[justify] Standing in at five feet and eight inches Relic Livewood is an averaged height male for his age. Decently average. Average is good; it means that you don’t stick out in a crowd like a peacock in a chicken coop. Stick out too much and you are singled out, which is why Relic greatly appreciated his height. His hazel eyes are the picture that his face was made to frame, since it is said that the eyes are the gateway to the soul. This is very true with relic, and he has been told on more than one occasion that he is very easy to read since his eyes are so very expressive. They are wider than most eyes, giving them a childlike quality, and they are also close set. His eyelashes are thin and delicate and thankfully they haven’t decided to fall out yet. Above his eyes is a pair of eyebrows that lift in mirth and furrow in displeasure, which aided in making his face an open book. Below his eyes is his slender nose that fits his face perfectly. It’s not too big so it doesn’t make him look like a fairytale character and it isn’t too small which would offset the balance of his face. Relic has been told that he has a beautiful mouth, since his lips are smaller width-wise but still perfectly plump. His upper lip though is what deems the word ‘beautiful’; it is perfectly arched and angled, creating what could be the top of a heart. Relic feels flattered to have them. Hair was always a nuisance to Relic since it needed to be maintained. If it wasn’t kept in line then it falls in his face, poking him in the eyes. So, instead of having to continue to cut his hair he pulls it out. It’s more of a nervous habit really. He is never able to get to the top of his head though since it took work to reach his arms up there that high, work that he never really felt like doing. So as a result he has a strip of his naturally black hair running from the very top of his head to the base of his neck. Relic likes to think that he is a naturally thin person, seeing as he is only one hundred and fifty pounds, never though does he take into consideration that he is malnourished from his poor upbringing and lack of food. He prefers to wear baggy clothes that hang comfortably over his frame and give him a larger appearance.

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[justify]Five foot eight is okay in height. But it could be better. Being slightly shorter than half of the other males means that he has to work harder to catch the eye of women, but being taller than the other half of the other males means that he is picked more often on teams and could reach higher places. Heh, suckers. Hazel eyes, Red thinks that that is a stupid color. Was it supposed to be brown or green? He didn’t know, and obviously his eyes didn’t know either since they couldn’t seem to make up their minds. His eyes were expressive, meaning that if he was angry, then the entire world knew that he was angry. He hated that and in turn when the world saw his foul mood he glared at the world. His eyelashes clumped whenever he rubbed his eyes, but he didn’t care; he wasn’t a girl. The thicker the eyebrows the easier to scowl with and he had some good sized eyebrows. Red hates his nose since when you look at it head on it looks flat and round, quite misleading. He also wishes that the bridge was wider, since if it was then he would be able to smell better. Red’s lips are beautiful, he hates when they are called that. That word was demeaning to his masculinity. On more than one occasion he has considered burning that stupid arch to decide what his own face should look like, thankfully for his mouth he has never followed through with his plans. Red likes his black hair, but he likes the pain of pulling it out even more. So he made himself a tradeoff; he would only pull out the sides so that he could keep the top. His strange ‘haircut’ made people wary of him, he liked that. Being thin has it’s setbacks as well as it’s perks, a setback being that Red isn’t able to enjoy a full meal whenever he is given the chance, the food usually doesn’t set well, but a perk is that he is able to fit into most clothing that he wants to. Truthfully he prefers clothes that are snug fitting and cradle his skin in its embrace, because when he wears tighter clothes not only does he look like the punk he is, but he also looks taller. And as Red Knows, height is good.

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[justify]Love, kindness, acceptance. These are all words that describe Relic in some small way, but in the end they are still simply words. Words themselves could never describe the way that Relic sees the world. Every sight, every sound, every touch, everything was so indescribably precious to him. Both the vibrantly colorful and plain visions that pass before his eyes cause Relic to be thankful for gift of sight. If he was not able to see the beauty of life playing out its day by day dance he knew he would feel deadness inside of him. The warmth that the sights of children playing and the changing of the seasons gave him also spread like tingles over his skin. He hoped that others could see the world how he did, but they never seemed to understand his point of view. That never really bothered Relic, people all have their own ways of thinking and they had the right to think what they wanted, he shouldn’t be the one to tell them hoe to think or how to act. If someone was angry with him Relic would try to rationalize why that was so and often times he would try to understand why that person felt that anger and if he could, he would try to right whatever wrong he had done to that person. And for some reason he had done a lot of wrongs what he didn’t quite remember committing. Relic wasn’t an angry person, quite the opposite in fact. He felt that anger itself was a silly emotion, that it only caused pain and problems. Pain and problems were certainly not things that he liked to have. Many people found Relic to be a strange person, but Relic could never really see what would possibly make them think that way. Sure, he would rather give a stranger his things than argue over ownership, but that wasn’t overly strange. He was simply a kind person. A kind person who hardly ever spoke up for himself, who had a quiet voice, whose thoughts were often drifting out in space and who often forgot what he was talking about in the middle of a sentence. He was a sweetheart who always found himself apologizing for things that he didn’t remember doing or to people he didn’t remember hurting. He wasn’t able to kill a fly! Let along hurt a fellow human being.

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[justify]Love, kindness, acceptance. What the hell? What, were those words supposed to mean something to him? Those were pansy words that made Red want to barf. If you wanted words that described Red, how about annoyance, hatred and don‘t give a fuck? Now those were some words that Red could agree with! His outlook on life was that people should go on their merry little ways and ignore him, but if ever looked at him wrong, he would be more than happy to beat in some faces. People should have known him well enough by then! They should know better than to look at him with those condescending, pitying, pansy-assed looks. If they think that they could do better than him then he’d like to see them go ahead and try! There were only so many ways to get ahead in that world, and the first way was survival. It was survival of the fittest in that dog eat dog world and he would be damned if someone would get the better of him. People were nosy, there was no denying that, but they needed to keep their fat noses out of Red’s business! Not that he was one to talk, he would openly admit that he was nosy punk, but that was just because he had to know what people were up to. What if they were talking about him? He just needed to know who to look out for and who to beat up, it was a simple thing really. Red was selfish and easily jealous. If he had something it was his and no one better lay their grubby fingers on it, but if someone else had something he liked? Well then it would be his soon. If he didn’t get what he wanted Red, being the sore loser he was, would probably throw a tantrum, beating up on walls or the occasional puppy. It’s not like that pup would have had a good life in that hell hole of a district, he was doing it a favor! Anger was an emotion that often consumed Red’s thoughts, and he had a right to be angry! He was living a crappy life in a crappy house with a crappy parent eating crappy food and hanging out with crappy friends. It kinda sucked. Red was one to lash out randomly and anger over the simplest things. He hated many things but found ways to vent his anger often. He was just an ass who didn’t know when enough was enough.

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[justify]Seventeen years ago Relic Ian Livewood was born in a small shack on the outskirts of District nine. His mother was a shorter woman with scraggily curly brown hair whom everyone referred to as ’Mrs. Livewood’ simply because that was the name written on their makeshift mailbox. It was only natural that Relic would inherit that name as well. It could only be assumed that he was named ’Relic Ian’ by his father, since that was the name on his paperwork, but no one could really be sure since Mrs. Livewood wasn’t a very reliable source of information. Relic had never meet his father, so he assumed that the man was either deceased or that he didn’t even know that Relic even existed. There were simply so many holes in his history that Relic couldn’t exactly tell you just who he was. His mother was more than slightly messed up in the head, she claimed to be a different person every week, often times adding an honorific to her name. She also adamantly denied that she had ever had any children, believing that she was still only nineteen years old and had never been defiled by a man. A common rumor was that she had been in an abusive relationship before having been raped, and her mentality had simply stayed as her nineteen year old self as a defense mechanism. Relic had a hard time believing this theory, since he was too kind to believe ill of anyone. It also didn’t explain many things such as his name or why he had a jacked that had supposedly been given to him by his mother’s ’old boyfriend.’ He simply didn’t have enough clues to piece together his history. But he had been raised off and on by his mother and his neighbors. Most of the time his mother would allow him to stay there, but often she would go off on one of her tantrums and kick him out, claiming to not know who he was. Thanks to this Relic had a decent relationship with all of his neighbors who pitied him. Relic had a few good friends in his youth, but since turning thirteen everything had seemed to change. The people he had once come to trust greatly were turning their backs on him, claiming outlandish thing that he had supposedly done. It hurt Relic, but he soon accepted it and went on with his life, trying to correct wrongs that he had never done and trying to make the best out of the life he had been given.

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[justify]The first time Red was allowed freedom was when he was thirteen years old. Before that he had been slowly growing inside of Relic. Relic was too dense to ever figure out that Red existed, but Red certainly knew that Relic existed. He fed off of the emotions that Relic kept hidden from even himself until finally they became two separate personalities. Red was born to let off steam, to give people hell for pissing him off and to tell things how they were. If Red had never been born Relic would have probably snapped like his good for nothing mother, and we couldn’t have that, now, could we? Relic just loved his fucking charity work. But then Red realized something shortly after coming out for the first time; he was able to let off steam while occasionally screwing up his host’s life. He would ruin every part of Relic’s life until Relic couldn’t take it anymore, until Red could be the main personality and Relic could know how it felt to be locked away in a deep dark box in his subconscious. Don’t get him wrong, Red loved himself, he was practically narcissistic, it was Relic he hated. They were two completely different people vying for dominance within the same body, but it was the kid’s own damn fault! He was the one who had made Red in the first place! And so Red made enemies with the kids that his host had once called friends. He had made friends of his own who were not very pretty to look at and taught him things that a kid his age shouldn’t have know. He had defiled perfect little flowers and broke more than a few laws, but since little Relic was of so innocent he had never gotten in trouble yet. He was living the life of luxury and fun! But he also knew that if Relic went away for good he wouldn’t be able to have as much fun as he did, he wouldn’t be able to screw around with the kid to see how long he would carry out with that stupidly calm, happy expression that was always present on his damn face. And so he was patient and careful with how many times he came out. The last thing he needed was to break his plaything and get caught.

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