in the crevice, Howard shivers and shakes, and the French girl is sure that she can hear Sigma's teeth chattering from beyond Howard. Eponine herself is cold. She's shaking too, and huddled close to Howard for warmth.

She hates this. Snow and ice and just white, everywhere. It reminds her of Paris in the winter; she might have warmer clothes here, but it's colder as well, so it equals out. She survived the winters there in Paris, bare foot and without sleeves, but that was because she had no choice. She didn't know any other way of living. But now, here, staring at the snowy walls whilst the lads snored, all Eponine could think of was chocolate. And sweets. And ice cream and lamb in plum sauces and stews and curries and all of those lovely foods that were available in the Capitol.

"When I get out of here, I'm gonna eat and eat and eat
I'm going to keep on eating until I can't stand on my feet!
All full up with pudding till I'm simply gonna pop
Then they will have to get three men to roll me out the shop.

Soup and bread and toast and butter and crisps and cheese and wine
Egg and fish and meat and lamb and choc-o-late divine.
Ice cream, corn and vegetables, sausage, rice and beets
Next time I am gonna eat a whole plateful of meats."

She sings out loud, her voice sweet and pure though her rhyme is nonsense. With a sigh, she cuddles closer to Howard, resting her head on his chest. He's so cold, the poor boy. He isn't used to this.

Eponine stares at the snow.

"When I get out of here, I'm gonna eat and eat and eat..."

(taggiing order - Howie then Sigma? Until you both fall asleep and Epo does a runner? And then Wesker joins in?)

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"I thought you told me not to talk about food when we're hungry," Howard murmurs through chattering teeth, wrapping his arms around Eponine's shoulders to draw the warmth of her head closer.

Not that he minds her singing - it's lovely, of course. And he could use the lullaby. He's always had trouble sleeping, even as a child. Originally it was monsters under the bed when he was little, and then in the FAYZ it was just memories of children dying, torn apart by animal or shot down by their peers, of dead infants in car seats and bloated corpses left in the sun on the beach. In a way, sleeplessness is less a curse than a defense against nightmares, and the cold is yet another wall in his fortress.

But he eventually has to sleep, and so wedged between Eponine and Sigma, with the parka hood pulled over his head to expose only his nose and mouth, his protests against Eponine's tune turn into faint snoring.

Edited 2013-01-21 23:16 (UTC)

While Howard and Eponine were practically cuddling with one another, Sigma was much more reluctant to join in and was freezing. He was barely touching Howard, attempting to leech enough heat to warm his injured hand. He felt a little guilty - if his arms froze it wouldn't do him too much damage, but they ached terribly and were lowering his core body temperature. He could sleep on his back and let them freeze, but he'd have to deal with the pain all night. They weren't designed for the cold...

"Shhh. You're never going to get any rest like that," he scolds weakly through chattering teeth. These poor children were losing their minds. But the cold had exhausted him too beyond reason, and before he can suggest that one of them stays awake to watch for hunters, he slips into unconsciousness. His mechanical eye shuts down with a faint whirr.

Eponine begins an apology - but before she gets past 'Sor-' the protests have stopped and both man and boy seem to be asleep. Eponine closes her eyes too, trying her best to sleep.

It's so cold. So, so cold.

"Au jardin de mon pere, les lilas sont fleuris
Au jardin de mon pere, les lilas sont fleuris.
Tous les oiseux du monde viennent y faire leur nid."

Eponine sings to herself, willing herself to go to sleep, to live through another day, all the while staring at the ice walls of their cave. If only they'd collapse and kill them all.

"Aupres de ma blonde, qu'il fait bon, fait bon, fait bon
Aupres de ma blonde, qu'il fait bon dormir."

She pulls off a glove, and gently, gently strokes her finger over Howard's hand clutching her to him, before twisting slowly so that she can see the minute portion of his face on show. She strokes that little bit of his face gently too, all the while cooing her lullaby.

Sigma, too, is freezing, and the French girl doesn't understand why he is not cuddled to them. Perhaps he, like her, is on a suicide mission. Perhaps he, like her, is determined to help Howard win. Does he not know that sleeping close will keep the boy alive another night?

"Aupres de mon blonde..."

Eponine wiggles again. It is BITTERLY cold. And she is so hungry; that measly portion of sea bird isn't enough to fill her. Not after the treats she had eaten in the Capitol. She hates it here. She hates it so much, and she just doesn't understand WHY she's struggling to survive. Howard has said it; she's canon fodder. She can never win a Game. So why should she try? And what if, by some miraculous twist, she and Howard, or even she and Sigma made it to the end. She knows she won't kill either of them. And she's certain that they will not kill her. Or if they do, it'll break them. And she doesn't want either fate. A broken friend or stuck here, forever.

"Et la blanche colombe qui chante jour et nuit,
Qui chante pour les filles qui n'ont pas de mari."

She picks Howard's hands from her so that she can edge away from him.
There can only be one winner, and it's not going to be here. Why carry on, when the inevitability is death?

As soon as Eponine is free from Howard, she strips. First her jacket, which she places over Howard, and then her trousers, which she places in his arms. Gosh, it's cold. The poor girl shivers even as she continues to strip her clothes off, placing them around Howard so that he'll find them when he wakes. The clothes will be of no use to her when she's dead, and so Howard may as well have them; they'll keep him warmer for longer. The boots she pulls off reluctantly are an after thought; he can use them as a weapon, maybe, against the sea birds?

And so, in just her underwear, Eponine bends down and whispers, 'Au revoir, monsieur 'Oward.' before climbing up and out of the crevice and into the freezing night.

Howard dreams of the cliffs he grew up near, of climbing up them with his best friend, calling down to him "come on, I'm way shorter than you, if I can get up here you totally can". And every time he leans down to help Orc, he can't reach, and he's reaching not to his friend but to slabs of meat tied together with twine - and the meat falls down the cliffs and makes a splatting sound at the bottom, but Howard can't get down to see if there's anything left of his companion.

In his sleep he mouths some nonsense and licks his lips, on some subconscious level trying to combat how chapped they are. He whimpers sometimes, shivers constantly, but it's not the worst sleep he's had. After the falling meat replays in his mind another time and a gust of cold wind hits his nose, his eyes snap open.

"Eponine?" He glances around the hideyhole, trying not to stretch his neck too much because unhunching his shoulders lets the cold in. He leans over to see past Sigma - also sleeping - but sees no sign of his only friend here.

It's not warmth that Howard feels when he realizes Eponine's close are on him - it's a chill. And nausea, knowing deep down what she's doing. He gets to his knees and shakes Sigma's shoulder. His voice cracks, both from the dryness of the cold and from panic.

"Where'd she go, did she tell you where she's going, did you see her leaving?" He's already bundling the clothing in his arms to go after her. He sees even her boots, but there's too much wind outside for him to hope to follow her footprints.

It takes quite a few minutes for Eponine to scramble up out of the crevice. She's absolutely freezing now and she hughs her bare hands to her bare stomach in order to preserve what little warmth she had. Which, when she thinks about it, is stupid. She WANTS to die so she can go to the Capitol. And her near nudity now would surely ensure Capitol citizens' interest in her, to stop her getting terminated.

She staggers on through the dark night, her feet burning in the snow. Her skin is red already, and her lips slowly turning pale. Eponine shivers and shakes, stumbling onwards through the snow, blindly staggering forwards. She has no idea where she's going. Somehwhere far enough away for Howard not to find her before she dies.

She sneezes loudly, hands flying from her stomach to her face to 'catch' the sneeze. Cold. So cold. The hair on her arms stands erect, and her underwear does little to protect her from the cold. But she's done it for Howard. He has her clothes; he might survive with that extra warmth. In the darkness, she sings a little to herself, though her usual melodious voice is broken by coughs and sneezes and stutters.

"A la claire fontaine
M'en allant promener
J'ai trouvé l' eau si belle
Que je m'y suis baigné
Il y a longtemps que je t'aime
Jamais je ne t'oublierai.

Sous les feuilles d'un chêne
Je me suis fait sécher
Sur la plus haute branche
Un rossignol chantait
Il y a longtemps que je t'aime
Jamais, jamais je ne t'oublierai.

Chante rossignol, chante
Toi qui a le coeur gai
Tu as le coeur à rire
Moi je l'ai à pleurer
Il y a longtemps que je l'aime
Jamais je ne l'oublierai"

((ooc: it translates as: By the clear fountain as I took my walk, I found the water so fair that I stopped there to bathe. I have loved you for a long long time; never will I forget you. Under an oak tree, I dreied myself. On the highest branch, a nightingale was singing. I have loved you for a long long time. Never will I forget you. Sing nightingale sing, you with your carefree heart. Your heart feels like laughing. Mine feels like weeping. I have loved you for a long long time. Never will I forget you.))

Edited 2013-01-24 16:40 (UTC)

One moment Eponine was alone and the next - he's there. As if carried by the wind, as if born of the very darkness. He melts into view, the snow swirling about him, around his head like a white halo.

He doesn't touch her though. Doesn't reach for her.

He stops. And watches.

His pale face unreadable. His eyes shuttered away behind his dark lenses.

It takes Eponine a few minutes to spot the man in the gloom, but when she does, she stops short. Her hands fall to her sides, and of course, it's obvious that she's completely defenceless. Her long tangle of hair whips across her face in the wind, splattering snow onto her frozen skin. She shivers as she looks at him; she is of course without glasses now, and it's eerie not being able to see his eyes.

"Monsieur?" Her voice is high and clear, though broken by the shivers wracking her skinny body.

He does not know what has driven her to this point, how she has ended up here, nude and pale, blue and shivering - nor does he particularly care.

What she seeks, how this ends, is obvious.

And who is he to deny her? He can be merciful.

Slowly, his arms lift and open to her. The fingers of one gloved hand curling, waving her into his embrace.

"Come, child." Like the serpent to Eve, he speaks with a voice like silk. Low and soothing. Encourgaing. Promising.

She steps forward - but hesitates.

She knows what's going to happen when she steps into his arms. Death. That is assured - and a quicker death than freezing. But still, she hesitates.

"Monsieur... will you hurt me dreadfully?"

He smiles. Strong white teeth in the broken curtain of falling snow.

He could break her. Tear her open. Listen to her scream for hours as he painted red love letters to the others, those men she'd left behind, in her blood.

But it was all so funny to him. This pitiful creature, so small and weak, begging him to end it.

He does so appreciate when someone knows where they belong.

"Sssh," he purrs. Magnaminous and regal. "Don't be afraid. I'm here to help."

He has the whitest teeth she has ever seen. Her own are dirty, cracked and stained black with rot, and there are gaps where some have fallen out. She stares, mesmerised, until she remembers and shakes her head.

She steps forward again, and again and again, until she is easily within his reach. Eponine's apprehensive; death had hurt the last time, and she was scared now that this stranger would hurt her.

"Don't hurt me, Monsieur. I am letting you do this, so this much you owe me." And half the money from the kill... but they can quibble about that when they're both back in the Capitol.

His hand closes over her wrist, strong and firm with long fingers like shackles.

"I could leave you here," he says, a threat hidden beneath the silk. A snake in the long, dark grass. "I owe you nothing."

And he drags her forward, impossibly strong, until she's trapped, locked against him. She's long and slim and cold. So cold he could feel it through his coat, through the fabric of his gloves as he took her face in his hands. As his fingers dug into her cheeks.

A little white leech.

Beneath the lenses of his glasses, there's a flare of red - rubies glittering in the dark.

"But I am not without mercy. Remember that."

His hand at her wrist hurts, especially as he pulls her to him. But he's warm, so warm, and instinctively, she tries to get as close as she can to Wesker, to shield herself from the cold.

"I'll die if you leave me..." And it'll be slow. She gasps as he tilts her face up to him, allowing him to see the full extent of her rotten teeth. His gloved fingers are sink right into the dimples of her hollow cheeksm and that hurts too. But there's nothing she can do now. She's trapped and she's going to die, naked and... and did his eyes flash red? Eponine gasps.

"What are you? Not a man..." Still, she nods as much as his grip will allow. "You'll show me mercy? Be kind? Thank you, Monsieur. It's all I ask now. Would you tell Howard I'm sorry, too? Will you let him know?"

"I am the one you should remember," he whispers, the words warm against her skin, brushing over her face he's so close. "What I did, what I did not."

His hands move, one palm cupping her chin, the other sliding back into her stringy hair, tangling in the strands. And there's pressure - can she feel it?

Buildingbuildingbuilding-

snap.

Did she hear it?

Was it everything she hoped for?

"There's a good girl."

Eponine doesn't struggle, not even as the pressure begins to build. She knowss what's happening; it's Montparnasse's mercy kill tactic... and apparently, it's this man's too. She doesn't flinch at all; she just closes her eyes.

Her body immediately goes limp in Wesker's hands and he will be able to feel her whole weight. Though, there's barely any meat on the girl's bones; she can't weigh much. Maybe he won't notice. She's dead now, anyway, and rigor mortis is already set in, sped up by the freezing conditions of the arena.

For a moment he stands there, the body cradled in his arms - his nose turned to her throat, breathing in the scent of her blood, her flesh, as the canon blast echoes around him.

He hasn't fed, not since arriving in the previous arena. The virus whispers in this veins, a burning reminder, and he can feel the weight of the mandible in the back of his throat.

...But no.

Not yet.

Not this one.

He shifts her, her head rolling like the top of a flower upon a broken stem, and lets her go. Leaves her as pale and cold as the snow and ice.

Stepping over her, he disappers from whence he came. Back into the ether of the night.

Howard has no idea where he's going, and with the wind and snow he soon loses track of where the hidey-hole is. But he wouldn't be returning there anyway, at least, not without Eponine - and every freezing moment he's out there, ears straining to hear cannons, the fear builds. Every second longer he's out here is a second-longer until Eponine freezes to death, unclothed as she is. So he stumbles around in circles calling for her with no regard for other threats.

And he hears a cannon.

"No, no no no, no..." Maybe it isn't her. There are so many tributes in the arena, maybe it's someone else. So he picks up the pace and keeps calling for her.

And stops a few moments later when he sees a splash of dark hair on the snow, getting covered with a light layer of flakes. "Eponine!" It fills him with hope, stupid hope, because if they haven't collected the body yet she must not be dead, just cold and unconscious. Her eyes are even closed, not staring forward in glassy death.

He doesn't notice the footprints leading away from her body. He rips off the extra parka and wraps it around her. His fingers are too numb to check for a pulse, and it doesn't surprise him that she's stiff - aren't they all out here? Frozen cold?

"Come on, Eponine, get up, I'll carry you back to the hole if I have to." He lifts her, then stumbles. Light as she is she still weighs a little more than he does, and he isn't strong enough. He tries again and sets her back in the snow, huddling over her so he can impart his body heat to her. The pose puts his ear by her mouth, and after a second he realizes he isn't feeling the warm exhalation he expected. His breath is vaporizing in front of him, but Eponine's not breathing at all.

Knowing nothing of CPR except what he's seen in the movies, he breathes into her mouth, then jams his palms down on her chest, then repeats. And again. And again until his nose is bleeding again, spattering red droplets on her white cheeks and lips. And still she doesn't respond.

"No! No, you don't do this to me!" He can hear them coming to collect her body. "You can't leave me. You can't...you can just do that..."

But they come for her anyway, and he clears out before they do, nursing rage and knowing there's nothing he can do with a dead body. If she's alive on the other side, he hates her. If she's dead, he hates her more. She who tricked him into closeness and then ripped it away in a stupid gesture she doubtlessly thought was kind.

Quitter. He doesn't know why he expects any more of the human race. He's taken his parka back and rather than directly looking for Sigma again, he wanders for a while instead, warmed not by anything in his environment but by burning hurt.

Edited (typos everywhere) 2013-01-27 19:02 (UTC)

Sigma's sleep had been dreamless and restless until Howard woke him up, and he reluctantly opens his eyes. What nonsense is this? Leaving?

He realizes with a start what that must mean and Sigma jolts upright, eyes scanning their hiding place. The girl was gone. His horrified gasp is genuine, and Sigma leans against the ice wall to get his balance on aching limbs.

"Damn that girl!" He curses loudly as he staggers to his feet. "I thought she was going to sleep!" He caught a glance of what Howard was holding, and shudders with disgust. He turns his head to peek out the mouth of the hole, but she's nowhere in sight. Sigma's mouth goes dry.

"...It's too late," he says heavily. Had there been a cannon blast while they slept? There's no way she would survive more than a few minutes in this weather without her clothes... He looked to Howard with as much sympathy as he could muster.

He knew there would be no agreement between them, but he had to try. Respecting Howard's wish to not be touched, Sigma could only use persuasion. "Listen to me. You cannot go!"

Howard rifles through her clothes in vain for a note, a clue, anything. "No, no, I didn't hear any cannons. The insides of her boots are still warm. She must've just left."

He wants to call out to her - she may be just outside the mouth of the cave, even, it's not easy to go fast in this weather - but some lingering reasonableness knows that he doesn't want to draw attention to their location, where they can be easily cornered by anyone waiting to pick them off. So he doesn't call her name into the snow whipping around outside.

"Fuck..." He can't help that tears come to his eyes. His parents left like this too, suddenly and without goodbye. His mother's laundry was still in the dryer, turning around when Howard broke back into his own house.

His head snaps up so he can meet Sigma's gaze; his own expression is one of bafflement. Sigma really expects him not to go? So they can stay here in their hole with her clothing, while she freezes to death out there? The idea makes him ill.

"She doesn't have anyone else looking out for her, she needs me to make sure she doesn't hurt herself, I can't just let her..." His eyes narrow, and his next words are laced with the poison of a teenager whose distrust of adults has bypassed rebellious and become pathological. "You don't tell me what to do."

The old man bristled at Howard's attack. He felt sorry for him until then. "I know I don't. It's time you grew up and made adult decisions for yourself!" It was hardly a comment appropriate for someone he had only recently met, but Sigma also had a sense of familiarity about the situation.

He spoke quickly, trying to get as much out as he could before the teenager ran into the storm. "And if you find her, what next?! There is nothing we can do for her, Howard! Neither of us are doctors!" Well, he was a doctor, but not of medicine. "She will only suffer, and so will you. Do the responsible thing and stay!"

Howard looks furious. Is Sigma saying he hasn't spent the last sixteen months making the adult decisions for himself? Because he'd have loved a respite, a chance to be a child again. "She's my friend!"

And that's the one thing he can say he's good at. He doesn't leave friends behind. He's scared and he's weak and he's unethical but he's always been loyal. If Sigma can't understand that, there's no point in even associating anymore.

"I have her parka and mine. I'll bring her back. You can stay here." He grabs up Eponine's clothing in his arms.

Sigma did not try to restrain him, but instead moved towards the mouth of the hole. It was not a way to block the exit, only to allow for a few more precious seconds for Howard to listen to reason. He gritted his teeth, how infuriating the arrogance of youth was... "I am not trying to stop you from saving a friend. I am trying to stop you from killing yourself!"

Dr. Klim sighed in frustration. Perhaps it had nothing to do with youth at all - Sigma was no stranger to allowing emotions to get in the way of reason. Still, he prayed for a cannon blast. Why was it taking so long?! This boy shouldn't have to die tonight...

Howard pauses, not wanting to attack Sigma again - not now, especially not after their scuffle at the Cornucopia. Nor does he even want to get close, but every moment he loses Eponine is closer to freezing.

"I won't die. I'll be back. I have her clothes and mine, remember?" His voice is deeply bitter as he states that fact. "Now get out of my way."

He sounds like he doesn't want that to be a threat at all, but that it is regardless. He won't be talked down.

Edited 2013-01-31 03:48 (UTC)

Knowing his advice was not heeded, Sigma's frustration peaks- he's come to the end of his considerable patience. Why was it that boys needed to learn lessons that would ruin their lives before they grew? Defeated, he steps aside without a word, not entirely convinced Howard won't have caught hypothermia by the time he returns. He glares at the ground bitterly, sinking into a seating position against the wall.

Why did he care? This child was a stranger. He doesn't wish the boy luck and neither does he bid him to come back safe. He's tired of saving lives, becoming involved in things that aren't his business.

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Eponine's Suicide - BACKDATED

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whoops forgot he needs the knife to kill Draco

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