Taeve Moreno // District 1 [fin]

Taeve Moreno

Show me how to lie, you’re getting better all the time
And turning all against the one is an art that’s hard to teach
Another clever word sets off an unsuspecting herd
And as you step back into line a mob jumps to their feet

He lives in one of the most secretive houses in District one, surprisingly it is also one of the largest households in that District, and is always fighting to be the best. At fourteen, he is easily one of the youngest in that household, but even still he is a true Moreno.

Now dance fucker dance, man, he never had a chance
And no one even knew it was really only you
And now you steal away, take him out today
Nice work you did, you’re gonna go far, kid

He doesn't look like a Moreno, not the picture that most people would have. He doesn't have the large muscles, analyzing eyes and steely attitude that comes with the common image of being a Moreno. At least it doesn't look like it. However, behind people's backs he is all of that, and so much worse. In front, he's a boy of a mere fourteen years, innocent enough even while being a Career and planning on going into the arena to kill so many others. No one would suspect the devil he is inside.

His hair is brown, and it can look anywhere from honey-coloured to dusty. Of course, he would never let his hair actually remain dusty, appearance is everything. He keeps it short, to avoid both the inconvenience of having it fall into his eyes as well as having someone be able to grab it. They still could, but it was a lot harder to do. His eyebrows are thin lines, thickening as they near the middle of his face. They are a slightly darker colour than his hair, but with the same odd colouring characteristic.

Of all of his features, the one that changes the most are his eyes. Not even relating to colour or the unconscious dilation of his pupils but the expression in them. Constantly a light green colour, like a cat's, they can go anywhere from absent gazing to a piercing glare. At their most frightening they are not filled with rage, but a cold malice that would make anyone's skin crawl, especially because a boy of only fourteen could feel such hostility. He has gotten to the point where he can change the look in his eyes with ease, not an easy feat but hours of practice left him with this skill.

With a thousand lies and a good disguise
Hit ‘em right between the eyes, hit ‘em right between the eyes
When you walk away, nothing more to say
See the lightning in your eyes, see ‘em running for their lives

His nose is a bit big for his face, but with his mouth also being slightly big and his eyes always holding most of the attention it doesn't impact him too much. His chin comes to a point, his jaw more rounded than square, more additions to the "baby-face" that allows him to get away with so much. His neck slopes nicely into his shoulders, they have more muscle on them than is expected, and he found it easy to hide muscle there. Through a lot of exercise and training he has built up his core enough to have the faint signs of a six-pack, though he purposely avoided building a lot of muscle in more visible areas like the arms and legs. The more vulnerable he looked, the less likely they would know he was no such thing.

One thing he is thankful for about his appearance is his height, standing at approximately 5'6" he fit in with the boys his age well, making him look no more threatening than the next. He also dressed well, hoping that the image of always wanting to be neat and presentable would cover up his joy in causing messes. It was not as though he wore an expensive suit, but he did make sure all of his clothes were clean, and when it got colder he would wear a tweed jacket. For the most part, though, he would just wear a t-shirt and jeans. He had a couple different pairs of shoes, including slip-ons, and skateboard shoes.

Slowly out of line and drifting closer in your sights
So play it out I’m wide awake, it’s a scene about me
There’s something in your way and now someone is gonna pay
And if you can’t get what you want, well it’s all because of me

In most cases it's the baby of the family that gets all of the attention, but not so in the Moreno house. Being one of the youngest Morenos is not what it's cracked up to be. The youngest don't get the most attention, the most vicious do. For Taeve this is no matter, for being vicious comes naturally. He is brutal, and also very sly. Most would deem him a small threat, if a threat at all, but they soon realize that he strikes when you least expect it. Like is said, you have to sleep sometime.

He is a quiet boy, both on his feet and in his mannerisms, but inside he screams. He screams for attention, for the fear of those he deals with and deep in a place where no one can see he screams for someone who really cares about him. He never lets a word of any of this escape him, though, not that he really says much of anything anyway. Even without speech, he can still be arrogant. He holds his head straight and high, though not high enough that someone could slit his throat, and walks with a confidence that can set others on edge. He acts like a bit of a prick, but it's mostly just show. He really is more angry than spiteful. That anger is seen whenever he fights, any kind of fight, and it is merely a chance for him to turn the blame on someone else, take out his feelings on another in order to hope to keep them controlled. Brutality is his form of defense, not only from others but from himself, and he puts his effort into making sure his targets know just how bad he can get.

Now dance fucker dance, man, I never had a chance
And no one even knew it was really only you
And now you’ll lead the way show the light of day
Nice work you did, you’re gonna go far, kid
Trust, deceived!

If he actually lets them know he's there, since he enjoys staying to the side and striking when they aren't ready. Once he actually stabbed one of his adopted brothers while he was going to the bathroom, slipping silently away before anyone noticed. He had justified it to himself by saying it was only fair, the boy had not realized the threat he had posed, plus he was too big to face head-on. Justification wasn't always needed, but it was nice to have, just one more reassurance that what you're doing is what you need to do. Right and wrong just didn't cut it. Not around the Moreno house.

He also has a lust for blood, not just the type driving him to cause injury to others but where he actually wishes to drink blood. He loves the taste and feel of blood on his tongue, the metallic taste bringing him pleasure as he drinks it. More often that not he will end up drinking his own blood, from whatever injury he may have at the time. Though, more often than not it's from a spot a couple inches down from his elbow, where an obvious scabbed line is. When he can, and what he enjoys most, is when he can drink someone else's blood. If he ever attacks someone at night he will bring his blood-cup with him and set it under the person's heaviest wound. If he is lucky he can get enough to last him a couple days.

Even if he has the creepy habit of drinking blood, he still doesn't try to play up the vampire drama and bite people's necks or anything. He hates the idea of vampires, since people would call him one if they found out about the blood drinking - something that only Morenos know about, even if not all of them actually do.

With a thousand lies and a good disguise
Hit ‘em right between the eyes, hit ‘em right between the eyes
When you walk away, nothing more to say
See the lightning in your eyes, see ‘em running for their lives

He has only the faintest memory of his parents - a sparkle of his mother's eyes or the husk of his father's voice - except for the one memory that caused him to be left abandoned. The things he doesn't remember include the love of his mother, the tenderness of his father, and the constant care the two of them provided to their son. Love is not something he can define as being part of his life - except maybe his love of blood and fighting. In some twisted way, the small praise he receives from his adoptive parents fulfills his need for care and belonging in every way that his sly attacks do not.

Back as far as he can remember was blood. In the earliest memory it dribbled down his chin and ran from the bite on his mother's arm. There was a small pool beneath her elbow from where the red liquid dripped onto the floor and he remembered the wonderful satisfaction of the coppery taste - the sight of the oozing ruby drops making him want to draw more blood from his mother and ingest more of the thing that brought her life. It was his first attack, but it wasn't the thing that had started it all.

The forgotten memory of what had really brought about his seeming vampirism held the image of his father, pale and drawn as the wound on his stomach bled. His father had been a kindly man, but dangerously clumsy. In a moment of awkwardness his father had managed to slip while holding a knife and stab himself deep in the gut. His futile efforts to remove the knife had made the wound larger until he had passed out, landing on the knife and driving it still deeper. Taeve had found him like that and stared a moment before screaming. His father's blood had made a large red pool on the light coloured floor, leaving as dark of a stain on the boy's mind.

Now dance fucker dance, he never had a chance
And no one even knew it was really only you
So dance fucker dance, I never had a chance
It was really only you

At five he had bitten his mother, drinking in her blood in his first show of vampirism that scared his parents - his father having survived his terrible wound - into abandoning him. Having heard about a famous large family that has been known for its tough training of its kids, and for its habit of taking in orphans, the two terrified parents placed their only son on the door step and didn't look back. Having been told to stay before the door - else wise he would receive some sort of punishment - the boy of only five stood staring up at the door until it opened and he was taken inside.

Over the next nine years he was trained to be a killer. Natural stealth had allowed him to create his own strategy, sneaking around at night became a habit of his and often he would go into rooms without any trace being left behind. He stabbed one of the new boys in the eye one night, an orphan no one cared about and who was worthless with weapons. The next night, still unknown by the boy as to who it was, he stabbed his other eye. This nightly torture continued for almost a week, Taeve doing some not-quite-small bit of damage before eventually he slit one of the boy's wrists and drank his blood.

This was the only boy he had killed, but he has stolen blood from others. Generally, he waits until the kid is asleep before hitting them in the head with the hilt of his knife - a technique that took him a long time to master for both place and strength - to knock them out before he would make a slit on their arm and either directly drink their blood or catch it and save it in something. He has been caught a few times, but usually he is able to weasel away before they can identify him. Only once was he found out, but he made sure the boy would not tell anyone who he was by cutting out his tongue - something he disliked because not only did he get bitten but he also had to hold the boy's tongue and it was squishy and slimy.

With a thousand lies and a good disguise
Hit ‘em right between the eyes, hit ‘em right between the eyes
When you walk away, nothing more to say
See the lightning in your eyes, see ‘em running for their lives

OTHER

Member of the Moreno family.

Lyrics: You're Gonna Go Far Kid by The Offspring

FC: Josh Feldman

Words
52 - Introduction
549 - Appearance
600 - Personality
705 - History
1906 - Total

Clever alibis, Lord of the flies
Hit ‘em right between the eyes, hit ‘em right between the eyes
When you walk away, nothing more to say
See the lightning in your eyes, see ‘em running for their lives

odair