funkyfreshh. that's us. (phunke charries)
Sept 12, 2009 15:08:26 GMT -5
Post by phunke on Sept 12, 2009 15:08:26 GMT -5
n a m e :: Adelaide Fulten
a g e :: 14
g e n d e r :: Female
d i s t r i c t :: 5
l o o k s l i k e :: Short red hair, blue eyes, 5'5, thin. Pale with freckles.
a c t s l i k e :: Pretty distant personality around those she does not trust; with friends&family, Addy is eccentric, impulsive, and artistic.
h i s t o r y :: Her family is in the horse slaughter business. Addy accepts this as both a blessing and a curse, seeing as it allows her to be around horses, but must see them die.
l i k e s :: Horses, music, singing, drawing.
d i s l i k e s :: Constriction, large crowds, the Hunger Games, and people who will lie to achieve any end.
f e a r s :: Venomous snakes, drowning, being hanged, nightmares.
o r i e n t a t i o n :: Straight
r e l a t i o n s h i p :: None
i n t r o ::
yeah baby when the sun comes up
The weary eyes of Adelaide Fulten snapped open.
Morning.
What time is it, she asked herself.
Time for a new day, came the answer.
Unacknowledged thoughts passed sluggishly across her mind while she dragged her body out of bed. These thoughts held only one common thread: horses.
Addy glanced out of her window. Her family's fields were painted a rusty orange by the ascending sun; the horses were already out grazing, front legs splayed nonchalantly to allow for the downward reach of eager mouths, propelled by hungry stomachs.
The girl's own stomach was already growling. She pulled on some loose wool breeches and a sleeveless top. There was no need for a coat; warm summer breezes were still wafting around her part of District 5 at this time of year.
Thoughts had begun to fully articulate themselves in the girl's mind.
Today I will ride Comet, she told herself.
I will ride him down the path behind the houses that has logs to jump over, she told herself.
Comet will enjoy the ride and he can have a rest while I grab lunch at that shop in the square, she told herself.
And with those decisions made, she reached up with slender arms and twisted her short red hair into a bun, tying it with a strip of fabric she kept in her room. She moved over to the table and took the slightly stale roll her parents had set out for her, trying to ignore the large chunk of equine flesh set out for sale to the butcher. Addy tried to ignore the sick feeling in her gut.
Being in a family who was in the business of horse slaughter had its ups and downs.
Her pace quickened as she made her way through the alfalfa field, heading towards a small wooden structure. Her black, well-broken in riding boots crunched on the cut-off stalks. Her riding breeches, though originally off-white, were now beige. In fact, her whole clothing ensemble bore the look of heavy wear. It had gotten so dirty, so frequently, that the dirt was no longer merely a coating; it had been ingrained into the fabric itself, so that washing no longer had any effect. The girl was average height for her 14 years, but quite thin. Not for want of food; Addy's parents saw to it that their family always had stew or bread or at least some alfalfa. Six years ago, the girl, very small and fragile-seeming back then, had sworn off eating meat. That was a rather stupid thing to do, seeing as vegetables were not always readily available, but when one has a traumatizing experience, the effects are unavoidable.
Come on, Addy, her father had said.
It's time for you to learn how our family is able to make money, he said.
Alright, father, the little girl agreed.
She used the term father only with reluctance and fear, for she was too young for disdain. Despite retaining her normal wide-eyed stare, the little one could not stop her fingers from trembling. She was only eight, after all.
Too soon, the hulking man with red-brown hair and the little girl had arrived at the little wooden shelter. The girl could not help emitting a small gasp and she could not help clasping her nose desperately. Yet even using her mouth to breathe, she could taste the stench. An eight year old may not be able to identify the smell Death leaves behind after taking a creature, but they know what it means in the back of their mind and in the whole of their heart.
And there was a horse there, too, a draft horse. He was large and black and had tufts of long hair on the backs of his legs. And his eyes, normally half-closed lazily, were now opened to their fullest.
Like saucers, the girl thought.
Big brown glassy scared saucers, she thought.
Because the horse could smell Death too.
He could smell it not just in the air but in the wood itself and on the Father and certainly on his thin silver knife.
And the little girl knew this horse. She had spent hours grooming him and petting his big solid nose and staring into his big brown half-closed eyes.
And now she would see him die.
Not today, father, she pleaded.
I don't want to see this today, she said.
You have to see it sometime, he told her.
His tone was not harsh or commanding.
But it held little pity for the girl.
I want you to watch, he told her.
See this vein here, on the neck, he asked.
Yes, she replied, I see it.
That is the jugular vein, he told her.
The horse will die if it is cut, he told her.
The girl was not paralyzed by fear. She was moved by it. She was moved to the big kind horse's neck and she touched the bump that was his jugular, a slim, fragile tendril that too soon would not be able to hold him to life.
And she stepped back, and the father slit the horse's jugular, and Death took the horse, and the horse flew away to heaven.
And Addy never ate meat again.
Shivering, the teenager extracted herself from her memories.
I am fourteen, she told herself.
I am fourteen now and I have accepted the slaughter my family commits to make a living, she told herself.
And then she was at the wooden structure. Six years ago, it was a simple three-walled shelter. Now it had an attachment on the side. A stall.
Addy avoided the original Killing Place, going around to the stall with her eyes closed and her breath held. Once out of the reach of Death's stench, she opened her senses again.
Comet, she called, with excitement mounting in her voice.
A red nose, nostrils dilated, pushed over the stall door.
The gelding surveyed her with innocent interest. She reached out a hand and stroked his nose.
Comet was not an extremely tall horse. His body was lean, not emaciated, with stringy muscles and no fat. The opposite of what horse slaughterers want.
And yet he was Addy's, and he was all Addy's, and no one elses.
She threw her arms around his neck as he nibbled at her hair and as she breathed in his scent and he smelled like dust and hay and sweat and warmth.
And she knew his jugular was pulsing with life.
She pulled back a little and looked into his eye.
His big brown kind eye, widened with intelligence.
Comet shoved his long nose between her arm and her body.
I am here, he seemed to say.
I am here and I will never leave you.
a new day rises, i wanna look in your eyes, baby
when the sun comes up
p i c t u r e ::
n a m e :: Shan-Wen Yin, also known as Sean
a g e :: 15
g e n d e r :: Male
d i s t r i c t :: 10
l o o k s l i k e :: Straight black hair, tan, dark brown eyes, glasses, 5'11
a c t s l i k e :: Very outgoing, extroverted, and a little show-offy.
h i s t o r y :: Grew up in China, sent to live in Panem with D10 Peacekeepers to work as a translator/foreign relations person. He went from the shy outcast to the funky popular kid.
l i k e s :: School, clothes, playing piano, hanging out with pretty much anybody.
d i s l i k e s :: Racists, gossip, ping-pong, and 'haters'.
f e a r s :: Being an outcast again or being alone; also, large trucks, lizards, people who pierce their tongues.
o r i e n t a t i o n :: Bi
r e l a t i o n s h i p :: None
i n t r o :: Soon to come.
p i c t u r e s ::
n a m e :: Nala Cerce. And don't forget it.
a g e :: i'm 19.
g e n d e r :: i'm a girl. Have you ever met a guy named Nala?
d i s t r i c t :: the ----ing capitol. but not for long...
l o o k s l i k e :: long-ish ugly dark brown hair, dead dark brown eyes, 5'2, curvaceous. I always wear sunglasses and a scowl.
a c t s l i k e :: oh i'm a little ray of sunshine. Believe me, everyone in my presence walks away feeling better about themselves. Because they think they've just met the biggest crappile the world has to offer, and they boost their own egos with that theory along. God, I hate people. So much.
h i s t o r y :: I killed my daddy and I hate my mother. She ignored me for ten years straight, then spent the next eight trying to change who i'd become in her absence.
l i k e s :: if you really must know, I like seclusion. In any form. The woods, my room, music, singing. Anything that blocks out everything.
d i s l i k e s :: i'd say the phrase 'almost everything on this goddamn earth' covers things I don't like fairly accurately.
f e a r s :: I am afraid of losing myself. Not knowing myself. Anything like that. And I am afraid of plastic surgeons.
o r i e n t a t i o n :: me likey the guys. Not that any of them are worthy of me.
r e l a t i o n s h i p :: well aren't you nosy? But no. I don't have a boyfriend.
i n t r o ::
