Devilian Tasmane//District 7 | DONE

Name:
Devilian Tasmane
Age:
17
Gender:
Male
District/Area:
District 7

I like to sometimes think of myself as a soldier.

Curly and untamable hair rests on top of my face, it's brown color matching the thick eyebrows I have.

My skin is always dirty. I like to look rugged. I like to look like those people I see in books that just came out of some war. Their faces smeared with mud and their clothes even dirtier. Some of them have beard, but I can't grow a beard for some reason. That irks me.

Freckles are littered around my face, which is almost always sunburnt during the summer. I'm fairly tan all year round, my skin only growing lighter during the full force of winter.

My nose is slightly crooked from a fight I got in when I was younger, a strong punch to the nose sending me to the ground and blood onto my clothes. That wasn't a fun time. I learned from that experience.

Though, i've always had one thing that seems to unnerve people whenever I smile. I don't smile a lot anyways but it still happens. My maxillary canines are extremely sharp, almost to the point of fangs. I don't know why, though. They've been like that since I lost my baby teeth and it's not like my sister has them. But I like them, personally I think they make me look more vicious, more intimidating. I like that.

I'm a soldier at heart.

I'm strong, more built than a lot of the other kids in my class or even my district. I can follow directions very well, i'm observant. I perform well under stress. I've never shot a gun but I can throw and swing an axe pretty well and that has count for something.

But I can give orders too.

I like to be in charge of situations. I like to be the one who gets to tell others what to do because thats just who I am. I'm perfect for that role, honestly. I've heard what people say behind my back. They call me an asshole, cocky, power-hungry, and lots of other things that aren't true.

Or maybe they are true. I don't know.

I'm not crazy. No, i'm far from that. It's just that when i'm faced with a particularly challenging problem or obstacle, I like to...coach myself through it. To others, it looks like i'm talking to myself. It looks like i'm absolutely insane. But i'm not. Really, i'm not. I'm just... A little bit slow. My sisters a lot smarter than me, she can think things through a lot better than I can. Most of the time i'm too rash and I act too quickly.

I don't really have a lot of friends. I'm what some people would call clingy, but really i'm just extremely loyal and a bit too protective. That's what I really don't like about myself. I don't like that I end up pushing people away only because I consider them really close to myself. I wish I could change that about myself sometimes.

I hate trees.

I know that sounds really, really weird for someone who lives in a District that is literally made of trees, but I really don't like them.

If you're thinking that I had some traumatizing experience with trees than you're exactly right. I've never learned how to climb them, never learned how to live off of them. The only thing i've ever liked about trees is the fact that I get to cut them down for money. I get to swing my axe into them and watch them fall, watch them fall like I watched my father fall that day. Sometimes I wish that I could hear the trees scream in pain, I want them to die.

I was born into a small and tight knit family from the middle of District 7. We were by no means rich, maybe middle class if that even existed. Our family was... A little split on what we thought and how we saw things. My father was always an optimist, I related that to his job. My father was the head climber of the district. He had the job of scaling trees and surveying which ones would be best for cutting down, his slim and nimble frame helping him to perform his job. He'd always tell me about the view, about how beautiful it was and about how, when he was up there, nothing could bring him down. He carried that attitude with him wherever he went.

My mother and sister? Their relationship was exactly like mine and my father's, but my father and mother never got along. Fights were a common occurrence in our house, nightly almost. Me and my sister hardly talked until my father died.

I always wanted to be like him, to be the one who was able to climb the trees and just let life go for a little while. I wanted to climb trees for a living.

I never got the chance to learn.

The night of my sister and I's 7th birthday was filled with joy and love. Happiness. The yelling and screaming that came nightly had subsided for the day, and I had been incredibly happy. But all good days must come to an end, and when I pulled the covers up over my shoulders sleep was quick to embrace me. But for a single moment it held out, and I could hear a figure move swiftly by my bed, placing a small object on my bedside table, the moonlight reflecting off of it's shiny surface. I wanted to grab it that night, but instead I just lay there, laid there until sleep again took me.

When I awoke the next morning I nearly missed what had been put on the table near my bed. A small and metal toy soldier stood proudly on it's circular base, it's rifle pointing out towards the door. I sat there for a long while just holding it in my hands, a small smile on my face as I looked at the gift my father had given me. I knew it had been him. I didn't know that'd be the last gift my father would ever give me.

A week after my father gave me that soldier I got the chance to watch him do what he did best. I remember he'd tied a rope around his waist to harness himself or something, rather carelessly but I don't quite remember, I was only eight and my mind had been racing. And then, he ascended the tree, never missing a step or a branch as he climbed up the tree. I felt a small amount of envy as I watched him, wishing I could do that and yet knowing I couldn't.

A horrid snap and a quick scream. My father's body fell fast towards the ground.

The sound of rope being pulled incredibly fast before another snap of a different kind rang out. My father's body stopped short as his head slumped to the side. The weak branch my father had stepped on hit the ground next to his now lifeless body.

I screamed like i'd never screamed before.

I was still in shock at my father's funeral. Cruel fate had taken his life in a tragic accident and I didn't know what to believe anymore. I clung to the soldier during the funeral and, during that time, I found that I wanted to be exactly like the soldier. I wanted to be strong. Perhaps it was the fact that it was my father's gift to me, I don't know. My personality changed and I no longer wanted to climb trees. I wanted to see them fall like I watched my father fall.

After that I started growing a lot closer with my sister, Tigre. Even my mother. I needed people to depend on, who I could trust.

They say time heals all wounds but everyone knows that's not true. I seem fine now but I sometimes come close to snapping. I think my sister does too.

I'm a soldier, but just because i'm a soldier doesn't mean i'm invincible.