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

[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.]

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....No?

[Was that the right answer? She's not sure that was the right answer. Maybe this was bait. Maybe he wanted her to pull the spear down! Or maybe she SHOULD pull the spear down and look like she knew what she was doing with it? Why was it that Clint and Sharpe chose to show up with their obnoxious selves at all the wrong times? She could use a giant fighting oaf about now. Or a Peacekeeper.

Or that big friendly scary dog that she'd been wanting. STILL wanted. Badly. She should have never left the house today, damn it.]

[No? ... Then does she want the sword back? Once again he goes to pick the sword up from off the ground, holding it by its wooden blade this time so he can hand it over, hilt first.]

You can have this back then. I don't know much about weapons like spears, but it makes sense to go back to what you were practicing with in the first place.

[She can't back up anymore; she's already against the wall. She doesn't want the sword back. She doesn't let go of the spear handle.]

No. I don't want it. I don't want that right now. No thanks.

... Fine then.

[With a shrug he goes and rests the sword up against the dummy he previously knocked down. He gives Effie a curious look, raising an eyebrow as he does so, before walking off. He doesn't leave though, instead he goes back to hanging up posters for Brave Vesperia. It's what he came to do in the first place after all.]

[Just don't...don't look at him. Get a better grip on that spear. Keep your back to the wall. Keep your eyes down. Where's your journal?

The duffle bag.

Slowly - SO SLOWLY - Effie begins edging toward the bag.]

Edited 2013-07-17 21:39 (UTC)

[With one poster up he moves on to putting up a second on another wall, carrying the remaining posters with him as he goes. Only three more to go.

He doesn't spot Effie as he moves, still expecting her to be over by the wall she was pressed up against before. Though with the way he's moving from wall to wall around the barracks he expects to see her again at some point if she's still in the same place.]

[She's still creepin', Caius. Slim white fingers slip into the duffle after a clandestine unzipping job.

Where's the journal...it has to be in here somewhere...]

[Time to move onto the third poster! Walking over to the next wall he looks over expecting to see Effie still where she was the last time he saw her, but alas.

He quickly slaps the third poster up and turns around, slowly, so to see where she went. Did she leave without him noticing? Oh wait, no, there she is... Creeping around and messing with some bag.

Well. Okay then. For the second time today he finds himself watching Effie as she does whatever it is she's doing with that bag of hers.]

[Very quickly she writes a locked message:

Richard there's a person in here who became aggressive with a sword I think I need to get out but I don't know if There might be a chance that he will just go away. But what if he doesn't go away?]

[ for a moment, he almost considers...speaking. but if there is someone there and she is in danger, that would be foolhardy.

so -- tempted to skip this part altogether and just make his way to the bloody barracks -- sharpe painstakingly scrawls out a few word: ] Aggressive at you, ma'am?

He smashed a dummy!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! ANGRILY.

You were doing the same yourself not an hour ago. Are you telling me you're dangerous too?

[ ...but he stood up and reached for his sword belt. ]

What if he comes after me?!?!?! Should I run or play dead? Or should I fight back?

Knee him between his legs. Then run.

I CAN'T DO THAT.

Why ever not? It's simple. It gives you a bloody chance.

[How to explain that she doesn't think she CAN?!]

IT'S NOT THAT SIMPLE RICHARD.

There ain't nothing simpler. Knee the bastard in the goolies and run home. We learned it before we turned seven or eight...

[ at the home. or on the job. or when the constables catch you. ]

THE GOOLIES

...you know where to find them, don't you?

RICHARD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Ain't fooling, Trinket. It'll save your life someday. Can't count how many times it's saved mine.

[ yes. sharpe is the kind of man what knees another man in the junk. gladly. it might be his most favourite technique. ]

MS. Trinket. MS.

[It just seems like so intimate and personal way of fighting. Not like smacking a dummy or whacking something with a wooden sword.]

Okay okay. I will knee him in the goolies.

And run all the bloody way home.

[ and -- with any luck -- she'd meet him on the way. ]

[Yup.

Effie turns toward Caius. Stands up straight and tall in her now-very-sweaty workout gear. Wishes she had her wig on -- it always helps her to feel taller.]

EXCUSE ME. You. You, hanging the posters! Show me your goolies at once!

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