![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Sixth Dispatch | Action
[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.]
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.]
no subject
Something was very, very wrong. A small warning voice of sensibility chimed in that something was amiss and skewed and broken and not right.
"Because I never..."
She never knew anything til just this very afternoon.
no subject
Sharpe shook his head; he fumbled his usual cool reservation. "Nah. I ask about you, now and then. But I'm not in the business of telling."
no subject
Effie trailed off. This should have been easier. Instead, she felt like she was groping her way along through dense brush which had only moments before seemed like a clear forest path.
no subject
A key was turning. A cog was slipping into place. Sharpe was beginning to grasp at a gross misunderstanding, and it made his expression darken. Oh, shite...
no subject
Effie clutched the book to her chest. She reached up and scratched her ribbon and patted her wig into place. Everything felt too tight, especially around her chest. And that frown of his...
Oh, God. What had she done?!
"I should get back," she said, a little too quickly, a little too loudly. Her eyes pricked. Her throat felt like it was burning. "Before I'm missed."
Jack might be missing her at this very moment. If you tell yourself something enough, you start believing it.
no subject
No. That voice was too severe. Too detached. Too disappointed. Even he -- usually so tone deaf to his own sound -- could hear its destructive qualities. Sharpe groped at the back of his neck. He was acutely aware of the moment's unease, and he wanted it to stop. He wanted her to feel safe. He wanted her to feel safe.
He tried again: "Effie, lass, take a breath and...and stop for one damned second. Orright?"
no subject
"I'm sorry." This apology was much more hastily made. "I really must hurry. I had no idea of the time."
And she picked a direction to stumble off in. Any direction was safe as long as it led away from Richard Sharpe and all that humiliation.