Aesir Lumiere // District 1 // Fin

There is a desire, a want always pulling him forward. In the depths of his guts, there is a gear turning and spurring him forward. Forcing him to train longer, to punch hard, to feel everything more. He is a Lumiere, and that is a synonym of perfection.

He looks like most Lumieres do. Tall, lean, and fair. Blonde hair like his older sister Annika. Like the scum from the lower branch, Asha. Like all his relatives starting with A. It's a strong tradition but in a full household initials do little to distinguish his things from his siblings' items. And Aesir does want to have his belongings distinguished. They are his after all, and if you didn't know yet, he's kind of a big deal.

He's a strong fighter and he makes sure everyone knows it. Stepping into the gym, he is nothing but business. Aesir ties up his long blonde locks in a bun at the back of his head and works from dawn until dusk- heightening his reflexes and landing his hits. If anyone challenges him he makes the teen eat their words. He is Aesir, and he will be a Victor one day. It's in his blood.

It wasn't in that bastard's blood. That's why he failed.

It would be an understatement to say that Aesir thought of himself as important. The seventeen year was unsure if the world would continue to spin if he wasn't around. He was born with a heightened sense of importance, but along with hard work and natural talent he did have a reason to feel prideful. Not only that, but Aesir was quite handsome. He had a clean cut jaw, like it was carved from marble. Deep lines down and a square chin that gave his face a sharp diamond shape. A straight nose with a flat tip and clear green eyes. He also grew his hair out to his chest which only attracted more attention. He kept good care of his hair too, spending most of his money on products to keep it shiny and healthy.

He was muscular but lean. A good runner, focused on quick movements and evasion. He focused on knives in training- throwing them, stabbing at opponents in close combat, even climbing rope with one in between his teeth. Knives were by far his favorite weapon- they were so versatile. However, a Lumiere is perfect and must be skilled in many types of weaponry. So, he spends Mondays with swords, Tuesdays with a bow, Wednesdays with spears and tridents, Thursdays unarmed, and the rest of the weekend with whatever suits his fancy which tended to be knives.

He was always training. Waking up when the stars were still out to run laps around the district before shoveling down breakfast and hopping into the gym. He had to be the best- simple as that. However, no matter how hard he trained there always seemed to be someone who was better than him.

The boy with the brown hair on the other side of the gym can lift more weights than I can. I'll put a stop to that.

The little ginger girl can run a mile in eight minutes- I have to run one in seven!

Green eyes were always scouting the district for more competition- more obstacles to hurdle. Aesir would challenge a fish to a breaststroke if he could.

It is this sense of competitiveness- this need to be better that made his blood boil. He worked as hard as he could to uplift the Lumiere name and then out of the blue some low branch rat gets reaped.

He didn't win, of course, but he got too far.

Aesir was one of the eldest of the main branch, a true Lumiere. With an A name and blonde hair- he was the epitome of what the family should be. How dare that copy cat come in and try to steal everything Aesir had worked so hard to achieve. He trained harder than ever watching little Asha on the television. He would run faster and for longer, train in the early morning and late into the night.

Determination is Aesir's best aspect. He is focused and will work extremely hard. However, because of this he tends to neglect other parts of his life. He's rude to anyone who is not a Lumiere (Ripred forbid he runs into the scum that stole his name) and tolerant of those who are. He's not the best with words or socializing and is often too gruff with those around him. To him it is how he shows affection- a rude comment about javelin form is kindness from Aesir.

Others see Aesir as too much. Too determined, too rude. His jaw is too sharp, his brow too large, his eyes too watchful of other's actions. Lines have begun to form between his brows from furrowing them so much despite his young age.

He is brash and rough and unpleasant to be around but Ripred damn it- he's just so good.