all in a fantasy || beck & opal !blitz
Jul 13, 2020 11:54:51 GMT -5
Post by ᴥ on Jul 13, 2020 11:54:51 GMT -5
b e c k .
"when the lights come down,
got an empty crown"
He lingers on the edge of a fantasy, muscles tensed and nerves alight. Instinct honed by blade and bite begs him to run. His breaths come ragged, the act in of itself feels disrespectful given where he's chosen to linger.
They're dead, he's painfully aware of that. The sight and scent of decay is something he'll never have the luxury of forgetting. He envies the broken ones like Justice Fray, to whom poison seems to have become a sick sort of antidote. He tried it once, not long after he'd returned to Four, but found the voices in his head were louder than ever at the bottom of a bottle.
He still remembers waking the next morning with blood and sick beneath his nails, tears cutting paths down bloated cheeks. Beck hasn't dared drink since then.
The Holo Museum was a sick perversion of everyone he'd dared to love. A chance for the Capitol to turn ghosts into commodoties. He wanted to stand on principle, to refuse to look at what the Capitol had made of their memory but Beck is nothing if not exceptionally weak.
Ever since returning to the Capitol this terrible place had called to him. A siren's song etched into the back of his skull with broken nails and every morning he wakes with her name upon his lips.
Beck survived, but Bell should have.
Maybe he wants to apologize for it. Tell her how much he wishes she could take his place. Maybe he wants to gloat. You were selfish and so was I but I'm alive and you're-
Finishing that thought is like an iron pressed into his tongue. He swallows it instead.
He desperately wants to see her again but Beck is nothing if not exceptionally weak.
Instead he stands, rooted to the spot, wasting stolen time.
