to the bitter end || beck & mackenzie blitz

 BECK HAILSHAM♔

He's twenty-two and has lived through at least ten years worth of bullshit on top of it. It's a wonder he keeps finding reasons to be optimistic. He picks out little bits of humanity in the children they keep laying out at the foot of his throne - Arc is radiant and charismatic and just maybe that will be enough to bring them home. Maybe this time Beck won't feel like that axe is back in his hand and he's gutting a little boy just to piss away the life he told him he was desperately fighting for.

Arc Mer gets twenty-second place, by the way. Beck tried to sleep through the Bloodbath. And yeah that's treason or whatever but what is the Capitol gonna do about it? It's all branding at this point. Beck winces every time he sees a news spreads outlining the golden career Victor's fall from grace. History, it seems, is doomed to repeat itself and Beck might find that poetic if he wasn't currently sitting on a couch in the common room fuming that they'd quite literally dragged him out of bed for this.

His chest hurts. That's the first sensation he picks out from the vague discomfort currently suffocating him. "This was entirely worth it, thanks." Venom drips from his words but it's nowhere near potent. He's exhausted. That's the second feeling he manages to untangle. His lids are heavy and an ache runs deep into his bones. Moving toward the liquor cabinet takes more effort than it should.

He considers the crystalline bottles for a few moments, deep purples and vibrant blues all tempting in their own right. He decides on a deep green bottle of whiskey accented with gold and bites back a grin - it's a very topical choice. If not a bit on the nose.

The first few gulps are graceless, trying to bubble back up his throat a couple of times. It's worth it, though, because his head is already swimming by the time he reaches the elevators. Pure instinct guides him, he's seeking comfort and there's really only one person in this godforsaken building that has ever made him feel anything close to that.

He'd been there when Beck woke up, after all. Though he probably regrets that now that he's become the victim of so many drunken rambles.

"Mackenzie!" He doesn't knock before he pushes into Seven's room, falling dramatically onto the floor beside the other Victor and plucking the lit joint from between his fingers to replace it with the bottle of whiskey. See, topical! "In the bloodbath! In the fucking bloodbath!"

He's grinning because he really doesn't know what other expression he's supposed to wear. It's full of sharp edges and so fucking fragile. "You're drinking with me?" It's spoken like a question, giving Mackenzie plenty of room to refuse. "You're drinking with me." He repeats, more certain.

"I just really want to see someone come home." He mutters that under his breath, because he really isn't drunk enough to say that aloud.