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]

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."

[greenjacketed]

[greenjacketed]

"...Shitbeetles, lass?"

[onlyeffie]

"Richard!" She scrabbled at her throat, settling on wrapping her hands around it as though she were choking herself. "Richard! It's gone!"

[greenjacketed]

"What is?" He asked -- even as he knowingly closed his fingers 'round the ribbon in his pocket. Give it a moment, Sharpe.

[trinkett]

"Shush. Let me think. I don't know what to do, currently!" She was certainly skittish now. There was no hiding it.

Then, a brainstorm: Effie let go of her neck and began to tear the hem of her skirt. Resourcefulness, thy name is Trinket.

[greenjacketed]

"Whoa, whoa -- Effie."

He dragged the missing cloth from his jacket, dangling it by her bowed nose. "Bloody reckless, you are, too. Impatient."

[onlyeffie]

"You..." She stared. How had THAT come to pass? Judging again. Instead of taking the ribbon, she made an effort to re-secure her hem. Not that that made a difference; everything about her wardrobe was at sixes and sevens. Why had she bothered leaving the house today?

[greenjacketed]

"Stand still," he ordered -- falling back upon his officious tone. His tone for delivering orders. A sergeant's bark gone imperious with the confidence of office. "Stand straight."

[inyourfavor]

She dropped the raggled hem and stood as tall and straight as she could. Oh how she hated that tone. And now, how she dared not disobey it.

[greenjacketed]

Sharpe spread the ribbon across his palm, tidying its crumples and folds. Straightening it. And he noticed, of course, the pricks of dried blood -- all with his attendant disapproval, of course. Not that he'd be any better were the injuries reversed.

"It will only take a moment, lass," he said -- still with command in his voice -- as he stepped behind her and tried to fasten the ribbon back into place.

[onlyeffie]

"I'm just concerned that someone might--" see it. But that wasn't a concern anymore; not now that he'd tied it back on. She folded her purple wings as close as she could against her back. "It's one of the reasons I don't understand why you want a future."

How could he, with a broken toy?

[greenjacketed]

He tied the ribbon with all the delicacy of a man accustomed to caring for the small mechanisms of finicky guns. Hair triggers and flintlocks. And all of it had to be presentable. Perfect. Able to pass inspection. In this way, he and Effie had some unrecognised common ground.

"Everyone wants a future," he answered broadly -- still blind to her interpretation. "Some of us have to fight for it. Some of us earn it. Some of us steal. There was a time I thought I'd die a pauper -- after that, I don't see any use for delaying the things I want."