CRAMOISI ELMIRA || DISTRICT 11 || {FIN}

Scourge Hunter [M:-300] 77 POSTS last seen Dec 15, 2015 5:12:02 GMT -5 My characters vomit blood for a living.	CRAMOISI ELMIRA \|\| DISTRICT 11 \|\| {FIN} Sept 16, 2013 4:00:59 GMT -5 Select Post Deselect Post Link to Post Member Give Gift Back to Top Post by Scourge on Sept 16, 2013 4:00:59 GMT -5 Name: Cramoisi Elmira Age: 13 Gender: Female District/Area: District 1 Appearance: ❁ Personality: ❁ History: ❁ Codeword: odair Comments/Other: ❁ (WIP)
	Last Edit: Sept 17, 2013 1:42:14 GMT -5 by Scourge V i l l i a n s

Scourge
Hunter

[M:-300]

77 POSTS
last seen Dec 15, 2015 5:12:02 GMT -5

My characters vomit blood for a living.

CRAMOISI ELMIRA || DISTRICT 11 || {FIN} Sept 16, 2013 6:56:32 GMT -5

Post by Scourge on Sept 16, 2013 6:56:32 GMT -5

Cramoisi Taj Elmira

♌

{7C8A6D}
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{EDABD7}

{Name: Cramoisi Taj Elmira}
{Cra-moi-si Ta-j Eli-mira}
{Gender: Female}
{Sexuality: Hetero-Sexual}
{Age: 12 years old}
{District 11: Agriculture}
{Face Claim: Sierra McCormick}

[/colour][/left]

This very land I walk upon is ours, not The Capitol's, not the other Districts'. Ours.

From head to toe, I was little but a remnant of a girl, my scraggy blonde hair and skinny limbs reminded me of this fact continuously, along with the various 'whip' marks across my welted back. I usually took a silent role in activities, but I definetely did have a voice, and I would use it if need be. My district, was of course, Agriculture. The district that was viewed as such an important element in Panem. Although there was no freedom, you could spend the entire day climbing trees, picking berries, watering orchids. At night you could feel your toes tingle and smell the soil that was smudged upon your dirtied figure. I knew for sure, baths were uncommon in District Eleven. The sweet smell of honey-dew in the morning was refreshing, along with the scent of various flowers of strange dialects. This land was unbelievably amazing and vast, unlike the fumes from District 8 and the coal mines from District 12. This land was taken care of, this was our land, nobody else's but ours. Possessiveness was on-going, never-ending might I say. I loved my land with all my heart. For it was the only thing that kept waking me up all these years of cruelty and harsh environments.

I was far from perfect, and even I knew that. I wasn't hollow-headed but nor was I strong, I was slightly stubborn, but mostly caring. Caring was an attribute most residents of any District lacked. The ability to listen without opening my mouth once, and to always have my arms extended to comfort and hug another. That is what it meant to be human, not to maim nor kill, to care for one another. I grasped the concept of life a different way than the Capitol, I valued each and every life for their own reasons. Even so, if need be, I will harm them. Whether it be mentally or physically, I would hope I could break them down. Not like I know how it feels to have power practically rubbing off your skin and glinting on your fangs. If I did have power, I'd be no better than the cruel Peace-Keepers who whip and slay our Residents. The same residents who taunted me through-out my lonely childhood, the same residents I was forced into a home with, racial insults thrown at me mostly everyday. By both the children, and the care-giver. But all I knew, is that I cared. For them, and for everything.

How I wished others could be so comforting, how they could understand the pain of being ridiculed and taunted. The humiliation was unbearable, until I was eligible for work. Sure, I didn't earn any of the keep, but I was at the only place I could relax and actually think. With nature, it's beckons become wild and intoxicating now-a-days. The soil sunk into the holes on my soles, collided with my bare feet that were without socks, a moment of tranquility would envelope me in it's warm grasp. But the high-pitched sound of a whistle and a quick slice to the back would always distract me from my momentary bliss. Instead of wailing like a child I would instead go about my way, as crying solves nothing. It had become clear earlier why my guardians were so strict with me, they were preparing me for the hard years to come. I was a naive child back then, now I was a subtle clay-faced girl of my Land.

Never-the-less I was no prodigy, I had exceeded knowledge on plants and wildlife but no battle potential-- or experience what-so-ever. But as long as I felt my soil beneath my toes, relaxation and happiness was always evident in me. Of course not when I was being beaten to a pulp or spat on for my complexion, but when I had a place in life. When I was working, climbing, farming. I wasn't the best at it but it still felt like home to me. Although the cruelty of the Peace-Keepers in my District still baffled me, I had no rights to protest. We were vital in the Capitol's reign, and there was no way they could allow even the slightest spark of rebellion in us, then it would be all over. Luckily there were no riots, no raids and no battles between us and the Capitol. But I knew it wouldn't be this way forever, I could hear the wind whisper words of prosperity and benevolence to me. The wind always had something to say. Whether it'd be guiding you or simply taunting you, it always had a say in things.

I snapped back to reality, the cold enveloping me as frostbite nibbled at my exposed flesh and fingertips. My toes began to tingle before becoming numb, due to my excessive exposure to the cold, I wouldn't be surprised if I soon suffered a case of Hypothermia. Of course it would be harsh on my malnourished frame, especially since I stood at a measly five foot one, weighing a measly 75 pounds. I suppose it was either from the shock of the treatment I endured daily, or the fact I seemed to have permanently lost my appetite. None-the-less, I could feel my ribs just by pressing my calloused palms and fingertips against them. As I said before, unlike most kids in my District, I was Caucasian. Skin although not as pale as the moon, it was still an odd chalky colour. My fingertips, as I had mentioned before, were calloused and rough due to the constant climbing and clambering of trees. My golden hair usually flowed over my arms and sides, covering a portion of my sickly figure. Such an emaciated frame was not healthy, especially since I looked just as sour as turned milk. To me the only 'attractive' feature about me would be my bright emerald irises. Curious, always watching. Strangely, I was proud of my luminous eyes. My nose was like a button, I suppose that's what made it appealing. My hands and feet were surprisingly small, but that's what made them useful, they could grasp onto the smallest of branches, and due to my skinny frame, I could easily haul myself up. Well, not exactly easily, since I can barely carry my own weight. But basic enough.

Before I was placed into the family that has raised me today, I lived a more subtle and peaceful life. The community homes weren't all that bad, compared to the household I dwell in today. I was educated thoroughly in manners, writing, not that I really needed those two aspects due to the fact I practically wallow in manure and soil all day. My genetic family were inter-racial, although I took on my Mother's side of the genes, having her radiant irises and pale skin, the only thing I could scarcely remember of them was their beautiful laughter, something that was barely common now-a-days. Now I was a mess, physically and mentally. I had broken down completely in the community home, which showed just how weak my thread is. How it can snap in a mere instance. More than this, I was a liar. I lied about everything, just to conjure a reaction out of someone or to evade their constant pursues. Even in this seemingly sad life I had, there was joy to it. My moments of clarity led to my understanding of why my Family had such hate for me, it wasn't necessarily about my skin-colour, more of how they wanted me to act. Not as a spoilt brat who moaned and complained about the lack of food, who demanded gold and marble to be paved upon her 'throne'. Apparently I was the exact type of child they wanted, and for once, I began to enjoy life. Despite this screams still echoed through-out the household, reverberating and rebounding off the walls.

Abruptly, my thoughts instead rested on something irrelevant to my existance. The Hunger Games. Every year two children from each District would be reaped and would have the pleasure to represent their District in the Hunger Games. But this year, it was the Quell. And I knew something bad was stirring up, maybe not for me, but for others. Mostly because this is my first year being eligible for The Hunger Games, and could most certainly be my last. The cries of anguish from the dying children on the screens forever haunt my once precious dreams. Although I wished for something more in my pathetic excuse of a life, The Hunger Games definitely was not it. I'd break under the pressure like a twig. The only thing I could do in the actual Games was hide, hide, and die. The other children in the Upper Districts were the scariest creatures I've ever witnessed. The careers were brutal and menacing. Just by witnessing their absolute joy while given the thrill of the hunt made my skin crawl involuntarily.

Sometimes-- all the time rather, I had nightmares of me running through the forest of an Arena, my limbs getting snagged by various roots and branches from both above; and below. Then I'd see a distant silhoutte, a boy, couldn't have been older than fourteen. The next moments in my dream went past like a blur, I heard a swung. I felt my vertebrae being severed from my skull, my dislocated head's eyes watching my exposed neck spurting with blood. Like a headless chicken. I'd always wake up in a cold sweat, scared to death, shaking like there was no tomorrow. Then it hit me. This was more than just a normal fear of the hunger games.
I had a full-out phobia of them.

Wordcount: 1634.
...Finished.

Last Edit: Sept 17, 2013 7:30:37 GMT -5 by Scourge

V i l l i a n s

Scourge Hunter [M:-300] 77 POSTS last seen Dec 15, 2015 5:12:02 GMT -5 My characters vomit blood for a living.	CRAMOISI ELMIRA \|\| DISTRICT 11 \|\| {FIN} Sept 16, 2013 16:58:36 GMT -5 Select Post Deselect Post Link to Post Member Give Gift Back to Top Post by Scourge on Sept 16, 2013 16:58:36 GMT -5 Le fin! I believe.
	V i l l i a n s

charade
Retired Staff

3,811 POSTS

last seen May 1, 2024 12:08:12 GMT -5

Thinking

CRAMOISI ELMIRA || DISTRICT 11 || {FIN} Sept 17, 2013 3:45:32 GMT -5

Post by charade on Sept 17, 2013 3:45:32 GMT -5

Hey there Scourge!

Pretty philosophical for a twelve year old. Very interesting. There's a few issues that you'll need to edit before I can accept this, but it's nothing major. I have to point out is that the bio paragraph minimum is 2 for appearance, 3 for personality and 3 for history, so you're gonna need around 4 more paragraphs to meet that. The second thing is that the appearance section only tells me what her hair color is and that she has scars on her back. There's really not that much information about what she looks like.

The last thing is the whipping scars on her back. Generally panem's protectors can be cruel, even sadistic but this seems like a bit much. Can you explain why exactly her silence as a young child was enough to merit repeated public beatings by the peacekeepers?

Beef up your app a bit and post again on the thread when you have ^^

16 Jul 12, 23:43
GB: I bet you just sit at your computer with a tea cup and a monocle

Scourge
Hunter

[M:-300]

77 POSTS
last seen Dec 15, 2015 5:12:02 GMT -5

My characters vomit blood for a living.

CRAMOISI ELMIRA || DISTRICT 11 || {FIN} Sept 17, 2013 3:59:18 GMT -5

Post by Scourge on Sept 17, 2013 3:59:18 GMT -5

Sept 17, 2013 3:45:32 GMT -5 charade said:

Hey there Scourge!

Pretty philosophical for a twelve year old. Very interesting. There's a few issues that you'll need to edit before I can accept this, but it's nothing major. I have to point out is that the bio paragraph minimum is 2 for appearance, 3 for personality and 3 for history, so you're gonna need around 4 more paragraphs to meet that. The second thing is that the appearance section only tells me what her hair color is and that she has scars on her back. There's really not that much information about what she looks like.

The last thing is the whipping scars on her back. Generally panem's protectors can be cruel, even sadistic but this seems like a bit much. Can you explain why exactly her silence as a young child was enough to merit repeated public beatings by the peacekeepers?

Beef up your app a bit and post again on the thread when you have ^^

Usually I wouldn't really go in-depth into the beatings, but since Agriculture is so important due to Panem, I assumed they were much tougher, and stricter. It quoted in the book a boy was killed for keeping a pair of night-goggles, people were publicly whipped for stealing the smallest amounts of crops. I decided to base her backstory around this a-bit, but I know where your coming from.

I was actually supposed to write that the silence came from the repeated abuse from her family in general, I get a bit carried away with two hours of sleep. I'll write four more paragraphs.

I also made the paragraphs excessively long, that's why there are only few paragraphs. :/
It is dooone.

Last Edit: Sept 17, 2013 7:29:32 GMT -5 by Scourge

V i l l i a n s

charade Retired Staff 3,811 POSTS last seen May 1, 2024 12:08:12 GMT -5 Thinking	CRAMOISI ELMIRA \|\| DISTRICT 11 \|\| {FIN} Sept 17, 2013 14:00:39 GMT -5 Select Post Deselect Post Link to Post Member Give Gift Back to Top Post by charade on Sept 17, 2013 14:00:39 GMT -5 I like your sig btw.
	16 Jul 12, 23:43 GB: I bet you just sit at your computer with a tea cup and a monocle