Paisley Solomon :: D1 :: DONE

Emma
Merchant

[M:-550]

154 POSTS
last seen Sept 19, 2014 21:39:39 GMT -5

At 11:11 I wish for an endless noodle buffet.

Paisley Solomon :: D1 :: DONE Oct 1, 2013 19:53:55 GMT -5

Post by Emma on Oct 1, 2013 19:53:55 GMT -5

Name: Paisley Solomom
Age: 14 15 16
Gender: Female
District/Area: District 1
Appearance:

PPPPPPEEEEEEEERRRRRRRFECTION

Personality:

READ DA SHIRT LITTLE LOSER

History:

WHO CARES?

Codeword: odair
Comments/Other:

FACECLAIM: GRACE OF AWESOMENESS ANDERSON

Last Edit: Apr 27, 2014 17:42:56 GMT -5 by Emma

Emma's Puppets

Emma
Merchant

[M:-550]

154 POSTS
last seen Sept 19, 2014 21:39:39 GMT -5

At 11:11 I wish for an endless noodle buffet.

Paisley Solomon :: D1 :: DONE Oct 1, 2013 20:08:39 GMT -5

Post by Emma on Oct 1, 2013 20:08:39 GMT -5

p a i s l e y solomon

There's an albatross around your neck,
All the things you've said,
and the things you've done,
Can you carry it with no regrets,
Can you stand the person you've become,
Ooh there's a light

They call me the one with the sour face. I cannot look happy. I don't smile. My smiles are solemn. Ironically, my name is Solomon. I run solo. People aren't my forte. They avoid me. I don't look approachable. I am the one with the sour face. I don't run and giggle like the other girls. I don't obsess over boys. Boys are useless creatures, stupid and selfish. What is the point of flirting. You're fourteen. What is there to do with a boy when you're that young. The only use for a boy is sex, and why would you be needing sex at this age. Women are stupid as well as men. I, myself, am discluded. I don't associate with stupid women. Or stupid people. I don't see why you would waste your time and intelligence on someone to unworthy. Fools are my greatest pet-peeve. People that are below the average stupid line. They stand there as they ask for help with the simplest of tasks. They open their mouths to state the obvious, or to express their constant daftness. Simple people bother me. The kind of people who can only do one thing at a time, think about only one simple thing at a time. It bothers me to no end.

There are no shortage of simple people in the training gym. Half of the people in there don't seem to have brains. I have only been there a few years, but since the first day, it has been extremely evident that the folks in there are a bunch of big, strong, thick-skulled idiots who can only process one thing. That one thing is often something simple, like swinging a sword, or lifting a weight. The real killers are the smart ones. Ones that can actually pass a water purification test. A lot of the smart ones never seem to have a physical upper-hand. It seems you can only have one, a properly functioning cerebrum, or strength and/or size. I, myself, am tiny in the eyes of the trainers. I am a solid 10 inches shorter than your average trainee. I am about five feet, and roughly two inches. But my feet are huge, so I am assumed to grow into them. I have thin arms and legs, but they aren't boney, they have some meat to them. Hopefully I will grow a bit, and finally rid myself of the trainer's presumption that I am weak.

I am enslaved to the training gym. They seem to own me. I cannot break from their grasp, nor do I wish to. They give me a false sense of power, of confidence. That I, a weak, and useless Solomon, named after a ridiculous fabric pattern. Personally, I think paisley look like microscopic bacteria, ready to contaminate your food. I think I'd rather be named after a parasite than a fabric. Although, I could have a worse name. I could be named after a rock or something. I couldn't tell you how many dumb-witted pretty people in training there are with rock names. Them, with their perfect hair, falling down their shoulders, or spiked in a perfect way, never seeming to be affected or dampened by the sweat of it's owner. Me, with my long, stubborn brown hair, constantly pulled into a pony-tail on the back of my head, since I don't have the patience to deal with it's wire-thickness. Especially since I have no reason, because it'll get ruined, or simply because I have nobody or no reason to impress.

That's all people seem to be worried about these days, is trying to make sure that everyone else is impressed. I honestly couldn't care less. I speak what I feel, whats on my mind. I have a very gaping filter, allowing almost anything to go through. I won't keep things from people, because if they have done something that will make me mad, they deserve to know how I feel. I suppose I have a reputation for one to argue, and tell everyone exactly how I feel, and not a word less. This disposition to open my mouth means that I have very limited amount of friends, since most people can't seem to get past my "too honest" opinions. All I say is "Your loss." and walk away. If they can't seem to accept my thoughts than they don't deserve my presence. I was never convinced by that, that was my parents ethics.

Messed up people, my parents. They had two children. And they named them after fabric. I have a twin brother, his name is Corduroy. We are both named after hideous patterns for clothing. My brother and I are totally opposite. Cord is flamboyant and bubbly, why myself, am cold and obsessed. Cord trains for the games because our parents told us to train, and train hard. He is annoying, my brother, the kind of person I would hate if we didn't share DNA. His ignorance drives me out of the house some days, as he argues that his life belongs to him, and not them. They gave birth to him, he should respect their vision for such a child. He is so disruptive, his whole body always flipping around as he gets so mad about the stupidest things, like how another boy beat him in knife throwing or something, his whole personality shaped like a little girl.

My parents have always been games freaks too. They trained like me, but never found their arena, and grew old to spawn a their own pair of future victors, although only one seemed to have turned out that way. They have always told me that I was their favourite, that they knew I was golden and that they would never give me up for another Corduroy, but I, Paisley, am golden. I am their child they spoiled as the other child lay with the smaller of the presents, and limited attention. Of course I was better in their eyes, intelligent, and vicious, with Cord, a possible homosexual with a disposition to complain. Not that being gay is bad, but aren't careers supposed to be big, tough, masculine men with the ability to sweep a girl off her beautiful feet? Cord is not that, his lanky body skinny and weak as he flails a knife, then complains that he's tired. I have never really love him, I have never really loved anyone. My parents are more like mentors than parents, distant, giving deadly advice and pushing me, always pushing me to be better, to be the best. Once I reached the top they praised me, with showers of gifts, but never their love, they were always cold towards me, bragging to other parents about their perfect daughter who speaks her mind and won't take any shit, and knows whats good for her. I have never doubted this for a second, as I am grateful for my parents, they seem like thats how they should be, always wanting the best.

I don't live for the games, I am the games. My sole existence is to win them. Someday I will go to the arena, someday I will punish the other tributes for their hopes of even competing with one like me. None of the other tributes will ever be quite so great. I am the greatest. I am perfect. Anyone who says different is hurt. I will hurt them. Emotionally, physically, they deserve it. I like to dream of hours spent torturing the people who don't agree with me, darkness in my heart taking over. I am weak to it, I embrace the black oil of madness with open arms, my smile demonic and I giggle in its cool warmth, the thick touch of it swiping my brain feeling so comfortable to the senses. I cannot image life without going into that state, where my brain goes from sharp to nothing, nothing that knows everything, and knows that I am right, and it knows, oh it knows, who's the boss, and what I must do.

The moment I turn my icey blue eyes on you, and wink, you better know never to turn on me again, my whole being will be devoted to ruining you, as my whole mindset goes backwards, backwards to when the training is erased and only the killing appears, my protruding knuckles soon covered in your blood as I go from the irritated girl from the gym to the girl you fear most of all, and that feeling is fantastic, knowing people are scared of you. Knowing that someone cowers in your presence, and that their heart-beat pounds in their ears as a little girl like me can be seen. The whole aspect of me being feared is so overwhelming, it feeds into the madness that is my personality. My previous personality goes down the drain as I become violent, not only with my words but my actions, and I cannot remember who I am, but only that I am Paisley, and no delicate looking fabric I am named after can stop me from being the greatest in the history of my district, and to prove to the arrogant pricks in training that you don't need to be giant or daft to be amazing, or to be deady.

Stepping forward out into the day
Shrugging off the dust and memory
Though it's soaring still above your head
It is out of sight and none shall see
Oooh there's a light

Last Edit: Jan 11, 2014 13:55:53 GMT -5 by Emma

Emma's Puppets

Emma Merchant [M:-550] 154 POSTS last seen Sept 19, 2014 21:39:39 GMT -5 At 11:11 I wish for an endless noodle buffet.	Paisley Solomon :: D1 :: DONE Oct 8, 2013 19:05:23 GMT -5 Select Post Deselect Post Link to Post Member Give Gift Back to Top Post by Emma on Oct 8, 2013 19:05:23 GMT -5 Done!
	Last Edit: Oct 8, 2013 19:05:46 GMT -5 by Emma Emma's Puppets

[ retro gm ] angel lí ✨ Advertiser 8,174 POSTS Pronouns: she/her last seen May 5, 2024 1:33:48 GMT -5 bloomtodeath	Paisley Solomon :: D1 :: DONE Oct 8, 2013 22:19:18 GMT -5 Select Post Deselect Post Link to Post Member Give Gift Back to Top Post by [ retro gm ] angel lí ✨ on Oct 8, 2013 22:19:18 GMT -5 [/center]
	“and men said that the blood of the stars flowed in her veins.”