regrets {Mav + Beck}

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d4a tide evros {ems}
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probably flailing over something

regrets {Mav + Beck} Feb 1, 2023 18:20:32 GMT -5

Post by d4a tide evros {ems} on Feb 1, 2023 18:20:32 GMT -5

Maverick

What have I done?

Regret crowds his brain as he roams through the halls of the training facility trying to answer the question. Volunteering, while it sounds like someone is becoming a huge hero, it leaves their families vulnerable without anything left to fall back one especially in Maverick's case. His family relied on him, and he abandoned them to save the life of one of his best friends in the entire world. Yet now that he's here, everything is crashing down around him before he can even blink.

Death is a very real possibility, and he was safe. After this year, Maverick never had to face another reaping, but all he could see was Ezera standing hunched over on the stage -

I couldn't let him die. He's been through so much, but so have I.

Losing his teenage years to take on the role of a father to kids that aren't his own became difficult, and now he's abandoned them leaving them behind to suffer just like his father did. But Maverick isn't like that because there's always a reason to doing whatever he does.

And even now the answer seems so far away, but winning would change all their lives if he can somehow survive.

But I don't know what to do.

All the training in the world never prepared him for these feelings, and it's hard to let them run their course because the only thing on his mind right now is looking brave and strong. Who wants to see a crying career? Not that it matters since he's a disgrace to the careers in district four anyway. At least dying wouldn't let them down anymore. Would it? Would anyone even care?

Would Irving step up and out them out?

What if they lose everything because I selfishly did this?

Being selfish is hard, yet Maverick didn't do this because he wanted to escape. No, making sure that Ezera was taken care of became priority, and at least he's free and never has to worry about this again. But none of that helps right now, and Mav knows it. He's stuck in the Capitol until they carry him away to some form of hell where he'll likely end up dying. Seeing the world again seems so impossible despite everyone standing a chance.

But I'm not ready to die.

All he wants is to live his life like a teen instead of jumping straight into adulthood, and now his future is slowly coming to an end.

What have I done?

Everyone makes mistakes, but this was one of the biggest mistakes of his entire life, and nothing will ever make a difference, nothing can fix it, and now he's stuck with his own thoughts as he tries weathering his first night in the Capitol. All he needs is a friend, but nobody here is friendly since every tribute is after the same thing, and if Maverick doesn't kill them, they'll certainly kill him.

But where can I go?

Maybe the mentors can help.

Yeah.

That will work.

Taking a deep breath, Maverick leaves his room wondering who he will find, but the idea of waking someone up frightens him more than anything in the world.

What if they hate me?

They won't though, right? Shaking his head, he stops in front of a door to one of his mentor's room, and he knocks on the door unsure of who is inside, but he needs help only someone who went through this can provide. Waiting a couple of seconds, he knocks again before stopping completely. Hopefully someone will come to rescue before it's too late, but instead of waiting patiently, he knocks one more time.

"I'm sorry to bother you, but I really need help. I don't know what to do."

I can't do this. I don't want to die.

lest we forget [the characters]

credit to Zoe

gamemaker artemie 🦉nyte
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regrets {Mav + Beck} Feb 2, 2023 0:14:09 GMT -5

Post by gamemaker artemie 🦉nyte on Feb 2, 2023 0:14:09 GMT -5

BECK HAILSHAM

This shit never gets easier.

And I know that's the point. Surviving the Hunger Games is not salvation, no matter what we've been led to believe. It's merely a more complicated form of punishment, drawn out suffering instead of short-lived tragedy. They've begun to twist my trauma into nostalgia - etching me in watercolor with fuzzy edges until I'm more myth than man.

They never write me as a hero, I've noticed.

Every year since I was seventeen, I've sent children to their deaths. Even those who returned to me are not quite the same. Full of wrongness just like me. Still I never took a step back from mentoring. I could have long ago, now the Nixie and Talon were there to shoulder the burden but selfishly, desperately, I want my tributes back. I do all that I can, clinging to their hands until the skin's gone cold and starts to rot.

But Chanel has made things complicated and I can see no other option but the easy way out. I'm not mentoring this year. The cowardice stings, tempting me to crawl out of my own skin if only to stop the sensation but what choice did I have? I was stubbornly set in my decision until-

"I care about you, and you deserve better."

I do not blame any tribute for being callous. Cruelty has a habit of taking root in places like these. The threat of death is often enough excuse to lean into your worst impulses, I certainly had no issues doing so.

"You deserve to live."

Maverick did not have to be kind. All Maverick had to do what shut up and let that boy die. But he didn't, and he's here now in the Training Center with that heart of gold leaking out all over. He needs help and I can't help but want to be there for him.

Shocking, I know, that I'm not very good with strangers. I've been pacing the room for ten minutes, working through conversations under my breath.

(I'm Beck Hailsham, I can help-)

(Maverick right? I'm Beck but I bet you knew-)

(How you doin' Mav? What you did was really brave, you know.)

There's a knock at my door. I bite my tongue to trap the instinctual expletive at the sound. Much as I revel in being unpleasant, I find myself in a rather volatile position. I will not be made into an excuse for sabotage. It is not I who will face the consequences of my actions, but my tributes. And I've rather unfortunately stumbled my way into the spotlight this time around.

The stranger knocks again, making it obvious they've no intention to leave me to my sulking.

"I'm sorry to bother you, but I really need help. I don't know what to do."

Shit, this kid might actually be the death of me.

I squeeze my eyes shut, a last ditch effort at pulling myself together before I answer the door. My smile bears a hint of genuine warmth as I lean against the frame, arms crossed to my chest as I look him up and down. He's not entirely hopeless - he's got some natural muscle and a broadness to his shoulders that promises strength if we can hone it properly.

"Don't do that." I try to imagine his hand wrapped around a blade, dripping blood. Those soft eyes going hollow and haunted as he loses anything he dares to love. And he will love, the best of them always do. "I've done nothing to deserve your apology so don't give it away."

Seventeen year old me would kick twenty-six year old me in the teeth, I think.

"If you want my help, Maverick, you've got it. What you did for Ezera was brave. Stupid too but," I step out of my room, gesturing for Maverick to follow as I make my way toward the training center proper. "what can I say, you've inspired me. You saved his life, I'll try my best to save yours. Deal?"

And I swear I know better than to make promises, I hold out my hand all the same, "We'll start with the basics. You can't avoid combat in the arena - everyone is going to want to kill you. Maybe not right away, but eventually. Can you fight?"

Last Edit: Feb 2, 2023 0:22:33 GMT -5 by gamemaker artemie 🦉nyte

the m o o n controls the t i d e, it could cause you to d r o w n

d4a tide evros {ems}
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probably flailing over something

regrets {Mav + Beck} Feb 2, 2023 21:52:30 GMT -5

Post by d4a tide evros {ems} on Feb 2, 2023 21:52:30 GMT -5

Maverick

Asking for help is never easy especially when many people have belittled him and put him down, yet Maverick knows help is the only thing that may be able to save his life. While he puts on the persona of being a strong career, he knows very little when it comes to actually surviving. What little time he spent in the training centers back in district four was spent watching others so he could maybe pick up on something to give him the upper hand. But now that he's here, he feels out of his league. These careers are stronger than he is, they're more brutal, and this includes Rene. They all know better than him, and maybe it's wrong to compare himself to others. It wouldn't be so bad if they weren't capable of killing him in the blink of an eye.

A heavy sigh leaves his chest as he turns from the door thinking that nobody is coming. It was foolish to believe that someone would want to help him. He's just a foolish boy who wanted to protect someone he cares for, and now he's trapped, stuck, locked away in the gates of the Capitol with no way to escape.

Maybe I should just lay down and let myself die.

Yet the doorknob turns, and Mav turns around so that he's facing whoever appears on the other side. His gaze drops towards the ground, and when he lifts his head, Mav finds himself staring at Beck. It's hard to know what to think of his smile, but it's very welcomed all things considered. Being a mentor has to be difficult knowing what has to happen, but right now that's the only thing on his mind because making it home alive is more important than anything else in the world right now. Maverick has watched other tributes do terrible things by betraying their allies.

Only one can win.

Beck's words are almost harsh, but it's the ultimate reality. Apologizing to anyone here isn't going to do any good. Sorry doesn't mean anything in a world such as this, and Beck is right, Maverick hasn't done anything towards him to warrant an apology other than knock on his door and ask for help, but that isn't a bad thing.

He agrees to help him, and Maverick feels his spirits rising a bit only for them to come crashing down when he's reminded of the stupidity of volunteering. He bites his tongue fighting down the stomach acid crawling into his throat and mouth. Speaking is impossible, and maybe it's for the best that he just remains silent as his gaze lowers back towards the ground. His lip tremors slightly as water pools in the corner of his eyes -

They don't know him like I do. They don't know his story. Nobody does, and I'm the stupid one for letting a brother live. I'm the stupid one because I care more than I should.

Caring is going to be his downfall since it always is, but Maverick doesn't know how to live any other way.

Blinking the tears away is near impossible, and all he wants is to simply run away and pretend that none of this ever happened. It makes no sense since he didn't knock on the door and ask for help just to be put down. It's happened so many times before, and maybe it's wrong of him to feel as though this is what's happening. It's far from the truth, yet his mind refuses to let him believe otherwise.

But it seems asking for help is a good thing since Beck seems willing to help.

He steps out of his room, and Maverick starts following behind him -

"We'll start with the basics. You can't avoid combat in the arena - everyone is going to want to kill you. Maybe not right away, but eventually. Can you fight?"

Starting with the basics may save his life, they may give him something to work towards, something to at least prevent him from dying in when the bloodbath begins.

"I was stupid for volunteering." He begins referring to what was said earlier since he just found his voice. "I couldn't let him die, though. I should've, but I couldn't. Not after everything he's been through." His eyes focus on the ground as one step after the other he follows behind his mentor. "I tell everyone I'm a career, but I've spent very little time in the academy. Just a couple hours a week, but it hasn't taught me what I need to know. I mostly watch people to try to learn from them. I know the basics of fighting. Mostly self-defense."

I'm an imposter lying through my teeth.

A lump forms in the back of his throat as another question runs through his mind, and he isn't sure how to ask it. It's something he's thought of since the train ride, something that's been echoing through his mind, but now isn't the time to ask it.

Maybe it is.

Taking a deep breath, he raises his gaze;

"Is it possible to remain true to myself, or will I lose myself along the way?"