D5 } Sienna Tatienne . FIN

D5 } Sienna Tatienne . FIN Apr 24, 2014 13:18:17 GMT -5

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Post by анзие (Anz) on Apr 24, 2014 13:18:17 GMT -5

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you need to lower your standards

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Her name is Sienna Tatienne, and she's the self-proclaimed orphan who adopted herself into an empty house because she has no idea who her own parents are. She's the girl who hovers around the bins for food and the one who teaches herself to steal when bin supplies get low. She's the one who starts working because school just doesn't exist for her because the school doesn't actually know about her, not anymore. Not with the number of kids they have to rush through the system anyway. Besides while the Capitol needs them all to know about Panem's history the teachers don't actually take roll-call very seriously.

So she skips a lot of school and instead works for a baker nice enough to give a truant little things to do (and food to take home). Sienna does her job well because the baker is the only man who gives the slightest damn for orphans in the street and who sometimes took her in when she was first cast out, when it rained. But all the while Sienna's dreaming of a bigger fate she believes for herself is due.

Sienna has to be patient even if patience is not her strongest suit. And she'll wait, standing in the district square each year with her narrow chin raised, wanting with a derisive sneer curling the corner of her mouth; straight, narrow nose in the air; crooked teeth catching her pink, chapped bottom lip in more vulnerable moments when the hand swivels in the ball to pick the lucky winner of that year's lottery. And there is always a winner.

And they always fall short of expectation.

She's is an addict for the kind of pain you can only cause with fire. The flames feel so good dancing over her blood-shiny skin and with her sharp features highlighted with fire Sienna stares at herself in the mirror to say, "I am young and beautiful," but her face grows more gaunt and pale white and bruised and burnt as she falls with a desire to meet the standards of beauty, the bar set so high that even if she had wings she'd never come close. In the nights she can't sleep Sienna sits before her mirror and counts every little mark, every scar, every blemish on her pale skin, in her hooded almond blue eyes and pink cupid bow lips. Practices her winning smile in the mirror because it's only about her, there's no one else in the picture, particularly not in her picture.

Sienna sits under the light to put aside the split ends in her long, wavy white hair and violently chop off the ends only to sit and cry over the fallen strands not hours but minutes later. And then Sienna stands and looks down at a frame that is never slight enough to be deemed beautiful, puts aside food when her stomach rumbles with a desire to tear into stale bread or stolen fruit.

But the bruises grow and her arms look wrong without a sheen of red, so Sienna tattoos her skin with fire and metal, etching flames in raised skin on her forearm, taking the lines one day at a time. (It hurts.) She wants to join the ranks of the elite but can't release the ironclad hold on her hatred, but if she can't be a part of the Capitol she rages against (in nightly tirades at no one and nothing in particular) for all the wrongs the city's ever done to her Sienna will damn well try, painting shaken sunsets on her eyelids and dusting her shoulders will dull metal flecks that chafe at her skin and make it hard for her to sleep at night. (It hurts, it hurts so much.)

With her sharp and unforgiving tongue Sienna sets fires to barely built bridges, teeth bared in a manic smile as the person on the other end looks across the goddamn ocean at her, a friendly turned foe. Because if they're not with her, then by definition they're against her and Sienna is fine with that. She's fine with it because if the bridges weren't metaphorical she'd set them on fire, too, and watch them burn where they stand.

Everything will burn, and she'll be in the midst of it all.

She looks at the world past the end of her nose because they are all of them beneath her, no matter that she's alone and unwanted and fuck it if nobody wants her she'll make her own family out of nonexistent adoring fans. When she emerges in an explosion of glory and fame they'll all fall at her feet and worship her like they belong there. She'll tie them up, shun them, spurn them and laugh over their heads like their predicament is her own private joke. But they'll take it. They'll fucking take it.

For them, it'll never get any better than this.

✗

They gave her up for reasons Sienna will never actually know. She imagines they're still alive and well and watching her struggle and it kindles the fiery hatred that burns constantly in her chest. It makes her want more, want better. Parts of her wants to find them and demand truth but at the same time she just wants them to suffer and the only way she can think of is by becoming a champion. But Sienna's sick and she's wrong in the head and no matter how many little things she lights up there will always be more excuses, more ways to burn the city she lives in because damn if she isn't a suicide blonde with a match in her fingers and a wide smile on her dry-eyed face, the flames burning dangerously close to her skin.

But she's been on the streets for years and years that she can remember (she was six, maybe, six and with a head as empty as her starved belly with nowhere to go, and that was the first time she'd ever witnessed a thief at work. The older boy had run into the alley with fruit-stuffed pockets and tossed her an apple ("Here, kid, you look like you need it."), and then he'd just up and vanished from existence. As time went by Sienna forgot the details of his once clear face, and when the anger found her at thirteen she'd forgotten the little act of kindness he'd shown. Had forgotten that anyone was capable of true kindness at all.

Sienna fights the years because the closer she turns to eighteen the further she is from her dream and it kills her. It kills her to know that she's so close to failing everything she's been working herself towards, dreaming up her happy ending. She wants to turn back time, force her heart to beat in reverse so she might volunteer, pushe herself into the forefront of the crowd before anyone else gets there. Then smile into the crowd which surely contains the family who doesn't want her because the next time she sees them she will have won. She'll take their hearts served up in two ways: broken, or ruined. Live on in their nightmares.

It's what she does.

✗

You'd better run for your life.

✗

Notes:
Her parents are actually dead. Her father was killed in a bar fight by her mother's only brother, who got sent away to the Capitol and now lives his days as an Avox. Her mother gave up on life soon after and tried to kill both herself and Sienna by drowning them, causing Sienna to have memory loss. She doesn't know anything that occurred in the early stages of her life. However she was incredibly impressionable and met various other homeless kids who said that they were thrown out because their parents no longer wanted them and so assumed that the same happened to her. Which is why she hates her family.

She hates the Capitol because she thinks it's due to the lack of food and all that caused her parents to throw her out because she doesn't know the kind of person she was before and assumed that she was an okay child. But she also wants to be one of the Capitolites because it's elite.

After the drowning incident she was taken care of by the same baker she works for; however when she woke up he'd taken her outside because he had been planning to marry another woman and didn't want to cause a scandal. The woman has since died of a fatal illness. The house Sienna currently lives in belonged to the woman, who had no family.

The baker is the only person who she holds at least a little bit of respect for.

Sienna also has self-induced scarification on her right arm, being left-handed. The scars are a form of a flame tattoo. Only without color.

The teenager she met at six years is also an Avox after being caught stealing one too many times.

it's never getting any better than this

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Sienna Liberata Tatienne

are you ready for another bad poem?