thecapitol | so here's my hope, my tired soul. ( open )

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so here's my hope, my tired soul. ( open )

She's been here for a day now, enough time to convince herself that this isn't some kind of awful dream. In a lot of ways, it's almost surreal. For one, she's clean for the first time in months - actually, truly clean. In part, thanks to the efforts of her prep team, who had tsked at the filthy and matted state of her when she'd been brought in.

So here she is, squeaky clean and sitting in the corner of the common area in front of one of the many television screens. Watching one of the programs that seem to run around the clock. This time, it's highlights from the last arena.

Beth's no stranger to violence. Her life has been full of it for the last two years, ever since the dead stopped staying dead. She's seen a lot of it. But this is a full highlight real of awful, grisly murder being narrated by people with chipper voices like some kind of sick sports event.

"I'm gonna be sick," she mumbles quietly, mostly to herself.

TRAINING CENTER RESTAURANT

They give her more food than she's ever seen in her life, and Beth looks down at it like it's an alien thing. Like it can't possibly be real. She's perched on the edge of the bar on a stool with a plate heaped high and for a moment, she doesn't make any move to eat it. Because even before everything went wrong, they never had food like this on a farm where they grew mostly everything they ate.

She sort of just looks at it, fork in hand, like she's in shock.

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Luke offers a sympathetic smile as her stomach rumbles. It’s so common a sound that it’s hard remembering a time when it had been treated as some silly source of embarrassment – and while he chuckles softly it’s only at the term ‘redneck brunch’.

“Damn… and I thought eatin’ a can a' dog food was pretty bad."

His gentle smile falls and he frowns as he listens on, increasingly aware of the many people around them who seem at ease and so accustomed to this bounty as if they had forgotten what it meant to spend every waking moment haunted as much by the living as by the dead. “It’s what us folks have to do nowadays to survive… which’s got me wonderin’ about this place.”

"It wasn't that bad. That was better than eatin' snake jerky," especially since Daryl hadn't paid much attention to the way it cooked over the fire and it had mostly burned. Tough, rubbery snake meat with the taste of ashes - those chicken feet had been a godsend in comparison.

But his tone piques her interest. He talks about surviving, he's got an accent like hers...no one else in this place has known what she was talking about, but maybe he will.

"Do you know what a walker is? Please tell me you know, because no one else does and it's drivin' me crazy."

There's a quiet flicker of recognition in his eyes before his brows draw low, expression sobering. Beth looks like she might be just around Sarah's age -- and while there doesn't seem to be anything glaringly off about her, and he'd like to think that there isn't, he's not so quick to make his mind. But there's no harm in talking and trying to gain a feel for her character while the both of them puzzle over the strange state of blissful ignorance so many are wallowing in.

"...Mind if I scoot over?" He considers the empty stool beside her, not looking to talk any louder than he needs to.

He doesn't give a straight yes or no answer, but the look in his eyes tells Beth that she was right. Which is incredibly relieving, because she was starting to feel as if she was the only one around who remembered anything about that. So when he asks to scoot over, she clears a place for him on the counter almost immediately.

There's relief on her face, too. "What's your name? I'm Beth."

He brings his plate over and sets it down on the counter in front of him, though chances are it’ll grow cold before he comes anywhere close to finishing it.

“I’m Luke.” His lips pull into a smile again, meant to put her at ease, but it's already fading as quickly as it had come. “What happened to your friends?" He tries, gently. "If... you don’ mind me askin’.” Had she also been dragged here without any recollection of how and when it happened?

"We used to live in this old prison. It wasn't really anythin' to look at, but it was safe. Enough for the kids, and...the baby and everyone else. But we got attacked by a man callin' himself the Governor, and he rolled through our walls with a tank. Everyone sorta got separated after that," she trails off a little, picking at her food. And despite being starving previously, she's suddenly a little less eager to eat.

"But they're alive. And I'm gonna find them someday," she's firm about it, like she's trying to convince herself more than anything else.

The chatter filling the restaurant fades out of awareness as she shares her story and he watches the workings of emotions on her face, considering what’s left unsaid just as much as what’s being said.

"You had a baby…?" He muses aloud, his eyebrows lifting higher at the surreal image of a maniac in a tank plowing through the defenses of their makeshift home. It’s not difficult to imagine the wild-eyed panic and the bloodshed and he purses his lips, his gaze unfocusing and turning inwards. There had to be a reason for the ‘Governor’ to have done this – but it’s a terrible act of violence regardless. One no one deserves to suffer through.

"Jesus." He blinks slowly and looks up at her, recognizing that thread of desperation in her voice all too well. That fierce determination to convince oneself that there was hope yet. And while he doesn’t trample it down he doesn’t feed it, either. He just meets her with a patient, sympathetic expression, letting her talk as much or as little as she's ready for.

"Oh! She wasn't mine," Beth's quick to clear that up, if only because other people have thought the same thing in the past. "I just...took care of her sometimes, because her mama was gone," and for all she knows, Judith's gone too. She has no way of knowing that Tyreese saved her. And it's this knowledge that makes her clam up really fast, looking away for a moment because losing that sweet little baby is a blow that makes her chest feel like it's going to cave in a little.

After a moment, she starts pushing her food around her plate, trying to figure out how to move on from this particular conversation topic. "We were in Georgia. Do you know where you were? It's hard to figure it out without maps or anythin'."

He blinks, suddenly self-aware, reaching a hand to rub sheepishly at the back of his neck. She didn’t look like she had hit twenty yet if he had had to guess, and a teen having a baby wasn’t easiest to think about considering how it might have come about in these times.

“Sorry, I meant your group. I didn’t… think she was yours.“ Not what he immediately assumed, anyway. But sorting out the confusion no longer matters so much when she peters off and breaks eye contact. It tells him everything he needs to know, and guilt knifes into him, his mouth opening to apologize.

“Hey…” He begins, “look, y’don’ have to say anythin’ if you don’ want to.”

And that’s all he says on the matter, letting her take her time and change the course of the conversation however she pleases.

“We were making our north, lookin’ for a camp up near Michigan. Y’ever heard a’ Wellington?” Lord he knows he hadn’t until Kenny had sat down with him at the lodge.

She's glad for the change of topic, really. Judith is gone and it feels like the worst thing in the world, but there's nothing she can do about that, right now. The only option left is to swallow the pain and move on, because there's nothing else. And tearing herself apart with guilt over it isn't going to help, although it's absolutely going to happen.

"Wellington? No. But Michigan's real far from where we were, I think. How big was the camp?" was it anything like Woodbury? From what she had heard, it had been nice while it lasted. Before everything in it fell apart - people she loved were instrumental in that, too. "Did you find what you were lookin' for?"

The questions give him pause and it’s his turn to gaze absently into his plate with heavy, uncertain eyes. First while grappling with his confusion over just how far off-course he must be now for the both of them to have made it here - wherever Panem was – and then while reflecting on that ill-fated attempt to cross the frozen lake.

He should have said something more. Should have put his foot down and lead them around despite the greater length of time it’d have taken them. But all he had done was stumble along, pale-faced and sweating through his shirt and fighting just to breathe, his jaw clenched fiercely against the pain. And a little girl might have died for it.

He had struggled desperately to make it, to reach her, to push her just a little further to the surface. But it hadn't been enough.

“Didn’t make it yet.” He considers the arrangement of fries on his plate, shaking his head after a beat. "...Got separated from my group an’… well, it’s a longshot, but I was thinkin’ maybe I’d find ‘em here. An' if not, then I gotta think about settin’ out soon as I can." Death matches be damned. But he needs information. He needs a plan, and the time to fine-tune it and see it through.

Edited 2014-10-29 22:49 (UTC)

Now it's her turn to feel a little bit guilty about it. She knows that happy endings are few in the world they live in, not when tragedy seems to rear its ugly head whenever it seems like they might get a little bit of peace. She opens her mouth because she wants to tell him that she's sorry, that maybe they'll turn up - it's better to believe that, isn't it? It's better to have a little hope.

Or maybe it isn't, because it's even worse when they're dashed to the ground time and time again, but she keeps clinging to it nonetheless.

None of those words make it, though. Not when he mentions leaving, and she suddenly leans over across the counter, concern etched on her face. "They...they've got guards. A lot of them."

She met you like two minutes ago but she's already worried for you, Luke. Please don't get yourself killed.

As brief as his wanderings about the Capitol have been thus far he has noticed no small number of armed guards, himself. So many more than at Carver’s compound, but that makes sense for the sheer size of the place if he’s to believe the map. He couldn’t be hasty; he would be of no help to any of his friends with a body pumped full of hot lead.

His voice drops lower yet, to a murmur, and while he feels her gaze on him he keeps his head ducked and his eyes off her. In his best attempt at appearing casual he takes a few fries, chewing thoughtfully.

"Yeah. More than I ever seen in one place."

He thinks to say something more on the subject but reconsiders.

"Don’ look now, but I think someone’s been watchin’ us for a while over by that wall to my right." The remark hangs heavily in the air between them before he lets out a quiet, tired sigh. "...I don’ know. Maybe I’m jus’ bein’ a little paranoid."

Edited 2014-10-30 02:45 (UTC)

It's really tempting to look, even though he says not to. It's really tempting, but Beth stays put where she is and picks at her food like she's supposed to. She's really not good at this whole...sneaking around thing, but she's gonna do her best, even lowering her voice a little in the hopes of not being overheard.

"I heard somewhere that there's always some kinda surveillance around. Seems crazy to think about, but..." if only because no one in their world would ever have the resources to pull this kind of thing off. Looking around at everything the Capitol has, it's clear that they probably can.

"Maybe...bein' a little paranoid is a good thing, here."

It’s reassuring to know he’s not going nuts and entirely imagining things – because between being a place that shouldn’t exist and with his own lack of sleep catching up to him, he isn’t sure just how much he can trust his judgment. But when in doubt, he had to go with his gut. And here he was hoping he might not have to be looking over his shoulder for more than lurkers for just a while.

But life is never so easy, now least of all. “It’s lookin’ that way.” He husks, all too aware of that lingering presence at the edge of his vision.

"We could leave," she suggests suddenly, even though she doesn't even know where they'd go. Or if any place in the Capitol is safe from this kind of surveillance. From what she's heard about this place, probably not. But maybe a change of scenery will help him feel a little less jumpy.

Luke glances back at her, searching her face as he considers the suggestion.

"We could go take a walk for a little while." He decides at last, stuffing a few fries into his mouth. "If that's what you want, then I'll be headin' out first. Figure it won't draw as much attention if y'give it a few minutes before you go lookin' for me."

Nudging his chin towards her plate, has adds: "'sides, you, uh, probably wanna finish eatin' anyway."

She thinks on that idea, for a second. It's probably a good one, even though Beth's heard that they have cameras all over the place. Still, maybe it'll be enough to throw suspicion off of them. She's never lived like this before, never had to worry about being sneaky. She nods in assent before picking up her fork again and nodding him over to the door then.

"Go on then. Five minutes, okay?"

Beth takes another bite of her food. It's as good as every other one, better than anything she's ever had.

He holds her gaze steadily for a beat longer – it’s all that’s needed – and then he’s sliding off his stool, leaving her to her meal and paying for his own with a swipe his card before he pushes out the door. The time will pass quickly enough while he putters around the halls of the training centre, soaking in unfamiliar details.

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so here's my hope, my tired soul. ( open )

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