Tried To Domesticate You (Marrsiepan/Jaack)

Estella Arabella Antoinette


Time stood still, calm and patient as the surrounding noise fizzled to a droning hum. Extravagant voices drowned into the exotic buzz that wired the space between ear to ear and penetrated the depths of her turbulent mind. Colours rushed by in pretty little whirlwinds, flashes of flamboyant pinks fading to salmon streaks across the ceiling, glimpses of black and gold shimmering in and out of focus as blurred shapes passed by in gusts of scented drafts. Perfume drenched every tile, leaking from every throat and intermixing into the air as one suffocating cloud growing heavier, thicker with every body that piled into the space. The toilets always managed to become the main attraction on any night out, always the gathering spot for lost individuals and the gossiping hole for wagging tongues and over-excited lips. It provided the secrecy for casual bitching, the privacy for drugs, the indiscretion for embarrassing antics. The toilets if anything never failed to be interesting.

Things seemed normal, the sensation of the powder dripping down the back of her throat, the overbearing echo of irritating laughs bouncing from left to right...that was of course until some accidental intrusion seemed to cause an uproar. Focusing took a little effort and after narrowing both eyes in some discrete determination to catch a clear glimpse of the culprit for the upheaval, Estella saw nothing more than a confused, somewhat bewildered looking man. What was the big deal? So the guy had made a mistake, it wasn’t like he was some malicious predator stalking the stalls for his next victim. Besides you couldn’t see anything, that’s what the toilet doors were for. Idiots. The lot of them. Scoffing dismissively, when a familiar hand plowed onto the surface of her shoulder Ella did nothing more than rip her flesh away from the palm and offer a judgmental glance, “Did you see him? Did you not see him?” Her voice was akin to nails on a chalk-board, high and altered with the amount of alcohol she’d be throwing down her throat, not to mention that ghastly expression worn across her features as-if someone had done something to dramatically offend her. “Get over it, it’s not like he threw himself on you.” Pausing thoughtfully her head would relax back into the tile, a small defined smirk weaving itself upon the surface of those deviously shaped lips, “Or would ever want to.”

The comment of course drew the reaction she’d silently expected, fo the second the insult fell freely from the tip of her tongue she felt the ferocity of a drilling glare baring into the side of her face, drilling two holes that she was rather indifferent about, “There’s no need to be a bitch, Estella.” Opening a single eye to peer from beneath long, darkened lashes, the ivory whites primarily concealed beneath blushing lips would make a brief mocking appearance, “That’s good advice, you should follow it more often.” With that the eye disappeared behind the smokey veil of her lid and the sound of retreating footsteps disappeared, lost amongst the mutterings of a growing crowd. For a whole moment things were quiet and the electricity buzzing beneath bubbling flesh began to rise, that familiar sensation biting at its breaking point, ready to embrace the rhythm of the music. But of course something stemmed the euphoria and a different voice broke into the temporary serenity and caused that single eye to reappear and squint thoughtfully at the new-figure with contemplation.

She seemed distressed about something, but then everyone always at some point got irritated, angry, frustrated and all those other negatives thing during the duration of a night out. Most experienced an entire spectrum of emotions before forgetting the entire thing. Peering downwards, deciding to inevitably open both eyes, a thoughtful brow would develop a quizzical arch and straight lips would purse into a plush pout. “Guys are useless, the lot of them.” It wasn’t often conversation was that appealing with strangers, not to Estella, usually they weren’t worth more than a moment or two, but what was more fun that insulting men and their uselessness? Probably not a lot. Not in this joint anyway. “Shame it wasn’t something else, Beer stinks.” It was spoken with light indifference with a sort of factual tone that melted into the softness of her otherwise velvet chime, her voice naturally well pronounced and highly defined despite the tonic of drugs and alcohol swirling beneath the surface. “Did you throw something back on him? Cause you should have.”

My shirt reaks of beer that the idiot dumped on me during our dance on the dance floor. The yellow liquid that was once in his beer cup makes my nose scrunch up as I pull the fabric of the threads up to my nose. I take a heavy wiff of it. The stench is enough that I can't deal with it, and pull my face away feeling my stomach churn once again. I let the fabric go back to the original place on my body, straightening it back, as the girl beside of me comments on what I was saying about the men.

"Did you throw something back on him? Cause you should have." I shake my head, but stop abruptly when it makes my head spin. I've never gotten this bad before. A couple of drinks yes, but for some reason, I went overbored tonight. What reasonings could I have for this? To let the liquid settle my nerves to the point that I can't seem to think of anything else at the moment but one person. Doubt he'll come here though. I let my head hit the wall behind me as I stare up at the patterns on the ceiling as they spin out of control and then begin to swim. I give off a slight moan as I look around to all the girls that are clammering around in here. The sounds and smells of the porcelin bowls that are being used a little too frequently. Somewhere in the bathroom, the echo of someone getting sick penetrates my ears and I close my eyes in order to take away the thoughts of what I just went through not more than a few minutes ago. I roll my head to stare at her again. "Been out there yet to dance? They are more drunk than usual tonight. More than willing to buy the drinks for anyone."

I lean up from the wall and put my head on my knees for a few moments. "One too many... or one not enough." I think outloud and with a weakness in my arm, I push off from the wall. It pains me enough that it feels real still, not my imagination. The healing wound. I walk a few uneasy steps to the floor length mirror set up and stare at my reflection. My golden shirt now shows off the darker hue from it being wet. The tight black skirt hugs my hips, in ways that on a sixteen year old, shouldn't. My age old manuevers work to get into the club. The same ole excuses, but different everytime. They must be stupid. I don't need to worry about buying my own drinks when there are plenty of guys willing to purchase them for me. I run my fingers through my hair, letting the curls at the end bounce off my fingertips until I'm satisfied with the way my hair looks. I turn back to the girl I had previously spoken to.

"You should hit the dance floor with me. Protect me from the drunk guys that want to spill their beer on me." I say and for reasons that baffle me. My tongue is loose tonight. My mind seems to be unable to keep my voice from staying aloof around perfect strangers. I place my hand on the wall for a moment to stabilize myself and I don't wait on the girl to agree or disagree. "Com'on!"

I open the door to the ladies room and make a beeline for the dance floor once again. The music once again gets ahold of me as I start to let my mind sway with the music. I let myself go completely go. My eyes close to the darkness that is decorated with the dancing, colored lights. I let my hands explore my body and turn a few times to keep that rhythm going that I know how to dance. The next thing I know, I bump into someone and open my eyes to see the same drunk guy that spilled his beer on me.

"Where you been, baby? I've been wondering where you've been. You said you'd hit the town with me after a drink." He pushes himself at me and I shove him off, shaking my head at him.

"Sorry... not interested." I say and that's when I move away from him and then as I look somewhere out into the crowd of people, I see the face that I can't mistake who it is. Matthew is here...

Estella Arabella Antoinette



Looking somewhat sympathetically at the girl a slight shrug slipped across her shoulders in a movement of dismissal, she wasn’t one for accepting a thank-you especially for something so insignificant. Her worries however coaxed a faint, fleeting laugh to spill from the curve of her mouth as she’d give a gentle shake of her head, causing a few stray strands to brush the definition of her cheek and stick momentarily to her lower lip before being once again swept aside. “Don’t worry about it, there’ll be a chance to get you a clean shirt. Your dad wont no shit.” After all Estella’s mother never figured much out and her step-father wasn’t really a concern, he was just some lower-crust cretin that had, had a stroke of luck in catching her mother’s attention. They were too preoccupied with each-other to worry about any of their children in the meantime. But just incase Ella always had a backup plan to cover her tracks and ensure her antics remained under the radar. Following the girl’s sudden glance to the side, Ella nonchalantly landed her sights upon the guy who’d caught her attention, watching quaintly with little interest.

However after a moment of observing quietly, Estella could feel nothing but a wavering sense of unease, a feeling of complete and utter awkwardness, something the upper-crust girl was not accustomed to feeling. It was like being thrown into the scene of some cliche love-story, where all the surrounding dancers slow down in some delayed time-dimension and the two main-characters stare soppily into each-others eyes with distant, longing expressions. Of course there was always denial, but that wasn’t uncommon. Urg, emotional things were just far too strenuous and tiring for the young Antoinette, like a bad hair day or the irritating feeling when you’ve misplaced something, search for it all day and then someone else finds it within half-a-second.
Shaking her head dismissively, the dark-haired blurry-eyed brunette simply turned her sights to analyze the man in focus. It was only after several seconds the realization stirred in the back of her mind and whispered across the plate of her ear that, that was the same drunken fool who had stumbled into the girl’s toilets and quickly retreated out moments later. Small world? Wasn’t it just. After an awkward moment of exchanged stares it came as no surprise that the stranger took the initiative to approach and Ella idly watched, looking somewhat bored with a distant expression that reflected the lack of concentration available to her mind in its current state.

The initial greeting triggered a brow to elevate slightly in moderate curiosity, it was strange, like the pair of them were bordering on some state of confusion, not friends but not fuck-buddies. It was admittedly a little interesting, if only for a moment. Matthew. So that was his name. Pretty plain in comparison to some of the men she’d met in the past with extravagant, stupid names. At least it was better than Reptar and whatever other bullshit things senseless parents managed to conjure up. Knocked from her train of thought, Estella starred blankly for a few seconds at the pair of them, only now realizing she’d never bothered to introduce herself, but that was normal, usually she just assumed people knew her simply because they often did. After her cousin won the hunger games their family became known for a lot more than simply their wealth, not that Estella at all marveled at Cricket’s accomplishments, but it was nice that she’d survived. “Estella Antoinette.” Weaving the words with a feathered tone, uncensored lips would casually find themselves without a filter once more as she observed the interactions between the pair with a look of sickly displeasure, “If this is going to turn into some cliche, weird romantic moment let me know so I can find something else to do.”

Somehow I notice, between the dancing lights and the swimming floor, that the girl beside me seems to be very uncharacteristically bored with the scene that has suddenly came about. The moment I happen to find Matthew hidden in the crowd of dancing bodies, I notice in my periphrial vision, that she too, notices his gaze upon me. What I don't notice is the head shake or anything other facial features she produces toward me or the approaching male. I can't help but stare after Matthew with this look in my eye and a smile on my lips. I should know better though. Even when she asked if I knew him as a friend, I told her that it was probably something more than that. Damn girl... close your mouth. No one needs to know... I find myself regretting saying that because the relationship between us isn't solid just yet. What we have between each other seems to be just that of 'hey, I like you, but not publicly'. Stilll, just having that small amount seems to put into motion this attitude that's new to me. The drinks have made me more talkative; more freedom to say and do what I normally don't.

What has this alcohol done to me? I inwardly speak as the introductions are being done and I get the girl's name wrong. Of course, I would just spout off some random name, but I didn't want Matthew to think that I didn't know her, even though she was standing next to me like a preditor would do if it's young was threatened. I'm actually quite glad she's standing there with me because without her beside me, that drunken guy, who had spilled his beer on me, would have kept on until either I hit him or he would have hit me.

At all the times in the world to suddenly drag someone along, I never would have expected for the person I run into to be related to the district two victor. My luck. "Antoinette? Really? That's amazing." I say with this surprise in my voice. I'm also starting to realize my behavior around her and start to wonder why she, of all people, was following me around like this. She probably has better things to do, but it's with the introductions that she seems to be annoyed for some reason. Especially, when she comments on Matthew and I.

"No! I hardly know him... just know him from the training center. You know?" I tell Estella with this denial in my voice of someone trying to cover the truth. I do, however, mentally say the girl's name a few times in my head just to remember it. The last name I'll remember with no problem at all, but the first name is what I'm having a hard time recollecting even though she just told us. The name Becca still rings clear in my head though. That's when I fall into Matthew and once again, the yellow liquid that's in his glass finds my top once again. I groan out as he offers an apologie and to get a napkin.

"Don't... the shirt is already ruined from that other drunk guy who tried to have his way with me." I say and back up from him and regain my footing. I dab at my shirt, trying to effortlessly remove the liquid as if my shirt was waterproof and just the action of wiping at it would free it of the damp mess. It don't. I shake my head. The smell of the beer finds my nose again, and I scrunch it up. "Lovely..." My unusual round of bad luck seems to bring me down to earth just a little bit. I look to Matthew and then to Estella.

"Let's dance!" I say, my voice trailing off and my body starts to, more or less, rhythmically sway to the music once again. I don't even wait on them to accept or deny my proposal. Instead, I just find myself easily back to the music that never stops. Although, the dancing crowd around me seems to not notice that I'm barefooted until the last minute when one stomps right on my foot. I hiss out at the guy who doesn't nothing but shrugs it off and turns from me.

"HEY! Ass! Watch where you're stepping." My harsh voice sounds off immediately to the man who has dismissed my pain so easily. I advance on him, planning on giving him a peice of my mind when he turns to meet me with the same expression. We eye each other for moments at a time. His shoulders flex and with the next few moments, things start to unravel quickly.