Flek -- District 11

Name: Nothing but Flek
Age: 16 years young
Gender: Male
District/Area: District 11
Appearance:

I believe we shall start from the top. Perched atop Flek's head is a feathery covering of russet brown hair. It is roughly hacked off as it reaches around his ears and ends abruptly at the base of his neck. Sometimes a tuft of hair will become stubborn, and pester Flek for days as it continuously falls in front of his eyes.

Flek's face is thin boned, but has a welcoming look to it. Under normal circumstances, his face would be a creamy white colour, but spending his years out in the hot sun has done away with that, and left his face as a darkly tanned hue. When they aren't being invaded by hair, Flek's eyes can been seen as a pale blue. A dark ring surrounding the colour of each eye helps them to stand out, but creates a sharp, nearly bird-like effect. His nose is average in size, not too big, and not too small. Thin lips give way to less-than-white teeth of which one in the upper-hand region is missing due to a scramble with some larger boys.

Flek's neck sits on shoulders that can apply force, but wouldn't win any medals for size. While he isn't working in the fields, Flek wears a brown shirt that was once a different colour, but has faded to brown due to excessive sun as well as dust and dirt that cling readily to it. The shirt's sleeve stop shortly after reaching just past Flek's shoulders, exposing sturdy arms that are well toned from lifting, carrying, dropping, and repeating. A rusty-red coloured cloth who has seen better days can normally be seen tied around the back of Fleck's neck, to shield it from the sun. Flek has a sturdy, athletic build, and stands a great height of 5'8''.

Moving on, Flek's legs are covered by a pair of long brown shorts which reach slightly past his dirt-stained knees. His feet are usually bare by choice, but sometimes he will place a pair of brown (once again) shoes on. This collage of brown clothing gives Flek an overall dull appearance, but as long as it keeps the sun off, Flek doesn't care what he wears.

By reading this, one may presume Flek to be rather grubby, but when he wants to, Flek can clean up to look quite smart

Personality:

Generally, Flek is quite a reserved person. He does not complain while working long hours, neither is he the type to fidget while sitting through a boring speech. This is the quiet side of Flek which is generally shown when he is around good friends, or by himself. He has a good sense of humour, and enjoys jokes about the Capitol.

Flek does have quite a temper, he just usually hides it. When it breaks from him, he is usually so enraged that he will jump from his peaceful extreme to the next, screaming, kicking, punching, and the rest of it. It is very rarely that he allows this to happen.

Flek, like most people, is not happy with the way the capitol runs things, and wants there to be change. However, he is not the type to lead the charge, but if someone led the resistance, he would happily follow. Flek enjoys staying on the safer side, and is not at all a natural leader. He can think for himself, but when it comes to other people, he is a mess.

Flek is quite smart when it comes to natural things, but would fail dramatically if put through an academic test. He cannot read, or even attempt to, due to a slightly less-than perfect eyesight, and no glasses. All he has known is how to farm, because that is how life continues. To him, math is a group of numbers that cannot get you food or help in life.

Overall, Flek is a good friend to have around if you don't mind making decisions, and having someone to readily back you up.

History:

Flek was born in the farming community of District Eleven. His mother and father were both quite usual, underpaid, over-worked, and the rest of it. From the age of three or four, he started wandering further and further from where his mother would keep him, near her while she worked in the fields. He wanted to explore, to find out what the world really looked like. Those notions were soon strapped out of him by his father who believed he was doing the best for his youngest son. There was no such thing as "exploring", there was only getting caught if you stopped working.

By the age of six, Flek was sent to the orchard. He would run around the base of the trees, collecting dropped fruit, and stocking it up in the baskets. Thoughts of running away and exploring only tugged at the back of his mind every so often. He didn't mind his job, and was praised by his parents for not complaining as many children did.

A few more years went by, and Flek became a climber, scaling the heights of the fruit trees nimbly. As he continued to grow, however, he had to take more and more risks. One day when he was around ten years old, a branch snapped under his feet, and he plummeted a sickening distance to the ground. He came out with a broken arm, a few scratches, and slightly blurred vision. Once his arm had healed, his parents and he agreed that he should start working out in the fields. They didn't want the next fall to have a more lasting impact of damage.

Years once again went by, with Flek gaining muscle while working the hard days through in the fields. He watched the Hunger Games sullenly, and wished that something of such atrocity would never befall him, or anyone that he cared about.

Now at the present day, Flek has little to do other than work, eat, and sleep. He is constantly keeping his eyes and ears open for the hint of a rebellion against the capitol, and hopes that someday, the hardships of the people might end.

Codeword: muttations
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