{kestrel adeela}{d8}{fin}

((A P P E A R A N C E))

Candlelight flickered steadily, trying hard to fill dark areas with light. But dancing shadows still framed her narrow face, her hollow cheeks sinking down in melancholy as the highly set cheekbones caught and kept all of the radiance. Her wide brown eyes shined bright, even in the faded luminosity, awake and alert for any movement to rouse her brain. Brunette hair fell loosely at her ribs, riddled with blonde highlights brought out by the flames. It was silky and smooth, but usually in mornings it was frizzy and tangled until she spent what seemed like a year brushing it. Her long eyelashes flutter the rogue strands that rest on her forehead, which was usually a disturbance to most, but she was focused. She was trained on her sketch with charcoal dusting over her creamy olive skin.

Her thin, cracked lips were pursed into a thoughtful frown, one hand occasionally scratching into the sheet a pattern for a dress or a shirt. The other lacy fingers tapped on the hickory desk, making a hollow sound that echoed through the archaic walls. Sometimes she shifted her slight, delicate frame or tapped her skinny legs with the homemade pencil, but other than that, there wasn’t much to see. Except for what was on that paper, where figurines were adorned with clothing of all sorts, with designs creatively expressed and would make even the Capitol interested. But these always stayed cluttered in her trunk because no one would be proud to see them. She blew off the rest of the residue and looked at her wonder. A small smirk formed and then morphed into an off-white smile. She hummed a sweet cadence and lifted the lid to the chest and dropped it in, seeing it sink down on top of the rest. A small sigh sounded and her small stomach grumbled, where her fingers found a disappointing place between her gut and her sharp ribs, which were outlined by hunger could easily be counted.

((P E R S O N A L I T Y))

This girl’s name happens to be Kestrel, but close ones call her Kessie. She is quite elusive and hard to find. Usually she stays in her room and doesn’t have many friends. It has caused her to be untrusting and insecure, scared of conversing or socializing. She doesn’t hate doing it, she’s just too overwhelmed to try. Nothing had ever brought her out of her shell, and being shy has just become a custom. She doesn’t know what to do so she just keeps to herself. It has become an unhealthy habit that has developed over the years, and she doesn’t really plan on changing. She always says it may help her in the end, it might just save her in the games if she is ever reaped. She’ll just stay away until everything is over. She likes the strategy, and uses in life too, because she has little doubt that her name will be drawn. So she might as well use it. Talking is hard for her to do with others, but if she sings around you, you’re really special.

Doing this comes with a price. Kestrel can be so lonely sometimes, it hurts. She has found that a negative self image has been formed. There is no one to compliment her or tell her she is wrong or comfort her when she cries. She usually loses herself at night until she sketches or sings. Emotion overcomes her and nothing remains except a vacant soul that used to be so happy. Kestrel always seems caught in the past and sometimes doesn’t do anything all day but think about all of the mistakes she’s made. It’s those dark days when she wishes her mother was still here to say something because she always had wise words and funny sayings or cheerful stories. But it’s all gone. And she can’t help but drown in that and other fake negativities she tells herself she has.

But behind all of this is great creativity. She has a way with words and an eye for art. Kestrel likes to just sit at her desk sometimes and write and draw and create. She craft amazing things out of basically nothing, turning fabric into unique clothes and making paper into a masterpiece. If she wants something, she makes something. The charcoal, for instance. She sees things differently, thinking of how she could use it. Such ingenuity comes with patience and determination, both of which Kestrel has plenty of, no doubt. Nobody really knows this though, except for seeing her colorful clothes and exams she turns into school. They are sometimes jealous and usually spread rumors saying that they weren't made by her hands. Kestrel has become an outcast, and with it comes all of the emotions of defiance and pride and stubbornness that drives her to create what she does.

((H I S T O R Y))

Kestrel was born to a full family of three, making it four. That was when she had a mother and a good father and a decent brother, who is two years older than she. The lived in harmony and happiness for years. They all came attached to one another and loved and cared for each other. Her mother was caring and wise, always knowing what to say with such gentleness, and Kestrel never saw her once raise her voice. Her father was humorous and cheerful, taking Kestrel and her brother on adventures outside and telling them common sense and jokes. Her brother teased them all playfully and was quite a bookworm. Kestrel was creative and was a big nature girl with a selfless heart. But all of that changed when her mother died.

The aftermath was mutually devastating. She died slowly and painfully of an illness, and it hurt every Adeela. That was when her father turned cold and her brother grew harsh and she drew back. There was no more laughter. The teasing was real and hurtful now. No more did she give freely. The house was dark and strict and sad. But Kestrel knew that Mother would want them to move on and keep living, so she did. That's why she excels in class. Because her mother wouldn't want her to be defeated. That's why she designs. So that maybe she could see and be proud. All of it was for Kestrel mother, not for herself. She became a fighter.

Kestrel now lives with her mean brother and hostile father. The whole family is pained by Mother's death. But Kestrel is the only one to recover. Their shack is falling apart and their money is starting to fail. She fears what will be in the future for her and dreams of her mother returning. She spends most of her time away from everyone and never tries new things. All of the Adeelas have been broken apart, shattered and beaten to the emotional limit. She lives in fear that if she ever loves again, they will be gone too. She's waiting for someone to open her up, even though she never says it. She's waiting for someone who can understand her. But she doubts that will ever happen.