Fahrenheit Foster~Peacekeeper

Name: Fahrenheit 'Frost' Foster
Age: 32
Gender: Male
District: Born in District 4, Stationed in District 12

A P P E A N C E:

Fahrenheit stands at 6 feet 4 inches tall, with a seemingly willowy build. He has long graceful limps. His hands are quite big, but they are slim like the rest of his body, with long nimble fingers. He keeps his nails trimmed and clean; perfect little pink ovals. One of his pet peeves is dirty finger nails. He has large feet, making it hard to find shoes.

Despite his lithe facade, Fahrenheit is actually very strong. He has thin, tightly corded muscles underneath his pale skin that only skinny people can achieve. He is an ectomorph, meaning he can’t pack on a lot of weight, and by extension, muscle. He tries his hardest to beef up, but to no avail. He is perpetually skinny, but during his peacekeeper training he was able to beat his body in submission and stripped his body of what little fat he had and replaced it with muscle, he even managed a six pack.

He is beautiful. It’s weird for men to be beautiful, but it is what it is. He has dirty blonde hair. Its honey colored, lightening into straw yellow as it reaches the end, and darkening into light brown as it nears his scalp. He already has a few silver hairs that hide amongst the blonde, the stress of his job sucking out the pretty colors of his hair. His hair is thin, and ram rod straight, not a wave of curl to be seen. It’s long and shaggy, hanging in his face, and brushing just below his jaw. Speaking of which, his jaw is strong, ending with a chin that has the slightest of clefts in it. He seems to always have a 5 o’clock shadow. His cheeks and jaw are dusted in the same honey color that graces his head, only slightly darker. His has long slender nose, set above slim lips that are the lightest shade of pink. When those lips pull back, it truly is a sight. His smile is heart-stopping, flashing teeth the whitest shade of white, all in the perfect rows. His teeth having been physically made that way by the people at the Capitol. Before his front two teeth had been crooked, he missed those days.

Unfortunately, the heart stopping smile makes rare its appearances. Usually it’s forced into a scowl, that is heart stopping for a totally different reason. Since he seems to be forever scowling, there is a thin line between his neatly trimmed honey colored brows. His brows are light like his hair making them hard to see against his pale skin. Below them, is maybe his most noticeable feature. His eyes. They are the lightest shade of blue that anyone has ever seen when it comes to eyes. They make him look standoffish without him even trying. When he smiles, it doesn’t reach those frost covered eyes. Those eyes look dead, nothing seems to light them up. Making him even more imposing is the dark shadows under his eyes from the long restless nights of an insomniac. As said before, his skin is ghostly pale, holding no ability to tan, and all the ability to burn. His body hair his even lighter then his hair, so it’s hard to see. He has no hair on his chest, or his back.

He has a soft voice. His voice is more on the side of being a tenor. He enunciates his words with care, being a reformed stutterer. At times when he is nervous his old stutter with return. He keeps his tone even and controlled, devoid of any emotion that might betray what he is thinking.

Around his neck his had a sliver chain. Hanging from it are two anchors which are a symbol of hope. He keeps his white peacekeepers uniform in pristine condition. Its perfection being the final variable that makes him appear unapproachable. He seems to glow in the shoot covered surroundings of District 12.

P E R S O N A L I T Y:

Looks aren’t everything, and for Fahrenheit that’s especially true. He may look like a total horse’s ass, but in truth he is a pretty lenient and nice guy; which is one of the reasons that he willingly chose to be a peacekeeper stationed in District 12.

He has a strong set of morals, which prevents him from doing the job the Capitol wants him to do. He does not believe in punishing people who do not deserve it, and in his eyes half the people who are arrested are innocent. And the ones who do deserve it, shouldn't be treated the way they are. Does a child picking a cake off of a cart really deserve to be whipped in the square? Does a man out past curfew need to be tortured, coxed into saying he is a traitor, and avoxed? In Fahrenheit's eyes, the answer is no. Unfortunately, that's what happens to people. Fahrenheit knows that, which is why he does not arrest someone when he can help it.

The only time he enforces his position is when the people are violent (and even then it's questionable. If they are only violent against him then he doesn't care), or if his superiors are there to observe him. But the people of the seam do not see his kindness, and only see his white uniform. It’s fine with him, though. He prefers to be in solitude, silently watching the goings-on of the District around him. He earned his nickname ‘Frost’ that way; standing almost perfectly still day after day in the District Square. His pale blue eyes might have also been a contributing factor.

Fahrenheit is a straightforward guy. If he wants to say something, he says it. He doesn’t sugarcoat it, or beat around the bush, or even worry if what he is saying is the slightest bit insensitive. He is pretty dense. He doesn’t understand people, so he will often say things that can be taken offensively, even if he didn’t mean it that way. He won’t notice if someone has been having a bad day, or if it’s their happiest day of their life by how they look. They would have to tell him in words for him to know; he is terrible at reading people.

He likes to push himself. He hates to admit defeat, even if he isn’t in a competition, or it's only against himself. If he were to hurt himself out on the job, he finished the job first, and then go get medical attention. If there were someone there to help, he would push them away and do it himself. He hates to relay on people, and hates to be in dept to anyone. He is an honorable person, and if he owed anybody anything, even if they had only helped him hobble to the hospital, he would feel obligated to pay that person back, no matter what. He would not rest until he felt that that person was sufficiently repaid.

H I S T O R Y :

Fahrenheit doesn't remember his father. He died in a fire on one of the fishing boats were he worked. All he can remember is a blurry figure with brown hair and a flashing smile. He left a beautiful wife, two sons, and girl twins. Fahrenheit was five when he died.

The children took after their mother, blonde hair and blue eyes. All expect the eldest son, Drack. He looked like his father, dark hair and even darker eyes. Drack became the provider of the family, being 4 years Fahrenheit’s senior. Even at the tender age of 9, Drack worked hard earning money by doing the odd jobs on the fishing ships after school. Their mother had been reduced to nothing. She had loved her husband with all her heart. She had given everything to him, and he had taken it with him to his death.

Still, Fahrenheit had an okay life. He loved to play with his little sisters, and looked up to his older brother. Drack got them the food they needed, and occasionally their other could bare to pull herself from her corner and fuss over their dirty faces, or scrapes. Fahrenheit didn’t hate The Capitol then. It seemed like a far off place that had little do with their lives. Sure, he knew some of those kids that got shipped off to The Games, but they were just faces in the crowd, and he was too young to understand what was going on, on the fuzzy screen in their living room.

Fahrenheit didn’t start understanding until one of those faces in the crowd just so happened to be his boyhood friend, Max. Max had only just turned 12. He never lived to see 13. Fahrenheit couldn’t help but to question the grandiose people in The Capitol. But his hatred didn't solidify until a year later, when his beloved elder bother was called for the reaping. Drack bravely took his place on stage. That was a turning point in Fahrenheit’s life. Or maybe it was watching his brother being torn apart by bear m.uttations. He didn’t know. What he did know, was that he hated the Capitol, and didn't want to have anything to do with it.

When Fahrenheit met with Drack before he was carted away to The Capitol, Drack took his silver necklace with anchors on it, and wordlessly handed it to him. The meaning was clear; Fahrenheit was now the provider, Drack wasn’t coming back. Drack was so loving and carefree; he could have never turned into a ruthless killer.

If he thought his mother was bad before, he was wrong. His mother fell to pieces after her favorite son died, the son that looked so much like her beloved husband. She was so broken it seemed impossible to put her back together. Fahrenheit took up Drack’s mantel and provided for his torn family. His sisters were 10 to his 13, so they also helped him with taking care of their mother.

When he finished school, he went into training to be a peacekeeper. Even though his younger self would have hated it, Fahrenheit had decided to spend the rest of his life working for the Capitol. He figured that he could help people who didn't deserve to be arrested, while catching those who did. Besides, the pay was good and he could give his sisters and mother the life they deserved.