Levana Ife Steinar - District 1

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here are scars on the tips of her fingers from knife wounds that no one gave her. She inflicts that little pain on herself so she won't forget the horrible things she had to do to get her parents' favour. A life spent being raised to be something she never wanted to be and yet she has become what they wanted. They made her into a killer, no matter what she felt, and she hid herself in order to comply. Maybe she would be what they wanted in reality, but there was too much kindness in her to do things herself. She was the one that passed the dirty work off to her brother, who was all too ready to perform. Still, she was a killer. She condoned and he did, knives and swords, arrows, it didn't matter.

Rocks in her yard bear her blood, tomb stones for the animals that died for her parents' and brother's pleasure. She couldn't stand it, but she had to live it. With nowhere to go she waits for something, anything to take her away from the horror her parents pressed on her. The olympics were the only thing she could do that would please them all, it showed her strength, her bravery, her grace, but it didn't involve killing and death. Everyone could live and people could still win. It was the one thing in her life she was proud of, and the bronze medal she claimed was her most prized possession.

LEVANA IFE STEINAR



A Career from the day she was born, seventeen year old Levana hated what her parent were putting her through. She didn't have any say, though, as it was just the way they did things in District one.

Baby you're a train on a one-way track,
I'm the stowaway riding with the cigarette pack,
I don't need to kill but it's my first hit,
Casino plays and a handful of chips.

I CARRY YOUR HEART WITH ME

For all she tried, for all she wished to try, she was not someone to be remembered. Many would pass by her, never seeing her, never acknowledging her, never caring. Though, even as she was forgotten, her green eyes sparked with the joy of an old memory, or glittered with the pain of an older wound. Even still, no one saw the shine that lay hidden in the emerald pools that were her divulging eyes. Maybe it was that she had brown-blonde hair, brown being the most common hair colour in District one. Or possibly it was her average height, standing at a total height of 5'6" she would just blend in with the crowd.

It seemed that everything about her was average; her eyes were average size, as was her mouth and nose. She was of average build, muscles semi-defined on her arms and legs and slightly less visible on her stomach. She was built like a career, another average; it was not odd to have trained as a career, it was odd to not have. Her training had caused her to keep off any excess fat that she would have normally acquired and her parents believed she didn't need any extra food despite exerting herself almost every day. This caused her to appear thinner than most, and didn't allow her muscles to grow as much. It also made it so she developed slower, something she never gave any thought to because it wasn't something that mattered to her. No one paid attention to her anyways.

Not that she tried to stand out, what with her usual tank top or t-shirt and jeans. Even the colours weren't that special, normally a blue or black, maybe green. Every once in a while she might wear a skirt, or a brighter colour, but for the most part she just blended in with the crowd. Her mother says she looks beautiful when she's in a dress, but isn't that what all mothers say? And if it was true, why had no one else said it. She didn't even believe it herself. Her father may say that she should put her hair up, maybe in a ponytail or a bun, but she always refuses. It was comfortable down, it suited her, and she would leave it like that. No one ever noticed anything about her, so there was no point.

If anyone happened to look at her right hand, which nobody did or would do, they would see angled scars running down the length of her fingers. These were from knife wounds she had gotten when she was younger, but she would never tell anyone how it happened. It wasn't as if anyone would ask either, all Careers had at least one or two scars if not more.

I've been awake for thirty-seven towns,
Everybody's dressed up in the same old frown,
And I'm wondering why they are so sad,
About something they never had.

I AM NEVER WITHOUT IT

Perhaps it would be a bit much to ask for everyone to care. And yet, how could they not care, how could anyone not care? Maybe she couldn't understand why because she cared, and cared deeply. She was the type of girl to feel sorrow towards a bird with a broken wing, going to the point of attempting to help it. The idea that anyone was unable, or unwilling, to care was incomprehensible. But she never showed this side of her, it was too fragile, too delicate. She was supposed to be a career, if only by the wish of her parents, she was not supposed to have a broken heart every time an animal died.

So she hid herself away, putting on a mask like another skin. She wouldn't care, couldn't care, while wearing that mask. It made her into a true career, it made her parents happy. Maybe it wasn't so bad after all. But it wasn't her, and if she was anyone she would be herself. Because on the inside she still cared, she always cared. And yet it wasn't for her own kind that she held sympathy, what with humans always lying and killing, oh the killing. Must we all have blood on our hands? These horrendous Games that force the young to kill and kill and kill again, destroying their lives for entertainment. Mere children were made into savages, murderers and broken souls for the enjoyment of the blood-thirsty populace of the Capitol. It sickened her to see the rush the Capitolites got watching the horror show they called the Hunger Games. Whatever it was, the Hunger Games was not a game of any kind. Games were supposed to be played and enjoyed, by more than just the spectators. The Hunger Games, what a vicious joke, perhaps this was why the lower Districts have grown so cold to the Capitol, and why whispers of a rebellion floated on the winds. Then again, it may be a game to President Snow. Death was a game to President Snow.

Who says we can't change the world?
Who says we're not moving when we're standing still?
At least we're standing, still.
At least we're standing, still.
Baby we're still standing, still.

I FEAR NO FATE, I WANT NO WORLD

It always broke her heart and tore her down every time she was forced to watch the Games, forced to watch the lives of twenty-four fellow teenagers destroyed. Many thought that one person survived the Games, but if you watched you would see how false that statement was. No one survived the Games; it was only a shell of the person who had once been that had the crown of the Victor placed on their brow. She would do everything in her power to avoid the Games. It was not for her, if would never be for her. If she had to die, let it be peacefully. If she had to die alone, at least let it be in the comfort of her District, not some fantastical landscape made by the brutish Gamemakers for the Capitol. She could think of nothing worse than being struck down and left to die alone, no comfort except yourself. This was why she would never enter the Games; she would take no part in the destruction of others.

She could only wish that she, and her brother, would stay safe from the vicious Games. She was scared for her younger brother, who she couldn't protect from the Games in any way. Unable to volunteer for him, and unable to convince him to abstain from training, she worried for him constantly. How would she ever be able to hold on if her baby brother was reaped? And yet she knew she would, because she had to. She was the oldest child and she needed to be there to support her younger sibling, no matter what happened. Her sense of duty towards her family outweighed her feelings, even when she just wanted to break down and disintegrate into nothing. Her love for her family is what keeps her strong through the darkest of times, or it has so far.

If all the people looking from the inside out,
Started paying some attention to their own damn selves,
Searching for the things they thought they caused,
Instead of everything they never lost.

YOU ARE WHATEVER A MOON HAS ALWAYS MEANT

Her patience is one of her strongest aspects, giving her the ability to withstand her brother's exuberant attitudes. Her loyalty to her sibling goes hand in hand with her patience, allowing her more leniencies with him than anyone else. This, however, also means that if she is ever angered, it is a serious problem and she will deal with in using any means necessary. Sadly, her patience doesn’t stretch very far with her parents, as their opinions of the Games differ greatly.

When she is able to forget the Games, push the horrible images out of her mind and let herself enjoy life a little more, she is a different person. A lot more open and willing to let someone in, she’ll laugh and make jokes. Her humor, when it’s shown, is light and airy, faint jokes that few catch on but can be funny nonetheless. Only rarely is she able to remove the shell she's built around herself, the alternate persona that occupies her Career life, but if she does the person she's around has great luck. She's very sweet on the inside and a bit immature, acting like a little girl at times to make up for her forced maturity and growth. A little shy around boys that aren't her brother, she either withdraws further into her false identity or avoids eye contact.

Who says we can't change the world?
Who says we're not moving when we're standing still?
At least we're standing, still.
At least we're standing, still.
Baby we're still standing, still.

AND WHATEVER A SUN WILL ALWAYS SING IS YOU

Born to two career parents, Levana was raised to follow in her parents footsteps. She was always told that to win the Games was a great honour, and that to be able to train for them was a privilege. At the tender age of three she was taught how to hold a knife, much in the same manner that a young one is taught how to hold a pencil. Her mother, heavily pregnant at the time, coaxed her into the training with the promise of sweets. She was never rewarded, however, even when she tried her hardest. It wasn't just good enough for her parents. When her younger brother was born, she was then taught that she had to be a role model for him. She must never let him down, he was important and he needed someone to protect him. Had she have been older, she may have questioned her parents, but at that young age she was more than willing to protect her baby brother. She thought that, now she knew how to hold a knife, even if it was a little sloppy, she would be able to help him if he ever needed her. Thankfully, for both of them, he never did.

When she was seven, her father brought a kitten home and called her to the backyard. She was excited, thinking, hoping, that they were gonna get a pet kitty. Her hopes were dashed, and her heart wrenched as her father explained that she was to kill this kitten. She was good enough with a blade now to be able to do it quickly and efficiently, in a way that would cause the tiny this no pain, but the thought of taking a life, especially the life of a defenseless baby cat, sickened her. She told her father as much and got a smack to the back of the head for her "whining". Still refusing, she tried to take the poor thing from her father's grasp. His response to this was to break the neck of the small animal and toss the body on the ground.

She never forgave her father for that, and cried at night when she had been left alone. The moment her father was gone, she took the mangled body and went to the far corner of the yard. Digging a grave for it, she placed a stone over the mound where the tiny creature laid. Using a knife, she did her best to carve a heart onto the stone, and ended up cutting her finger. Blood dripped onto the stone, and she thought it was quite apt. She smeared her blood over her hands, as though she had cut the kitten's body to pieces. Returning to the house, she surprised her parents by putting on a dark smile, filled with the hatred for her father, and saying that she had dissected the feline's body. They were unsure of what to say about it, but they had seemed pleased. The looks on their faces had disgusted her, but at least the act had given her their approval for once.

Who's gonna try to make you?
Who's gonna try to break you?
You'll realize it's only you who's asking, still.

HERE IS THE DEEPEST SECRET NOBODY KNOWS

Her brother was trained in much the same way she was, except he was much better at wielding weapons than she was, even though he was three years younger than her. On the day that he had to kill a kitten, her father had brought her a puppy. Instead of being excited, like her brother was, she was filled with dread. She would have to actually kill this time, unless her father left them. Taking the puppy with a vicious snatch, she grinned up at her father. The grin would appear to him as though she was happy to kill the puppy, instead of her little celebration of a plan. Her father nodded to her, a small smile on his face, before he turned to her brother. He made him kill his kitten first, which her brother did with only a moment's hesitation. With one move, he decapitated the kitten and watched as the head fell to the ground by his feet. The look in her brother's eyes frightened her, more than her father's look of joy did.

When her father left, trusting her to kill the puppy just as she had hoped, she asked her brother to do it for her. He accepted, after giving her a questioning look, and used her knife to stab the puppy in the eye. The poor thing was dead in an instant, and she took the body back from her brother before telling him she would clean up. He had left, happy not to have to deal with the clean up. Once she was sure he was gone, she slit her middle finger open in a similar manner to how she had cut her index finger when she was seven, except on purpose this time. She was determined not to let into the pain, feeling that this was her punishment for allowing these poor animals to be killed. Using her own blood, she once more smeared gore over her hands and took the two bodies to the corner of the yard to be buried alongside her kitten. This time she just used her blood to mark the stones, writing her initial on the existing grave beside a 'k' - for kitten. Beside that, she buried her brother's kitten and did that same type of initialing. Next, she buried the puppy and wrote Lp; Levana - puppy.

With all of that done, she returned to the house and told her parents the same lie she had told them three years previous. Once again, they believed her. They were proud of her. Now that she was ten, and had killed the puppy, they deemed her ready to be trained by a professional trainer. So, the next day they took her to the training center and bought her lessons. She was forced to go to these lessons three times a week, and there was no exceptions. If they even suspected that she had skipped a training session, she would be yelled at and possibly hit. She learned never to miss her training, and never to skimp out on the practice for fear of punishment.

Who's gonna try to break you, still?
Who's gonna try to make you, still?
You'll realize it's only you who's asking.

AND THIS IS THE WONDER THAT'S KEEPING THE STARS APART

For five years, she trained without complaint. Her parents were never proud of her progress, instead continually comparing her to her brother, who was the better Career by far. She was highly skilled with knives, and could competently wield a trident or spear. Her skill with the bow, which she had trained with by her own choice, was surprising to both the trainer and her parents. She prided herself in exceeding her parents expectations in some way, even if she didn't always agree with them or what they did.

However, at the age of fifteen she began to question herself, her parents and her brother. She wondered whether it was really necessary to train to kill when she most likely wasn't going to be in the Games. Not to mention, she hated killing, even if she could do it effectively and efficiently. At that time, she quit her training. Her parents had yelled at her, but after a while they left her alone. They had her brother, the perfect Career, they didn't need her. Beside, she could kill if she had to. If they lost her to the Games, it wouldn't be a large loss.

The last two years have been free of training, killing, and training to kill. Although less tense and less confined, Levana was still ashamed of her past and the horror her parents had set before her. The death of the two kittens and puppies at the hands of her and her brother still cost her. Even so often, when no one else is home, she goes to sit by the four graves in the corner of the yard and confesses her thoughts to the dead creatures. Looking at the scars on her left hand, she continues to think it was worth it in order to leave those animals some dignity. When she's brave enough, she will poke the pad of her finger with the tip of her knife, and leave droplets of blood on each of the gravestones, as a personal reminder of what had happened.

Who says we can't change the world?
Who says we're not moving when we're standing still?
At least we're standing, still.
At least we're standing, still.
At least we're standing, still.
Baby we're still standing, still.

OTHER

In memory of Reyes. </3 I know this took a while, but I finally found the saved file on my computer. I just had to finish her.

Lyrics: Standing Still by Serena Ryder

Words
38 - Introduction
462 - Appearance
875 - Personality
1368 - History
2743 - Total

At least we're standing, still.
Baby we're still standing, still.
At least we're standing, still.
Baby we're still standing, still.

odair