MILO VAN ZANDT {D1}

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Milo likes to believe that his looks are perfect. He enjoys waking up in the morning, looking in the mirror, and thinking, I am the epitome of beauty, fitness, and style. It would be nice if he were right, but in reality he doesn’t look much different from the rest of District One’s male population. His hair, his physique, and in some cases, his attitude—they are typical compared to his peers. His hair is a light shade of brown, although it looks more like a wheat-blonde color in the sun, and it’s almost always spiked up neatly on the top of his head. His ears protrude conspicuously from the sides of his head, pronounced by the short length of his hair. Like most of his fellow Careers, he has the body of a Roman gladiator—tall and thickly-muscled with arms that could easily snap a neck with a single twist. Milo looks like he was built to fight.

Compared to Milo’s broad shoulders, his head seems small and his neck seems almost giraffe-like. His strong jaw line leads into a pronounced, pointy chin with a deep cleft, occasionally spotted with dirty-blonde stubble. Unusual to the District standard are his eyes—the trait runs in the family, and his brothers’ and sister’s eyes are the same. Instead of the usual blue, they are a dark shade of brown, like chocolate or bitter coffee. It seems like a fire always burns within them, whether it’s raging or just smoldering. People say they’re too far apart, but he’s never thought about that before. One thing he does think about—and hate about his appearance—are his lips—they’re huge and full, and in his opinion they’re too feminine to be on a man’s face.

Milo’s taste in clothing is usually fairly minimalistic, and most of the time he can be found wearing a simple, black or white, v-neck t-shirt that’s tight-fitted so he can show off his torso. However, when he goes to parties, he can sometimes be seen in Capitol-like attire.



It seems like Milo is always looking for a fight, no matter what time of day it is. It doesn’t matter who it’s with, or for what reason; he fights just for the sake of fighting, just so he can hear that satisfying sound of his fist connecting with another person’s face. The thrill of a battle excites him, and the smells of sweat, dirt, tears, and blood are like drugs to him. He can’t get enough. It doesn’t matter if it’s his blood or someone else’s—he loves to see it oozing from a wound, or splattered in little puddles on the ground. Some people think he does it for the battle scars—his “trophies,” as he calls them—which cover his body from head to toe. But really, he just does it for the feeling he gets, like he’s invincible. He doesn’t necessarily fight to kill, though. To him, it’s a test of strength, and he likes feeling like he’s the best and the strongest.

It’s this love for fighting that drives people away from him. Although he’s charismatic and attracts followers very quickly, that’s all they are—followers, not really friends. He’s popular, in the sense that he’s well-known. However, any real friends that he gains, he loses just as quickly. It’s hard to keep your friends when you want to hit everyone. Milo likes living on the edge, waking up and not knowing what the day will have in store for him. He hates schedules and being tied down to things—that’s part of the reason that he doesn’t have friends for very long. Milo likes getting what he wants, when he wants it, and he has for pretty much his entire life. His parents have a crap ton of money, so he was a spoiled brat as a kid.

Milo’s temper is terrible, and the tiniest thing can set him off. Some people think he keeps it that way on purpose, just so he has an excuse for a fight. When he gets ticked off, he usually resorts to a physical fight rather than yelling, though of course he’ll throw a few taunts in here and there for good measure.

He’s addicted to women almost as much as he is to fighting. He’s never been able to hold down a girlfriend for long, but that’s okay—short flings and one-night stands are preferable to long, complicated relationships where he’s tied down to one person. To him, women are almost disposable—I say almost, because sometimes the stupid ones just come running right back to him. When he’s bored with one girl, he moves right onto the next, always disregarding everyone else’s emotions. It’s difficult for him to think about anyone’s needs but his own—in fact, it’s pretty much impossible.



Milo was born in mid-summer, a squealing, chubby baby whom his parents absolutely adored from the very beginning. He wasn’t an only child—he had two brothers, one that was three years older and one that was four years older. All three boys were spoiled rotten by their wealthy parents, who made their fortune in the jewelry business. As the three brothers grew, it became more apparent that they were more like one person than three. They were inseparable.

Growing up, Milo always had a good relationship with his parents. They gave him everything he needed to grow, and everything he wanted. They also, unfortunately, gave him the freedom to pretty much do whatever he wanted. For fun, Milo would try to push their limits, seeing how far he could go before he got in trouble. But it seemed like no matter what he did, they always forgave him. He grew to hate this, and some think that this is another reason for his frequent fighting—he wants them to be angry at him for once.

Once Milo was about twelve, he began training for the Hunger Games. It was a good thing that he had two older brothers to show him the ropes and teach him everything they knew. The three brothers eventually got sort of a friendly competition thing going, and they all pushed each other to get stronger and better, harder to kill.

It wasn’t quite the same for the two younger kids. Milo’s youngest brother was born when he was three, and his sister was born when he was four. His relationship with his two youngest siblings was more of a business relationship than that of a family, especially when he’d grown up and started training for the Games. His older brothers took him under their wing when it came to Career training, but he wouldn’t do the same for the two younger kids. In his opinion, they held him back. Or maybe he was afraid that one of them would surpass him in strength and skill, like he had his two older brothers. He wanted to spend less time looking after a couple of kids and more time preparing for the day when he would be either be reaped or volunteer.




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