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exhaust ; beck & aloysia
Jun 4, 2022 16:41:01 GMT -5
Post by [nyte] on Jun 4, 2022 16:41:01 GMT -5
BECK HAILSHAM
Life's a fucking bitch. His leg bounces on a crowded stage, frayed nerves igniting whenever anyone draws near. The sensation of sandpaper on an open wound. He wears rounded shades with crimson lenses, making silhouettes fuzzy around the edges and faces near indistinguishable. Smile. They tell him, so he curves his lips into an accentuated frown.
He can't say that everything has stayed the same this year. Much as that has been an easy answer for the last seven. This time he's almost certainly started moving forward in lumbering, staggered steps. Sure, he hasn't slept in two days and forgot to eat the protein bar he'd left out on the counter in a desperate attempt to remind himself he had to - but, he looks over at Talon and winks because he'd hate to see the kid get too in their head about today - he's had a lot of practice pretending to be okay lately.
So call him a liar, it's not a fucking insult if he knows it's true.
His feeble optimism flickers out long before Aloysia is finished sentencing two more children to death. Having so many others around him has made it fucking easy to be a coward. He excuses himself early, squeezing Talon's shoulder and mumbling something about meeting them on the train. He pulls out a cigarette and breaths in smoke until it hurts, in preparation to greet the newest ghost tucked away in a hollow carriage.
"They miss you, Parker." He tells her, because he thinks she'd like to hear that - whether or not Parker Lachlan would have ever admitted to that.
Beck is so profoundly used to being lonely that it becomes obvious when he is not. A gaze clings to him, almost clinical in its evaluation. He can almost hear the gears turning in her skull and wonders how hard it would be to make steam come out her ears. "For fuck's sake Aloysia." His voice is ruined by his only persistent attempt to kill himself, so he clears his throat of lingering smoke and snuffs out his cigarette on the seat beside the escort. "You scared me. Normally I'm the first one here."
He meets her eyes and hopes she finds the apathy within them, "Aren't there tributes to be escorting?"
He can't say that everything has stayed the same this year. Much as that has been an easy answer for the last seven. This time he's almost certainly started moving forward in lumbering, staggered steps. Sure, he hasn't slept in two days and forgot to eat the protein bar he'd left out on the counter in a desperate attempt to remind himself he had to - but, he looks over at Talon and winks because he'd hate to see the kid get too in their head about today - he's had a lot of practice pretending to be okay lately.
So call him a liar, it's not a fucking insult if he knows it's true.
His feeble optimism flickers out long before Aloysia is finished sentencing two more children to death. Having so many others around him has made it fucking easy to be a coward. He excuses himself early, squeezing Talon's shoulder and mumbling something about meeting them on the train. He pulls out a cigarette and breaths in smoke until it hurts, in preparation to greet the newest ghost tucked away in a hollow carriage.
"They miss you, Parker." He tells her, because he thinks she'd like to hear that - whether or not Parker Lachlan would have ever admitted to that.
Beck is so profoundly used to being lonely that it becomes obvious when he is not. A gaze clings to him, almost clinical in its evaluation. He can almost hear the gears turning in her skull and wonders how hard it would be to make steam come out her ears. "For fuck's sake Aloysia." His voice is ruined by his only persistent attempt to kill himself, so he clears his throat of lingering smoke and snuffs out his cigarette on the seat beside the escort. "You scared me. Normally I'm the first one here."
He meets her eyes and hopes she finds the apathy within them, "Aren't there tributes to be escorting?"
