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

[happyhungergames]

"Well I'm not going to fight."

She made no offer to sew for him. Effie Trinket didn't sew.

"I imagine they'll have need of me to organize or entertain or inspire their people. Public relations. That sort of thing."

Into the duffle went the lockbox. Effie zipped it before standing and stretching and facing off against the punching bag once more.

"I'm going to name him Jason."

[greenjacketed]

Sharpe stood, still. He always stood -- at least until a woman in his presence sat down first. Only then could he bring himself to sit down first. These rules were inviolate, unless the woman in question was someone entirely special. Someone to whom normal courtesy did not apply.

But he did try and not watch while he stood. Averting his gaze.

"Inspire'em how?" He asked, if only to avoid telling her that Jason was a lousy name for a dog.

[onlyeffie]

Shut up Sharpe it's the most amazing canine name ever.

"With my delivery, of course!"

She began another round at the bag, smacking it silly with the non-bandaged hand.

"And my smile."

[greenjacketed]

"...But what will you actually say?"

[happyhungergames]

"Whatever they tell me to say."

[greenjacketed]

"Some day, lass, you're gonna wake up. And I think I actually want to be there to see it happen."

[inyourfavor]

"I feel pretty awake to me."

Smack. Smacky smack.

[greenjacketed]

"Yer dreaming. This is a big old dream, to you."

[trinkett]

She stopped smacking the bag and turned to face him and to MAKE him face her. Right up in his old green grill, was Effie.

"And what's wrong with that? Hmm? What?!"

[greenjacketed]

"Dreams are lies," he opted to meet her gaze and stared back -- hard and unmoved. "That's what's wrong with it."

[onlyeffie]

"You are absolutely wrong, Richard Sharpe," she sputtered back, poking one sharp fingernail against his chest. "Dreams are inspiring. They're what keep people going. Though I can imagine you wish....


Hmph."

[greenjacketed]

"Wish what, eh? Tell me, Effie Trinket," he retorted -- daring to drop the formalities. And daring, too, to not give in to a desire to step back from her jabbing finger.

[ruthlessismore]

"That I were just some dead bones in the ground," she finished with supreme coldness. "But I'm NOT and I won't just vanish off the face of Luceti. And you hate that. Ruining your precious little home! Don't think I don't know."

[greenjacketed]

"...You're a mess. Your words are strange and your decoratin' skills are unholy. You meddle; you presume; you try my patience to the very frayed edges." Each accusation came with a mounting displeasure. A rising tide of disappointment and quasi-anger. Sharpe finally did step back, if just so he could draw himself to his full height and feel just a little more manly in the face of her.

"And I wouldn't be lying if I said I'd happily see you sent back," he added. "But not dead. Never dead. I'll swear to it, if that's what you'd like."

But swear on what? He was no religious man. His mother's grave was likely unmarked. And his honour was rusted and chipped.

[onlyeffie]

"...Does Katniss feel the same?"

It was a vital question. She had to know the truth of it. It mattered, now. It hadn't before.

[greenjacketed]

"I can't say for certain -- Katniss's mind is her own -- but if she and I are at all alike, I can assure you that you wouldn't still be in the house if she didn't somehow want you there."

That was his best guess, at least. But he wasn't certain he could trust his best guesses anymore.

[onlyeffie]

"No. You're wrong."

Because Effie had a feeling that Katniss was a hero. It was a creeping, uncomfortable feeling. She was a Person and a Hero and they didn't tend to chuck people out.




"I'll see if Jack's open to moving in together. With him," she specified.

[greenjacketed]

A hard laugh, remembering his conversation with the man at the bar. "Aye. You do that, then tell me how it goes."

OH HO WHAT CONVERSATION IS THIS? I NEED TO STALK.

[ruthlessismore]

"What's so funny?"

http://greenjacketed.dreamwidth.org/4523.html?thread=884907#cmt884907

[greenjacketed]

"Bit soon, ain't it?"

Said the man who frequently asked women to marry him after knowing them for a week.

OMG.

[onlyeffie]

"Soon?"

She gave him a sour look. "He's the only person in this place who truly cares about me, Sharpe."

[greenjacketed]

...He'd warned himself not to stir the pot. Just back the bloody hell off. But, alas: "He did come across rather strong that I shouldn't dare get any -- err -- notions. About you. Bloody needlessly possessive, if you ask me."

A little terrible villain in Sharpe's heart just threw a party.

[happyhungergames]

She took that in the best possible sense. Which might, in some respects, be the worst possible sense.

Jack Horner had intentions. True feelings. He cared deeply for her.

Effie smiled -- a true smile. A warm one. Maybe it was relief and happiness mixed together, that smile. It was the smile of a woman who felt loved and wanted and cherished.

"He's always got my best interests at heart."

[greenjacketed]

"And what interests are those -- aside from taking your shilling from the Malnosso?"

[trinkett]

That was a really good question, actually. Because Effie Trinket was slowly coming to the realization that she had no idea what was in her own heart when that heart was torn out of the machine of the Capitol.

"He won't let anything happen to me. He wouldn't let anyone hurt me."

Or at least he would be egregiously offended if anyone DID.

"He accepts me for who I am."

Except Jack Horner continually objected to her manner of dress and makeup, like everyone else in Luceti.

Not to mention the fact that who am I was a question that was keeping her up at night, lately.

Did he, in fact, cherish her? Care deeply about her? Was she getting so good at lying that she could convince herself of that? Or was Jack Horner's strange charisma acting on her senses?

Effie wondered if her words sounded as false to Sharpe as they did to herself. Because she was a master at masking her feelings and recognizing that others always acted in their own self-interest, and that deep down Jack Horner wanted her for sex and not much else. She wasn't an idiot. Her fight with Adele had been telling. She was certain the other woman wasn't lying.

"Can we change the subject, please?"