D4 ] Mateus Marshall . fin
Jun 30, 2014 9:19:16 GMT -5
Post by анзие (Anz) on Jun 30, 2014 9:19:16 GMT -5
[attr="class","atemplate"]
Some people call you Colonel Matt behind your back (and the braver ones do so to your face); you have no opinion on the name but to quietly agree that it gives you the mask of power that you have not yet received. Yet you still level cool looks upon the terrified freshmen who desire to chum up against you by nicknaming you Matty or some other inane sobriquet; their aim is and has always been to suck up to you in a wild chase for the strength of the stronger (and to think of their reactions when you tear them down makes your thin lips curl into a crooked smile that looks more like you were a wild thing baring your yellowed teeth to the enemy).
There are several kinds of freshmen that you dislike on varying scales. The aforementioned suck-ups are in the top five - you feel that such idiots should not dedicate their lives to a force where they may abuse their power to achieve what they feel is important, such as the attention of girls (and in some cases, boys - either way, you do not understand how or why such attention should be a priority when there is justice to be served; you have felt neither attraction nor attachment to any one at all, and that includes your own parents - but that is a story for a later time). They are not even worth your time - nor are they worth the academy's time in your not-so-subtle opinion, and more privately you think to yourself that the Peacekeeper Academy will do well with a stricter screening test; this way certain kinds of people won't get through.
When you're in charge, that's one of the few things you'll change.
In fourth place are the freshmen whose twig-like arms and legs look like they might snap under the force of your glare. You don't exactly pride yourself on your well-developed muscle but you think that it's a far sight better than those scrawny creatures who barely pass for human. Some people might call them lean but you call them breakable, and in your mind there's no difference. Clearly none of those kids can end up a peacekeeper - they look like they can barely hold up their own heads, never mind the guns they'd be given or the chains they'd have to carry.
Clearly, they're not cut out to be peacekeepers - not that it stops them from marching in and passing intelligence tests and the physical necessary for them to be accepted. This is why every time you see a freshman like that your lip curls up in a sneer. It's not that you're arrogant, they're just laughable in comparison to your bulk.
You may be blonde but the stereotype that follows people with that shade of hair doesn't apply to you. Nevertheless, for some jejune reason some kids try to usurp your immovable position as most powerful in the academy by flinging badly-aimed barbs about your blonde-ness, claiming that your silence is born from an empty mind. Hence in third place are the children who think themselves so far above you that they fail to see where they truly stand. You prove them wrong in a number of ways - deftly planned tricks to get them thrown out of the academy, a higher test score or simply by wiping the floor with their face. The final way is undoubtedly your favorite, but brute force does not pave the path to Peacekeeping greatness.
They are only ways to pass the time, in truth - they rarely gather a big enough following to trump your own; most times you have your self-proclaimed friends send your self-proclaimed enemies a little message, a word of warning that has them shrinking down into their over-sized uniforms. It amuses you to think that any of them believed they had a chance.
You detest those mentioned above, but you loathe the idea that girls are allowed into the academy. They are not distractions to you - not even close - yet they feel that they can be, the more vapid creatures batting lashes at you and running their fingers over your 'beautifully tanned skin' - in their words. You bat them away irritably, much like a grumpy old cat would, but they come in flocks, in droves. Unless you are ordered to you refuse to hit them, though when you are placed in opposition to them in sparring sessions you do not hold back. The insipid girls wind up in tears most of the time.
The tougher ones are easier to deal with, because they, much like yourself, have a passion for justice and the Peacekeeper force that does not exactly rival yours but it exists. You
appreciate that they can take the force of your blows with ugly grunts than pathetic wails, but the feminine sex always seems so much more fragile. You have doubts about their abilities to deal with the vandals with the hand heavy enough to drive the importance of justice into their corrupted little heads, and in your experience you have not been proven wrong.
You once had respect for those who posed a challenge to you, though it didn't stop you from pulling the title out of their hands before they even had a chance to notice that it's there. Those kind of children are worthy opponents in all things, from sparring sessions to the various tests junior peacekeepers are put through during their time at the academy; it has always piqued your interest when someone you consider a potential threat comes your way, it's always a challenge to you and you take it head-on. Always you prove yourself worthy of respect, like it was ever to be doubted in the first place.
Where you once acknowledged the often-unwitting challengers, they now rub against you - bright, hopeful children with all the right attributes with more chance now than you, because you haven't failed many tests but you failed one that matters most. Now you find yourself facing a fee you have never considered paying, but there is no way for you to pay them off without a job, and you are only qualified for Peacekeeping...
While others speak of sentimentality you cannot recall a moment when you felt anything of worth (like fury, or rage at the injustice brought upon the Capitol by the selfish districts). Your parents have long been wiped out of your memory; they're a disgrace, trying to hand out weapons to a ragtag team of rebels - you took down them easily and the look on your father's face was priceless. (Some mornings you wake up smiling, thinking about that day of triumph.) But when you need them now, more than ever, they are gone and a part of you regrets because they could have helped, as rebellious as they may be.
You hate failure, and you refuse to believe that your actions in bringing your own parents down can cause your own downfall.
(You hit the challengers more viciously than ever.)
When you find yourself 'cordially invited' to a ball of some kind, you wind up going after a lengthy internal debate on the pros and cons of showing up at all. In the start it's as stuffy and uncomfortable as you imagine, your cold expression driving off potential conversation before anyone can even look at you. But...
But in the end, you're glad you went because this is a competition that will solve all your problems, and you're going to win it because you will never be second best.
[attr="class","abox"]Mateus Marshall
| male | eighteen | district 4 | odair |
you gotta keep on keeping on
Y
our name is Mateus John Marshall, and you are currently eighteen years old. You don't necessarily look eighteen, the harsh lines and angles of your face bringing out the cold ocean that is the core of your personality reflected in your hooded icy blue eyes. Most people cringe under the weight of your stare as though you were Head Peacekeeper already - except that you aren't. Not yet, anyway - it's only a matter of time.Some people call you Colonel Matt behind your back (and the braver ones do so to your face); you have no opinion on the name but to quietly agree that it gives you the mask of power that you have not yet received. Yet you still level cool looks upon the terrified freshmen who desire to chum up against you by nicknaming you Matty or some other inane sobriquet; their aim is and has always been to suck up to you in a wild chase for the strength of the stronger (and to think of their reactions when you tear them down makes your thin lips curl into a crooked smile that looks more like you were a wild thing baring your yellowed teeth to the enemy).
There are several kinds of freshmen that you dislike on varying scales. The aforementioned suck-ups are in the top five - you feel that such idiots should not dedicate their lives to a force where they may abuse their power to achieve what they feel is important, such as the attention of girls (and in some cases, boys - either way, you do not understand how or why such attention should be a priority when there is justice to be served; you have felt neither attraction nor attachment to any one at all, and that includes your own parents - but that is a story for a later time). They are not even worth your time - nor are they worth the academy's time in your not-so-subtle opinion, and more privately you think to yourself that the Peacekeeper Academy will do well with a stricter screening test; this way certain kinds of people won't get through.
When you're in charge, that's one of the few things you'll change.
In fourth place are the freshmen whose twig-like arms and legs look like they might snap under the force of your glare. You don't exactly pride yourself on your well-developed muscle but you think that it's a far sight better than those scrawny creatures who barely pass for human. Some people might call them lean but you call them breakable, and in your mind there's no difference. Clearly none of those kids can end up a peacekeeper - they look like they can barely hold up their own heads, never mind the guns they'd be given or the chains they'd have to carry.
Clearly, they're not cut out to be peacekeepers - not that it stops them from marching in and passing intelligence tests and the physical necessary for them to be accepted. This is why every time you see a freshman like that your lip curls up in a sneer. It's not that you're arrogant, they're just laughable in comparison to your bulk.
You may be blonde but the stereotype that follows people with that shade of hair doesn't apply to you. Nevertheless, for some jejune reason some kids try to usurp your immovable position as most powerful in the academy by flinging badly-aimed barbs about your blonde-ness, claiming that your silence is born from an empty mind. Hence in third place are the children who think themselves so far above you that they fail to see where they truly stand. You prove them wrong in a number of ways - deftly planned tricks to get them thrown out of the academy, a higher test score or simply by wiping the floor with their face. The final way is undoubtedly your favorite, but brute force does not pave the path to Peacekeeping greatness.
They are only ways to pass the time, in truth - they rarely gather a big enough following to trump your own; most times you have your self-proclaimed friends send your self-proclaimed enemies a little message, a word of warning that has them shrinking down into their over-sized uniforms. It amuses you to think that any of them believed they had a chance.
You detest those mentioned above, but you loathe the idea that girls are allowed into the academy. They are not distractions to you - not even close - yet they feel that they can be, the more vapid creatures batting lashes at you and running their fingers over your 'beautifully tanned skin' - in their words. You bat them away irritably, much like a grumpy old cat would, but they come in flocks, in droves. Unless you are ordered to you refuse to hit them, though when you are placed in opposition to them in sparring sessions you do not hold back. The insipid girls wind up in tears most of the time.
The tougher ones are easier to deal with, because they, much like yourself, have a passion for justice and the Peacekeeper force that does not exactly rival yours but it exists. You
appreciate that they can take the force of your blows with ugly grunts than pathetic wails, but the feminine sex always seems so much more fragile. You have doubts about their abilities to deal with the vandals with the hand heavy enough to drive the importance of justice into their corrupted little heads, and in your experience you have not been proven wrong.
You once had respect for those who posed a challenge to you, though it didn't stop you from pulling the title out of their hands before they even had a chance to notice that it's there. Those kind of children are worthy opponents in all things, from sparring sessions to the various tests junior peacekeepers are put through during their time at the academy; it has always piqued your interest when someone you consider a potential threat comes your way, it's always a challenge to you and you take it head-on. Always you prove yourself worthy of respect, like it was ever to be doubted in the first place.
Where you once acknowledged the often-unwitting challengers, they now rub against you - bright, hopeful children with all the right attributes with more chance now than you, because you haven't failed many tests but you failed one that matters most. Now you find yourself facing a fee you have never considered paying, but there is no way for you to pay them off without a job, and you are only qualified for Peacekeeping...
While others speak of sentimentality you cannot recall a moment when you felt anything of worth (like fury, or rage at the injustice brought upon the Capitol by the selfish districts). Your parents have long been wiped out of your memory; they're a disgrace, trying to hand out weapons to a ragtag team of rebels - you took down them easily and the look on your father's face was priceless. (Some mornings you wake up smiling, thinking about that day of triumph.) But when you need them now, more than ever, they are gone and a part of you regrets because they could have helped, as rebellious as they may be.
You hate failure, and you refuse to believe that your actions in bringing your own parents down can cause your own downfall.
(You hit the challengers more viciously than ever.)
When you find yourself 'cordially invited' to a ball of some kind, you wind up going after a lengthy internal debate on the pros and cons of showing up at all. In the start it's as stuffy and uncomfortable as you imagine, your cold expression driving off potential conversation before anyone can even look at you. But...
But in the end, you're glad you went because this is a competition that will solve all your problems, and you're going to win it because you will never be second best.
you gotta come back strong
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