just under good | jaci & beck
Aug 14, 2020 1:19:55 GMT -5
Post by maverick hale 🌧️ d5 [nyte] on Aug 14, 2020 1:19:55 GMT -5
It's a wonder there's anything left in Beck Hailsham to break. Blind optimism seeps out from the gashes he's torn into the mats. Once upon a happy ending, he'd sworn to himself he'd never pick up another axe; he's since learned that was a stupid promise to make. It eats away at the pain, just like he remembers, biting into whatever surface it can reach until all that's left are torn callouses and his own heavy breaths. He can't see Perdita's head, he can't hear Dominic's canon. As long as he's awake, it'll stay that way.
They wait for him in his dreams.
(Like the rest of them.)
Dawn can't be far off, now.
IT'S NOT FAIR.
His axe sinks into a dummy's skull, splitting it in two.
He's not a fool, he knows coincidence is never benign in this lion's den. Snow's death meant only more wicked tongues wove the same twisted tapestries. Tragedy makes for great television.
Beck gave up everything for them and for their precious Capitolites. He smiles in their pictures and swallows vomit when they look up at him with adoration from the foot of his bramble throne. He let them twist every lost piece of him into something they thought beautiful. His life means everything to him, he'd always value it above all else and he gave it to them without a fight because he thought that meant he was safe. But Beck wasn't enough, he still wasn't enough.
They looked at his tongue on their boots and decided Perdita and Dominic weren't meant for second chances.
He digs his axe into the same place again and again and again
andagainandagainandagain-
Something stirs behind him and he throws his axe at the nearest wall in a knee-jerk response to the interruption. It clatters against a metal table, biting into it with an earsplitting screech and Beck smiles through grit teeth as he spins on his heel to face the newcomer.
"Ah Jacinta!" There's nothing left in him that would let him grieve, it's all ice and venom. "Exciting day, wasn't it? Bet the ratings are off the fucking charts." He speaks with a steel edge, bruises bleeding under his skin in the place of tears he can't muster. "I know I'm an idiot for thinking one of them might make it."
Doesn't this make for such an poetic ending? It's only a tragedy if heroes never live to see the finish line. They let you believe, then they take it away. The pain feels better that way. His steps are heavy, almost frantic, as he makes to move past Jacinta to some unknown destination. He would spit his words like this no matter who stood in his way. All that's left is anger.
"But it's all bullshit! I'm going to tell everyone it's bullshit. They didn't deserve this." Because their gifts would land on his doorstep sometime tomorrow.
Neither had lived long enough to see them.
"It's the least I can do."
He couldn't save them, but he won't stop trying.
They wait for him in his dreams.
(Like the rest of them.)
Dawn can't be far off, now.
IT'S NOT FAIR.
His axe sinks into a dummy's skull, splitting it in two.
He's not a fool, he knows coincidence is never benign in this lion's den. Snow's death meant only more wicked tongues wove the same twisted tapestries. Tragedy makes for great television.
Beck gave up everything for them and for their precious Capitolites. He smiles in their pictures and swallows vomit when they look up at him with adoration from the foot of his bramble throne. He let them twist every lost piece of him into something they thought beautiful. His life means everything to him, he'd always value it above all else and he gave it to them without a fight because he thought that meant he was safe. But Beck wasn't enough, he still wasn't enough.
They looked at his tongue on their boots and decided Perdita and Dominic weren't meant for second chances.
He digs his axe into the same place again and again and again
andagainandagainandagain-
Something stirs behind him and he throws his axe at the nearest wall in a knee-jerk response to the interruption. It clatters against a metal table, biting into it with an earsplitting screech and Beck smiles through grit teeth as he spins on his heel to face the newcomer.
"Ah Jacinta!" There's nothing left in him that would let him grieve, it's all ice and venom. "Exciting day, wasn't it? Bet the ratings are off the fucking charts." He speaks with a steel edge, bruises bleeding under his skin in the place of tears he can't muster. "I know I'm an idiot for thinking one of them might make it."
Doesn't this make for such an poetic ending? It's only a tragedy if heroes never live to see the finish line. They let you believe, then they take it away. The pain feels better that way. His steps are heavy, almost frantic, as he makes to move past Jacinta to some unknown destination. He would spit his words like this no matter who stood in his way. All that's left is anger.
"But it's all bullshit! I'm going to tell everyone it's bullshit. They didn't deserve this." Because their gifts would land on his doorstep sometime tomorrow.
Neither had lived long enough to see them.
"It's the least I can do."
He couldn't save them, but he won't stop trying.