Minerva || Wanderer || FIN

lance Librarian 3,638 POSTS Pronouns: He/Him/His last seen Apr 22, 2024 19:23:14 GMT -5 gay and chaotic? call it gayos	Minerva \|\| Wanderer \|\| FIN Aug 6, 2016 2:47:02 GMT -5 Select Post Deselect Post Link to Post Member Give Gift Back to Top Post by lance on Aug 6, 2016 2:47:02 GMT -5 Minerva Thirty Two Female Wanderer (though currently residing in Eleven) Gal Gadot Ex-Peacekeeper turned vigilante turned resistance fighter also associate and friend of this guy
	Last Edit: Aug 14, 2016 4:36:35 GMT -5 by lance credit to darsypoo uwu credit to fireflyz! credit to stare!

lance
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Minerva || Wanderer || FIN Aug 13, 2016 4:14:43 GMT -5

Post by lance on Aug 13, 2016 4:14:43 GMT -5

Growing up, if someone had told you that you would one day be an infamous member of an anti-Capitol resistance, you would have laughed in their face.

At the time, you would have had good reason to.

For well before your days of infamy arrived, you were simply Minerva, an ordinary Career girl from District Two. Before your primary desire transformed into making life as difficult for the Capitol as possible, you dreamed of entering and winning the Hunger Games.

Your transformation from one to the other did not happen overnight, but some days, you aren't so sure it didn't.

Your story began on one hot summer day, shortly after the conclusion of the year's Hunger Games. Though your birth was relatively quick and smooth, you nevertheless entered the world kicking (feebly) and screaming (really only emitting a thin cry), much to the amusement of all present.

Raised as the sole daughter of the co-owners of a fairly prestigious Career academy, you were immersed in the Games from the moment you were aware of what they truly were. You remember watching the primal conflicts on the TV, dark eyes wide in awe, as man and woman fought muttations and each other in a struggle for survival.

They determined the strongest out of twenty four, chosen at random every year. In your home, in your district, in your mind, the Games were a true test of a person's strength and character.

It would be one of the few tests that you would ever desperately wish to take.

As you grew older and matured from girl to young woman, you found yourself frequenting your parents' academy on a regular basis, doing whatever you could to make your dream become reality. For hours on end, you would be found hacking away at a dummy with a sword or sparring with either an instructor or a fellow trainee or, on rare occasions, one of your parents.

The training was tough and brutal. The fact that your primary instructors were your own parents only furthered that notion instead of counteracting it. They had both been Careers back in their day, and were still in their prime when you began your training, making it that much more difficult.

Though at the time you resented the sarcastically-named " favoritism", in retrospect, you're grateful for all of the time and energy that your parents poured into your training.

Without it, you muse, you likely wouldn't be alive today.

It wouldn't be because you entered the Games, however.

Despite your protests, your parents strictly forbade you from volunteering during your first five reapings. Though you complained that you could defeat several of the older girls in single combat, they remained adamant that you were still not ready for all that the arena offered. When you tried to argue, they insisted that you were still far too overconfident and naive to enter the Games and emerge with your life.

So for five long, agonizing years you waited, watching as a blind boy from District Twelve of all places pulled off an impossible victory, using the arena to his advantage and racking up an impressive five kills. You waited, watching as a twelve year old, also from Two, made it to the final, assisted by a young, fearsome Career, younger than you at the time.

Your seventeenth rolled around shortly thereafter, and finally your parents deemed you ready enough to enter the Games. You were elated, for this meant that you would finally have the chance to pursue your dream.

Alas, as fate would have it, you would never get that chance.

Your sixth reaping featured an eighteen year old named Nash Harvey, a girl who had looked relatively harmless on the outside. She wasn't a die-hard Career like so many before her, and yet she had accepted her spot before you had had a chance to volunteer. She ended up being the closest to reach the crown since you had been eligible, reaching the top four before being knocked off by another Career, who ended up winning the crown.

Your seventh and final reaping met with a similar fate, as once again, the girl drawn from the orb had accepted her spot far too quickly for anyone, let alone you, to volunteer. She had had the misfortune (or fortune, to some viewpoints) of being selected twice from the giant pool. The first time, she had been thirteen, one year younger than you, and she had declined (coward, you had thought), opting to let another take her place.

So when the same name was chosen a second time, your heart had jumped in excitement. This would be your chance, your opportunity to fulfill an age-old dream.

Only that dream had been dashed to pieces against the cold hard wall of reality as the girl had chosen to make good on her second chance.

Your parents had offered comfort and relief, murmuring hopeful notions that now that you had dodged this bullet, you had an entire life ahead of you.

But you hadn't wanted to settle for the same old boring life that everyone else lived. You had wanted to enter the Games themselves, test your might against the honed edges of One and Four and the raw fear of the outer districts alike.

And now that your seventh and final chance had come and gone, that dream was gone forever.

Last Edit: Aug 13, 2016 23:31:35 GMT -5 by lance

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lance
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Minerva || Wanderer || FIN Aug 14, 2016 1:54:45 GMT -5

Post by lance on Aug 14, 2016 1:54:45 GMT -5

Your lifelong dream had been destroyed, and your chance at winning glory for your home and your family had been snatched away by, in your eyes, your own two parents. Granted, your chances of winning during your first five reapings wouldn't have been as great as if you had entered during your final two, but they wouldn't have been impossible. A blind boy and a twelve year old had won during your eligibility period for Ripred's sake.

Once the fact had sunk in, you had considered your options carefully. Careers that didn't make the reaping cut were left with three options, three choices that would determine the rest of their lives.

You could have become a stonemason or a miner, two of the most common professions related to Two's infrastructure, but those were career paths that you lacked skill and interest in, respectively. You had never bothered to study the secondary, less glamorous trade of Two's, under the belief that you would never need it.

You could have become a protege of your parents, working as an instructor in their academy and, eventually, their successor. But you know that you had already spent - no, wasted - too much time inside those walls to ever set foot there again. Though it might have been selfish of you, working to train Careers to achieve their own dreams, dreams that matched yours, so soon after your period of eligibility had passed would have hurt too much.

So that left you with one option.

After a period of deliberation, you settled on becoming a Peacekeeper, a woman in white, a defender of Panem. The idea was shot down by your parents, of course, but you remained firm. You were no longer a child that they were protecting from the horrors of the Games, instead, a tall, strong, fierce young woman had taken her place, and she would make her own decision to decide her future.

The next day, you applied to join the Peacekeeping force.

After years of training, your latest aspiration had been realized: you were an official Peacekeeper of Panem.

Gone was the teenaged wet-behind-the-ears girl that had applied so long ago. In her place stood a steely-eyed, raven haired young woman fully trained not only in the rules of combat, but in the art of apprehension, riot control, and policing.

At the time, you considered it an honorable job. It may have lacked the glory and excitement that came with being a tribute, especially in those peaceful times, but the job of defending Panem's citizens from the criminal threats that festered within was a far more important occupation, and it was one that you were glad to take on.

Or so you thought.

Your first station was the lumber district of Seven, under the command of a young, friendly man originally from One. It was at that garrison that your career as a Peacekeeper officially began, and for three years you served faithfully without any major incident.

It was during the beginning of your fourth year that you discovered that your superior had broken his vows.

It had been purely by chance that you were the one that stumbled across the crisp white, unsealed envelope that had contained the secret. You had found it sitting on a table in the corner of the station's cafeteria, and had given it little thought until you saw the unmistakable shape of a heart scrawled upon it.

Your curiosity piqued, you had discovered that the envelope contained a sizable sum of money and a note addressed to a woman. The name was unfamiliar to you, but upon reading the note you discovered with wide eyes that she was a local, and that she had mothered a child that apparently belonged to your supervisor.

Outing him had been beneath you, yet you were nevertheless disgusted at the blatant lack of respect and honor that someone of such high ranking had possessed. Within hours, you had submitted a request to transfer districts; within a week, you were transported out of Seven and into the textile district of Eight.

Your slate was clean and your surroundings were unfamiliar but no worse than in Seven, and you settled quickly into your new post. Yet the incident back in Seven had shaken your attitude towards your position, and for the first time you began to doubt the righteousness of your cause.

On paper, a Peacekeeper was meant to keep the peace and be faithful to their vows, and yet you had found one of the highest ranked acting in clear contradiction to his vows.

If he did it, then how many other Peacekeepers spread out across Panem also took their vows with a grain of salt? Just how honorable was service to the Capitol?

Your questions were answered by your new supervisor, a short-tempered, middle aged man who acted with reckless abandon, making arbitrary decisions and reducing the quality of life for the people in Eight by a frightening amount.

This was a man who had become corrupted by his own greed for power, you realized with growing horror, and was fully aware of just how much pain he inflicted and reveled in it.

Requesting another transfer so soon after your first one would have been a poor idea, so for three more years you served as faithfully as you could, doing whatever you could to act on your own principles as opposed to those of your new supervisor.

The day he executed an innocent man, however, was the last straw.

Granted, it hadn't been entirely unprovoked, but it was unjustified, and that's what did it for you. Your supervisor had decided to accompany a night patrol you were a part of one evening, but instead of taking his job seriously had diverted the entire squad to a local bar. Instead of joining the majority of your squad inside, you had stood stiffly by the door, doing your best to ignore the blatant hedonism taking place inside.

When your supervisor had finally emerged, a wave of relief had flooded over you, glad that the setback had finally come to an end. That relief had quickly turned to horror as a local man, bottle in hand and clearly drunk, had followed mere seconds afterwords, firing off half-coherent obscenities to your supervisor.

One by one, your comrades had likewise emerged from the bar, forming up behind your supervisor in an imposing wall of white that would have caused any sane man to cease and desist. But the man, fueled by the drink, hardly seemed to notice, as he and your supervisor traded insults like candy.

In the moonlight, you saw the man's grip on his bottle tighten, and before you could so much as shout he had smashed said bottle down on the head of your supervisor with surprising force.

He had collapsed to the ground, screaming in pain, before the cries of pain turned into those of anger, which in turn turned into two barely coherent words: "SHOOT HIM!"

And you had watched, helpless to intervene, as your compatriots had riddled the man with no less than two dozen bullets, ending his life in an instant.

It was in that moment that you decided that enough was enough.

The next day, as the dark blues and and blacks of night gave way to a red sunrise, you had silently entered the sleeping quarters of your boss, kitchen knife in hand, and slit his throat.

He was your first kill in your one woman campaign for justice, but he would be far from the last.

That night, you had hung up your white uniform for the last time, both literally and metaphorically, taken a cache of supplies, a sword and gun from the armory, and the clothes on your back and fled into the wilderness.

If the Peacekeeping force was so corrupt that they could murder innocent citizens with impunity, then you wanted no part in it. And if the Capitol would do nothing to purge its police force of such individuals, then by Ripred, you were going to try and do it for them.

For months at a time, you would wander the woods and barren lands of Panem, traveling discreetly from district to district and exacting acts of justice. Sometimes such acts meant assassinating a corrupt Peacekeeper like you had in Eight, sometimes it meant protecting a band of rebels from the watchful eyes of the Capitol, and sometimes it simply meant taking refuge in a district for a couple of months and purging it of any corruption that you could find.

Though you had become estranged from your parents to the point that you dropped their family name from your own, you noticed with a sense of irony that you were only able to partake in this personal crusade because of them. Their insistence that you learn about all aspects of survival and not solely those that would prevent you from getting skewered by a spear gave you the ability to survive on the land itself. Their ruthless training back in your Career days meant that you were nearly unparalleled in close quarters combat, and your time spent in the Peacekeeping force gave you knowledge of ranged weapons as well.

Your latest goal was one you pursued relentlessly, and in the process you became something of an urban legend around parts of Panem, earning the ire of many a Peacekeeper and the awe of many a citizen. You picked up several nicknames throughout your crusade as well. To the Peacekeepers who feared you, you were known as the She-Devil; to those that had been more like you and resented the dishonorable ways of their peers and supervisors, you were called the Goddess of Justice.

Among the citizens of the districts you assisted, you picked up more nicknames than you could keep track of, but one seemed to stick no matter where you traversed: The Maiden Knight.

For the better part of five years you roamed, acting as an independent agent of justice. But more recently, you've traveled with a set purpose in mind somewhat different than your usual goal of purging corruption.

You've heard rumors that an old friend is back in business, and those are rumors that you want to personally investigate with your own two eyes.

You first met Killian towards the beginning of your career, during a trip to Eleven to assist in protecting a smuggling ring. The two of you couldn't have come from more different places - he had grown up as a wanderer, outside of any of the districts - and yet you had hit it off from the beginning. He, like you, was fully devoted to the righteousness of his cause, a fact that you respected.

Eventually, the job ended, and as he and his associates had gone into hiding, you had moved on, traveling to your next mission. You hadn't heard hide nor hair of him since then.

But if he really has reemerged, then that is something you want to be a part of, in whatever way you can.

Last Edit: Aug 14, 2016 4:35:45 GMT -5 by lance

credit to darsypoo uwu

credit to fireflyz!

credit to stare!

lance Librarian 3,638 POSTS Pronouns: He/Him/His last seen Apr 22, 2024 19:23:14 GMT -5 gay and chaotic? call it gayos	Minerva \|\| Wanderer \|\| FIN Aug 14, 2016 4:37:16 GMT -5 Select Post Deselect Post Link to Post Member Give Gift Back to Top Post by lance on Aug 14, 2016 4:37:16 GMT -5 Finished! Reserved for garnet beauford d8 [earthling]
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garnet beauford d8 [earthling] Administrator 9,452 POSTS Pronouns: She/Her last seen Apr 22, 2024 22:47:32 GMT -5 cameron stood in line for an hour for a stupid ride for me <3 best <3	Minerva \|\| Wanderer \|\| FIN Aug 14, 2016 10:34:25 GMT -5 Select Post Deselect Post Link to Post Member Give Gift Back to Top Post by garnet beauford d8 [earthling] on Aug 14, 2016 10:34:25 GMT -5 The Maiden Knight and Killian shall rise <3 ACCEPTED!
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