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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She watches him quietly, unable to get the image of him beating someone else to death out of her head. But people do terrible things sometimes, when they're scared. When they get desperate. Beth still trusts Rick, she trusts everyone else that she's with despite some of the situations they get put in against their will. And maybe there's something to be said here about hard choices, which always seem to be a given in the world they live in. She's been sheltered from them, really.

"Did you know him? Does everyone do it?" She asks, but it's almost like she's afraid to know the answer. There have to be some people who say no, right? Maybe everything changes once you're in the arena itself. Maybe all of her optimism will go straight out the window the moment things go south. But that's doubtful, because it's all she really has.

"No," Joel says honestly. He still only vaguely knows the kid's name. "He attacked me, tried to strangle me. I defended myself, nothing more. Some folks here will kill in the arena just because they can, but I'm not interested."

"Oh. I guess I'm...glad to hear that," she really doesn't like to think about the prospect of killing anyone, but that might change when people start attacking. She'd shot at the governor's people when they'd rolled up to the prison gates, but she's not sure if any of those bullets hit.

"What if everyone said no? What if we just...decided to stop killin' each other?"

Jesus Christ. Something about the way she looks, the tone of her voice, the look in her eyes - suddenly it's like he's talking to Sarah. There's that old, familiar pain in his chest, and he shoves his hands in his pockets, glancing away for a moment.

"Some people here just like killin'," he says. "Some of them aren't even human, literally."

There are people like that in her world, too. People who adapt to the anarchy in the worst ways, considering how the collapse of civilization tends to bring out the worst in people. But maybe, she feels like there might be some hope that it brings out the best in them, too.

Maybe it's a pipe dream.

"I know. There's always people like that. But there are good people, too," which may be hard to believe, but she has to believe it because it's the only thing she has left. "...What's your name, mister?"

"Sometimes. You have to be careful, though." Because people who seem good often turn out to be not.

"My name's Joel," he says. He can tell already this will probably not be good for him, but when was the last time he did something good for him? Not since the day he met Ellie, frankly.

"I'm Beth," and she'll extend her hand for him to shake because even though it's the middle of the apocalypse, manners still sort of matter. Or at least, her mama raised her to believe all of that, so here they are. "You're from America too, right? I've just met some folks who seem to be from other places. Other worlds. But you've got an accent, and it's sorta like mine."

Almost hesitantly, he reaches out and shakes her hand. It's still a weird thing for him - might always be, no matter how long he lives in this world without infected.

"Texas, originally," he says with a nod. "Haven't been back in years, though."

His palms are rough - hers are too, from gripping the hilt of a knife or a crowbar, but definitely not as much as his. She lets go after one good shake because he looks a little uncomfortable with it and there's no point in pushing people so far past their comfort zones. "I hear it's really beautiful there. Why haven't you been back?"

Joel shrugs nonchalantly and shoves his hands into his pockets. "Nothin' much there anymore. We've had to move around a lot."

"We had a farm, back in Georgia. But I guess that's gone now too," and it's a little sad to think about, but there's no use in dwelling needlessly on it. "You said there were better things to do around here than watch that stuff," she nods her head back to to the still-blaring television. "What are they?"

Better things to do. Right, yeah. Personally, Joel doesn't do much (aside from what Ellie and Tess and Clementine drag him into), but this girl is young, she seems innocent, she seems like Sarah, and she shouldn't have to watch the carnage constantly popping up on the screens in the Tribute center.

"Well, there's the city to explore," he points out. "Lots of places to eat. Ice cream shops. Some, uh, comic book stores. Music stuff." Stuff he knows Ellie likes. "You can get just about anything you want with that credit card they give you, basically unlimited funds."

She's seen some of the offerings laid out by the Capitol already, but the city is huge and exploring it is going to take time. Which is why she'd started from the training center with the intent on working her way outwards. "Ice cream," Beth repeats, sort of like it's a revelation. "I almost forgot about ice cream. We don't have electricity anymore, so I guess it's never happenin' again."

Ice cream. Beth looks sort of bewildered for a moment before she looks back at him. "Did you...wanna get some?" Asking a stranger out for ice cream probably isn't really conventional, but it's not like she has anything better to do.

He almost has to laugh at her sudden interest. Somehow, after Ellie and Clem, it doesn't surprise him in the least. "Things fell apart in your world, too, huh," he says. It's cute, if a little sad.

"Sure, I know a good place for ice cream, it's not to far from here."

"We're survivin'. We'll make do," and it's a little hard to believe, and maybe there's a little bravado there because she wants to convince herself of that more than anyone else. She takes a deep breath and nods her head towards the door - it's not really the ice cream that she's excited about, though that's a bonus. It's also about getting away from the blaring sounds of people murdering each other. That'd be nice, too.

"Why don't you lead the way?"

"I'm sure you are," he says. Partly because that's what he figures he should say, and partly because, well, the tone of her voice suggests she knows. Even if she's unsure, she knows.

They're all unsure, sometimes. Even Joel.

"Sure," he says, waving her out of the commons area. "There's all the regular flavors, and probably some you've never even heard of. I know I hadn't heard of 'em."

She follows him out of the commons area and the building itself without much second thought as to how it might be a little weird to be following someone she met about five minutes ago around. And to be honest, she's probably been pretty malnourished for months now, so the ice cream will do her some good.

"I bet they're amazin'," Beth mentions, looking around when they walk because she's still a little blown away by the futuristic buildings after the decrepit landscapes she's used to. "And...after eatin' mud snakes, I think pretty much everythin's amazing," it's easier to poke a little fun at it now, in retrospect. At the time, it was sort of the worst.

"Some of 'em. Some of 'em are weird," he says with a faint twitch of his lips. Not really a smile, but could be the start of one. "But probably all better than mud snakes... Rats, too." He's not sure exactly what she means by 'mud snakes', but he's definitely had to eat some weird stuff to stay alive before. He gets it.

"I've never eaten a rat before," but to her credit, she manages not to cringe. Because at the point when she was taken, after living in the woods for so long, she'd eat pretty much anything without flinch. "Before all this...we found some chicken feet someone had stored away, I guess. My friend called it a redneck brunch," Beth half-laughs at the memory of it, even though it's kind of a bittersweet one, considering what had happened not long after.

She ambles along beside him at a comfortable pace, but people like them might recognize the way she carries herself. Shoulders set, a little tense. Looking around intently.

Because it's the first thing you learn in the apocalypse: you are never safe. No matter how secure a place might seem.

Joel is the same way, his shoulders set, his head down but clearly aware of his surroundings and ready to react if something should happen that shouldn't happen.

"Never heard of people eating chicken feet. Must be even more redneck than me," Joel says with a faint twitch of his lips.

She actually kind of laughs, and it's really nice. To find something to smile about, even if it's just for a split-second. Before it fades, like she's just remembered how terrible everything is underneath the Capitol's manufactured glamor.

"Y'know, I really don't recommend them."

The ice cream shop is about as ostentatious as the rest of the city, not at all like the tiny shops she remembers from her youth. She glances back at Joel to confirm this is the right place he wanted - with a city as big as this one, it's probably better to double check.

"Good to know," Joel says lightly, waving her inside the ice cream shop. "So what's your favorite flavor?"

Because talking about little things like that is much preferable to talking about, well. Anything that might be painful or bad.

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

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