thorne delano fate | district twelve | cb FIN

At age twelve, when Thorne Fate had to submit his official government name in the Reaping, he assigned himself a middle name: Delano. Thorne Delano Fate. Thorne D. Fate.

As soon as Fate learned that the world was a stage, he commanded it. Everything is a theatre in one form or another. Act a certain way, stick to the script, and don't lose sight of the plot. A home in District Twelve doesn't seem like a good fit for someone like him. There's no time for a playactor's guild or a set to perform, but look closer. Everyone has a role in the matinee as long as the sun shines down upon dull eternity. Curtains open, wake up, eat, work, eat, sleep, curtains close. So long as one knows their role, as Fate does, there’s a way to find happiness in the story.

Maybe his brooding nature qualifies him as some sort of narcissist. Though the world is their play and their role is one and done, how could he not be? He walks slowly to and from school each day, head high yet eyes low, watching his feet as they graze against the concrete. When he’s asked a question, even as simple or complex as you like, Fate will ponder it for an extended moment, just to respond with one single word. The audience needs to be kept on the edge of their seats. How else can he keep them coming back for more? There is no show without an audience, after all. The final bow comes when there is no more story to tell.

Fate has felt this way ever since he was young. It was when his family's lavish lifestyle turned grim from a bad investment that he realized that life is a contorted and cruel concept. If he can bend his body in a way to contort with a dark and misshapen reality, then he might find a satisfactory existence.

The setting of life is dark and enigmatic, thus he must be too. A Thorned Fate indeed. A tragedy, in the theatrical sense of the word.