a seat at the table :: annie/beck/kirito/oasis

[Arrows]

Crumbling clumps of white chalk whirl into clouds of dust while Kirito wipes away the remnants of the afternoon's lesson. Arrows aligning in the order of how to properly produce a burn stave out of common herbs are all too familiar to the aging Victor. He will never forget the faces fallen in fire on the screens he's forced to serve. Luckily, the class seems to be keeping quite a productive pace. Several of the assignments Kirito even allocates into jars to keep with his medical supplies. Just the other day a set of several workers came in with burns from a forced fire to clear the crops for new harvest. It's always such a solemn season, seeing the shards of the past produce flickering into flames beneath skies of smoke. So the cycle of Eleven churns.

Entering the living room from his medical area and classroom, Kirito is met by a melody of intoxicating aromas. The scent of special spices and treasured herbs coats the room as though it were the kitchen of a castle. Then again, it might as well be since it comes with a cruel crown. Kirito blinks away the troubled thought swiftly while rapping the crutch of his cane lightly on the wall to garner Oasis' attention. She is undoubtedly in her area of extreme focus with fresh foliage from Ikaia's farm flung around the kitchen counters. Kirito still questions how he ever got lucky enough to meet such an angel by the side of the swelling sea.

"It's smelling amazing as always. I'm going to go check on the kids and change and then I'll be right down to help with the rest."

Kirito lets a soft kiss press against Oasis' cheek as he passes her.

"Thank you for doing this."

Getting upstairs still takes time with the cane and the last lingerings of rehabilitation, but Kirito never lets it discourage him. The tumor is gone and he's entirely awake, aware of the way he wants to lead his life. He gained an entirely new perspective for the cost of a limp and a cane. He doesn't even mind it anymore, they are just reminders that he is in fact still alive and able to do more. So when he reaches the top of the stairs, he thinks of the twenty three others and takes the next steps for them. The ghosts are gone, but their memories are what matters.

Still covered in a cloud of chalk, a cry climbs out of Ma's door before Kirito can even turn the knob. Kei sits their stubbornly sobbing in Ma's lap while Ana seems all too interested in braiding Sonja's hair. An ounce of anger at Ana's abandonment of aid for her Grandmother alights inside of Kirito, but he extinguishes it quickly. If there is any lesson he's learned from parenting, especially parenting a teenage daughter, it's to pick his fights. wisely. Right now he is far more happy to take his sniffling son from Ma's hands with a wink instead of inciting a vigorous shouting match of every possible exploitative he would ever NOT want to hear Ana say aloud.

"I got him Ma, thank you again for watching them up here tonight."

Kei's soft skin smells of lilac and honeysuckle while his warm brown eyes burrow beneath a well of water. Kirito cradles Kei in his arms while coming to a seat in the old rocking chair Ma refuses to throw out. Apparently it's the same one Kirito and Ikaia's Pa had sat in when they were babes entrusted in his arms. Every time Kirito sits here he's filled with a flush of worry, a river of disbelief. The boy who stood bleeding and battered alone within the screams of a storm never imagined that he'd have children. He always thought he was too fucked up to ever deserve the great gift of hearing a child call him Dad. Yet, here he is with a room full of those who give him that gift everyday. It brings a smile to Kirito's face as he softly sings to Kei, the only thing that seems to soothe the sensitive boy's tantrums.

After settling things with Ma and the kids, Kirito returns to his room and changes into a red t-shirt and light denim jacket. Tonight is meant to be an escape for Beck, an escape from the fancy fittings and the intense emotions of the tour. Kirito couldn't believe it had been months since that boy from Four stood alone in a storm just as Kirito had before falling back into life. Kirito couldn't believe it had been months since he, Harbinger, Kassandra, and Katelyn had returned to Eleven with another set of slaughter Izars. Yet it has, and despite that Beck is family. Those that wear the same crowns and share the same tragic title of Victor are always welcome in Kirito's home.

Back downstairs, Kirito sets the table in the dining room and helps Oasis with anything and everything she needs him for. Some nights Kirito cooks, some nights she cooks, and tonight is her show. She can ask anything of Kirito and he will do so instantly. Half the time though she is swatting away her annoying husband as he deems himself the perfect taste tester to every dish available. When the two finally finish its far from Capitol quality, but its a flourish of District heart.

"Somehow you manage to impress me every single day."

Kirito says smiling to Oasis as he places the last plate onto the table.

"What will it be tonight for you? Red or White?"

Just as Kirito asks the question of wine a knock comes from the door. He quickly makes his way over to the front door and opens it to find the two most recent members of Four's court. Annie's blonde hair beams brilliantly in the shine of the setting sun and Beck seems strikingly similar to the boy Kirito was fourteen years earlier. He smiles and steps aside for them to come in.

"You have perfect timing, I just asked Oasis which kind of wine she'd like. Do either of you have any opinions? We also have other alcohols or some fresh juices if you prefer."

Letting the two come in and waiting for an answer, Kirito lingers for another second.

"And Beck, we truly are happy that you are able to join us."

Words from both a host and a Victor.

[maverick hale 🌧️ d5 [nyte]]

b e c k .

"look at what you've started
you're turning me heartless
i'm trying my hardest
if i'm being honest."

God, the whispers. It's like he was soaked in neon paint and shattered glass crunched beneath every step he took because there was no escaping them. They're not as hard and hateful as they had been in Six and they don't burn quite as bad as they had in One but they're everywhere. Some of them must like him, maybe a couple hate him but most are merely curious. He's a spectacle after all, a piece of art crafted by the Capitol's cruelty.

Anatalia took some of the heat off of him and he didn't know how to tell her he was grateful. He'd fought tooth and nail for this burden but here he is, desperately wishing that it belonged to anyone else. No, he didn't regret this beating heart of his his he just wished it were a bit lighter. It amazed him that the others survived. The ones who had dealt with victory for far longer and seemed to glow brilliantly in spite of the charcoal coating their skin. Memories haunted him like a plague and he can't help but wonder if they've somehow found the cure.

He won't ask, though, in case they haven't.

By the grace of god, he'd managed to sneak away. It's a brief moment of quiet, so precious that he dreads its end even though it's barely begun. He liked it here, tucked away in a dark alley and grasping a pack of cigarettes that were far too easy to obtain now that he bore the brand of a crown. Anything it took, right? It didn't matter the kind of man when the spotlight lost him.

His right hand fumbles with the lighter and he misses the feeling of the trigger biting into his thumb. It had been calloused, the last remnant of late nights sprawled out on the Academy's roof, head resting heavy on Bell's shoulder as dragon's breath wafted from between his lips. Those memories were quick losing warmth, growing colder every time he dared recall them.

They were precious, they always would be, but Beck couldn't help but see a fool where he'd once thought a warrior stood. Reckless insobriety hadn't made it so that he couldn't be hurt, it merely meant that the blades need cut deeper to do so. The lighter sparks and it pulls him from those unpleasant thoughts.

Inhale. Exhale. Peace for a moment.

"Mr. Hailsham?" Just a moment, it seemed.

"Coming!" He lets the cigarette fall, trampled beneath shoes far to expensive to be subjected to such dirty work. Sailor could scold him about the ash later, though.

He sets his shoulders when he emerges, sure enough they're there. The whispers had waited. It's a point of desperate pride that they see him as strong. The truth is far too ugly.

They whisk him away to another appointment, another signing, more cameras that keep this awful smile cemented to his cheeks. It's as though he's found himself in the eye of a storm again. He's a rose with plastic petals but by the end of the day he's still wilted.

He's almost relieved when they tell him he's going to dinner at Kirito;s. There's some privacy to be had beneath the gilded gold of victory village. An evening of polite chatter and pretending to be okay sounded like heaven as opposed to another goddamn photo shoot. His reflection was a weapon.

Anatalia is high tide to Beck's lows and he's so glad he's not alone when he steps inside the mansion. The scent of home cooked food overwhelms him, earning a rather embarrassing growl from somewhere deep in his gut. "Uh, sorry." He blushes to the tips of his ears, scuffing his shoes a few more times, "Busy day I guess. Red wine is fine."

"And Beck, we truly are happy that you are able to join us." Kirito seems perfectly honest and it unsettles him. Victory is all about performance but the few seconds he lets himself meet his eyes there's no trace of a mask separating the two of them. It plants a persistent warmth that he wishes he could shake off.

"I-" He looks up at the ceiling, down at the floor, he forces another smile but it fades fast, "I'm surprised. I thought you guys would hate me I-" Alfonso and Sarina deserved better. But they were dead. "Y'know, I came home instead of them." It's a whisper that could be carried away on the wind.

Too bad there's no hint of a breeze.

[pearl mcclain d4 [ryan]]

She never quite knew how to frame this easily. Maybe it was because she never really understood it herself when it came to her own victory tour. The people of Eleven had always found a way to be gracious enough, but Annie still felt unsettled if she was being completely honest. Maybe it was the thought of Carmen Stirling and Faux Rhodes being somewhere in this place. Two walking reminders of the things she did. What she had to do to win. Sure, she didn’t interact with either of them bar the moment she spent with Carmen in the cafeteria. She had always been so bright eyed, and if Annie was being honest with herself, she wasn’t a fan. Back then at the least. Before she even stepped foot in the games, she had one thing on her mind, and that was trying to win in order to escape the life that she had been placed in. Her father had never been kind to her, so much so that he made her suffer emotional abuse that she would never wish on anyone, even people that scorned her until the day she died.

Not even Nico Thorne.

There was a weird bit of nostalgia that hit her as she tried to think of all the ways she wanted to tell Beck that everything was going to be alright. However, that wasn’t true, no matter how she tried to frame it to the boy. Some of the districts always hit harder than others. Some of the people hated you, and some of the people celebrated you. Annie could never compare her experience to Beck’s though, because they all stayed dead. Beck would have to live with the fact that anyone he had been attached too in the games was not going to magically reappear like Snow made the 80th tributes. It did make Annie wonder though what the capitol had been up too. Seeing as they were able to reanimate and heal 23 children with little to no effort. She wondered if they had even sent the remains back to the families or if they were just empty caskets. The 78th was another example of this. Seeing Luxa Pelotte coming from the ground and attacking the girl from ten still chilled her.

Even as she tried to always put on a brave face.

---

She didn’t even try to sugar coat things for Beck. She knew what it was like to go through this, and albeit that her experience had been completely different, she knew how it would go for the most part. A parade in his honor, a speech to the fallen, a promise for a better tomorrow… Panem Today Panem Tomorrow… yatta yatta. Annie tried her best to coach him through the hard parts and just smile through the easy ones. Maybe she should have told him the opposite, but Annie knew to be realistic, just like Leon had been with her. Honesty would always be the best policy with victors, that was the only way they would stand together.

Annie still, tried to keep somethings distant from Beck. It was his job to learn about some things in this situation. Of course, the hard stuff would not hidden. Annie wasn’t cruel. However, the simple things, those were always the hardest for accept. Those were the things that Annie wanted Beck to find out for himself. Maybe someone else would tell him about them, or maybe he would never figure them out. Annie knew that not all of them were nice or good or easy, but they were necessary in situations like this.

That’s what scared Annie the most.

---

Even walking up to the house of one Kirito Mirrastroma, Annie couldn’t bring herself to ask any more questions. She figured that this was just part of the tour. They would take her and Beck to all the houses of the victors and they would enjoy a meal and just exist. Annie hated this part in bigger districts, because that always meant they had to spend more days in them. She was always taught to never be rude, but there were times when she just wanted to be home, in her own bed, ready to ignore the world and just disappear for a small fraction of time. She had to make it through this ordeal first, she knew that. She was here for Beck, not for her father, or the capitol and especially not Snow.

She was here for Beck Hailsham.

The door opened and Kirito gave them both a smile. The next thing to come out of his mouth though was wine, and Annie of course, had told herself that she needed to behave. ”White please. But just a small glass.” Annie walked into the house with Beck and she couldn’t help but notice how quaint it was. Of course, this was a lower district, so Annie knew that some of the houses weren’t as luxurious as the ones in the upper districts. Annie still could see the charm in it, and that was what brought a smile to her face. ”What a lovely place you have. Its so nice to finally get to meet you in a more intimate setting Kirito.” Kirito had also been a Quell victor, so she knew that he at least could understand what Annie had gone through, even if they had completely differnet circumstances. She then pulled off her coat before listening to the words coming out of Kirito’s mouth.

Then came Beck’s response.

It was hard for Annie to properly articulate it to him, but what happened in the games was not his fault. After all, Annie did watch Beck and Noel a lot closer than she did Bell and Cole. There was something about them that just seemed kinder. ”Beck…” she took a moment to gather her thoughts. ”What happened in there was not your fault. Everyone in this room save Kirito’s wife knows what it is like to survive.” Annie spoke as she placed her coat neatly on one of the chairs. ”That’s what you did Beck. You survived.” Annie put her hand on his shoulder, squeezing it lightly and giving him a reassuring smile. ”and I, for one, am also glad that you are here.”

And she would not lie about that.

[Tom]

Oasis Tuson lives in a dream filled with soft clouds and motherhood.

The harvest had been plentiful the past few days, where she had gone out and bought the spices of Eleven that she had quickly fallen in love with, hoping to give the newest victors of Four a taste of their lovely home. A new bond to build from an evening at dinner, knowing Kirito had been both stressed and comfortable about this dinner. Beck Hailsham had his own certain pain that she'd seen in Rafe long ago, the way he used to scream in the middle of the night watching a girl on the screen die over and over again. Beck Hailsham seemed like a survivor, just like the rest of them, she's seen the guilt and the pain behind those faces. There's nothing a good meal couldn't do to help forget the pain lingering in his heart, even if it's just for a moment, she'd have succeeded in helping in her own way.

Kirito, her love, marches in with his cane, smelling like fresh chalk and the rustic smell of the sun, always making her swoon. A life they've built for one another, where she feels at home with him, never back into the place where her father had control over everything. The words and feelings still linger in her chest, every so often, she would wake with a start in the middle of the night. The worry on her lips as she'd crawl out of bed to Kirito's dismay, opening and closing doors to Anastasia, Kei, and Sonja's rooms. Being a mother was the best gift she had been given, but there's a worry in her heart every time she gets stuck in that place.

Kirito breaks her from the past, words always so sweet, making her smile to him. "It's smelling amazing as always. I'm going to go check on the kids and change and then I'll be right down to help with the rest." The kiss on her cheek makes her smile even harder as she softly pats him arm, knowing she needed to keep paying attention to the pan in front of her. "Thank you for doing this." Kirito was always making her feel appreciated in a way that no one else could. Simple blessings to be given in the small ways, knowing he had saved her from a life filled with anger, knowing she'd have eventually broke, the pain of her own trauma in Six still flaring to life, but she had better reigns on it now. Instead, she speaks with a smile on her face, letting the words slip to Kirito.

"No problem, anything for you and the other victors, you've all been through enough as it is!"

Kirito heads upstairs, with that determined look like always, the same one he gets when he's determined to get something done. Whether it's making her laugh or making victors feel welcome, Oasis always held her heart at the passion Kirito carried. One of the reasons she fell hard for him, knowing he tried his best to help others, sometimes giving up what he already has. It's sweet in a way that only Kirito Miristioma could be, despite there being many times where she surely would have given up, he never does.

Kirito had become a brilliant father, despite all of the worries he carries on his chest. The doubts that still linger from the sacrifices he's made, she speaks up with the truth, evidence of his worth, his proof where Kei, Sonja, and Anastasia had appreciated their father. Every day is a new adventure for the Miristioma house, remembering the evening Kirito came up to her with his idea of a school. The days where Anastasia and him fought like a teenage daughter and a father would, never quite as serious and if it passed a point, that's when she comes in and cools it. Raising a teenager was hard work, especially when Kirito would whisper the fears in the dark.

It lingers in the dark depths of her mind, knowing their kids could be in the same position as Kirito.

Kirito comes back, with the soothing energy he always bears, giving her a smile that makes her world every time. After a couple of minutes of Kirito trying to taste everything from their meal to the pie she had gotten from Katelyn Persimmon's bakery, swatting at his hand, he finally leaves her laughing in the kitchen, setting the table up for their visitors. Moving dish after dish out to the table, she watches out of the corner of her eye her husband, knowing he's always been one to try and help the new victors. No matter what, he didn't judge. Trauma was trauma and every one was a survivor.

"Somehow you manage to impress me every single day."

The compliment hangs heavy in the air making her blush slightly at the words watching him place the last plate, the words linger in the air as she sets down the main course in the center with the most care, eyes catching Kirito's before she speaks with the smell of herbs in her nose, the sweetness of bread across the table, and the safe smell of home surrounding her.

"You've never stopped impressing me."

It's a silly compliment, but she still comes across the room softly kissing his cheek, before fixing some of the silverware because despite her new life, some habits from the past die hard. The way Rafe and her would have to set the table in Six, with the utmost perfection with careful eyes and worried lips. It's a moment she still has bled into her mind, but despite it, those were some of her best memories with Rafe, cooking and teasing one another before he'd have to leave for work in the evening. Kirito had given her a new start, a place away from the worst parts of her life, a home and a family.

"What will it be tonight for you? Red or White?"

A knock comes from the door, knowing who was there, she smiles softly and comforting. Kirito is the one to open the door with a greeting already on his tongue. "You have perfect timing, I just asked Oasis which kind of wine she'd like. Do either of you have any opinions? We also have other alcohols or some fresh juices if you prefer." Always so considerate of others, she smiles at Kirito, letting herself openly appreciate him. Beck Hailsham and Annie Morrisen are an interesting pair. Oasis wasn't one to shy away from the screens of the games, knowing Kirito wouldn't want her to see, but it's her way of getting to know what the capitol thinks about the victors and figuring out the real truth on her own.

"And Beck, we truly are happy that you are able to join us."

The words come from Kirito's lips and she smiles to the newest victor, soft and knowing of what he must be feeling. Kirito's shared some of the past with her, the dreams, the memories, and the episodes of he has of the seventieth. She's seen it all. The way it causes him just as much pain, but in a different way than the past, it still lingers in forms along the edges of his vision. She'd never truly could understand what it was like being in the arena, but she could understand the emotions, the consequences, the haunting pieces of it that lingers in their skin and minds.

"Uh, sorry." The growl of his stomach had made her want to offer him some food already, the way he scuffs his shoes like a certain teenager she knows makes her smile. "Busy day I guess. Red wine is fine." Understanding the meaning of busy, Oasis knew of just the red wine to open, that may please the newest victor. Part of her wanted to just hug him and tell him everything would be okay, but she was trying to pleasant and not overbearing. The newest victors always had it the hardest, being lead around like a hero when all they felt was nothing but, she had seen the way many of the victors broke down, trusting in something to keep them going. Part of her wonders if Beck Hailsham would be like them, finding something to lean onto.

Annie's choice comes out. "White please. But just a small glass." Different tastes from Beck and Annie, not as surprising, since they were different people altogether, similar, but different in their own ways. Annie is the one to look around their home, the feeling of judgment of their home lingers to her mind. Softly, she whispers reassurances to the back of her head, ignoring the whole moment because despite everything they were guests and she didn't want to assume. "What a lovely place you have. It's so nice to finally get to meet you in a more intimate setting Kirito." The word intimate hangs in the air, feeling off to her. Oasis wasn't the type to judge, but part of her felt Annie was looking at them differently from others. A small fake smile on her lips as she avoids the comment, turning back to Beck.

"I-" The forced smile is obvious, but she doesn't say anything as it fades fast, knowing Beck Hailsham is processing this Kirito. The one without a mask. The one she fell in love with. The one who always cared, no matter what. The Kirito who had a bigger heart than any one has ever seen. "I'm surprised. I thought you guys would hate me I-" Oasis knew what was coming next. The regret. The pain. The what ifs and why me's. "Y'know, I came home instead of them." The words are exactly what she expects. The regret of Beck Hailsham over the Izars, but there's no easy way of putting it. People do what they have to do in order to survive. Whether it's from trauma or from an actual death games, people do what they have to in order to escape, to be free, and to move past it.

Annie steps in before any of them has a chance to respond. "Beck…" Eyes glance from Annie to Beck and then back as she listens in to the conversation, standing back, ignoring the way she wants to step in and hug the boy. "What happened in there was not your fault. Everyone in this room save Kirito’s wife knows what it is like to survive." The words fill her heart with annoyance, Annie Morrisen was not what she had expected. Nicer in some ways, but also not in others. Assumptions about her own knowledge coming into question by Annie's words, almost as cutting as the ones her own father used to throw at her, but she's grown since then. Became more of a light during the dark times of life, glowing like the rays of the sun, bright and hopeful. "and I, for one, am also glad that you are here."

The words still linger, as she keeps herself smiling. Annie Morrisen was just another girl who assumed that the world was only rough for them. Grouping together the trauma of the games, that was true and heavy, but not all survivors came from the games. Survivors of their own horrors in the comforts of their own home, the violence of their own district, and the lack of care from the capitol. A piece of her heart stands with Kirito, but she was not just Kirito's wife, she was Oasis Tuson, survivor of abuse and creator of her own life and she wasn't going to take the self righteousness of some victor coming into their home, acting like she knew everything.

"Not all survivors come from the games, Ms. Morrisen." A smile on his lips, as she ignores Annie, focusing back to Beck Hailsham, who had surely been hurting more than the rest of them. Silently, she lets the words linger in the air, almost as a warning to Annie. "I may not have been in the games, but I've seen enough to know that you did what you had to, Beck. No one blames you, especially not here." Silently, she stands near Kirito, grabbing his hand, squeezing a reassurance to him, knowing she's overstepping into his territory, but she knew just as much as he did about the victors. She's had enough experience between Harbinger, Kirito, and Katelyn to know what they carry.

"You're welcome here anytime and know that some things are beyond your control, you did what you had to in order to survive, like the rest of the victors." Too tense now, she decides to let go of Kirito's hand, she stands for a moment glancing from Beck to Annie to Kirito before she lets herself linger on Beck Hailsham for a moment. She was going to get the wine, but first, she needed to let them in further. A smile on her face as she speaks once more. "Feel free to make yourselves at home, I'll be right back with that wine."

Heading out of the room, she heads to the kitchen, letting herself calm down, feeling a little annoyed at Annie's words, but she's heard it all. People invalidating her feelings because she functioned like a normal adult to others. No one knew she's been through enough hardships to break most people, yet she still carries herself with grace and determination to be better. That's what had been important for her. Finding a way to survive in a place that didn't have a good method, Kirito had saved her in more ways than just one.

Fingertips around the bottles she wanted, having paid a little more from the cash she had earned herself to buy these. Both were fairly expensive for District Eleven, but she wasn't sure what Beck or Annie would be used to, so she picked eleven's own created wine that had to be a little taste of home. A smile on her face as she comes back out with the wine and approaching the table, ignoring the feeling in her chest. A smile on her face as she knew it was going to be a long night and Annie had just grinded on her nerves slightly.

Everyone was welcome in their home.

Even if they were like Annie Morrisen.