Sixth Dispatch | Action

[trinkett]

[Since her return, Effie hasn't been up to talking over the journals. Mostly she's been listening and trying to recover -- locked away in Katniss's house until Jack Horner returned, and then locked away in Horner's house. She hasn't wanted to be around people -- not with her face and much of her body still sporting some pretty vicious-looking scars.

In Capitolista culture, scars are just about the death-knell to any self-respecting woman's social life, career -- you name it.

Today, though, she is going to venture out to pick up some walnut-free cookies for Jack and some clementines for Clementine and some romance novels for herself. Bodice-rippers. Real smutty, steamy stuff that's perfect for escapism, even if one can only escape for a few hours per book. It's worth it.

Find her at the library and the grocery store. She will be wearing a cloak pulled almost all the way over her face, a scarf around the lower half of her face, and elbow-length gloves; tall boots and tights cover any evidence of violence on her legs. She's trying not to draw attention to herself, though she is wearing complete make-up and bright green wig.]

Comments

[greenjacketed]

You've done me a good turn, Sergeant Sharpe. Now I'm about to do you a damn bad one. The threat/reward still rung in his ears; he'd just slaughtered near a dozen Indian soldiers. He'd been in a haze, knowing only violence and the need to protect the man on the ground. Wellington -- then simply known as Arthur Wellesley -- had spared him the brunt of a whipping, once. And it was his duty to protect the chain of command. But in the wake, the Duke's gratitude had taken the shape of a battlefield promotion. From that moment, he'd become the newly minted Ensign Sharpe. Bloody old for an ensign, certainly, but now commanding more of a lot in life than he'd ever done before.

"I suppose...you try to give him a future. A chance, in life, he might not already have. No matter the challenges."

Because there had been challenges. Still often were.

[inyourfavor]

This dumbfounded her. "This...will require some thought on my part, Major." Because what chances was she meant to give him? "Perhaps if I'm promoted..."

Maybe he would notice that her usual when had turned into an if.

[greenjacketed]

"Perhaps when you're promoted what...?"

And he had, in turn, transformed her if into a when.

[inyourfavor]

Wait....wait....her mind went through a series of backflips, front-walkovers, back-walkovers, and splits.

Did a routine on the balance beam.

The uneven bars.

"Richard..."

Did he mean THAT sort of chance?! The book fell from her fingers.

[greenjacketed]

"...Eh?"

Bless his soul, but he was lost. Terribly lost. So buried was he in ruminations on his own debts, difficulties, and duties that he hadn't the slightest notion that Effie might feel at all beholden to him. After all, as far as he was concerned, it was an officer's right and privilege to lend aid to even trilling, troublesome women.

But he was not so lost that he couldn't stoop -- lean -- and catch the falling book. Snapping it shut as it fluttered through the air.

[happyhungergames]

The scary thing was, the more she tried to imagine it, the more plausible it became. Terrifyingly plausible.

"I can't promise you that chance," she near-whispered. "I can't even..."

She couldn't even manage things with Jack. Not even when she tried to do everything by the book. Keep house? Keep a man? Make a life? It all seemed so impossible lately.

The ribbon around her throat began to itch terribly. The healing skin did that sometimes. She reached for the book.

"My body is not behaving correctly." That was blurted out. "I mean," she hurriedly corrected, "it is not responding to...

It would be very challenging."

[greenjacketed]

He withheld the book -- not on purpose, really, but from preoccupation. What the bloody hell was she nattering on about, now? He nearly didn't want to know. Sharpe wasn't keyed in to every social norm for library behaviour, but he figured you probably shouldn't start talking about your body in one.

"Effie. Miss Trinket..."

[happyhungergames]

"It wouldn't be terrible. Our future, I mean. I just don't think I can. Not now."

[greenjacketed]

"Our future?"

He flipped the book over, tapping its cover. Making his way slowly through its title. Perhaps she was experiencing cold feet -- a kind of anxiety over her place in this world. That much was evident. And so, despite often being her harshest reality critic, he softened: "Some futures are worth waitin' fer. Lowly ensigns don't make majors over night."

[happyhungergames]

The middle of the library was NOT the place for this conversation.

"Richard...don't you think we should discuss this someplace else? Seventh Heaven, maybe? Or just...or just a walk. It's hot in here. Are you hot in here? I find I'm very warm."

She tugged at her ribbon, which threatened to unravel. It was in good company with the rest of Effie Trinket.

[greenjacketed]

"Bit chilly, point of fact--" He glanced about. "But orright. We'll walk."

At long last, he offered her the book. "Better sign'er out, first."

[happyhungergames]

She did so, distracted the entire time. Why on earth would Richard Sharpe expect such things from her? Hint at them so strongly? They didn't even like each other. Or had she misread every signal the man may have been sending her way?

Effie stole a glance at the major. He didn't look very fussed at all about ANY of this. How could he take this all in a stride the way he was?

She waited for him by the door, nervously shifting her weight from one foot to the other. Effie rarely made any move that would not get her ahead. Here in Luceti, it was very difficult to discern what ahead was.

Maybe there was an alternative. She didn't notice when her ribbon, loose from all the tugging and scratching, tumbled off her neck to fall on the floor. It was bloodstained, but only slightly. She waited for him by the exit.

[greenjacketed]

It gave him time to pocket a book of his own -- choosing not to sign it out, but to pilfer it quietly. He didn't need a paper trail. But on his way to the door, he came across her lost ribbon and pocketed it, too.

At the exit, he peered out into the weather. It was decent enough, so he plunged head-first into the outdoors. "You're still so damned skittish," he muttered.

[onlyeffie]

"Well how SHOULD I be acting, hmm? How would YOU feel?!" She trailed behind him, taking the stairs very carefully. Her legs still felt stiff and uncomfortable much of the time. Her balance was off. Too many blows to the head, maybe.

"And I'm NOT skittish. HORSES are skittish. Rabbits."

[greenjacketed]

"Horses. Rabbits. And women--" No, that wasn't fair. Not when he thought about Teresa. "Some women."

[onlyeffie]

"Look -- if we're to get anywhere? You have to avoid grouping me in with rabbits and horses."

[greenjacketed]

"...Yer the one who brought up the rabbits and the horses, love. Not me."

The endearment slipped past his defences in a moment of indignation. A moment of frustration. He growled and stiffened his step.

[onlyeffie]

Love. She tried to catch up to him in a double-time limp. "I've never been skittish. Never in my life."

She'd always toed any line she was ordered to toe, of course, but never skittishly.

"You're far too judgmental."

[greenjacketed]

"And I've bloody well never been judgemental. Not a day in my life, neither."

It was a lie, of course. He was plenty judgemental -- but he kept those judgements to himself. All else tended to be a misinterpretation of his brusque and awkward nature. Those he judged most -- the dandies and the lords -- would have his tongue if he said much aloud. Or else they'd duel him, and he would win.

[onlyeffie]

She couldn't have that argument right now. It was enough simply to keep up with him. Maybe walking hadn't been an ideal idea.

"Fine, fine. Not judgmental," she puffed, willing to concede at least that even if she knew it not to be true.

[greenjacketed]

"You, on the other hand," he started -- jabbing a finger in her direction. "You judge. I remember...the day you..."

The day she came back. The day he found her strung up. "You were bloody awfully surprised to hear of my marriage. Sweet Jesus. As if a man couldn't manage to marry..."

[onlyeffie]

"I am willing to stop." If you are, was left unsaid. "You just never SPOKE of this marriage. I was surprised." Marriages: rather important vehicles for social advancement in the Capitol. People generally didn't keep them secret.

"I'm............sorry."

There. It was out.

[greenjacketed]

Sharpe froze. These words -- this new manoeuvre. He did not know how to approach. How to cope. How to respond.

"You're...apologizing?" Shock, certainly. Perhaps a little awe.

1/2

[onlyeffie]

"I'm sorry." There. That was twice. She reached up to scratch at the ribbon, only to discover it was missing.

2/2

[onlyeffie]

"Oh shitbeetles."