Beck Scordato (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
beckstitch) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
thecapitol2015-08-30 11:56 pm
beckstitch) wrote in thecapitol2015-08-30 11:56 pm
Entry tags:
(no subject)
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.
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.
no subject
"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?"
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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?"
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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.
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"I don't..." She swallows heavily as she hears the emotion in her voice and starts again. "I don't understand... I thought that we..." A cold blast of wind hits her and she shivers. "We should probably go somewhere more private."
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"Like where?" Her voice is small, uncharacteristically meek. She sounds almost childish. "The Center? A different audience? Does it really matter?" And she swallows, thickly and audibly, hugging herself. Tears continue to roll down her cheeks. "Sorry. I'm sorry. That wasn't fair. Where do you wanna go?"
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She gets a table in the corner, seating herself against the wall. "I'm sorry," she almost whispers, her voice thick with emotion. "I should never have asked you to-- to expected you to have--" She bites down hard on her lip to try to get a grip on herself, determined to get out at least one complete sentence tonight. "You're right, you deserve someone far better than me and I should never have tried to chain you to me."
Because that's what it is, she tells herself. It's not that Beck's trying to be spiteful and deliberately cheating; it's that with how damaged Emily is, she has no option. It's all her fault.
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"That's not..." she starts, and sinks her head into her hands, pressing her lips together as she tries to get hold of herself. "I'm sat here drunk as a skunk and begging you for forgiveness, and you think I deserve better than you?"
When she looks up, her hands clasped in front of her like she's praying, her eyes are damp again. "I don't know what I'm doing, Emily. I don't ever fucking know what I'm doing. I grew up with parents who don't have tongues, for fuck's sake, I spent my whole life as the flavour of the month, what the fuck do I know about relationships? What the fuck do I... I mean, Em, I. I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I... everything you've gone through and you get saddled with me? Of everyone in the fucking Capitol, me? Someone here deserves better, that's for damn sure." She licks her lips nervously, screwing her eyes closed. "Fuck."
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"Fine. All right, fine. But we are going to talk about it."
fade?