The boy with dead eyes. That's how you'd describe him. Not by his height, or his smashed nose, or the breadth of his shoulders. By the lack of life that should be reflected in the windows of his soul. Instead, they stand empty, sentinels to the world outside and reflect nothing of his tortured interior. They are beautiful though, if you can look past the creep-factor. Round and pale, usually blue, but sometimes in the spring they match the color of grass.

He has a long face, high cheek bones, and generally a very pronounced bone structure. Ever since he started losing his childhood fat at the age of sixteen Mace has looked like an adult, far more so than his peers. He grows a bit of stubble, nothing too serious. Perhaps its more the set of his full lips, always in that smug, thin line.

He stands at an impressive 6'2" and weighs over 200 pounds, much of that muscle from herding cows and carrying hay. It's easy to be lean with all the work he does, but some day that will change. For now though, he sports a farmer's tan and muscles that ripple beneath the surface.

You might love Mace. You may hate Mace. But however you feel, you love feeling the way you do. It's not so hard to love him; he is funny (in a cruel, dry sort of way), he is strong and he defends the weakest, youngest of the children in the community home. On the other token, it's quite easy to hate him. It's not so unusual to see him screaming at a dog, kicking it if it won't do as he says. He believes he is superior, the alpha in the home, even though at eighteen he should be moving on and finding different work for himself. And it is so delicious to hate him, because that only enrages him more.

There is certainly a weakness in Mace for pretty girls. He has a tendency to be sarcastic and cruel, so he hasn't dated much, not for lack of opportunities in the home. Someday, though, he'll fall for a girl - most likely someone angelic - and then he'll really find out how terrible and dark his nature is. To love him is to be tormented by his moods and violent nature, his dreams of a bright future that could never exist, his night terrors and flares of crippling depression.

The home continues to put up with him because of his strength and know-how, but he has nearly gotten himself thrown out on several occasions (justifiably). Mostly the kids love him though, because he keeps a certain order in the house and also knows how to get into just enough trouble. A bit of stolen moonshine, a roll of the right weeds, a song full of words that would make good girls blush. He's a bad boy alright, and you may hate him, you might love him, but it's impossible not to feel something for Mace. And that is his greatest ally.

Mace wasn't orphaned. He was simply abandoned very shortly after birth at the northern community home in district ten. Though the home mother took him from his biological mother's arms, she's never revealed who his birth parents are. This at times infuriates Mace, and at others calms him. The community home is his family through and through... but still, it might have been nice to have a real home.

That being said, Mace has narrowed down the options over the years, as his features refined. He can't be quite sure, but he has a hunch. His last name was given to him by the home mother; she thought it sounded nice, and strong, as he was even as a toddler. Mace grew up as one among many children, sometimes upwards of thirty, sometimes as few as eighteen. As the older ones went to work in the fields, families adopted them for their labor. And sometimes the younger ones died, from disease or starvation. It wasn't a steady lifestyle, but Mace adapted quickly. He found that if he became the law among the children, he could keep order and intimidate them into forking over a bit of extra bread or soup. In return, he broke up fights, or started them, when necessary.

As a child, Mace found outlets for his frustration over the communal lifestyle. Picking on the children - even the bullies - often got him locked in the basement, which infuriated him. So, Mace carried his anger around like a weapon. If a dog wasn't herding up to par or - god forbid - a wounded squirrel crossed his path, Mace let his crueler instincts take over.

When this behavior started when he was eight, it did not go unnoticed. He spent large chunks of that year working off his grievances in the barns, shoveling feces and hay. By the time herding season rolled around, he had learned to be more subtle, more careful, but no less lethal. It freed him, somehow. Vindicated his lifestyle, serving the animals, feeding them, picking up their waste. Ironically though Mace never tortured the cows the community home tended, nor the pigs. These big beasts he left alone, even though they created the messes he had to clean. He had a certain affinity for them, as especially as he grew older and began to realized just how intelligent pigs, at least, could be.

At eighteen he is old enough to survive on his own. Mace has plan though. Real plans for his own farm, his own pigs. In exchange for continuing to help around the farm (he is one of the strongest) the home has kept him on as a worker, not as a son. He is cordial with the staff, but it is the other kids who know him best. And while he is never violent towards them, he is not the most likable fellow either. But has a niche for himself, a dream of a better life, and a family that stretches on and on. What more could anyone want?

Thanks for taking the time to read over the app for my third character ^^