Beatrix McCoy

It was funny. Even after learning about Tempest’s tragic past, Beatrix couldn’t bring herself to see the girl as anything but a radiant powerhouse. She didn’t look at her and feel sorry: she looked at her and felt… something else. Damaged goods. Trix nodded at that phrase, almost subconsciously. It fit more comfortably than any clothes she owned, any title she bore. Something about the way Tempest spoke sounded like she was processing in real-time, having thoughts that were new to her. “If it makes you feel any better, Tem, you hide your demons pretty damn well. I never would’ve guessed,” Bea spoke out towards the stands, still avoiding eye contact with the brunette. Her red hair shone under the moonlight, the brisk air creating little clouds in the shape of her words. All amorphous blobs twisting into the sky, dissipating slowly. Despite the tumultuous events of the past hour or so, Trix grinned. Lost, chaos, mess. She’d never known how alike they really were; each broken and unwilling to show it. They both wore masks. Finally, she found the confidence to turn back towards the girl. “Fix you!” she let out a bark of laughter at the prospect. “I wouldn’t dare, babe. But, maybe… we can be broken together,” She rushed a few steps forward with that and, on tip-toe, kissed Tempest’s cheek. It was cold and smooth like porcelain. The gesture wasn’t explicitly romantic, but it held passion and tension yet unexpressed. Even after revealing her darkest secret, Trix was still hiding so much. Tempest, outlined in moonlight, looked like a sad, resigned angel. She acted like one too: all that power, but contained to a single path. One day, Trix wanted to make her stray from that path.

Trix let out a deep breath, unhooking her finger from Tempest's. Turning away from the girl, she faced the seating of the amphitheatre; confessing to a chorus of ghosts was somehow easier than looking at the brunette. "Here goes nothing. Before I was sent away to boarding school, I had a big fight with my Grandma… it was pretty brutal. She said she wished I’d never been born, she reckoned I was evil. Like spawn of the devil evil. I was so angry I just—I delved into her mind, and I made her confront her biggest fear. I guess her heart couldn’t take it. She got sick; it was pretty bad. I was sent away, and when I tried to contact her again… she was dead. I killed her, Tem.” The words hung in the air, feeling solid and tangible somehow. Trix wrapped her cardigan around herself, overcome with a sudden chill. Her arms were wrapped around her frame, as though hugging herself would bring about some comfort. It was the first time she’d recounted the memory aloud, and the tears that pricked her eyes felt like tiny needles. The knowledge that she’d been responsible for the death of such a good woman kept her up at night. It was the root of her own biggest fear, however much she tried to ignore it: Trix felt that she didn’t deserve love. She felt evil, just like her Grandma had said. Maybe that was why Tempest's sudden ghosting had stung so much. It confirmed what she already knew. Sniffing, Bea pushed all of those feelings away and turned back towards Tempest. “As for the kiss… I’ve had better,” she lied. “I just missed having you around. You’re wicked fun to rile up.”

With Tempest's finger hooked around hers, Trix felt a weight lift from her shoulders. It was small but significant -- the difference between collapsing and staying upright. Tempest's words still stung, though. In a rare moment of submission, Trix nodded solemnly. "I wouldn't trust me either. But let me prove it to you. Please?" Her eyes flitted around trying to find inspiration, a gesture she could perform to prove herself to the other girl. Desperately, she offered the only thing she could: information. "Anything you want to know about me, I'll tell you. My biggest secret for yours, fair and square," she conceded. This was the bravest thing she had ever done, and the fear was an unfamiliar and sickening knot at the base of her stomach. "Nemesis is the goddess of retribution, right? So let me... fuck, I dunno... retribute." Her pinky remained interlocked with Tempest's, unwilling to break the contact. It was the first in a year, and for some reason it made her feel stronger. Her tremble was lessening by the second. Nobody at camp knew anything about Beatrix. Not really. So giving Tempest, the person most likely to use the information against her, a glimpse into her past was petrifying. But she knew it was the only way she could get Tempest to trust her. And, for some reason, she'd do anything it took to get Tempest to smile at her again. Trix had darkness in her past that she'd hardly even admitted to herself, let alone spoken aloud. For some reason, she felt as though she'd shout it from the roof of the Big House if it was what Tempest needed. "If I ruin you, you'll have what you need to ruin me. I trust you. Or whatever," Trix met the brunette's eyes. Her whole life, she'd felt more or less wrong. As though she was built in the dark without a manual. This girl made her feel human, and even Trix knew that that was dangerous.

"A tool? I didn't use anything as a tool! I wouldn't have had to do that if you'd just told me what the fuck was going on," snapped Trix, frustrated at the tone Tempest was taking. While she knew using her power on the girl was wrong, she couldn't help but buckle down, unwilling to surrender. The guilt was already swirling around in her, flurrying and cold like a snowstorm, but she ploughed on. "That thick skull of yours isn't as impenetrable as you thought. That's not my fault," Trix spat. Unable to stand the eye contact, she began pacing, raising her arms to her head as though pondering something impossible. Without Tempest's gaze drilling into her, Trix could collect herself a little easier. "Look, I shouldn't have done that. I haven't gone that deep in... gods, I said I'd never do it again." Scrambling for the right words, Trix came up blank. Half of her wanted to apologise and make up with Tempest, and the other half was disgusted at the prospect. Never in her life had she felt this way before -- so concerned with another person's feelings. It complicated everything, and she hated it. Beatrix found herself missing the days when she lived and died only for herself. Spinning on her heel, she turned to face the brunette again. "And I never said I was the only one hurting! But hurting doesn't give you the right to ignore me for a whole year. I didn't do anything wrong back then. I didn't deserve that." Beatrix's voice wavered, her vulnerability making her cringe. "'Happy now', are you serious? Do I look happy to you?" She certainly didn't. Her black eye makeup was running, and there was a subtle but definite tremor in her hands. She was nearly too weak to hold herself up after exerting so much energy into delving into Tempest's mind. She sighed, staring into Tempest's eyes again. It made her melt entirely. "Shit Tem, what I saw-- it was fucked. I hate that that happened to you. But it's safe with me, okay? Take it to my grave safe. And I'll never, ever do that to you again. Promise," she extended a trembling pinky, offering it towards Tempest without expectation. She expected the girl to slap her and storm off, but she prayed to every god that she wouldn't.

"Takes one to know one? Cool comeback, Tem! Did one of the newbies teach you that?" Trix laughed, but not maliciously. She was filled with an elated energy that was very different to the kind she got from fear-mongering. That kind just felt like a temporary high, leaving you feeling even more exhausted than before. The thrill of hearing Tempest call her Bea was different; it glowed, illuminating Trix from the inside out. She was used to being Beatrix and Trix. But Bea she hadn't heard before. It felt like a new version of her. A version only Tempest knew. Jumping and pointing at the brunette in time to the lyrics of the song, she felt weightless. "You look pretty!" She shouted. It wasn't even to fluster Tempest, or piss her off. Under the lights, and with a genuine smile on her face, she was simply the prettiest girl Trix had ever seen. Following her gaze towards Henry, Trix laughed. She knew the two girls were close friends, and Tempest's protective and watchful eye was incredibly endearing. "Your little apprentice seems to be causing some trouble recently! You must be proud!" Trix had heard the rumours. Kissing an Aphrodite girl's man behind her back? That was metal, even for a girl who kept Tempest company. Intrigued by Tempest's confession, Trix raised a perfectly arched brow. "You know... if you need a second pair of eyes, I'm down. I've got 20/20 vision, so I'm a total asset. Who's the target?"

This was exactly the reason Trix hadn't used the full extent of our power since she was a kid. Still crumpled on the ground, exhausted and teary-eyed, she tried to process what she had seen... Experiencing years of fear and trauma in the span of 30 seconds or so was a feeling she couldn't put into words. It was a concentrated, condensed pain that washed over you like a tsunami. Even the strongest person -- as Trix modelled herself to be -- couldn't fight being swept away in its current. Sniffing, Trix drew an arm across her eyes like a child. "Tem, I'm sorry! I just... I had to know why--" she choked up, like her body itself was forbidding her from speaking. She was asking it to articulate something she hadn't even admitted to herself yet. Supporting herself with her hands, she rose slowly from her knees. Her full height still felt small as she stood in front of Tempest, wrapping her cardigan around her. She wasn't even cold, it was just an excuse to wrap her arms around herself. "I had to know why you started ignoring me," she finished, her voice quiet and ashamed. It seemed so stupid now, after what she had seen, but she couldn't help continuing. "You fucked me over, Tem. That kiss? Why did you do that if you were just gonna blank me? I'm sorry about all that shit," she gestured vaguely, as though the boy she had seen stood between them. In a way, he did. The ghostly, dream-like version of him was like a thick, unspoken presence in the air. "But it doesn't mean you get to look right through me for a whole year 'cause-- what? I'm not pretty enough for you? Too much of a 'freaky goth girl'?" Trix was getting it all off her chest. In a weird way, Tempest had been her only friend. Even though they lived to piss each other off, at least they lived. Beatrix didn't have friends, or even siblings really. She'd spent practically the whole year alone. Laying her insecurities bare, Trix felt naked and ashamed. Admitting that she cared, that Tempest's actions had hurt her so deeply, made her feel weak in a way she hated. What she hated even more was how pathetic she sounded, complaining about it as though she hadn't just invaded Tempest's mind. For some reason, this made her double down harder. "You know what? Whatever. I don't care what anyone thinks about me... I don't need anyone, Tempest. Including you. Especially you." Even as she said it, she knew it wasn't true. She cared what Tempest thought, like she'd never cared about anything before. A tiny crack in her voice betrayed that in a way she prayed Tempest wouldn't hear.

The energy that surged through Beatrix wasn't even enough to make her smile; eliciting a fear response from Tempest Truett wasn't as fun as it used to be, and the energy she gained from it was so much less potent now. More so than feared, Trix felt disliked. Usually, that distinction didn't matter to her, but Tempest had changed everything over the past year. "I didn't expect to see you, either," Trix snarled, anger suddenly coursing through her. "Or I would've come armed." She'd been spending longer and longer days at the archery range, channelling her hurt into getting the perfect bullseye nearly every time. Ascending the steps onto the stage where Tempest stood, the redhead crossed her arms defensively. "There's more to me than mockery and pranks, you know. I am a human being, as much as you refuse to treat me like one." The kiss flashed through her mind. It always occurred to her in a series of sensations and images -- Tempest standing over her, leaning down, soft lips, and then... Nothing. Discarded and rejected, shunned for a year with no reason or explanation. "I don't owe you anything, Tempest!" snapped Trix. "I could tell everyone in camp that you're a sensitive songstress who weeps rainbows and bleeds fucking glitter. You couldn't show me anything about fear I don't already know." As much as the redhead was putting on a tough facade, all she was fighting was herself. The feeling of hurt and insecurity that lay in the pit of her stomach as her eyes flickered to Tempest's lips. How could they be so cruel and also sing so beautifully? Yet another contradiction that made up Tempest, daughter of Nemesis. Suddenly, Trix did something she hadn't risked in years. Scowling into Tempest's eyes, she couldn't help but concentrate all of her energy. Picturing a bridge between her gaze and Tempest's, Beatrix began to walk into the brunette's psyche, invading the recesses of her mind. Where before she saw only vague shadows, figures embracing, a laugh that echoed, there were now vivid images. Scene upon scene unfolding before her eyes: a boy in a photograph. An afternoon on the bank of a river, shared stories, Tempest's bubbling laughter... a shy peck followed by a slew of more passionate kisses. A terrible realisation, a betrayal, a warped face, his eyes crossed out in marker, peering down at her... hushed words, a forceful threat... A protest, a scream. Trix emerged from the visions with a scream of her own, staggering back and collapsing to the ground. The feeling of terror and anguish that consumed her had winded her, leaving her breathless and panting. "Tempest, I--" Trix clamoured, unable to articulate what she had seen. "He-- I didn't know!"

Beatrix grinned, lingering just long enough to snatch Tempest's cup from the table and down it. "Means nothing. Got it." Chucking the emptied cup aside, Trix guided Tempest to the dance floor. The song that was playing was upbeat -- Bea knew better than to try to rope her into a slow dance. Letting the music take her over, Trix took Tempest's hands and guided her movements into a rhythmic sway. Being a goth, she tended to dance erratically and strangely. For Tempest, though, she restrained herself. Aside from some mild stepping and swaying, she wasn't asking much of the stern brunette. Despite the height difference, Trix held Tempest's hand aloft, forcing the girl into a spin. "All work and no play makes Tempest a cantankerous bitch," she teased, referencing The Shining. "Admit it, you're having fun! What work are you doing anyway? Kicking puppies? Telling kids Santa's a myth?" she added, shouting over the music. While she was only teasing, the question was genuine. She couldn't help but be curious what scheme Tempest was working on.

The evening was still, and the campfire was making Beatrix feel light-headed. Wherever she sat, smoke billowed into her eyes and reminded her what crying felt like. She couldn't take it anymore, and bolted away from it all. The further she wandered, the stranger the sounds of shouting and laughing seemed... her peers, none of whom she'd make any sort of connection to, whooped and howled into the night like pack animals. Trix couldn't have felt more alone if she tried. Tempest Truett plagued every dream she had. The nightmares were bad, but the more intimate dreams were even worse; she would wake up hot and flushed, remembering the taste of Tempest's lips. Then the world would crash around her as she remembered the reality. It was a kiss that had made Tempest hate her. Sure, they'd always been rivals but this was different. The older brunette girl had been avoiding her for months now. Beatrix, so used to being unafraid and unconcerned with other people's feelings, had barely thought of much else. Did I really disgust her that much? Fuck, what's wrong with me! I-- her thoughts were interrupted by an angelic voice. Trix followed the smooth, vulnerable melody into the amphitheatre, sneaking with admirable stealth. That was when she saw her: Tempest, centre stage. It was a wickedly ironic image to be confronted with; if Trix's mind was a tangible place, it'd look a lot like this. As much as she wanted to run, Beatrix couldn't move. She could only stand among the darkened seats, listening to the sound of Tempest being herself. Feeling tears prick her eyes, Trix blinked furiously, unable to figure out if they were born from sadness or beauty. "You're a beautiful singer, Tem," Trix said quietly, emerging into the moonlight so as to be seen. That was all she could think to say. No quips, no teasing, no expectation (except that Tempest would probably run away).

The dynamic between Beatrix and Tempest had never been a simple one. It had got infinitely more complicated a year ago, after a certain dream had resulted in a spiteful kiss. The kiss then devolved into a particularly painful period for Trix, who was not used to being ignored. She was even less used to caring about being ignored. Even now, their conversations were underscored by awkwardness and unease. Looking at Tempest in the party lights, illuminated periodically by blue, pink, purple... Trix couldn't help but remember the warmth and presence of that kiss. "Still stuck in your denial, I see," Trix retorted, the opportunity for banter grounding her. "I know I do it for you, really." Leaning against a pillar, Trix angled herself forwards, making a show of looking around. "Seems like you came here alone, huh? You know, you'll look pretty lame if you leave alone, too," Trix winked. Ignoring Tempest's tone -- a skill she was very well versed in -- Trix leaned closer, talking loudly over the blaring music. "I want you," Beatrix paused deliberately, "to dance with me. What work are you possibly doing, anyway? Come oonnn, just a little dance. I don't buy that you're this allergic to fun, Tem." Trix held out a hand; the gesture was less of an offer and more of a command.

Character Name: Tempest Truett and Beatrix McCoy Award/Drachma Claiming: Completed rp (43 posts) Link to Proof: LINK

Trix let out a humourless laugh at Tempest’s retort; “Best me? Please! You’re just a pretty girl with pretty awful interpersonal skills. I could control you with my hands behind my back.” The unintentional innuendo made Trix flush a little, but didn’t jolt her confidence enough to make her back down. Even sitting on the bed as she was, their height difference even further highlighted, Trix wasn’t shaken by Tem. The fear response gave her a defiant, energised glow, so much so she seemed almost to be a light source in the cramped room. Her fiery hair shone, as did the teeth in her roguish smile. She felt as though nothing could disconcert her, like she had the upper hand. The dynamic between the two of them was always up and down, neck and neck; they were too evenly matched to ever affect one another too badly. But watching Tempest desperately try to regain her control? Gods, it just did something to Trix. That was all turned on its head when Tempest’s lips met Trix’s. Sure, Beatrix had had her fair share of kisses; hurried ones, both boys and girls, behind the bike sheds at school. This was absolutely incomparable to those clumsy attempts. This fizzed with electricity and life, warm and passionate in a way she had never felt before. All of her attempts to catch Tempest out, every flirty comment, smug smile, obscene gesture… they seemed to crash into place all at once. Before she had a chance to deepen the kiss, to take it to the lengths she wanted to, Tempest had pulled away. Trix’s eyes flickered open, meeting the brunette’s with a vulnerable, shocked stare. See? Nothing. The words bounced around Trix’s brain, stinging like alcohol on a wound. Her only fear: being alone forever, rejected when she finally let herself show. How strange that Tempest would be the one to remind her of that terror. Trix’s eyes darkened. “Yeah: nothing. Get out of here, Tempest, before my upchuck reflex catches up to me.”

Beatrix was shocked that Tempest had elaborated on her dream, even if it was only a few words. Those words, however few, spoke volumes: close, whip and, somehow most intoxicatingly, we. Before she could respond, Trix felt a surge of energy like nothing she had experienced before; it felt like waking up after a years-long sleep, or stepping outside for the first time in months. Every inch of her felt alive and present, so much so that she took a few steps back, stumbling slightly. Only one thing could have an affect like that on her: fear. Tempest was really, truly scared. Underneath the thrill of the energy, and the closeness she had just experienced, there was a tiny knot of guilt. This was unusual for Bea – usually, the fear response of others left her on cloud nine, untouchable in her glee. So how was this guilt getting to her? And why? Tempest was her rival, for the gods sake! Who cared if she was scared? “Yeah, well, neither do I! And I wouldn’t be caught dead with a repressed prep like you.” Beatrix heard herself snap, the defensive tone in her voice unusual. Had she really been hurt by what Tempest had said? Glaring at Tempest, she took a seat on her bed. “You’re the one who dreamed of me whipping you, anyway. Speaks volumes, don’t you think?” she continued, her tone both accusatory and smug.

“I’m enjoying this too much? Look who’s talking! I see that look in your eyes, Tem. Like… hunger,” Beatrix couldn’t help but push the situation further with her words. Maybe it was the cramped room, or the energy from Tempest’s fear, but she was feeling warm. Inside, her blood rushed hot and fast, her heart thumping in excitement at this close proximity to Tempest Truett. Tempest looked flushed and embarrassed, her eyes searching in a way that conveyed what Trix was feeling too: a curiosity, deep and complex. A desire to see how far this would go before one of them caved. Toying with Tempest had been a favorite past-time of Trix’s for some time, but this didn’t feel like a game. Not for the first time, she was doubting herself, doubting her intentions… was this really all just for the fear? Or was her heart beating this fast for a different reason? Tempest’s hand on her wrist only made Trix strengthen her grip, unwilling to let the brunette go. “Nothing to do with the dream, maybe,” she admitted. “But it sounds like I featured quite heavily, so you’ve made it my business. As cute as you are when you’re shy, I want to know. So tell me.” Trix drew closer still, so their faces were nearly touching, before suddenly letting go. Even though she had relinquished her control physically, the words still sizzled in the air between the two girls, Bea’s demand hanging heavily. It was such a rush to speak that way to Tempest, and to hold her like that, that she was breathing heavier than she had realised.

Beatrix was delighted by this new revelation! Too delighted to care that it was stirring something in her, too. That was something she’d deal with later – and, by later, she meant potentially never. “I’ll admit it, that does sound like something I’d do. Unfortunately I can’t take credit for it, though. That was all you, Tem,” Trix grinned, relishing in Tempest’s obvious embarrassment. Even with the little information she’d parted with, Trix could tell she’d been making even more of an impression than she hoped. Crossed her arms and putting her feet up on her desk, she continued. “Really, I wish I’d thought of that. Too fucking good! And you look so cute when you’re embarrassed.” The taunt was a low blow, but Trix couldn’t help it. Standing up, Trix crossed the space between the two of them with a few quick strides. Hey, at least the tiny Hermes rooms were intimate! As soon as she was close enough, she took Tempest’s collar in her hand, pulling her down. Their faces were inches from one-another. “What did you say we were doing in that dream?” Trix questioned, her smile made slightly ominous by the edge in her voice, a vaguely animalistic quality she hadn’t known she possessed. Whatever had caused this dream, it was affecting both girls more than they’d care to admit…