Eden Hark ➳ 11 done

chelsey
District Mayor

[M:-650]

728 POSTS
Pronouns: she/her
last seen Jul 2, 2016 17:22:46 GMT -5

queen of inactivity

Eden Hark ➳ 11 done Jul 7, 2013 4:50:05 GMT -5

Post by chelsey on Jul 7, 2013 4:50:05 GMT -5

Name: heather 2.0 tbh (inversed initials of heather elliot)
Age: how old heather would be now
Gender: Female
District/Area: District 11
Appearance:

I know I look like Heather Elliot, but the difference between me and her is that I'm not afraid to fall.

Personality:

If I want something, I'm not afraid to take it. My adventures, my pride, and my peace of mind are no one's right to steal - except mine.

History:

Daughter of an aristocrat and a thief.

Codeword: odair
Comments/Other:

above graphics from here

gonna finish this in like a year probably tbh

#featherforcotm

Last Edit: Jul 9, 2013 4:06:45 GMT -5 by chelsey

"Isn't this the point of being young?"

^ bless avalon's soul ^

chelsey
District Mayor

[M:-650]

728 POSTS
Pronouns: she/her
last seen Jul 2, 2016 17:22:46 GMT -5

queen of inactivity

Eden Hark ➳ 11 done Jul 8, 2013 4:38:27 GMT -5

Post by chelsey on Jul 8, 2013 4:38:27 GMT -5

E D E N H A R K
DISTRICT7 | EIGHTEEN | FEMALE
_____

"I lost my mind long ago
down that yellow brick road."

Papa calls me his wild fire.

He says I run like a bursting zephyr, sing like a broken-winged bird, smile like a falling guillotine, and shoot faster than the heartbeat of my victims. My words are as sharp as my arrows, and my feet as quiet as Heather Elliot's pulse. (Papa likes to tell me how, if I were the one who walked onto stage two years ago, instead of that silly Heather Elliot - the girl with the clipped wings -, I surely would've made it home.) You see, I know I look like that dead girl (the stares in the streets never allow me to forget it), but the difference between me and her is that I'm not afraid to fall.

Papa says he used to live between four walls, used to hide behind towers of cement and bricks - although I can hardly ever imagine my father living a life like that. We live in the hollowed out trunks of lightning struck trees, in the caverns hiding behind the curtains of waterfalls, in the abandoned orchards where dead leaves fall like ashen debris, and in a blanket sewn with shadows drifting from the moon's aura and nighttime's mask.

Papa says we come from Five, where my mother was rich and he was a poor boy she promised the world to. She kept her promise, and I was born, but her promise didn't include her. So, he ran away to the land known for growing roots, me in his arms, and the weight of the broken shards of his heart on his back. He raised his daughter in the woods, taught her to shoot arrows into the pupils of a deer's eye, and how to catch the starlight in her hands like dust when she felt her life become dark. I like it when he tells me this story, with his eyes glazed from the firelight's glow and his voice as steady as the howling of wolves in winter. It could sound like a fairytale - if I ever bothered to believe them.

Fairytales are meant for dim-witted princesses, for damsels-in-distress, for porcelain dolls, for girls waiting for their hero. If there is anything Papa taught me, it is that I am no damsel, and I am my own hero.

The society Papa was born into is a cruel place. He told me how, when I was born, I was a dandelion growing in a field of weeds. So, he plucked me from the garden, and carried me into a world with no pesticides or poisons or artificiality. He planted me here, in a clearing where there was enough soil and space to let my roots grow to their full potential. Papa gave me the chance to flourish on my own; he saved me from a world where I would be forced to grow inside a pot, he saved me from a world where I would only be viewed as a trifling decoration. Society is no place for a woman; Society is a place where the girls are objectified, where silk ribbons are fastened around our mouths and wrists, where we are forced to sit silently and prettily. Society is no place for a woman, society is a place for ornaments.

He tells me my mother was not a woman, she was a gaudy trinket who cared more about wealth than love. He tells me that the world may reject you but the forests will always be your home, that my mother didn't understand that, and that he hopes I won't follow in her footsteps. And I don't plan on disappointing him.

"If we are trees, then everyone else is paper."

"Paper comes from trees, Papa."

"That's because anyone can become paper - anyone can become flimsy or fragile or weak."

"Couldn't anyone also cut a tree down?"

"It takes a strong tree to withstand the ax. Scream if they try to silence you, run if they try to still you, smile if they try to sadden you, command if they try to oppress you. Remember this, Eden Hark, you are a tree, and if they try to chop you down, goddammit, you make sure you fall on them."

There is an art in thievery - we are dancers, with our nimble feet, we are musicians, with our melodious silence, we are painters, with our colors and shades of mischief, we are philosophers, with our wit and quick thinking, we are artists.

Some say what we do is unrighteous and unlawful - and I agree. Stealing is the world's greatest (and most committed) sin. The difference between us and the world is that my father and I steal what can be replaced. The world steals our pride and humility and hearts - and it leaves giant chasms in the blankets of our existence, and no amount of stardust or sunlight will be able to fill the hole the world dug out of us.

(I say this, not from experience, but from the power of observation. Papa curses my mother's name and damns her existence. When I was old enough to realize little girls were supposed to have mothers, too, he silenced my preying questions by handing me a bow and arrow and teaching me how to shoot. He was determined to never let me know her name, but I hear him murmur it in his sleep - "Damn you, Mara, damn you!" "You promised you wouldn't leave." I know what the world can do to a man - because I've seen it carve wrinkles into my father's forehead, shake his hands with the force of an earthquake, create cracks in his steady voice, and raise tsunamis in his eyes when he thinks I can't see. The world is a cruel place, and if you don't steal from them first, they will steal from you.)

Papa doesn't know it, but I don't want to be a tree. I'm not the bastard child of an aristocrat or a thief, no, I am born from the Earth and the Sky. I have the sunshine in my hair, the rivers in my eyes, and the moonlight in my skin. I am more than the exhilarating hum of my arrows, I am more than the snap of my wooden bow, I am more than the objects we steal and the fear we stir in others - I am more than just a thief. The anatomy of my existence is dotted upon the plains of stars that illuminate the skies each night. I'm a hero, whose legend is embedded within the borders of an eternal constellation. The flicker of a growing fire sits in my soul (always ready to spread) and the morning sun tainted with the falling leaves of autumn fill my head with a wonder only my home can bring me. The wild always calls to me; it beckons me as if I am a sailor and She the mermaid. (Her siren's call is enchanting, hypnotizing, and blinding.) And if I were to drown in Her vortex, I'd willingly let Her waters consume me.

Trees are rooted to a single confinement, and if I know anything about myself, it is that I will never let myself be stuck. Papa calls me a lot of things: his wildfire, his fairytale, his dandelion, his tree. I'm more than those things, however; I'm growth, I'm prosperity, I'm the flower that rises out of the ashes of a fire.

I don't want to be a tree - I want to be the whole damn forest.

Last Edit: Jan 6, 2014 5:37:47 GMT -5 by chelsey

"Isn't this the point of being young?"

^ bless avalon's soul ^

chelsey District Mayor [M:-650] 728 POSTS Pronouns: she/her last seen Jul 2, 2016 17:22:46 GMT -5 queen of inactivity	Eden Hark ➳ 11 done Jul 9, 2013 4:07:16 GMT -5 Select Post Deselect Post Link to Post Member Give Gift Back to Top Post by chelsey on Jul 9, 2013 4:07:16 GMT -5 FINISHED YAY. ~~bio done in less than six months say whaaaat~~
	Last Edit: Jul 9, 2013 4:07:28 GMT -5 by chelsey "Isn't this the point of being young?" ^ bless avalon's soul ^

✨ Advertiser 8,136 POSTS Pronouns: she/her last seen Apr 19, 2024 17:24:18 GMT -5 bloomtodeath	Eden Hark ➳ 11 done Jul 9, 2013 4:14:49 GMT -5 Select Post Deselect Post Link to Post Member Give Gift Back to Top Post by ✨ on Jul 9, 2013 4:14:49 GMT -5 you are perfect let me love you [/center]
	“and men said that the blood of the stars flowed in her veins.”