Nikota Blox // D7 // Completed

Well, I’m one of those ageless types. I could be 12, but then again, I could be 30 or something. It’s been both a blessing and a curse. I’m rather shorter than most, standing at about 5’2’’. Which doesn’t exactly appeal to the ladies, sadly. I’m also really stocky and muscular, showing how much I work. I have a weird color of skin, according to my sister, sort of that praline color that looks like I’m constantly sick.

I have long legs (for my height), and “woodsman hands”, meaning they’re rough and callused from holding axes and stuff. I have a few cuts on the palms, and a few cuts on my stubby fingers. When clothing shipments come in, my shoe size is 9 ½. My neck is long, and I have a heart-shaped, effeminate face.

I can’t really remember the last time I had a haircut, so my hair is usually in a ponytail that hangs to my midback. My hair is straight and soot-black, so people mistake me for a girl when they first see me. Not that I really care, though. I have wide hazel eyes and thin lips that are usually bit. My neutral face looks like I’m really angry, even though I’m not.

I’m a kid who goes with the flow, you know? I understand that not everything works out the way it’s supposed to, and there are hardships in life. I listen to my heart a lot, which is both an advantage and a disadvantage. If I’m passionate about something, I follow it- until I get frustrated. I am my biggest critic, and tend to criticize everything I do, even if other people accept it as good.

I can tend to have anxiety sometimes, and when I do, I fidget a lot. I get distracted at this time, and my work can sometimes suffer. I try to be diligent though, out of fear of being punished. I’m not exactly the bravest, and I follow authority.

Candid? You’ve got to be kidding me. I’m a closed book, and secretive about myself. I don’t have many friends, because I’m not good at making them. I’m socially awkward, and my effeminate nature has led to teasings from some of my fellow lumberjacks. But if you’re nice to me, I’ll be nice to you- if you can survive my powers of awkwardness. I’ll care for you, and I might appear as patronizing.

Mom tells me she met my Dad about three decades ago, when they were working together as teenagers, as carpenters. They started to be friends, then lovers as time went on. When my mom was 19, she gave birth to my sister and me, us being fraternal twins. Dad freaked and ran off, not marrying her, leaving her with two hungry babies to care for, and a reputation destroyed. He hasn’t been seen since, but he’s probably dead in some slum somewhere. Or whipped. Good riddance, I say.

We were raised mainly by our granny and our mom, and with them, we lived a simple, normal life. Our childhood was slightly lonely though, our only friends being each other and our gram and mom. We grew up loving stories, and dreamed of castles on clouds in faraway lands, far from Panem and worries. When I was a kid, I used to pretend I was "Piratey Pete", traveling the skies in an airship. We also grew up with our toys being axes, which was common.


And then, at the tender age of seven, it was time for the toys to change, to get deadlier than ever before. I now starting being trained to be a lumberjack, to “make the country proud”. I turned out to be a good one, and I’ve been doing my job well ever since, with the occasional slipup. I've even managed to make a friend of a boy named Syca, although he's more of an acquaintance than an actual friend. But he tolerates me. Although I doubt I’ll be in the games, I enjoy working with axes. There’s something about them and wood that’s absolutely beautiful.