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you need to lower your standards || b&e blitz
Jul 29, 2020 18:47:35 GMT -5
Post by maverick hale 🌧️ d5 [nyte] on Jul 29, 2020 18:47:35 GMT -5
The eighty-fifth hunger games have left him past the point of numb. He can't drown himself in drink to soothe how restless this cage makes him, he can't revel in the praise of vultures. A new mentor has made tributes as savage as he; they, in turn, have proven themselves strong enough to bear the weight of a bloodstained legacy and to carve out their own.
Perdita and Dominic are doing what they must to survive, he's too much of a coward to consider the alternative. He can't call Dominic weak for loving like he has; he can't hate Perdita for using those so eager to help her thrive. He's got his own demons to worry about.
Once upon a time he'd thought of nothing but how human those twenty-four children had seemed. What remains of them is unrecognizable. Empathy makes for boring television, after all.
It's giving him a migraine.
Lorenzo Emberstatt is not his keeper but he always manages to worm his way into Beck's thoughts when he finds himself in hostile solitude. God, did he always sound like such a bad habit?
The Capitol's vice grip has kissed blackened bruises into his throat and there's some part of him that certain it'll stop hurting if he can just hear his voice.
His finger hovers over the flashing green button, its shallow pulse mirroring the one fluttering beneath his wrist. He hasn't called Enzo since leaving for the Capitol. Sure he's wanted to, gone through this very ritual every time a nightmare followed him into the waking world and he couldn't tell reality from malignant memory.
But there's this nagging fear, a quiet whisper that always manages rise above his thundering heart-
what happens when he's tired of you?
He slams his finger down on the call button, nearly hanging up with every fresh round of synthetic bells.
Lorenzo picks up, of course he does.
"Enzo!" his name escapes on a relieved breath, "I'm gonna smuggle you here in my suitcase next year or some shit, it's crazy on this side of the Capitol."
(You know, when it doesn't look like a graveyard.)
"It's been busy. And stressful. How about that twist huh?" His words tumble over his tongue, rushed and breathless and a little more quiet than he meant them to be. "Kahinta and Oberon are doing good you must be-"
(relieved it wasn't you? disappointed?)
"Are you okay?"
Perdita and Dominic are doing what they must to survive, he's too much of a coward to consider the alternative. He can't call Dominic weak for loving like he has; he can't hate Perdita for using those so eager to help her thrive. He's got his own demons to worry about.
Once upon a time he'd thought of nothing but how human those twenty-four children had seemed. What remains of them is unrecognizable. Empathy makes for boring television, after all.
It's giving him a migraine.
Lorenzo Emberstatt is not his keeper but he always manages to worm his way into Beck's thoughts when he finds himself in hostile solitude. God, did he always sound like such a bad habit?
The Capitol's vice grip has kissed blackened bruises into his throat and there's some part of him that certain it'll stop hurting if he can just hear his voice.
His finger hovers over the flashing green button, its shallow pulse mirroring the one fluttering beneath his wrist. He hasn't called Enzo since leaving for the Capitol. Sure he's wanted to, gone through this very ritual every time a nightmare followed him into the waking world and he couldn't tell reality from malignant memory.
But there's this nagging fear, a quiet whisper that always manages rise above his thundering heart-
He slams his finger down on the call button, nearly hanging up with every fresh round of synthetic bells.
Lorenzo picks up, of course he does.
"Enzo!" his name escapes on a relieved breath, "I'm gonna smuggle you here in my suitcase next year or some shit, it's crazy on this side of the Capitol."
(You know, when it doesn't look like a graveyard.)
"It's been busy. And stressful. How about that twist huh?" His words tumble over his tongue, rushed and breathless and a little more quiet than he meant them to be. "Kahinta and Oberon are doing good you must be-"
(relieved it wasn't you? disappointed?)
"Are you okay?"
