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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.]
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.]
[Action]
[She's holding one hand in the other, cradling it. Sharpe is going to have a smug smile on his face ALL WEEK at this rate. He might even whistle that over the hills tune or whatever it was!]
[Action]
[Action]
[But she offers out a hand that is already sporting a grossly swollen thumb.]
[Action]
Yeah, you should definitely get this checked out. Trust me, if it heals wrong, you'll know about it for the rest of your life.
[Action]
[Oh yes, her attitude is right now boiling over.]
Now I have to go see that woman, I suppose. Or...no! Doctor Law!
[And her voice actually BRIGHTENS at this, because Law is SO ELIGIBLE.]
[Action]
[Seriously, the histrionics get to him.]
Which woman would that be? And yeah, you should see a doctor.
[Action]
[Effie cannot STAND Adele.]
I bet he could fix this right away. I don't want to be all deformatively scarred like you, after all.
[Action]
Adele? She's a damn good doctor. And a good friend.
[His expression darkens a moment at that and he drops her hand.]
You really have no brain to mouth filter do you?
[Action]
[Action]
[Action]
[Crap.]
No, I don't -- I don't hold you in distaste!
[Scars, yes. Scars are terrifying to a woman raised in a society that fetishized the perfect body to the extent that the one in the Capitol does. It is a perfect way to Other those living in the Districts -- people whose bodies were most likely broken down by pain, starvation, injury, poverty, and illness.]
You're....
[Actually very very attractive in a scary kind of way...]
You remind me of Philippe. In "The Man In the Iron Mask."
Re: [Action]
[He lets her finished though, giving her a sardonic look.]
Can't say I've ever read it honestly.
[Action]
I always picture him with beautiful piercing eyes.