beth greene (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
schnapp) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
thecapitol2015-01-05 05:36 pm
schnapp) wrote in thecapitol2015-01-05 05:36 pm
we're hollow like the bottles that we drink
Who| beth greene and you.
What| the arena's done and she's back from a traumatizing canon update. drinking? drinking.
Where| the tribute center bar.
When| post-arena
Warnings/Notes| mentions of alcohol, natch. more to be added.
All things considered, she's surprised that the Capitol kept her new scars. It didn't seem like they would have, since she can see the billboards spanning the city that promote perfection in every physical aspect - all possible by plastic surgery, they boast. These scars weren't there the last time she was in the city, but they are now. The healed-up versions of them, remnants of Dawn's temper - being pistol-whipped across the face isn't something that just goes away.
Beth doesn't care. She doesn't know what it says about her, if it supposedly tells the world that she's weak and not worth saving like the ones hidden by her sleeves. It doesn't matter, because she's in the Capitol now, and not Grady Memorial. And it's honestly hard to tell which she'd prefer more at this point.
She'd had her first drink only a few weeks ago. Her dad used to be an alcoholic, and she'd never wanted to disappoint him. But he isn't here, and -- well. She has the blood of three men on her hands now, even though she doesn't want to admit it. Beth makes her way down to the bar with the unease of someone who is not used to being there. Chin tipped up, ready to challenge anyone who tells her that she's too young to be here.
They ask her what she wants and she replies with the first thing that pops into her head - the only other alcoholic drink she really knows, other than moonshine.
Peach schnapps.
Doesn't matter that you're not supposed to drink peach schnapps by itself. That's what she does anyway.
What| the arena's done and she's back from a traumatizing canon update. drinking? drinking.
Where| the tribute center bar.
When| post-arena
Warnings/Notes| mentions of alcohol, natch. more to be added.
All things considered, she's surprised that the Capitol kept her new scars. It didn't seem like they would have, since she can see the billboards spanning the city that promote perfection in every physical aspect - all possible by plastic surgery, they boast. These scars weren't there the last time she was in the city, but they are now. The healed-up versions of them, remnants of Dawn's temper - being pistol-whipped across the face isn't something that just goes away.
Beth doesn't care. She doesn't know what it says about her, if it supposedly tells the world that she's weak and not worth saving like the ones hidden by her sleeves. It doesn't matter, because she's in the Capitol now, and not Grady Memorial. And it's honestly hard to tell which she'd prefer more at this point.
She'd had her first drink only a few weeks ago. Her dad used to be an alcoholic, and she'd never wanted to disappoint him. But he isn't here, and -- well. She has the blood of three men on her hands now, even though she doesn't want to admit it. Beth makes her way down to the bar with the unease of someone who is not used to being there. Chin tipped up, ready to challenge anyone who tells her that she's too young to be here.
They ask her what she wants and she replies with the first thing that pops into her head - the only other alcoholic drink she really knows, other than moonshine.
Peach schnapps.
Doesn't matter that you're not supposed to drink peach schnapps by itself. That's what she does anyway.
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Introducing it to someone else sounds like Beth's idea of a great time.
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The other however... his eyebrow quirked, turning his smile a bit sheepish. "...I assume 'cotton candy' isn't made from actual candy, yes?"
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She hands him the thing - a paper cone holding a huge wisp of cotton candy, like some kind of sticky pink cloud. She's beaming at him.
"Try it. You won't regret it, promise. It's magic."
It's easy to forget that he comes from a world with actual magic, where the saying might be a little lost on him.
no subject
"Is there a trick to it?" he asked, shooting her a slanted smile. "Or do I just - get in there?"
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no subject
Vividly, he recalled his younger self - and his brother - making themselves dizzy as they chased the feathery flakes around the yard. Their head's kicked back, challenging each other to see who could catch the most, both of them lying through their teeth.
Before Alexander had begun his rigid march down the Chantry's path.
Shaking it off, he pinched a whisp of fluff between his fore-finger and thumb and pulled it free. He popped it in his mouth-- and his eyes widened, a laugh rumbling up from his chest.
"It's sugar!"