Beau Strauss :: District Two :: Fin
May 25, 2020 0:35:47 GMT -5
Post by Arrows on May 25, 2020 0:35:47 GMT -5
Beau
"By deafness, one gains more than one loses; one misses more nonsense than sense."
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The world had always been crystal clear to him.
Beau was born into a cradle of broken bottles and dead dreams. The shadows that swirled along the lemon yellow walls of his nursery swam through seas of smoke. So often strangers would lean over the edges of his crib with whiskey the lover of their voices, that they began to pass for his parents. No, baby Beau was not born into some carefully crafted castle that crested over the splendid sprawling avenues of District Two. Somewhere between shit hole and hell hole is the home he had. Just another shack of drunken delinquents who weren't old enough, or sober enough, to even know that a baby needed to be fed frequently. It took all of a week for the PeaceKeepers to come and claim him.
It was clear: love is not guaranteed.
The fragmented family that fostered him were equally as awful. The faces of the folks were practically fossilized, but they were given a baby because of the man's service as a Peacekeeper in the past. What was overlooked was their deterioration. The woman was obviously obstructed by a loss of memory and the man was all but bedridden. At least they knew how to feed and clothe Beau, that was an improvement. But by the time he was eight the man was dead and the woman in need of a nursing home. There was no love lost when nine year old Beau packed up his pockets with some pennies and walked away into the waning mists of the morning.
Again it was clear: you can only count on yourself.
There are worse places to starve than the streets of District Two. Where fighting leads to life, Beau found out fast how to live where the rats cried. Compared to other ten year old boys, Beau wasn't trained or prepared for fighting. Beau was bred for it. From the shambled shackles of his past, Beau arrived in the underground child fighting rings like a shape from the shadows. He was ruthless, barbaric, with his beatings. When he was fighting, he couldn't see the others as urchins like him trying to suck the blood of society. As odd as it may sound, Beau had to learn restraint within the rings. He fell the other kids too quickly, too boringly. Barbaric isn't interesting, it keeps one living on nothing but the bare minimum. No no, wealth is the reward of a show.
It was clear: survival is a showman's game.
He went from Brutal Beau to Boisterous Beau in a matter of months. Breaking bones and submitting his opponents to suffering swelled the child's gains. He would flutter around the fights with laughter lifting off of his lips calling out to the crowds. They would swoon at the little showman's stunts and send silver shimmering into the pit with the calmly clank of coins. Oh he had a crown of cruelty, but he bathed in the blood happily. With his winnings he could afford meals and housing at the underground markets. Beau was a boy alone bound to survival as his only instinct. That was how Octavia Strauss found him.
At eleven, Beau was the beaming spotlight of the fighting pits. From fights with roses nestled between the nooks of teeth to battles blindfolded, it was all about Beau. Octavia came to a single show, a single fight. She saw, she smirked, and she came for him. An offer of not only a bed, but a home with a real career quality training was tempting even to the bold little boy of the streets. In the end, Beau only took the offer of her adoption for the future it could create. A world of wealth and a chance to be center stage in the real show, The Hunger Games, could come with what she had. He figured she simply wanted a career child, but there were more shadows beneath her small smirk than the eleven year old could ever have imagined.
Punishment for the profound lack of perfection landed Beau in the bottom two. Compared to other careers, Beau was something clear-cut from the streets: sloppy. Sure he was a showman and sure he was a winner, but winning is not enough for a Strauss. At a fresh thirteen, only by a few days in fact, Beau battled at the heart of his home's horrors. Rowan was fourteen, but she was weak. He may have been sloppy, but her form was flawed down to the last degree. He took her weakness and made it a platform for his progression. He used her to cement himself firmly into the family. Showing off as he killed her granted him a powerful air of survival and that's what it's always about isn't it? He even remembers one of the older Strauss' muttering upon the conclusion of the conclave: "now that is what a Strauss should strive for."
Beau worked tirelessly in the centers shedding away any ounce of his street style that wasn't explicitly for the show. He was determined to become the picture of perfection that the Strauss world wanted. Yet something bigger was behind the extra hours spent beneath the stadium lights. The world had always been clear to him, sharp and exact. However, something started muffling the message several weeks after he killed Rowan. A fuzziness was flaring up in one of his ears that he couldn't quite shake. He even attempted to treat it for infection, but the medicines were useless. When the clarity began to bubble away in the other ear another few months later, Beau's blood ran colder than ice.
He was going deaf and deafness isn't perfect.
Beau had to compensate to ensure his survival. The hours spent swinging and stylizing late at night were meant for forcing out the habits that came with his hard of hearing. He worked relentlessly to make sure he noticed anything someone else would hear. He worked relentlessly to make sure nothing that did slip by would somehow startle him. He worked relentlessly to perfect his persona so that he was so loud and boisterous there could be no doubt that he was anything other than perfect. His secret became his survival.
He's only ever been caught once, a year ago when he was fourteen. One of the new boys brought into the family Finn followed him after one of his fights in training. Beau had noticed of course, one of his opponent's moves forced Beau onto his back briefly because he hadn't heard the sand shifting. When Finn followed him, Beau had a small blade hidden in his hands at the ready. Survival must always be first and his secret is tethered directly to that. But the boy promised not to tell. Instead he became Beau's only confidante. Finn shared some signs he had learned before finding the family and the two formed their own secret silent language. As much as it makes Beau nervous having to trust another with his life, Finn is like him. He's another kid killer in the Strauss house.
