Fifth Dispatch. Practice Makes Perfect, And Perfect is Me. Action.

[trinkett]

[It's a hot afternoon, and Effie Trinket has sneaked into the Barracks -- first checking to make sure no one else is in there.

No one is.

It's far too hot and dusty and anyone in her right mind would choose the techy comforts of the Battle Dome over this place.

This is a good thing. Effie doesn't WANT to meet anyone today. For one thing, she feels very awkwardly dressed: running shorts and a bright yellow T-shirt (yellow is a Power Color); white athletic socks with that 1970s-era striping at the top; sneakers. No heels, no shoulder pads, no wig, no makeup.

She is here -- VERY GRUDGINGLY, MIND -- to train for warfare. Her last announcement to the village brought on plenty of warnings, and even a subtle death threat or two, and at least a few people giving well-meaning advice. She can hardly believe any of the doubters who'd said the Malnosso would sacrifice her in a battle, but better safe than sorry. One never knows when the higher-ups might make a clerical error or shifting error and accidentally send a valued subject into dire straits.

The second reason she doesn't particularly want to meet anyone is because she knows none of the Luceti peons like her very much. That's fine with Effie. Eventually the Malnosso will take her into the inner workings of the organization and place her right where she belongs. Until then? Well. She can and has been staying indoors a great deal, being a bored journal stalker.

Unfortunately, this lonesome round in the Barracks confirms that Ms. Trinket is not cut out for warfare at all. It turns into hesitant prods at practice dummies with wooden swords, a lot of staring out the windows, and a frustrating turn at a punching bag.

Fighting is horrible and she's horrible at it and consequently is in a horrible mood.]

Comments

[greenjacketed]

He drank again from his canteen, dragging his hand across his mouth after he swallowed.

"The kind of woman who stands back and waits for vengeance to fall on others' heads because she believes it will, and it must, and any other outcome's against the natural order of things."

But Effie had been so clear in her wording: she would make them pay. It caught him by surprise.

[ruthlessismore]

There is a surprised kind of laugh at that. "Wait? Wait for vengeance? My dearest Richard, vengeance IS the natural order of things. But it's also how we are.


Where I'm from."

She was quick to add that.

"It is natural for man, woman, and child. My best friend turned her mother in to the Secret Police because she wouldn't allow her to date the boy she liked! Has Katniss taught you NOTHING about the Games? The Games are vengeance. Long, long years of vengeance."

And with that last bitter vengeance she slammed the lid of her lockbox shut. It bounced back open again and hung askew.

[greenjacketed]

He's shocked and dismayed to find that her laughter wounded him. God, he hated when women laughed at him -- he could only ever speculate that it had something to do with how desperately he wore his sash and how he clung to his progress. Men's laughter was simple: challenge the bastard to a duel, give him a hard thump on the field, or else simple stand tall and threatening. They generally stopped. But women's laughter...

Sharpe turned away -- his voice a hard mask once again. As if giving his opinion to a dangerous fellow officer. An unstable one, liable to drag the whole company to Hell without intervention. "You truly want to make them pay for what they've said to you? Threatened you with?"

[onlyeffie]

"Yes." She eyed her water bottle. Could it be trusted? Maybe she would have a drink from the taps at the restaurant instead. Later. No water now. She poured it out on the floor.

[greenjacketed]

Sharpe turned back at the sound of trickling, wasted water. He grimaced at her paranoia, but still offered up the last few mouthfuls held in his canteen. It was clean enough -- safe enough -- considering he'd been drinking from it, too.

"Pick yourself up out of the muck. Do what you're doing -- and get better at it. Most importantly? Do it for your bloody self, and not the bastards with the Malnosso. Make the souls who've threatened you in the past respect you, now. And if they can't do that? Make'em feel like shite for that, too."

Be someone self-made. Although Sharpe's leap into officerdom had come at the hands of an aristocrat, everything afterwards had been blood and sweat and toil. Hard work for hard won advancement, and now -- as a Major -- the kind of men who'd had him flogged when he was in his twenties now had to call him sir. That, he decided, was the most flavourful vengeance.

[onlyeffie]

She hesitate only a moment before taking his canteen. Learning to fight made one THIRSTY. She chugged as much as she could; it spilled over the corners of her mouth and she choked a bit before pulling back.

"So in other words...do what I've done my entire life, Major."

She hadn't exactly risen from much the same way Sharpe had, but could it be that they had some element of "self-made" in common? She regarded him with a new kind of interest. Curiosity. Compassion, maybe. Maybe not.

[greenjacketed]

"Then you've done it damn well, ma'am; the seams don't hardly show."

Her flaws and foibles and messed up little opinions? Aye, those show well enough. But he figured them as the result of being handed her life. Given her authority over children like Katniss. Privileged. It did not occur to him until now that maybe -- just maybe -- they were learned behaviours.

[onlyeffie]

"Please. I'm not even made up right now."

[ruthlessismore]

"I'm sweaty..." came the half-hearted objection. This was very sexy. "And I don't smell nice."

It was so lovely to have tired arms guided in this way by a beautiful man. Jack Horner was definitely most like the men on the covers of her romance novels.

[greenjacketed]

"And I'm still missing my buttons. Don't mean I'm not me."

[onlyeffie]

[She hesitates. Would she really be able to take Sharpe down? Did she even WANT to? He was so....like a big grumpy man-boar.]

...Fine. I want to learn. What's your name? I'm Effie.

[originaljackass]

Jack agreed that she didn't smell pleasant, but it was better sweat than liberal amounts of perfume. He does, however, make a show of leaning in to sniff her hair. And then he lies about it.

"I think you smell great." He continue to guide her hands into a series of blows that would kill most men if they were actually made out of flesh and bone and they were using a real weapon. But he was only half paying attention to the lesson. "You're a woman alive."

[onlyeffie]

And here I was, just thinking of quitting.

[She sounds a WEE bit bitter in saying that. Training is horrible. She's sweaty and stinky and sick of the sight of practice dummies.]

[trinkett]

Bulla! H-hello.

[Effie's mouth opens in horror. Bulla's HERE? And she's getting an eyeful of Effie with NO makeup on in this horrible workout outfit?

She can barely speak due to the embarrassment.]

[swordprincess]

Really? I just got here.

[But if Effie wants to quit, that's fine. Karla just moves over to the practice dummies, drawing her katana from its sheath. She glances at the blade before pointing it towards the dummy, testing its length. It's about an inch or two longer than her own sword, and perhaps a tad heavier.]

[trinkett]

"A woman who wouldn't mind a dip in the river."

Effie wasn't paying attention to the lesson at all. Jack Horner. He was beginning to have more of a hold over her than she would ever be comfortable admitting.

"I've been here all day."

[ex_tessen852]

Suki. It is very nice to meet you Effie.

Now, why don't we start with your stance? It's always good to have a proper foundation to build upon.

[trinkett]

"At least your eye doesn't look as horrible."

That was such a half-lie. Effie had never thought his craggy face horrible. It certainly made her uncomfortable in many ways, but not in that way.

"Where are they? The buttons? You'd never fit into the Lieutenant's Handmaiden's Hunger now."

[originaljackass]

He kept her cradled in his arms, but it was clear the lesson was long since abandoned.

"Well, you'll be your own in the river. I'm heading to the beach for my dip."

[trinkett]

Show me. How you do it.




Please?

[There, see? She's learning not to be so imperious.]

1/3

[greenjacketed]

"They used to be 'round Katniss's n--"

[trinkett]

I was always taught excellent posture.

[And that's true. Effie's posture is immaculate. She could probably cross Luceti border to border with a stack of dictionaries on her head and a mint julep in each hand and not spill anything.

She stands before Suki as though fresh from Madame Persimmon Constantine's Finishing School for Young Capitolistas.]

2/3 i know numbers.

[greenjacketed]

Him? He? Richard Sharpe of the 33rd, 47th, 95th, and South Essex regiments? Fit into that....book? That book he'd been trying slowly to read on the sly ever since he'd filched it from the porch?

He cleared his throat.

[inyourfavor]

"Can I come along?"

Oh, God -- what even was that. What. Was. That. Like some plaintive little girl wanting to tag along with her dream-crush? Effie hated the sound of her own voice. She still wanted to go, though.

3/3

[greenjacketed]

"Dammit, woman. I'm nothing like that--" WAIT. "I mean, I'm assumin' I'm nothing like...

The hungry maiden's Lieutenant's probably filthy rich and had his commission bought for him at the age of sixteen. Of course I wouldn't fit into that stupid book."