[.}Devyni Novyde Auksas{.][>Capitol - November<]
Jun 21, 2011 17:38:45 GMT -5
Post by WT on Jun 21, 2011 17:38:45 GMT -5
Devyni Novydė Auksas
16 years
November 22
Male
Capitol
With this being said
Every petal's come off again and fell to the floor
In a place known for wild designs and outrageous colours, where the latest fashion trends are followed religiously and most people don’t look the same three weeks in a row, Devyni has always stood out not for being out there but for being, at least in terms of appearance, extremely normal. Right now it works for him; much of the Capitol, particularly the younger denizens, seems to be caught in a “natural” phase (never mind that half of them have about an inch of natural skin on their entire body), so most people don’t give a second glance to someone walking down the street with brown hair and plain skin. Only those who see him regularly know to nag him about when he’s finally going to redo his wardrobe or at least get some contacts into those eyes. He always brushes those questions off, knowing perfectly well that no related plans will never come to fruition. Honestly, he just doesn’t care enough to spend his time constantly recreating his appearance from scratch. Why should someone who doesn’t like people put any effort into something that will make them more socially acceptable?
So the features that Devyni Auksas sees every day when he looks in the mirror are the same that he’s had since he was an infant. Yes, they are changed with age; his hair was longer when he was a child, and his cheekbones less prominent, and his skin darker than it is now from spending more time outside. But the broad features remain, and those dark brown eyes have not wavered once in sixteen years.
Considering his usual disdain for appearance, it’s not surprising to note that he doesn’t seem to pour much effort into how his hair looks. Awkward haircuts are a hallmark of the boy’s life. When he was a kid his mother preferred to cut it herself, but she was clumsy with the scissors and always left an uneven line; as a young teenager he refused to let her cut it but wouldn’t do it himself and didn’t trust stylists, so he ended up with a long, shaggy mass of hair. Nowadays he still isn’t fond of stylists- last time he went he ended up with what looked like a tree on top of his head- but though he’s learning he doesn’t yet have the hang of cutting the stuff. Currently the back is cropped at his upper neck, while the front is significantly shorter, resting on his temples and constantly fluttering into his eyes.
Interestingly, however, Devyni does care about his hair. Quite a lot, in fact. The dusty brown mass one of his favorite parts of himself, and he both washes and brushes it constantly. (Not that the later does him much good. Whatever he does, the stuff always seems to return to a generally haphazard state within hours.) Even his often-horrid trims are only a result of his obsessive care for it. No one messes with Devyni’s hair without his permission. No one. Random Capitolites he’s never met are not on that list, no matter how in touch they might be with the latest styles.
The rest of his face, he could care less about. His dark brown eyes stand in sharp contrast to his pale skin, but even these he barely notices. Wide features, slightly large ears, and a stubborn chin go all but ignored. Indeed, the only thing that Devyni really pays attention to is the faintly sunken look his face has taken on in recent years- but even that, he only glances at because he wonders if he’s eating enough, and he always goes on his way as soon as he realizes that it’s just his unusually high cheekbones making the rest of his face seem further back than it should be.
The rest of Devyni gets even less attention unless something is seriously wrong with it. Most of the time, that means sunburn. As a child he spent enough time in the sun to gain some resistance, but in recent years Devyni has spent more and more time inside, resulting in rather pale skin that will burn quickly and painfully if he isn’t careful with it. (Luckily, he is at least the sort of person who will peel to a tan, so that offers some relief.) Otherwise, his life is relatively inactive compared to that of your average District denizen, giving him few opportunities to gather bruises, cuts, broken bones, and other such injuries that come from running around outside a lot or working hard on a regular basis. Even illness has not happened more than a couple times in his entire life. Living in the Capitol, with its advanced medicine and sanitation, allows for incredibly limited interaction with germs.
As one might expect, Devyni pays about as much attention to clothing fashion as he does to hair, skin, and eye trends. Complicated clothing gets in his way, so he spends most of his time in plain shirts and pants (along with the occasional jacket, since he chills easily). Almost everything he owns is in some shade of blue, black, or red- which is wonderful for him when any of those are in style, but sometimes gets him condescending looks if anything else happens to be the going colour. Most of the things in his wardrobe that deviate from that palette, he only bought because he was tired of people wasting his time with trying to make him expand his hues.
At five feet and ten inches and with a weight that never strays far from 150 pounds, Devyni’s frame isn’t far from average for his age. He isn’t particularly lanky or stocky, and though he has decent stamina isn’t well built for strength or speed. Luckily, he never needs any of those. Beyond the organs necessary for moment-to-moment survival, all he really needs is a working set of fingers. While he isn’t overly lazy, Devyni rarely has much cause for sustained activity.
Every word again
It's not like it ever meant everything we'd hoped
tl;dr: Moody and emotional, but not in an unstable way. Taciturn. Says what he means, but no more. Doesn't always mean what he says. Intense. Obsessive. Never deliberately mean, but doesn't know how to be nice. Not fond of most people but deeply attached to those he likes. Tries to record the world. Writes nonfiction, reads everything. Won't put effort into things he doesn't care about. Acutely personal, not out of distrust but out of comfort. Thinks a lot. Feels deeply. Nonetheless, somehow manages lacks much empathy. Better at standing up for someone than expressing a desire to spend time with them. Acts on emotion but not impulse, but his reactions don't always line up with the expected. Wants to be a better friend, but rarely remembers to try and understand how things make other people feel. Observant but not analytical. Listener. Stubborn.
Ask Devyni to describe himself, and you will get an answer involving academics. He won’t call it that, mind you; if he saw himself as scholarly he would say so immediately and go back to whatever he was doing, but it doesn’t even occur to him, so that isn’t an option. It’s a label you’ll have to determine yourself- but it’s an easy label to decide on when given someone whose automatic response includes history books. Mind you, he won’t say that, either. He’ll just tell you that he likes to observe what’s going on around him and write it down- but what else is that, if not a chronicle of his times? It’s not history yet, but someday it will be, and those books he binds and stacks up against his wall might be useful. Toss in his constant reading and, yes, Devyni is the closest that most Capitolites can get to being an academic.
Ask anyone else, and you’ll never get that answer. Devyni’s books, like most things he considers personal, are not closely guarded but are nonetheless far from commonplace knowledge. Outsiders see him reading all the time, but few ever see him writing since he prefers to do it in the comfort of his own room- a place he allows few into, for he sees it as his haven from the exceedingly social world of the Capitol. Therefore, people who aren’t Devyni (or perhaps those closest to him) will define him in much more straightforward terms than he defines himself: they’ll tell you he’s moody.
Which, well, he is. The thing is, this uncomplicated answer is not entirely accurate. Moody brings to mind instability, suggesting a person who is constantly flitting between one humor and another, unable to hang on to a single frame of mind for more than an hour without exploding. Devyni isn’t like that in the slightest. Remarkably calm, with an incredible capacity for feeling things without letting them control them, he is far from short-tempered. Rather, his moods are difficult to predict. Because he talks about himself very little, he doesn’t give other people a lot to base their forecasts on, and so sometimes he acts in ways that don’t make sense. Sometimes he melts into a puddle of bliss (any time chocolate is presented to him) or lashes out verbally (usually when someone invades his privacy) or laughs for no apparent reason (his humor isn’t aways sardonic), and the people around him are left wondering what happened to the young man who was just standing next to them, the one who looked so uninterested in everything for the previous three hours.
After all, for all that he may seem it at times, Devyni certainly isn’t apathetic. Perhaps above any other trait, Devyni is emotional. Not in the way that tends to jump to mind when people hear that word, mind you; this is not a boy who spends his time dwelling on sentiment, nor one who cares much for others or lays his feelings on the line a lot. Devyni is a lot of things, but nice and sappy are not among them; he doesn’t like people, remember, and has better things to do than acting like he does. Even when he does truly care for someone, he tends to treat them harshly, his general lack of empathy standing in the way of any ability to act like a proper friend even when he wants to. (It isn't that he wants to be mean, and indeed he generally tries to avoid doing so. It's just that... that isn't always obvious when he's snapping at his parents for touching his hair or mostly ignoring someone who's going to great pains to make him happy. Sometimes Dev remembers to try and understand how things make other people feel, but not often, and even when he does he has a hard time using those considerations. People are confusing.)
Rather, Devyni is the sort of person who bases everything he does and says (or doesn’t say) off of something he feels. Every word, every movement, every sound is filtered through his heart long before his brain, resulting in a remarkably sincere air. No, truth is not always the first thing on Devyni’s lips, but at least when he lies he’s doing it for something he believes in. All his actions, callous as they may seem, originate in the bottom of his heart.
Exactly what that heart is feeling can be difficult to decipher. Devyni doesn’t seem to interpret all emotions on the same wavelengths as everyone else, so affection can come out cold and anger can look almost like amusement. For those who know him, though, his mood is almost always palpable simply from the way he holds himself. One of those people who feels even simple events deep in their bones, Devyni has no choice but to respond from that same visceral place. There may not be passion behind everything he does, but there will be meaning to it, and even if the meaning is hidden its presence will always be obvious.
This is a good thing, because Devyni doesn’t really talk much. If a situation or an idea absolutely requires speech, he finds it, but most of the time he lets his words circulate in his head where nothing can interrupt them- or use them. Somewhat secretive, less because he distrusts others and more because he simply has a strictly defined comfort zone that doesn’t include baring his mind to everyone he knows, Devyni prefers to avoid revealing much about his thoughts. Even when directly spoken to, he gives simple answers where he can and otherwise stays quiet. Unfortunately, this makes him appear rather broody- which, while not an entirely incorrect assessment, is not a word that can encompass all of Devyni’s reticence.
Devyni’s friends, few though they may be, are privileged to see another side of this taciturnity should they choose to take advantage of it: as someone who prefers paying attention to spewing his own ideas, Devyni is an excellent listener. Of course, he has to actually care about someone to listen to them seriously. Most people’s words are heard with a detached interest, the sort of attention that a geology student might pay to a particularly interesting stone before going on to the mountain they came to see, whether they’re speaking to him or not and whether or not they need help. But for those who he’s willing to sit down and listen to, he’s perfect. Perhaps he isn’t the best with advice, especially when the problem is social in nature, but goodness knows he knows how to make someone feel heard- never judging, never trying to throw his own opinions into a story, just nodding and maintaining eye contact and making sure that the speaker feels like someone, at least for that time, is on their side.
In a way, it’s his method of making up for the type of friend he is otherwise. Devyni knows perfectly well that he isn’t a kind person. Although not malicious, he can be callous and insensitive, and his affection is more likely to come out as a suffocating jealousy than a sympathetic gesture. All of this is known to him, and though he isn’t usually the type to wallow in self-pity there is a measure of guilt attached to it. Friends are supposed to be treated well, and he wants to do that, he just has no idea how. So he tries, and hopes that it’s enough to get the point across.
And as anyone who spends more than a few minutes around him will quickly learn, once Devyni has his mind set to try to do something, that thing is going to get done. It might take a month and a half, but Dev’s a stubborn kid and will keep pressing forward, pulling a steel determination out of that same obsessive core that makes him such a jealous person when it comes to his friends even as it brings his hands to his hair to fix it for the third time in a morning. Here is a mind that doesn’t just fix on things, but latches to them, melding itself so tightly with its objectives as to become inseparable. Once Devyni has his mind set on something, anyone in his way had better move quickly before they get bowled over- or, in some cases, they had better stop trying to move him before they keel over from the effort.
True to his taciturn nature, of course, he never shouts or even truly argues. More than a few have taken this silence for submission and tried to force him into something he didn’t want to do, only to run up against a veritable fortress of will. Both tenacious and resilient, Devyni is more than capable of digging his heels in and quite calmly refusing to budge from his path. At times he is willing to pause, but once he’s started walking down a road, odds are he will never see the beginning of it again.
Call it obsession, call it perseverance; call it a flaw, or an asset, or whatever you please. Devyni will not care. In the end, he knows, it is this sheer willpower that will keep him standing.
It's never been harder to fall
There's nothing to grab and that's all I want to hold onto
Just another sweep and it'll be fine
But this carpet's got hills and I can't see this helping at all
Among the Districts, Capitolites have a reputation for being lazy, selfish good-for-nothings who only take an interest in other people when it seems amusing and never lift a finger once in their entire life. While this is not an undeserved stereotype, there are, as with everything, exceptions. Occasionally while wandering the neon streets of Panem's capital city, you will run into someone who leads a slightly more serious lifestyle- and, perhaps, even prefers it that way.
From her birth, Sawa Rapinoe fell neatly into both categories. Wealthy enough to let them fit in, Sawa's family was nevertheless a long way from having enough money stored up to last their whole lives, so she grew up in a working household. Between the influences of her mother, a reporter, and her father, a teacher, the attitude that you must work to earn your position rubbed of on her at a young age. Combine this with her inate desire to help other people, and it's little wonder that by the time Sawa turned twenty she was trying to set up a Panem-wide food production business.
Ambition and caring can't get you everywhere, though, and Sawa lacked the organization and money sense necessary for an entrepreneur. For a while it seemed like the entire idea was simply going to flounder- but then she met Sonia Auksas, an economically-minded young man who only needed an idea for a business. Seeing in each other a way to advance their dreams, the two married within a month, hoping to combine their financial assets as well as bind their new business agreement more tightly.
It never should have worked out- and at first, it didn't. Both were young and tempestuous, her at twenty-two and him two years younger; neither wanted to give up the slightest bit of control over their joint company, and both resented feeling like they had trapped themselves in a completely emotionless marriage. Luckily, the years were kind to them. Eventually, with much effort on both their parts, the business began picking up; as it did, they learned more about how to work together, which in turn made it grow even faster. With success paving the only road they could see, both started feeling less tied down, and allowed themselves to discover that perhaps they actually did love each other.
This is where things stood when Novydė Auksas was born to a father of thirty-one years and a mother of thirty-three. A lucky child, particularly considered the frequent turmoil and tragedy of families in his country, he entered the world with two loving parents, a steady income flow, a family that owned considerable savings, parents who not only got along but cared as deeply for the family as for their business, and more stability than most of Panem's infants will ever know. Though his parents frequently had to go away on business (by this point the business not only had two Capitol branches but also touched Districts Four, Five, Ten, and Eleven), they almost always managed to time it so that one or the other was at home with him- and his sister, who was born a little over a year afterward.
And yet despite this, and despite the fact that the Auksas parents never let anyone they didn't trust stay with their little ones, Devyni does not look at his childhood as entirely happy. Not that he was miserable, because he wasn't. He loved and was loved by his parents, he got along well with his sister, and the family was well-off. Never in his life has Devyni had something to really complain about, not the way people in the Districts do- but he was never really happy. He just sort of existed, floating along between the lines. As a child Devyni had very few friends, and those he did have were the sort one sits with at lunch or pairs up with in class and then never speaks to outside of school. Partly a matter of choice, for he didn't like spending time with others, and partly a matter of others being chased off by his gruff and infrequent speech, this lack of friends failed to make him overly sad but affected him deeply nonetheless. Without anyone to play with and talk to, he drew even more into himself as he grew up, observing the world around him without ever quite figuring out how to fit in with it.
Eventually, his parents decided to do the only thing they could think of to help their son: they found him someone who would have no choice but to befriend him. Ostensibly, the purchase of Felix Trusdale when Devyni was thirteen was because the family wanted help around the house, but they didn't really need it, and it was fairly obvious to everyone that his parents were trying to provide him with some companionship close to his own age.
The attempt was met with mixed success. People cannot simple be thrown together and expected to bond, and for some time Devyni avoided Felix as much as he avoided everyone else he didn't know, finding more solace in his obsessive writing than in the newcomer's presence. Only over a great deal of time did he allow the older boy into his life, piece by piece, and even then the two were not exactly friends. Devyni has come to care for Felix a great deal- more than anyone else outside his family, certainly- but he isn't exactly sure how to express that. The result is somewhat reminiscent of a young boy with a new pet dog; no matter how much he may like Felix, even love him, Devyni doesn't always treat him horribly well.
Even so, having someone close to his own age and not related to him constantly around did do Devyni some good, simply by forcing him to come out of his shell a bit. He got a little more used to people, which in turn allowed him to accept the occasional invitation from his classmates. They didn't come often, and he never really enjoyed most of the parties, but they were something to do and it made his parents happy to see him getting out of the house a bit more. Soon enough he didn't really have a choice, anyway; some of the parties included his sister's crowd, and once she noticed his participation she started pressing him to continue.
Perhaps if things had continued at a steady pace, he would have continued to emerge from his standoffish nature. Unfortunately and to Devyni's deep regret, that isn't how it happened. Odds are Devyni will never know what happened on the night that ruined his shot at sociability, but he has his suspicions, all of which involve drugs. Whoever spiked his drink and whatever they used, the end result was a one-night stand with Marco Patricks that shook him to the core, despite- or perhaps because of- the fact that he enjoyed it rather immensely until the drugs wore off. In short, he panicked. When he woke up the next morning beside a sleeping Marco, he shouted quite a bit more than was probably necessary, then fled home, where he refused to emerge from his room for the rest of the day. Having always considered himself borderline asexual, Devyni wasn't sure what to think of himself after the fact, let alone Marco- who he already hated, lacking patience for the older boy even when he wasn't slandering Felix.
The incident set Devyni right back to square one. With one exception- Felix, who he could not bring himself to shut out of his life again- he regressed to his complete introversion. Nowadays it's almost like he's trapped in his childhood again; he avoids people he doesn't know like the plague, ignores most of the people he does know unless they're related to him, and spends more time than is probably good for him cooped up from others, both physically (if you can't find him, his room is a good bet) and mentally (he actually spends a decent amount of time on the Capitol's streets, but he isn't talking to anyone, only watching).
It never occurs to him to be unhappy, though, or even lonely. (Except that he is. He's so, so forlorn, ill with the kind of loneliness that seeps into your bones and holds you captive until you have no idea that it's even there to be solved. After all, who tries to cure themselves of having two arms, or a nose, or a hypothalamus?) He has his parents, his sister, his books, and his... whatever his relation to Felix can be summed up as. He isn't hungry every night and he has a durable house with working temperature control systems. What is there to complain about?
Throw away what you say
Well then watch it all wash away, will it wash ashore?
The lyrics are from "The Mountain Range in My Living Room" by The Early November.
Half-baked effort for appearance and history? I THINK YES.
D64242, A68542, FFEECC
Devyni means "nine" and Auksas means "gold," both in Lithuanian. November comes from the Latin noven, nine, and the flower of November is the chrysanthemum, which contains the Greek word chrys or golden (with gold being the traditional colour for chrysanthemums; orange-gold is also a common colour for some topaz and most citrine, the month's two commonly-recognized birthstones.) Novydë is just a Lithuanian name that started with nov and sounded nice.
Red is meant to be for changing leaves, brown for the dead ones, and near-white for the transition to winter.
His FC is Saulius Mikoliūnas.
I called him Noven when still hesitating between names, and will probably continue to use that as my nickname for him.
His mother is named for Homare Sawa and Megan Rapinoe; his father's first name is in honor of Sonia Bompastor. All three are female footballers.
Under the tropical zodiac, November 22 is the overlap of Scorpio and Sagittarius. My original plan was to make his birthday November 7, the middle of Scorpio's days, since that's the sign during most of the month; because of that early planning, he probably has more Scorpio than Sagittarius.If he has much of either. I suck at this.
Who'd have thought it could float
Even grow enough to make its own way back alone
16 years
November 22
Male
Capitol
With this being said
Every petal's come off again and fell to the floor
In a place known for wild designs and outrageous colours, where the latest fashion trends are followed religiously and most people don’t look the same three weeks in a row, Devyni has always stood out not for being out there but for being, at least in terms of appearance, extremely normal. Right now it works for him; much of the Capitol, particularly the younger denizens, seems to be caught in a “natural” phase (never mind that half of them have about an inch of natural skin on their entire body), so most people don’t give a second glance to someone walking down the street with brown hair and plain skin. Only those who see him regularly know to nag him about when he’s finally going to redo his wardrobe or at least get some contacts into those eyes. He always brushes those questions off, knowing perfectly well that no related plans will never come to fruition. Honestly, he just doesn’t care enough to spend his time constantly recreating his appearance from scratch. Why should someone who doesn’t like people put any effort into something that will make them more socially acceptable?
So the features that Devyni Auksas sees every day when he looks in the mirror are the same that he’s had since he was an infant. Yes, they are changed with age; his hair was longer when he was a child, and his cheekbones less prominent, and his skin darker than it is now from spending more time outside. But the broad features remain, and those dark brown eyes have not wavered once in sixteen years.
Considering his usual disdain for appearance, it’s not surprising to note that he doesn’t seem to pour much effort into how his hair looks. Awkward haircuts are a hallmark of the boy’s life. When he was a kid his mother preferred to cut it herself, but she was clumsy with the scissors and always left an uneven line; as a young teenager he refused to let her cut it but wouldn’t do it himself and didn’t trust stylists, so he ended up with a long, shaggy mass of hair. Nowadays he still isn’t fond of stylists- last time he went he ended up with what looked like a tree on top of his head- but though he’s learning he doesn’t yet have the hang of cutting the stuff. Currently the back is cropped at his upper neck, while the front is significantly shorter, resting on his temples and constantly fluttering into his eyes.
Interestingly, however, Devyni does care about his hair. Quite a lot, in fact. The dusty brown mass one of his favorite parts of himself, and he both washes and brushes it constantly. (Not that the later does him much good. Whatever he does, the stuff always seems to return to a generally haphazard state within hours.) Even his often-horrid trims are only a result of his obsessive care for it. No one messes with Devyni’s hair without his permission. No one. Random Capitolites he’s never met are not on that list, no matter how in touch they might be with the latest styles.
The rest of his face, he could care less about. His dark brown eyes stand in sharp contrast to his pale skin, but even these he barely notices. Wide features, slightly large ears, and a stubborn chin go all but ignored. Indeed, the only thing that Devyni really pays attention to is the faintly sunken look his face has taken on in recent years- but even that, he only glances at because he wonders if he’s eating enough, and he always goes on his way as soon as he realizes that it’s just his unusually high cheekbones making the rest of his face seem further back than it should be.
The rest of Devyni gets even less attention unless something is seriously wrong with it. Most of the time, that means sunburn. As a child he spent enough time in the sun to gain some resistance, but in recent years Devyni has spent more and more time inside, resulting in rather pale skin that will burn quickly and painfully if he isn’t careful with it. (Luckily, he is at least the sort of person who will peel to a tan, so that offers some relief.) Otherwise, his life is relatively inactive compared to that of your average District denizen, giving him few opportunities to gather bruises, cuts, broken bones, and other such injuries that come from running around outside a lot or working hard on a regular basis. Even illness has not happened more than a couple times in his entire life. Living in the Capitol, with its advanced medicine and sanitation, allows for incredibly limited interaction with germs.
As one might expect, Devyni pays about as much attention to clothing fashion as he does to hair, skin, and eye trends. Complicated clothing gets in his way, so he spends most of his time in plain shirts and pants (along with the occasional jacket, since he chills easily). Almost everything he owns is in some shade of blue, black, or red- which is wonderful for him when any of those are in style, but sometimes gets him condescending looks if anything else happens to be the going colour. Most of the things in his wardrobe that deviate from that palette, he only bought because he was tired of people wasting his time with trying to make him expand his hues.
At five feet and ten inches and with a weight that never strays far from 150 pounds, Devyni’s frame isn’t far from average for his age. He isn’t particularly lanky or stocky, and though he has decent stamina isn’t well built for strength or speed. Luckily, he never needs any of those. Beyond the organs necessary for moment-to-moment survival, all he really needs is a working set of fingers. While he isn’t overly lazy, Devyni rarely has much cause for sustained activity.
Every word again
It's not like it ever meant everything we'd hoped
tl;dr: Moody and emotional, but not in an unstable way. Taciturn. Says what he means, but no more. Doesn't always mean what he says. Intense. Obsessive. Never deliberately mean, but doesn't know how to be nice. Not fond of most people but deeply attached to those he likes. Tries to record the world. Writes nonfiction, reads everything. Won't put effort into things he doesn't care about. Acutely personal, not out of distrust but out of comfort. Thinks a lot. Feels deeply. Nonetheless, somehow manages lacks much empathy. Better at standing up for someone than expressing a desire to spend time with them. Acts on emotion but not impulse, but his reactions don't always line up with the expected. Wants to be a better friend, but rarely remembers to try and understand how things make other people feel. Observant but not analytical. Listener. Stubborn.
Ask Devyni to describe himself, and you will get an answer involving academics. He won’t call it that, mind you; if he saw himself as scholarly he would say so immediately and go back to whatever he was doing, but it doesn’t even occur to him, so that isn’t an option. It’s a label you’ll have to determine yourself- but it’s an easy label to decide on when given someone whose automatic response includes history books. Mind you, he won’t say that, either. He’ll just tell you that he likes to observe what’s going on around him and write it down- but what else is that, if not a chronicle of his times? It’s not history yet, but someday it will be, and those books he binds and stacks up against his wall might be useful. Toss in his constant reading and, yes, Devyni is the closest that most Capitolites can get to being an academic.
Ask anyone else, and you’ll never get that answer. Devyni’s books, like most things he considers personal, are not closely guarded but are nonetheless far from commonplace knowledge. Outsiders see him reading all the time, but few ever see him writing since he prefers to do it in the comfort of his own room- a place he allows few into, for he sees it as his haven from the exceedingly social world of the Capitol. Therefore, people who aren’t Devyni (or perhaps those closest to him) will define him in much more straightforward terms than he defines himself: they’ll tell you he’s moody.
Which, well, he is. The thing is, this uncomplicated answer is not entirely accurate. Moody brings to mind instability, suggesting a person who is constantly flitting between one humor and another, unable to hang on to a single frame of mind for more than an hour without exploding. Devyni isn’t like that in the slightest. Remarkably calm, with an incredible capacity for feeling things without letting them control them, he is far from short-tempered. Rather, his moods are difficult to predict. Because he talks about himself very little, he doesn’t give other people a lot to base their forecasts on, and so sometimes he acts in ways that don’t make sense. Sometimes he melts into a puddle of bliss (any time chocolate is presented to him) or lashes out verbally (usually when someone invades his privacy) or laughs for no apparent reason (his humor isn’t aways sardonic), and the people around him are left wondering what happened to the young man who was just standing next to them, the one who looked so uninterested in everything for the previous three hours.
After all, for all that he may seem it at times, Devyni certainly isn’t apathetic. Perhaps above any other trait, Devyni is emotional. Not in the way that tends to jump to mind when people hear that word, mind you; this is not a boy who spends his time dwelling on sentiment, nor one who cares much for others or lays his feelings on the line a lot. Devyni is a lot of things, but nice and sappy are not among them; he doesn’t like people, remember, and has better things to do than acting like he does. Even when he does truly care for someone, he tends to treat them harshly, his general lack of empathy standing in the way of any ability to act like a proper friend even when he wants to. (It isn't that he wants to be mean, and indeed he generally tries to avoid doing so. It's just that... that isn't always obvious when he's snapping at his parents for touching his hair or mostly ignoring someone who's going to great pains to make him happy. Sometimes Dev remembers to try and understand how things make other people feel, but not often, and even when he does he has a hard time using those considerations. People are confusing.)
Rather, Devyni is the sort of person who bases everything he does and says (or doesn’t say) off of something he feels. Every word, every movement, every sound is filtered through his heart long before his brain, resulting in a remarkably sincere air. No, truth is not always the first thing on Devyni’s lips, but at least when he lies he’s doing it for something he believes in. All his actions, callous as they may seem, originate in the bottom of his heart.
Exactly what that heart is feeling can be difficult to decipher. Devyni doesn’t seem to interpret all emotions on the same wavelengths as everyone else, so affection can come out cold and anger can look almost like amusement. For those who know him, though, his mood is almost always palpable simply from the way he holds himself. One of those people who feels even simple events deep in their bones, Devyni has no choice but to respond from that same visceral place. There may not be passion behind everything he does, but there will be meaning to it, and even if the meaning is hidden its presence will always be obvious.
This is a good thing, because Devyni doesn’t really talk much. If a situation or an idea absolutely requires speech, he finds it, but most of the time he lets his words circulate in his head where nothing can interrupt them- or use them. Somewhat secretive, less because he distrusts others and more because he simply has a strictly defined comfort zone that doesn’t include baring his mind to everyone he knows, Devyni prefers to avoid revealing much about his thoughts. Even when directly spoken to, he gives simple answers where he can and otherwise stays quiet. Unfortunately, this makes him appear rather broody- which, while not an entirely incorrect assessment, is not a word that can encompass all of Devyni’s reticence.
Devyni’s friends, few though they may be, are privileged to see another side of this taciturnity should they choose to take advantage of it: as someone who prefers paying attention to spewing his own ideas, Devyni is an excellent listener. Of course, he has to actually care about someone to listen to them seriously. Most people’s words are heard with a detached interest, the sort of attention that a geology student might pay to a particularly interesting stone before going on to the mountain they came to see, whether they’re speaking to him or not and whether or not they need help. But for those who he’s willing to sit down and listen to, he’s perfect. Perhaps he isn’t the best with advice, especially when the problem is social in nature, but goodness knows he knows how to make someone feel heard- never judging, never trying to throw his own opinions into a story, just nodding and maintaining eye contact and making sure that the speaker feels like someone, at least for that time, is on their side.
In a way, it’s his method of making up for the type of friend he is otherwise. Devyni knows perfectly well that he isn’t a kind person. Although not malicious, he can be callous and insensitive, and his affection is more likely to come out as a suffocating jealousy than a sympathetic gesture. All of this is known to him, and though he isn’t usually the type to wallow in self-pity there is a measure of guilt attached to it. Friends are supposed to be treated well, and he wants to do that, he just has no idea how. So he tries, and hopes that it’s enough to get the point across.
And as anyone who spends more than a few minutes around him will quickly learn, once Devyni has his mind set to try to do something, that thing is going to get done. It might take a month and a half, but Dev’s a stubborn kid and will keep pressing forward, pulling a steel determination out of that same obsessive core that makes him such a jealous person when it comes to his friends even as it brings his hands to his hair to fix it for the third time in a morning. Here is a mind that doesn’t just fix on things, but latches to them, melding itself so tightly with its objectives as to become inseparable. Once Devyni has his mind set on something, anyone in his way had better move quickly before they get bowled over- or, in some cases, they had better stop trying to move him before they keel over from the effort.
True to his taciturn nature, of course, he never shouts or even truly argues. More than a few have taken this silence for submission and tried to force him into something he didn’t want to do, only to run up against a veritable fortress of will. Both tenacious and resilient, Devyni is more than capable of digging his heels in and quite calmly refusing to budge from his path. At times he is willing to pause, but once he’s started walking down a road, odds are he will never see the beginning of it again.
Call it obsession, call it perseverance; call it a flaw, or an asset, or whatever you please. Devyni will not care. In the end, he knows, it is this sheer willpower that will keep him standing.
It's never been harder to fall
There's nothing to grab and that's all I want to hold onto
Just another sweep and it'll be fine
But this carpet's got hills and I can't see this helping at all
Among the Districts, Capitolites have a reputation for being lazy, selfish good-for-nothings who only take an interest in other people when it seems amusing and never lift a finger once in their entire life. While this is not an undeserved stereotype, there are, as with everything, exceptions. Occasionally while wandering the neon streets of Panem's capital city, you will run into someone who leads a slightly more serious lifestyle- and, perhaps, even prefers it that way.
From her birth, Sawa Rapinoe fell neatly into both categories. Wealthy enough to let them fit in, Sawa's family was nevertheless a long way from having enough money stored up to last their whole lives, so she grew up in a working household. Between the influences of her mother, a reporter, and her father, a teacher, the attitude that you must work to earn your position rubbed of on her at a young age. Combine this with her inate desire to help other people, and it's little wonder that by the time Sawa turned twenty she was trying to set up a Panem-wide food production business.
Ambition and caring can't get you everywhere, though, and Sawa lacked the organization and money sense necessary for an entrepreneur. For a while it seemed like the entire idea was simply going to flounder- but then she met Sonia Auksas, an economically-minded young man who only needed an idea for a business. Seeing in each other a way to advance their dreams, the two married within a month, hoping to combine their financial assets as well as bind their new business agreement more tightly.
It never should have worked out- and at first, it didn't. Both were young and tempestuous, her at twenty-two and him two years younger; neither wanted to give up the slightest bit of control over their joint company, and both resented feeling like they had trapped themselves in a completely emotionless marriage. Luckily, the years were kind to them. Eventually, with much effort on both their parts, the business began picking up; as it did, they learned more about how to work together, which in turn made it grow even faster. With success paving the only road they could see, both started feeling less tied down, and allowed themselves to discover that perhaps they actually did love each other.
This is where things stood when Novydė Auksas was born to a father of thirty-one years and a mother of thirty-three. A lucky child, particularly considered the frequent turmoil and tragedy of families in his country, he entered the world with two loving parents, a steady income flow, a family that owned considerable savings, parents who not only got along but cared as deeply for the family as for their business, and more stability than most of Panem's infants will ever know. Though his parents frequently had to go away on business (by this point the business not only had two Capitol branches but also touched Districts Four, Five, Ten, and Eleven), they almost always managed to time it so that one or the other was at home with him- and his sister, who was born a little over a year afterward.
And yet despite this, and despite the fact that the Auksas parents never let anyone they didn't trust stay with their little ones, Devyni does not look at his childhood as entirely happy. Not that he was miserable, because he wasn't. He loved and was loved by his parents, he got along well with his sister, and the family was well-off. Never in his life has Devyni had something to really complain about, not the way people in the Districts do- but he was never really happy. He just sort of existed, floating along between the lines. As a child Devyni had very few friends, and those he did have were the sort one sits with at lunch or pairs up with in class and then never speaks to outside of school. Partly a matter of choice, for he didn't like spending time with others, and partly a matter of others being chased off by his gruff and infrequent speech, this lack of friends failed to make him overly sad but affected him deeply nonetheless. Without anyone to play with and talk to, he drew even more into himself as he grew up, observing the world around him without ever quite figuring out how to fit in with it.
Eventually, his parents decided to do the only thing they could think of to help their son: they found him someone who would have no choice but to befriend him. Ostensibly, the purchase of Felix Trusdale when Devyni was thirteen was because the family wanted help around the house, but they didn't really need it, and it was fairly obvious to everyone that his parents were trying to provide him with some companionship close to his own age.
The attempt was met with mixed success. People cannot simple be thrown together and expected to bond, and for some time Devyni avoided Felix as much as he avoided everyone else he didn't know, finding more solace in his obsessive writing than in the newcomer's presence. Only over a great deal of time did he allow the older boy into his life, piece by piece, and even then the two were not exactly friends. Devyni has come to care for Felix a great deal- more than anyone else outside his family, certainly- but he isn't exactly sure how to express that. The result is somewhat reminiscent of a young boy with a new pet dog; no matter how much he may like Felix, even love him, Devyni doesn't always treat him horribly well.
Even so, having someone close to his own age and not related to him constantly around did do Devyni some good, simply by forcing him to come out of his shell a bit. He got a little more used to people, which in turn allowed him to accept the occasional invitation from his classmates. They didn't come often, and he never really enjoyed most of the parties, but they were something to do and it made his parents happy to see him getting out of the house a bit more. Soon enough he didn't really have a choice, anyway; some of the parties included his sister's crowd, and once she noticed his participation she started pressing him to continue.
Perhaps if things had continued at a steady pace, he would have continued to emerge from his standoffish nature. Unfortunately and to Devyni's deep regret, that isn't how it happened. Odds are Devyni will never know what happened on the night that ruined his shot at sociability, but he has his suspicions, all of which involve drugs. Whoever spiked his drink and whatever they used, the end result was a one-night stand with Marco Patricks that shook him to the core, despite- or perhaps because of- the fact that he enjoyed it rather immensely until the drugs wore off. In short, he panicked. When he woke up the next morning beside a sleeping Marco, he shouted quite a bit more than was probably necessary, then fled home, where he refused to emerge from his room for the rest of the day. Having always considered himself borderline asexual, Devyni wasn't sure what to think of himself after the fact, let alone Marco- who he already hated, lacking patience for the older boy even when he wasn't slandering Felix.
The incident set Devyni right back to square one. With one exception- Felix, who he could not bring himself to shut out of his life again- he regressed to his complete introversion. Nowadays it's almost like he's trapped in his childhood again; he avoids people he doesn't know like the plague, ignores most of the people he does know unless they're related to him, and spends more time than is probably good for him cooped up from others, both physically (if you can't find him, his room is a good bet) and mentally (he actually spends a decent amount of time on the Capitol's streets, but he isn't talking to anyone, only watching).
It never occurs to him to be unhappy, though, or even lonely. (Except that he is. He's so, so forlorn, ill with the kind of loneliness that seeps into your bones and holds you captive until you have no idea that it's even there to be solved. After all, who tries to cure themselves of having two arms, or a nose, or a hypothalamus?) He has his parents, his sister, his books, and his... whatever his relation to Felix can be summed up as. He isn't hungry every night and he has a durable house with working temperature control systems. What is there to complain about?
Throw away what you say
Well then watch it all wash away, will it wash ashore?
The lyrics are from "The Mountain Range in My Living Room" by The Early November.
Half-baked effort for appearance and history? I THINK YES.
D64242, A68542, FFEECC
Devyni means "nine" and Auksas means "gold," both in Lithuanian. November comes from the Latin noven, nine, and the flower of November is the chrysanthemum, which contains the Greek word chrys or golden (with gold being the traditional colour for chrysanthemums; orange-gold is also a common colour for some topaz and most citrine, the month's two commonly-recognized birthstones.) Novydë is just a Lithuanian name that started with nov and sounded nice.
Red is meant to be for changing leaves, brown for the dead ones, and near-white for the transition to winter.
His FC is Saulius Mikoliūnas.
I called him Noven when still hesitating between names, and will probably continue to use that as my nickname for him.
His mother is named for Homare Sawa and Megan Rapinoe; his father's first name is in honor of Sonia Bompastor. All three are female footballers.
Under the tropical zodiac, November 22 is the overlap of Scorpio and Sagittarius. My original plan was to make his birthday November 7, the middle of Scorpio's days, since that's the sign during most of the month; because of that early planning, he probably has more Scorpio than Sagittarius.
Who'd have thought it could float
Even grow enough to make its own way back alone
