Apex White: District 1 ((Edited))

Name: Apex White
Age: 16
Gender: Male
District/Area: District 1
Appearance:

I have to be one of the most appealing guys in school. My eyes are what catch the ladies attention, and once they do, they’re gone forever. My irises are extremely light, a blue more brilliant than the sunniest days seen in District 1, and trust me; we have plenty of sunny days here. My eyes are shaped like thinly arched semi-circles, which gives me the look that I’m always squinting, staring right through people, and believe me, I am.

My hair is neatly cut at all times. Cleanliness is close to godliness, that’s what my parents have always told me. I’m sure I would look just fine with long hair, it’s beautifully colored, a nice sunlight blonde. But it’s not my style, and it provides a significant disadvantage in battle. It covers the eyes, provides extra material for grabbing, and gets caught on things that would otherwise be avoided.

My body is cut. My muscles are long and compact; I’m not one of those brutish behemoths who provide such a large target. I’m nearly six feet tall, but I manage to rest at a sleek 170 pounds. When I work up a sweat, when my body is glistening in the warmth of the sun, I often find people staring, both women and men, but I don’t mind; I rather enjoy the attention.

I wouldn’t say I’m without flaw. My nose is a bit wider than I like, and my soft pink lips add a certain girlish flare to my otherwise masculine face. My lips are thin, and when I smile, sometimes it comes across as a bit sinister, especially when you consider the laugh lines that seem to be appearing at such a young age. My Adam’s apple is prominent, and while that’s a great sign of masculinity, I feel it could be smaller, after all, I already know how masculine I am.

Because of my sky-piercing eyes, my golden blonde hair, and my impeccable physique, I’ve been compared to some of the male models from the capital, but honestly, I think they pale in comparison to me. Speaking of pale, my skin is anything but the sort. I spend my days training in the fields, so I have a nice, light bronze; I always take my training inside when it’s too bright out, after all, appealing to the crowd is just as important as being technically brilliant in battle.

Training for battle is only one aspect to being a Career, in order to truly win the Hunger Games, you have to be the total package. My parents are very wealthy, so they’ve always supplied me with the best tutors for school, including a very well known speech therapist, a posture consultant, a nutritionist, and my own personal stylist. Most people would hate to be hassled in this sort of manner, but I tend to enjoy these things, I enjoy being a product of the District’s best experts.

Of course, I’m not the only one to get this sort of treatments. I’ve built an interesting brotherhood between the other wealthy Careers. I trust my friends, we train together, we eat together, and we do everything together. Some of the other, less-lucky teenagers look at us like monsters, jealous of the things we have, and resentful of our unwillingness to share. Others look at us with admiration, they live vicariously through us, and well, if I was them, I would too.

I hear stories of a thing called religion, back before Panem was even created. They believed in things called Gods, magnificent beings with powers and riches greater than they could even imagine. The Gods were smarter, faster, and stronger; some people even considered the Gods to be immortal. But, that world was destroyed, and their Gods didn’t save them.

In a way, I feel my peers and I are modern day Gods. We have been given these riches, these athletic bodies, and this social status simply because we are entitled; and I do not pity those who were born with less. Call it arrogance, call it what you want, it won’t change who I am, or who everyone else is. When it comes down to it, I’m simply better than everyone, or at least on the same level. I truly represent what my name means; the pinnacle of District 1.

I have a pretty solid sense of humor. My friends often make jokes at the expense of others, and I'm kind enough to laugh at them. We often insult each other as well, sometimes it becomes a competition, who can embarrass the other greater. At times, this escalates into conflicts, and I enjoy watching these conflicts develop. Theres nothing like insults for people's true feelings to come out.

I don't like crying. It's a big sign of weakness, and nothing disgusts me more than weakness. Emotion should be used to channel strength, like anger. Anger is one of the most useful emotions there is, and often, people consider me an angry person. My friends don't cross me, and when someone has the courage to challenge me, I reward that courage with enlightenment. The enlightenment that I am not to be messed to with.

While my grandfather’s jewelry export business isn’t the most successful business in our District, White Exports has been around longer than most can remember. Our wealth has made our family very comfortable. My family consists of many cousins, my parents, and my two younger sisters, Pearl and Velvet. Out of every member in my family, young or old, I am first to enter the Career-In-Training program.

At first, my parents were opposed, stating that there was no need for me to enter the Games; we have more than enough money to last a few lifetimes. However, I showed a penchant for battle when I was younger. When I was seven, I spent time with the young boys who had started their training much earlier. Careers tend to look at the other boys like cowards, and rightfully so; I am no coward.

I picked up a stick and fought, of course, I lost. But when I went home that day, nose bloodied, body sore, I felt more alive than I could have imagined. I managed to convince my parents to let me train, and eventually, I grew into one of the most skilled fighters of my age.

Fighting has not always come easy to me, it’s the only thing in life that I’ve ever had to work hard at, and honestly, I think that’s why I enjoy that more than anything else. More than the delicate touch of a woman’s lips, more than the savory taste of a home-cooked meal, and definitely more than the feeling you get when you’ve achieved the highest grade in the class. Battle is my one true love, and even if I were to die doing it, it would still bring me more happiness than anything else.

I’m extremely athletic, but I don’t seem to be a specialist in anything. There are always those who are stronger than me, always those who are faster and more agile, and even those who are better climbers. However, the hard work I put in has improved something I value more than speed or strength, instinct and technical brilliance. As for my choice of weapon, what can possibly be more elegant than a sword?

My parents have always wanted many children. Having many children in District 1 is a sign of wealth and financial security, and when I am of age, I plan to expand my legacy as well. It wasn't always so easy for them. My mother had two miscarriages, both boys. Then, I was born, mother's little miracle. It took nearly two days for my mother to convince my father not to name me miracle, he found it extremely effeminate.

My father has raised me to become the man I am today. He has no issues giving people their due. I'll never forget the day he fired his entire staff for being ten minutes late on a shipment, the anger in his voice, the redness of his face, and the smile that crossed his lips when a man was reduced to tears. Crying is a sign of weakness, my father taught me that.

But, he has treated me no different than anyone else. I was caught sleeping once when I should have been training, I still remember the bruises and cuts on my face from that day. I don't hate him for it, in fact, it's just the opposite. That day, I went into school with a smile. I was only thirteen, the teacher asked me what happened to my face, I told her if she asked again, that I would make three other kids in the class look exactly the same. That earned me a trip to the Directors office, and when my father came in and was told what happened, he looked at me with the most convincing look of disappointment. But when I went home that day, he gave me a hug and told me I had become a man, that a man knew when to take his beatings, but also when to give them.

Since that day, I haven't taken many beatings.

((Since I chose to write in first person, the flaws are less prominently written, and more seen between the lines. It's clear he's very arrogant and pampered, and would find it very difficult to be self-sufficient.))