crashing and burning || turner & beck train blitz

I've been lost before, but losing myself in the tunnels of a Capitol train is new. I've been so blacked that the beach looked like a toilet in front of my entire training class, but even then I managed to stagger my way back home. Meanwhile, this one Peacekeeper who is stationed at the back of the train keeps giving me weird looks when I end up in the same spot. Like, okay asshole, this is clearly a choice I am willingly making. Whatever though, he really isn't worth my time.

When I finally do make it to the main car, there is literally only one person: Beck Hailsham. I guess Krigel is too busy busting it up with Kinkade and who knows where Morrisen is, yet I bite. Might as well get to know one of my mentors before being shipped to slaughter. Who knows, maybe when I'm in the arena he can send me a stuffed teddy bear! I can't believe mentors actually send that shit, but hey, a sponsor is a sponsor I guess.

"Oh, the volunteer himself."

So, it's starting there. The whole why would you volunteer to die angle. Then the follow up just ties it all together.

"You proud of yourself?"

I actually look down at my bare body before looking up with an eyebrow raised. It's fine, it has to start somewhere after all.

"Proud for shoving over some scrawny fourteen year old and kissing that Krigel? No, I couldn't care less."

My eyes follow the glass bowl as it breaks and I don't even flinch when it shatters. Instead, I walk over to the Victor making sure my bare feet only crunch several small shards of glass as I raise my gaze to his. I take the wine and down all but a drop in a couple seconds. My tongue glides across my upper lip as I hand the glass back.

"There, I saved you a little taste."

I know the look, the one that matches the bottom of the smudged wine glass he holds. Some people put up veils, distortions, to contain their emotions. Mom does that sometimes whenever something she doesn't expect happens. I guess some say that's how I am. Just some kid buried so far under a mask that they aren't even sure if there is skin there anymore. Unsure whether the human has evaporated away into nothingness or whether it's merely a fragment of the face it once was. I don't see it as a mask, I feel comfortable in my skin even if their emotions don't show it.

That sounds like some kind of rebellious shit right there.

"Then why'd you do it?"

My eyes follow the final fragments of red escape down his throat. As his Adam's apple sends the scarlet away into oblivion, I mirror the gulp silently. Cause there's that question again. The why. First Nanette, and now Mr. Beck Hailsham wants to know why I hopped aboard the death train. I knew it would be the question that kept coming in wave after wave, but right now I'd like to actually catch one and take it in to shore for a bit. Tough, I did sign up for this.

His comment on my "dramatics" spurs a snort and a shrug. I guess that's the rep though, volunteers are all about the spotlight and the attention. I've never needed it. In fact, I've broken it anytime it's gotten too close to me. Maybe Nanette was right. Maybe that is why. Maybe that's why I want his veil gone.

"That was you and I'm me. You see dramatic, someone else sees intriguing, and I just see me. That's what they're getting."

I take another step closer to the young Victor through the field of broken glass. The soles of my feet sting, but I can tell the cuts are shallow. It doesn't matter, my attention is on him as I take the cup again from his hands and look him back in the eyes. No barriers. No veils.

"Never said I didn't trust you. Do you trust me? Or am I just another coffin for you to carry already?"

The corners of my lips turn upward. What does he see? A boy or a body?