♕ peter peverell // d12 // fin ♕ [cb]

peter peverell

Touch my mouth
And hold my tongue
I'll never be your chosen one
I'll be home safely tucked away
You can't tempt me if I don't see the day

A P P E A R A N C E

Lou and I, we look alike. Blonde hair, blue eyes, fair skin. Tall, long-limbed, smiles on our faces like nothing is wrong. Like the merchant kids, like our grandparents. Not like Edmund or Susan, with their dark hair and Seam eyes, mysteriously out-of-place. Oh, how I envy them. For I can think of nothing worse than looking like my father.

The pull on my flesh was just too strong
Stifled the choice and the air in my lungs
Better not to breathe than to breathe a lie
'Cause when I opened my body
I breathe in a lie

P E R S O N A L I T Y

I throw myself into places where I shouldn't. I am torn by what is right and what is easy, wanting to do good and be just, but still having to scold my siblings. He left behind shoes so big, so hard to fill. But I try, I try for my mother, try to make it easier for her, for my sisters and brother. Try to keep my mouth shut, try to stop myself from bossing people around and putting my two-cents in. A boy can only try so hard before he starts to crumble.

I will not speak of your sins
There was a way out for him
The mirror shows not
Your values are
All shot

H I S T O R Y

I am king of my household. Or rather, the care-taker. Because I had to be the man of the house because my father decided to throw his life away (and his tongue, with that) when he started to take the lethal tablets of Winter. Swallowing them day after day, he himself turned to ice. And we had to watch, our eyes so young, so confused, as his body froze - and then, inevitably, began to melt. So in District Twelve we stayed, in a kingdom he had built through crime and illegal activity, as summer faded from our view and the harsh winter months set in forever. Because winter must be cold for those with no warm memories.

But oh, my heart
My heart was flawed, I knew my weakness
So hold my hand, consign me not to darkness
Now in this twilight, how dare you speak of grace
I'll never wear your broken crown

bump