(no subject)

[beckstitch]

Who| Beck and Roland, Beck and OPEN
What| Beck takes Tony's loss to heart
Where| The gym, a club in the Capitol, the D12 common area
When| The days immediately following Tony's execution
Warnings/Notes| Discussion of violence, death, etc., also sexual themes

i. Gym.
She'd cried a little, watching Tony's execution. Then, when she'd had time to sit down and really digest the information, she'd cried a lot, feigning a headache as an excuse to go and curl up under the covers. Losing Tributes, she'd learnt to deal with, although it always stung - they were always going to die, and sometimes they wouldn't come back. But losing Victors was ten times worse, especially when they were shot the way you'd always imagined it being with your father, the way that sometimes got you waking in a cold sweat. Especially when it had been your job to save them.

When she'd finished crying, fixed her make-up, and felt like she was in a position to show her face to the world, she got back up. Still pale and drawn, she changed into her running gear, hoping to burn off some of her feelings, make herself too tired for grief or guilt or frustration. She left a note on her door - Out Running, Back Later - and headed out into the city.

After two circuits of her usual morning run, she felt no better. That was what found her in the gym an hour or so later, out of place among the Tributes, slim and smaller than ever without her high heels, lifting weights and shadowboxing with a vengeance.

ii. Club.
The night after the show aired, and for several nights following, Beck couldn't sleep. Knowing that from the start - knowing she didn't want to sleep, had to get her head clear - she didn't even try. Instead, she found herself drifting through the city after hours, through all her old haunts and some new.

You're likely to find her propping up the bar in one of the seedier clubs of the Capitol, dressed in scraps that barely cover her modesty. Or extremely drunk and draped over another woman. Or, most likely, dancing on tables and singing at the top of her voice. And you don't even have to pay for the privilege!

iii. D12
About three days after the execution, when Beck has herself under control again, she starts pushing notes under the doors of her remaining Tributes and staff. District meeting, Commons, 1pm Tuesday. Be there. Not optional. -Beck

From 12:30 onwards, she can be found in the District 12 common area, sitting cross-legged on one of the couches. She's done her best to make it look friendly - there's a plate of tea and coffee things, some cake, plenty of cushions - but she herself looks tired and drawn, the long nights starting to show and her friendly smile conspicuously absent. Dammit, she cared about Tony.

Comments

iii

[glowygreendeath]

Ermac glances down at the tea and sweets, mildly confused. He'd assumed that this meeting would be all business, but it's set up like a tea party. Still, he seats himself on one of the cushions and watches the woman, waiting either for her to speak or for other people to show up for this meeting.

"Are you the one who summoned us?"

[beckstitch]

Beck gives him a little smile, albeit one lacking some of its usual warmth, and nods. "I guess I am. We haven't really talked, huh? I'm your head Stylist." And the first contact you're going to get from me is going to be a lecture she thinks gloomily, reaching over to pour herself some coffee. Aloud, she just says "Thanks for coming. Ermac, right? Want some coffee?"

[glowygreendeath]

"You were responsible for our coronation outfits?"

Why, no, he didn't appreciate them. At all. What was wrong with his wardrobe? It was designed to be both practical and regal at the same time.

He sits down, anyway. There was a meeting, after all, and meetings were to be taken seriously.

"Yes. We will also have some vanilla cream, if there is any left."

[beckstitch]

"Yeah. Why, was something wrong with them?" Beck's voice comes out a little more belligerent than she intended; she shakes her head, grimacing, and passes him the vanilla cream. "You might want to tack that onto the groceries list. We're running low, and I'm getting so tied up in requisitions I'll probably forget."

[glowygreendeath]

"We found the last outfit to be in poor taste."

He shrugs, though. It wasn't too much of an issue, especially when compared to things like running out of coffee.

"Why have you called us here?'

[beckstitch]

She sighs, settling back in her seat and scrubbing one long-nailed hand over her eyes. "I just wanted to have a talk, that's all. About Tony, and everything that's happened. To make sure you understand, and to make absolutely clear that it's not happening again, you know? I'm not having anyone else turn traitor on my watch."

[glowygreendeath]

"And what, exactly, happened with him? We have not been briefed on any of the details."

He'd seen the broadcast, and knew the man had been shot, but that was it. He also knew, vaguely, that there was a rebellious movement out there, but wasn't there always? If you had a government, you had anti-government movements.

gym

[ka_sera_sera]

Roland's busier these days. Not with anything useful, save the practice moving quick across the city that his job allows him, but busy. This, though, does not mean certain things do not need to be maintained. His old skills, those of course, but he's less concerned with them. The speed and accuracy which has been in him his whole life, that'll be there when he needs it. It's these fingers. All the attention that used to go to keeping his guns in shape now goes them.

Today it has occurred to Roland that, with them, he can draw a bow. Not in all the time since he'd gotten the things attached has he realized this, and today finds him making space in his busy and pointless schedule to stand in front of a row of targets, to hold a bow for the first time in what feels like quite a while, to fit his fingers around it very carefully. It isn't large, the bow, isn't powerful, but that isn't what he's concerned with today.

Even focused as he is, though, Roland keeps track of his surroundings. Someone who isn't a tribute or mentor coming in here, he notes that. Once that someone makes it obvious they're here for something a little more emotional than simple training, he notes that too. Not particularly subtle, the way Roland slows what he's doing to watch her, but ask him if he cares. That's Signless' stylist, so if she's more emotional than usual that might mean something important. Besides which, he hasn't seen someone box in quite a while. It's interesting, seeing it now, and from a stylist, at that.

[beckstitch]

Beck notices him watching her. In her line of work - in the Capitol in general - you get a certain sensitivity to eyes on you, even when they aren't as obvious as he's making himself. She finishes her barrage of punches with a high spinning kick, then bends down to pick up her towel, draping it around her shoulders as she looks right back up at him.

"You got to the bow," she observes, scrubbing at her hands with the towel, careful not to catch her false nails on it. "Your Escort ought to be happy about that. But your boyfriend might be happier if you got to him for a bit. He's had a whole lot landed on him, now he's the only Mentor we've got."

Which is her polite, Capitolite way of asking if he's got something to say, without actually asking it. Belligerent though she's feeling today, she isn't quite angry enough to start getting in fights with people who've done nothing wrong.

[ka_sera_sera]

"The Signless can handle his own work," Roland says, lowering the bow and yes- still watching her. "So long as those around him do theirs."

Does he need to ask what he's thinking of asking? Yes, Roland decides. He does. He's seen, after all, that this one does sometimes let her emotions carry her away to unexpected places. How far that tendency goes he doesn't know, but he thinks that it is there. "Will you? It doesn't matter to me what's got you in this state," and here he looks down pointedly toward the towel around her neck, because that she is in state isn't worth debating. "Only where it'll take you. Should I warn him he's got to make up for your work, too?"

Maybe you're not supposed to hang a bow over your arm but Roland slips his over the back of his hand anyway. It is not, as has been mentioned, large, and there is some chance that he's going to need somewhere to put it in the next few seconds, depending on how she reacts. Keep both his hands free.

[beckstitch]

Beck's lips thin for a moment, and she narrows her eyes at him. "I just lost one of my staff to the rebellion because I took my eye off the ball," she points out, tugging on the ends of her towel. "If you think I'm going to let my job slide again..." And she trails off, because she doesn't really have to finish that sentence when her tone does it for her.

After a moment, when she's got her thoughts more in order, she adds, "He's not going to have to make up my work. I'll take the load as much as I can, and I'm willing to bet he will too. I'm just saying, it's a lot to take for those of us with some responsibility over it. He might need someone to talk to." Her mind shies away from the idea that she might, too. She isn't the topic of this conversation, in her mind. Anyway, if she can burn off the energy and maybe find someone to fuck, she'll be fine. "For me, I've just had a kick in the teeth to remind me to do my job properly. That's where it's taking me."

[ka_sera_sera]

"Your job." The implication that Roland wouldn't talk to Signless whenever he needs it is a great deal less important than it might have been, because now Roland is interested. Taking personal offense at something he knows very well has no truth to it will only get in the way of learning about more important matters. "Cry pardon, lady, for I still must not understand the nature of your world's stylists. Makara's explained very well to me but I had no idea your powers reached so far as to catch rebels in the act."

He has some suspicion that this may in fact not be the case, but if it is he needs to learn.

[beckstitch]

"Not my job as a Stylist!" Beck exclaims, and hurls a punch at a nearby punchbag. "My job as a citizen. As a person! Halfbreed or not, I'm still part of this city, part of this country, I've still got a goddamn responsibility!" Another punch, this one thrown with a vehemence and strength that would probably break something if it was aimed at someone's face. "If I'd been paying attention, if I'd gone and had that talk with him, if I'd done my fucking duty by him, I... oh, FUCK!"

This aimed at her hand, as she looks down at it and sees one of her acrylic nails snapped from the last punch. Hot tears spring to her eyes, tears of rage and frustration more than grief. She's just glad she's wearing waterproof mascara.

III

[69problems]

He knows what the note is about the moment he gets it, and privately he's glad for her taking the initiative this time. It's partly because it cements her as someone who will actively help him manage this mess (and oh, is he ever glad for that) and partly because he's still processing what happened.

It's not the execution itself that has him shaken. He's seen enough of those by now that they are never a surprise, just one more wound next to many. It's that it was Tony. Tony, who he was already worried for and had no real way to help. Tony, who he expected to still be brooding in his room long after the Capitol put a bullet through Signless's own head.

He sits down on the couch across from her and pours himself a cup of coffee, stirs in some sugar and cream. It's not yet one o' clock but he thought it best that the only remaining Mentor be early.

"You look as awful as I feel."

[beckstitch]

"You know just how to make a girl feel better," Beck mumbles, rubbing her hands over her eyes. She reaches over after a moment and takes a biscuit, but doesn't eat it; instead, crumbling off little bits between her fingers, she looks up at Signless from under her fake eyelashes. He looks weary, too, which brings a strange kind of relief; at least she isn't the only one struggling with all this. Unconsciously mirroring his thoughts on the matter, she's relieved - if not surprised - to see that her fellow staff member seems willing to help manage all this.

"Thanks for showing," she says after a moment, a little awkwardly, and takes a bite out of the half-biscuit that remains from her nervous picking. "I, um. I don't really look that bad, do I?"

[69problems]

"Next to me I'm sure you look like a -- what's the phrase Celebrus likes -- an 'absolute vision'," he says, but he doesn't quite have it in him to sound deadpan. It comes across as more just weary. The permanent bags under his eyes are even darker than usual, so there may be some truth to what he's saying.

"But no one would begrudge for looking less than perfect right now, I think. It's been a hard couple of days. I can't believe --" That Tony was a rebel? That he got caught? No, he can believe those things perfectly well. He quiets, shakes his head, takes a sip of his coffee.

[beckstitch]

"I can't believe I didn't see it coming," Beck fills in for him, her tone bitter and angry. "The signs were all there. I should've talked to him, for fuck's sake! I mean, I was going to, but things always came up, I was always distracted, and now look what's happened." She looks for a moment as though she'd like to hit something, before she manages to pull herself back under control.

"Anyway," she says, a little quieter, "I figure even if we fucked up with Tony, we can try and nip anything else in the bud." The last thing she wants, she thinks bleakly, is another dead Tribute on her hands.

[69problems]

"That's what this meeting is going to be about, I'm guessing? Warning the rest of them not to get themselves shot?"

He scrubs at his face with one hand as though trying to rub some of the weariness away. It doesn't seem to do much, but at least he doesn't have makeup to smudge.

[beckstitch]

"Yeah. You guess right." She manages a little smile, but there's none of her usual warmth in it, and it's fleeting. "And, you know. Making sure they know they can come to us about that stuff. Making sure they know what's at stake. Not just for them, for everyone else as well."

ii

[conifer]

Emily had been a little hurt that Beck didn't come to see her after Tony's execution. It had brought up a lot of bad memories for her, mostly of the horrific Peacekeeper with his ruined, mangled face torturing the rioters back in Seven, an event that she hated to think of even more than her time in the Arena. It doesn't even occur to her for a while that Beck may have been affected by the footage too, simply because she's a Capitolite. And Emily herself has had to look out for herself for so long that it doesn't seem instinctual to her that being the comforter in a relationship needs to go both ways; she'd just revelled in the care being offered her.

She makes her way up to the D12 suite, and when Beck isn't there she leaves a note to meet her back in her room in Seven. Several hours pass, and finally Emily begins to worry. She's not sure where Beck may have gone, but she knows she needs to find her. She needs her, and she's hurt that she's just up and vanished in order to sort out her own feelings when Emily just needs her to hold her right now.

It's late when she finally enters the club, having been pointed in that direction when asking for someone fitting Beck's description. It's the exact opposite of the sort of place Emily feels at home in - between the pounding music and the smell of smoke and perfume and sweat all mingling together in the air, it's far too similar to most of the encounters she'd had to go through on being bid on as a Mentor than anything else, and it takes a lot for her to keep searching instead of running away to vomit and curl up in a corner until the noise and smells go away.

Finally she sees her. She's dressed in the exact same sort of outfit - or lack thereof - that she'd been wearing when they first met. Emily would pass off the revealing choice of clothes simply as Capitolite fashion, were it not for how she was draped over the woman next to her.

Emily feels her cheeks flush in humiliation. She stands there for a moment that seems an eternity, waiting for Beck to turn, to make eye contact with her. Then she simply shakes her head in disgust and embarrassment and turns on her heel, pushing through the crowd back to the street, not caring whether the other woman follows her.

[beckstitch]

Beck doesn't see Emily until it's already too late; her eye catches the other woman just in time to see Emily turn to go, and even drunk, to see the look on Emily's face. Pushing herself away from the girl she was dancing with (or, more realistically, on), she stumbles a few paces, trips, and curses loudly into the press of the crowd.

A few moments later, she runs up behind Emily, favouring one leg where she twisted her ankle, her platform heels left in the club in her hurry. "Em! Emily! Fuck's sake, will you wait!?" She's breathing heavily, her makeup perfect but sweat forming a clear sheen over it, her eyes bloodshot. She puts out one hand to grab Emily's arm, swallowing hard, trying to find words that won't come. All she can manage, in a voice that comes out thick and a little slurred with emotion as much as drink, is "...please?"

[conifer]

Emily doesn't stop walking when she hears Beck call her - if anything, it makes her pick up her pace - but she comes to a halt when she feels the other woman's hand close around her arm, turning on her heel to face her and jerking her arm back, trying to get away from her touch.

"Why should I?"

[beckstitch]

Beck snatches her hand back like she's burnt, cradling it against her chest. She looks rather as if Emily's slapped her, genuinely shocked by the vehemence in the other woman's voice. Her eyes are wide and starting to well up, her lips a little parted.

"Because I love you?" she says, but she sounds oddly uncertain, almost distant. She bites her lip, swallowing hard. "Emily. Em. Please. What's wrong?"

[conifer]

She looks at Beck incredulously, unable to believe that she can't see anything wrong with how she found her. Hearing that she loves her stings deeply; she's never heard those words from anyone outside of her family, and never thought that she could be loved in a romantic capacity by anyone with how damaged life as a Victor had made her. It makes her wonder whether she loves Beck in return, and right now she's not sure that she can.

"You really don't see what's wrong with throwing yourself practically naked at other women?"

[beckstitch]

Beck's owlish look, the dawning dismay in her eyes, says quite clearly that no, she doesn't. "I was just..." she begins, then bites her lip, tugging awkwardly at the straps of her outfit. "I mean... that is..." Then, all in a rush that's slurred with drink and choked up with emotion, "I needed someone to fuck and every time I've come onto you you've pulled back and I didn't want to hurt you I didn't want to try if you didn't..."

She manages to cut herself off there, though only by biting her tongue quite hard, and sways a little before mumbling, "I'm sorry. I am. I'm sorry. I was..." Trying to help, she doesn't say, and instead starts to cry. Trying to be nice. Should have learnt my fucking lesson about that with Tony.