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

[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?"

[greenjacketed]

"...Aye, we can." He waved a hand -- as if washing the previous topic away. He hadn't particularly wanted to hear about how hooked she was on this Horner fellow, but Effie had interpreted his question as such. Better to just let her move on and not make a fuss of the miscommunication.

So: "Tell us, then, what subject you would care for?"

Maybe he should just leave. Why wasn't he just leaving?

[onlyeffie]

"Reading." She blurted it out rather carelessly. Why wasn't he just leaving? That's what she had expected. Counted on, even, in the rising tide of her discomfort. "Literature."

[greenjacketed]

"I don't. Read." He spoke haltingly, like trying to carefully pick his way 'round a tender topic. Spooked, yet again. Afraid of being backed into the sort of corner where he might have to admit his flaws. "Leastwise, not literature..."

Unless you counted that one bit of Voltaire. And the Bible. And stolen smut novels. None of which he felt he could own up to.

[trinkett]

"You don't?" There was surprise in her voice -- enough genuine surprise that she didn't have the presence of mind to mock him properly. It had never occurred to her that Sharpe wasn't interested in books. She'd just assumed, since their garden conversation, that he had established bibliophilic tastes that quite naturally did not coincide with hers because Sharpe despised the very ground she walked on.

"Oh. Because I went back to the library to find a new story and there were things in there that made me feel...."

Hang on while she searches for the adjective.

[greenjacketed]

"...Flummoxed?"

Because that was how the books made him feel. They were thick, and cramped with words. Words he barely knew -- where were the regimental notations? The place names? The lines of the quartermaster's list? His vocabulary was limited by his experience, and the moment he tripped across words which didn't crop up in army life? He was lost.

[inyourfavor]

"I was going to say 'nervous.' There was one title -- 'Economic Expansions in Greater Caldinia: 2607 - 2610.'"

And how could anyone let that kind of information get into the hands of just ANYONE?

"And another -- it was called 'Our Bodies, Ourselves.'" She'd thought it was another romance novel. She'd turned hot and shut it quickly and hidden the rest of the afternoon, afraid someone might have seen her with such rebellious material.

"And another by someone called Franz Fanon..." She'd been intrigued by the name, but that book, too, had to be shoved hastily back on the shelves.

[greenjacketed]

Economic expansions? How dull. And the next title sounded perilously (and naively) empowering. Franz must be German, though, and Sharpe felt okay with that possibility. He liked Germans. They were a reliable people; or, at least, Lossow had never let him down.

Sharpe wanted to keep up with her. Match her for titles and authors, so: "...Voltaire," he blurted. "I've read Voltaire."

It came dangerously close to being a boast -- except he knew he had very little beyond that one name in order to keep boasting.

[inyourfavor]

Oh, that was easy. A brutally abridged version of "Candide" was taught not as a satire but as fact in the Capitol.

""What! Have you no monks to teach, to dispute, to govern, to intrigue and to burn people who do not agree with them?"

That was a direct quote from Chapter 18. Effie Trinket had recited it to stern applause at her sixth-form pageant.

[greenjacketed]

"...Can't bloody stand monks," muttered Sharpe, who for the life of him could remember no quotations but the lonely single line he'd memorized: God is not on the side of the big battalions, but the best of shots. "Sanctimonious pricks!" His judgement gained steam. "Damned straight, none of'em ever taught me..."

Mmhm. He was taking her words a little too literally, as though she had somehow questioned him personally on his relationship with the monastic orders.

[inyourfavor]

She stared at him blankly, not quite getting the gist. Then: "I personally do not think you can stand anyone, Major. That's why you're so....

Well. We don't have monks anymore. They were people who lived long ago.

In your time, I suppose. Very historical."

[greenjacketed]

"Very papist," countered Sharpe. Even though his best and closest friends were Catholic. His daughter was likely being raised in Romeish ways. But some insults came easier than others.

HUFF. But the woman was likely right. The only company Sharpe could conceivably stand was that of other exiles, and he hadn't yet realized they were all exiles here.

"But -- aye. Katniss said so. No parishes. No religions. Had to explain what Christmas was..."

[inyourfavor]

"Christmas?"

It sounded dangerous.

"Maybe you shouldn't tell me. Just in case..."

[greenjacketed]

"In case of what? Me havin' to get you a blasted gift, as well?"

Sharpe didn't do gifts. But he wondered if it was the sort of thing you were SUPPOSED to get for the people you shared a house with. Problem was, he'd never reliably shared a house with anyone but other poor orphans. Or poor prostitutes. Or those scant few months with Grace...

[happyhungergames]

Wait wait wait wait GIFT?

"......Gifts?"

Effie LOVED gifts.