D2 // MOSES TIEFORD - Modified! | Hunger Games: The RPG

Onyx
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in between somewhere and nowhere

D2 // MOSES TIEFORD - Modified! May 10, 2012 13:40:42 GMT -5

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Post by Onyx on May 10, 2012 13:40:42 GMT -5

Name: MOSES TIEFORD BUT YOU CAN CALL ME MO
Age: 16 OR SOMETHING
Gender: Male
District/Area: District 2
Appearance:

I'M A SEXY BEAST. TOTALLY PERFECT. OH YEAH WAIT EXCEPT MY VOICE. THAT'S NOT MY APPEARANCE THOUGH SO LEAVE ME ALONE.

Personality:

TOTAL FRICKING GENIUS. I CAN CALCULATE MOTHERFUGGA. OH WAIT BUT I SPEAK LIKE BKJHSIUYWBIUTBDIUYS WHEN I THINK OF WORDS. LOLOLOL SPEECH THERAPY. I HATE EVERYTHING. I PUNCH OLD MEN. FANTASY NOVELS GIMME GIMME. OM NOM FAIRIES AND UNICORNS. NOT THAT I'M SOFT.

History:

HEY LOOK AT THOSE CHEEKBONES WOAH. I GOT IT FROM MA PAPA. BUT MUMMY TAUGHT ME NUMBERS. I'M PRETTY HAPPY YO. MY UNCLE IS MY FAVE. OH UNCLE YOU GAVE ME ALL THE THINGS I LOVE.

Codeword: I HOPE I GET THE ODAIR OH LOOK YES I HAVE
Comments/Other:

THREES ARE A TREND.

Last Edit: May 17, 2012 14:51:10 GMT -5 by Onyx

someday we'll be drinking with the seldom seen kid

Onyx
Capitol Resident

1,169 POSTS

Pronouns: she/her
last seen Jan 3, 2023 15:20:14 GMT -5

in between somewhere and nowhere

D2 // MOSES TIEFORD - Modified! May 13, 2012 8:53:18 GMT -5

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Post by Onyx on May 13, 2012 8:53:18 GMT -5

Your name please, sir?

[/b][/size] Moses Tieford. Friends call me Mo. You can’t.
Your date of birth?[/b][/size] I’m sixteen.
Born and raised in-[/b][/size] District Two, yes.
Sexual preferences?[/b][/size] Jeez, you creep. Leave me alone. Mr Tieford, would you describe yourself as heterosexual?[/b][/size] Yeah. I would.[/blockquote]

Doing:

[/b] Something, most of the time. [[D1CBCD]][/color]
Thinking:[/b] Of my problems. [[61A598]][/color][/size]
Speaking:[/b] Not likely. [[F5BFA3]][/color][/size]
Hearing:[/b] Everything. [[DDD5A4]][/color][/size][/right]

And what is your story, Mr Tieford?

[/b][/size] My story?[/blockquote]

My story?

[/color][/size][/center]

Well I guess I should tell you about The Therapist.

The Therapist’s room is full of alien objects from other worlds. Every surface overflows with brightly coloured stones, gears and screws, strange musical instruments and all sorts of outdated microphones, cameras and contraptions discarded by a technologically advanced nation. This room is the dragon’s cave of Panem, filled with a cacophony of knick knacks.

At this moment, The Therapist himself is watching the glum teenager sitting awkwardly in a chair, glaring at the old man with frosty, dazzling blue eyes. His smooth jaw is firmly set shut, his rosy lips stiff and straight. The Therapist sighs loudly, begins to pace again and requests that this hopeless case tries this paragraph another time.

[/size]

Please, Moses, he implores, pressing his thumb and forefinger against his wrinkled eyelids, just once more. Please.

Moses shifts uncomfortably in the creaking chair, long legs crossing and uncrossing in a dance of their own. The Therapist always gets his way, and, inevitably, this mardy boy will in front of the stained mirror, staring at the face he knows so well, yet hates so much.

Finally, the adolescent nods, oak brown hair losing its shape, but regaining it as quickly as water in a glass. He stands slowly – a deer anticipating the predator – and never takes his eyes from the book in The Therapist’s grip.

So perfectly planned. So well thought through. The Therapist knows “Fantasy from Beyond the Dark Days” is his favourite. One long fingered hand snatches the book, and two dragging feet carry the tall, lightly-muscled boy to the looking glass.

Whenever Moses is away from his friends, he is irritable and reclusive, like he is now. Whether at home, or separate from his choice female company at the Reaping, nothing can make him happy.

What anger flows inside you! his reflection growls, unsmiling like its tangible counterpart. What hatred fills your flesh and boils your blood![/color]

The yellowing book smells like smiles and autumn and holding hands. It is a book that was given to him by his uncle, who had been given it by his father and his father before him. Not the most masculine of heirlooms? His mother’s family had never been the type for Careers. Though Moses has all the makings for one – independent, attractive and quick on his feet – the family’s place has always been inside the Nut; their brains superior to many in the District. Strategy is Moses’ domain. It was before his birth that this teenager’s future was decided too, and, of course, speaking would be a large part of that job. So his father, a Tieford, almost as smart as his wife’s family, introduced Moses to The Therapist.

Always looking for permission, Moses’ eyes flick once more to the old man, who raises his eyebrows encouragingly. The reflection copies obediently as fingers run over the thin paper, words faded from exposure to bright sunlight, spine tattered from being held open at the same point too many times.

Come on, Mo, open your mouth and read, pleads his brain, echoing the words that The Therapist has just said.

The sentence taunts from its paper coffin – if only that’s what it was, if only the letters didn’t seem so alive – each curve cackling and every line whispering crude threats. Moses’ imagination, far too active from lack of mundane presence like speaking, warns him nothing good will come from trying, and for a fraction of a second he wonders if he should break his disciplined behaviours and refuse to do as The Therapist asks.

He does as The Therapist asks.

The sixteen year old’s mouth opens, ivory white teeth shining with saliva as his forehead shines with perspiration. Moses takes in the paragraph one more time:[/size][/blockquote][/blockquote][/justify]

And Pandora opened the box again, and watched as a white form, no larger than a butterfly, floated out. Hope flew out the open window, and a watery sunlight fell over the world, and there was peace.
[/size][/center]

Pandora’s Box. What an ironic story. This boy’s life is very much the opposite – a reverse Box. Everything Moses has let out, everything he has been given, everything the world can see straight away is perfect and beautiful; from his appearance to his skill on the flute, to his large, smart, exceeding-expectations family. Others are envious of his good fortune. Yet, still inside his Box is his small-as-a-butterfly demon: humiliation. And what could be more embarrassing than this? The sentences are still vivid on the page and in his memory, but out of his mouth comes

[/blockquote][/blockquote][/size]

’Nd Pa-do’a oh-b’ned th’ bo-g a-ge’n, ‘nd- AARGH,

[/size][/color][/b]

he screams in frustration. This is not getting better! In the seven years since his accident, when strong toxins stole his natural speech and he started seeing this professor, that scream has resonated enough times to number in the tens of thousands.

The accident still haunts him now. Who knew there were so many rebels?

[/i] So many rebels, so much sabotage. Moses was nine, in the Nut with him mother. So much sabotage, so many innocent children.[/i] All the secrets had been hidden away, only enough was on display to show the children what military strategy could hold for them. So many innocent children, sacrificed instead of adult workers. It all went so quickly then, but in his mind it’s always like a Games slow motion replay.

Rebels, adults and teens alike, letting out poisons in gases that froze limbs, burnt eyes, blistered tongues and vocal organs beyond repair… Instead of adult workers. Before they were even old enough to be Reaped. Is that even fair? It was only due to luck, and Moses’ idea to hide under an old mining cart, that he is still alive at all. Fairness doesn’t come into it. The rebels were displaying power.[/i] Since then, Moses has always been the special Tieford. Emotionally distressed and with new attention from The Therapist, his mother often gave him that extra all okay, Mo? hugging him tighter than his other, perfect siblings…

Slow to anger but with quick reflexes, The Therapist catches the book as Moses hurls it away in irritation. I want to go home, he thinks, afraid to speak another word. However, The Therapist gets the message, and kneels next to the boy, who is sliding to the floor with his head still pressed to the looking glass. It’s alright, Moses. You will get there. The anger… it’s coming back… Moses whips his head up to look at The Therapist. He doesn’t want to try anymore. He doesn’t want to talk. Those who don’t like him, he doesn’t care. I am happy with me. I will not be embarrassed anymore

No! Moses manages, and swings one arm up around him. He hits The Therapist square in the jaw, sprawling him back onto the floor. This is not a puzzle to be solved. This is not a logic problem you can escape from. Not a piece of fiction you can lose yourself in. Face what you are. The Therapist clutches is jaw, but watches without protesting or stopping the boy as he flings books from shelves, swipes piles of metal and glass from tables, knocks over chairs and makes a physical representation of the carnage within his brain. The Therapist only winces as Moses hurls his arms at the mirror, and it crashes in shards around him.

Look what you have done. Look at what happens when you follow what only you want. Adrenaline pulses through Mo’s body as he surveys the scene. This isn’t your place. You shouldn’t have done that. Light is cast around the room by the silvered glass. Like faeries. Spirits from your books. Watch them dance, Moses. Stay calm.[/color][/size][/blockquote][/blockquote][/justify]

Stay calm.

Two, panicky, blue eyes dart to The Therapist, and their owner backs away from the scene with nervous guilt. I’m sorry. I – I – I’m sorry! The words will not come to Moses’ lips. But The Therapist is smart, and knows already. He looks much older and more tired as he says I know. I’m sorry, Moses. Perhaps you should go.

With one last look at what he has done, Moses does not need to be told twice.

Last Edit: May 14, 2012 12:34:57 GMT -5 by Onyx

someday we'll be drinking with the seldom seen kid

Onyx Capitol Resident 1,169 POSTS Pronouns: she/her last seen Jan 3, 2023 15:20:14 GMT -5 in between somewhere and nowhere	D2 // MOSES TIEFORD - Modified! May 13, 2012 9:25:21 GMT -5 Quote Select Post Deselect Post Link to Post Member Give Gift Back to Top Post by Onyx on May 13, 2012 9:25:21 GMT -5 So I reckon this is done. Nobody disrespect. :3 ~Onyx
	Last Edit: May 13, 2012 9:37:48 GMT -5 by Onyx someday we'll be drinking with the seldom seen kid

pika
Retired Staff

586 POSTS

Pronouns: she/her
last seen May 7, 2022 18:36:48 GMT -5

D2 // MOSES TIEFORD - Modified! May 13, 2012 19:37:47 GMT -5

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Post by pika on May 13, 2012 19:37:47 GMT -5

Hi, Onyx. ^^

I really like the way this is written- it's very creative. However, I didn't really read much on his history. I think you described very well what he deals with now, and how he deals with his speech impediment, but not much on how he got it, or the accident. If you could describe a little more the events of his past, I would be more than willing to accept. <3

arise and be all that you dreamed

Onyx
Capitol Resident

1,169 POSTS

Pronouns: she/her
last seen Jan 3, 2023 15:20:14 GMT -5

in between somewhere and nowhere

D2 // MOSES TIEFORD - Modified! May 14, 2012 12:53:21 GMT -5

Quote

Post by Onyx on May 14, 2012 12:53:21 GMT -5

Modified!
Thanks for looking over it, Pika, I know bios like this can be a pain xD

[/size]

~~If you don't want to go hunting for it...~~

The accident still haunts him now. Who knew there were so many rebels?

[/i] So many rebels, so much sabotage. Moses was nine, in the Nut with him mother. So much sabotage, so many innocent children.[/i] All the secrets had been hidden away, only enough was on display to show the children what military strategy could hold for them. So many innocent children, sacrificed instead of adult workers. It all went so quickly then, but in his mind it’s always like a Games slow motion replay.

Rebels, adults and teens alike, letting out poisons in gases that froze limbs, burnt eyes, blistered tongues and vocal organs beyond repair… Instead of adult workers. Before they were even old enough to be Reaped. Is that even fair? It was only due to luck, and Moses’ idea to hide under an old mining cart, that he is still alive at all. Fairness doesn’t come into it. The rebels were displaying power.[/i] Since then, Moses has always been the special Tieford. Emotionally distressed and with new attention from The Therapist, his mother often gave him that extra all okay, Mo? hugging him tighter than his other, perfect siblings…[/size][/justify][/blockquote][/blockquote][/quote]

Hope it's okay now!<3

[/size][/blockquote]

someday we'll be drinking with the seldom seen kid

Onyx Capitol Resident 1,169 POSTS Pronouns: she/her last seen Jan 3, 2023 15:20:14 GMT -5 in between somewhere and nowhere	D2 // MOSES TIEFORD - Modified! May 17, 2012 2:04:20 GMT -5 Quote Select Post Deselect Post Link to Post Member Give Gift Back to Top Post by Onyx on May 17, 2012 2:04:20 GMT -5 ~~bump~~
	someday we'll be drinking with the seldom seen kid

pika Retired Staff 586 POSTS Pronouns: she/her last seen May 7, 2022 18:36:48 GMT -5	D2 // MOSES TIEFORD - Modified! May 17, 2012 21:44:20 GMT -5 Quote Select Post Deselect Post Link to Post Member Give Gift Back to Top Post by pika on May 17, 2012 21:44:20 GMT -5
	arise and be all that you dreamed