Verva Itill- PEACEKEEPER [Done!]
Nov 12, 2010 20:59:54 GMT -5
Post by peanutpie on Nov 12, 2010 20:59:54 GMT -5
Verva Itill
"You have a style of your own..."
Peacekeeper.
26.
District 11 (assigned)
"Best shown overall, shiny and tall"
Shall we start at a basic thing? The first things you notice about a person? The first words that may fly through your head as you analyze someone? Perhaps it is hair.
The thing about Vervas hair is that it is dark brown. Not necessarily a very dark brown, more of a dark, almost dark chocolate colored hair. It appears to be a bit on the darker side of dark chocolate, leaning ever so slightly more to that side.
Its cut is... necessary. Long, because Verva insist there is no good hairdresser in the district for her hair. So, she makes it remain in a fashion of long ness, something that is discouraged, according to the handbook she has to study every once in a while, to get the idea of things. The cut contains no extra things to its details, though. No bangs of any variety; Nothing, really, of a big deal.
Its texture is somewhat of a curly type of thing, making its curls spiral into some form of crimpy wave. It curls and twists, entwining each piece of hair into the one nearby, creating somewhat of a haphazard appearance in her hair. Each curl askew, really.
Her hair is fine, but thick. Each strand is very thin and small, but there are many strands that come out of her head. She loves her hair type, probably because she can do anything with it easily.
Verva usually keeps her hair down, or pulls it into some form of a bun, when necessary for the flyaway to stay clear of her face. These occasions usually inclue when she has some formal event for peacekeeper Dom.
Her skin tone is of Egyptian quality, slightly lighter since the influence of some European genes, and slightly darker because of the sun that beat down on her as she is supervising in the fields.
Which causes sun damage, something not very good in Vervas mind. When she gets too dry from forgetting to put on sunscreen, her skin gets itchy and starts to peel off, flaking itself away from the rest of the skin.
Her forehead may be the first thing we are observing today. Its a rather small forehead, though a little on the wider side. It sports a hairline that is pretty much nonexistent, merging perfectly into hair. Nothing too defined, its more of a naturally flowing type of hairline that some people do envy.
Her eyes, her eyes, her eyes. The next things that always come on a persons appearance. Eyes can be windows to the soul, as some people may claim out loud. But, sometimes eyes may be in deception.
Vervas eyes start with her eyebrows, black ones that are clearly defined, creating almost something of a straight line, but slightly curved to the brow bone. The brow bone is set high, making her be able to do more with her eyes.
The next is the lid. Vervas eyelids are rather thin skin, just like any other eyelid. They are almost sleepy looking, revealing a bit of a doe eye, or at least the leadings to one.
Her eyes are brown. The color isn’t much to speak of. The color is average, blasé, if anything, overly generalized. It is not the color of chocolate, or mud, or anything really. They are simplistic brown eyes that have nothing to do with beauty, in most peoples eyes.
The pupil is pure black, almost in a glossed version of the blackness. It is larger than other pupils, swelling to larger proportions if exposed to too much darkness. Probably a habit from walking in the fields.
The iris extends out, being a rather thin iris, in its simple brownish color. It shows the simplicity of the face, showcasing some of the other prettiness she might sport.
Her eye whites are bright white, with nothing to damage the eggshell colored ness of them, inflecting its gaze to a stunning white.
The nose is next, being on the larger side of each nose. A bit taking up of her face, she finds it at fault with her own minds eye. Why does it have to be so.. big? It curves slightly up, being larger at the tip than at the base, which is sort of odd. The slope of the nose is rather smoothly angular, being the same type of inflection of movement as a hill of sorts. It moves up or down, but once your up or down, it doesn’t go the backwards way. In some pictures, it appears she has a large nose because of how the slope is presented in it, making it look flatter, and thus, more larger against the petite face she has.
Her mouth is next, a curving thing of raspberry sorts. A small mouth, disproportionate to her jaw in a small type of way; Large lips, yes, but a small mouth for her teeth and such. The lips are raised from the chin, sending them closer to the nose than the chin, creating a lifted type look to her face.
The chin sticks out a little bit, creating some form of inequality to her face. It adds to make like she looks heavier than she really is, which is something NOBODY wants. It comes to a round, then moves back into her face, creating something of a dramatic angle in her face. It adds to her appearance, instead of detracting.
Her body is next. She is rather rounded in all places. She isnt exactly skinny. She isnt fat either, but she would be classified under healthy weight.
Her clothing is next, making sure that every single item is taken account for.
Every day, she wears the peacekeeper uniform. The starched, white peacekeeper uniform. It is ill fitting onto her frame, making her appear to be either too thin or too fat in it. It is too tight in some places, and in others, completely and utterly too large.
Her other clothes involve a pink shirtdress thing that is the only other item hanging in her wardrobe. It was the only thing she was allowed to bring with her from her own district. It is silky and she wears it for special occasions, like holidays that the peacekeepers arn't nessicarily patrolling.
Her makeup is more elaborate than anything else she will wear, and she takes great pride in her makeup. She usually will wear some colored eye shadow on her eyelids, making a painted looking appearance on the eyes. She will put on eyeliner, made of some natural plant dyes, and she lines the top of her eyes with the dark type of coloring. She will apply lots of the dye to her eyelashes, then attach small extensions from the capitol to her eyelashes, extending them to an extraordinary amount.
These extensions are pretty much the only things she will spend her extra money on, making sure that her appearance is top notch.
Well, at least in her job field. [/color]
"When you run come around, because I know your the talk of the town, yeah."
Miss Verva Itill, peacekeeper dimunitive. As in small peacekeeper. Nothing near head peacekeeper.
The words that may occupy the description of her may or may not be in this form, but the one word may be that is isn't exactly overpowering. Overpowering people usually are not diminutive people, unless they’re napoleon or some equally crazy maniac who tries to blow up the world.
Now, I may repeat, Verva Itill is not an overpowering type of person. Persuasive, yes, but we will get to that later. She is probably as overpowering as anyone in a normal lifestyle may be. She would fit in perfectly into a normal lifestyle, but as a peacekeeper, eh, it’s a bit iffy.
Intimidation is usually a tool in Peacekeeperdom, but Verva isnt exactly one of those people who can use it to their will. She is more debenture than other peacekeepers, the loud and rowdy ones who stomp on her nerves like squash to a knife. She is the type of person who would rather take to a painting, or in her case, beading.
She is quite sensitive, really. She may seem all gristle from the way her history is set up, but she seems to be like a marshmallow. Very petite and slim and soft. She seems to be the type of person that would squeal at a bird ricocheting off the fields, falling to its death. Then, she would swarm in circles and break down crying later. Sure, this could be considered unacceptable via the other peacekeepers in her district. Verva is nothing like the others.
Of course, her view of the hunger games is different than most peacekeepers, of course. She likes watching them because of the suspense and such, but she doesn’t watch it when the gore flips on, the coliseum like roar that usually comes from the other Peacekeepers. No, that is inhumane. She enjoys the dialogue and the showmanship that the people on the television screen have, but she doesn’t like seeing the appendix fly out of someone’s body.
While Verva may be looked at as weak, she does have a very.... persuasive, if anything, charming side to her. She seems to make up for her weakness in her skills in talking to people. She is able to communicate between two people quickly, being able to get to the point in a way that doesn’t seem pushy. She isn't necessarily easily sucked into conversations, but yes, she can communicate decently without wielding a weapon. It’s probably due to her shoe selling (freaking black market) so, yes.
Another skill of Vervas is the ability to give symthathy towards another human being. Unlike other Peacekeepers, she is not rough around the edges and very cruel. Her mind usually translates to a small child breaking down crying or something that dwells along the lines we speak. She seems to want to give symthathy, not receive it or anything else.
Verva prides herself in her ability to be simply vain. She usually finds miniscule things in her appearance and picks at them, trying to make them look less obvious, even though it looks fine to the human eye not seeking to do anything other than glance.
Another trait that may not be surprising is that she covets money. She hoards it, to some degree, only buying things that make her happy, and not the things around her. The car, for example, the one that she bought with the illegal shoe selling, was thought out for months before she finally decided to seize the moment and get the thing. The eyelashes are pretty much the same, but more of an impulse buys than anything else, in her mind.
Verva is fairly good at making jewelry. She likes the patterns as they clink together, usually. She uses small gray beads from the earth and strings them. One, by the other, clink clink clink. The noise is somewhat calming to her, and it represents something that may or may not be something of an obsession.
Her thoughts are also very simplistic. She would not be called the smartest cookie in the jar. Or, the sharpest knife in the drawer. Ok, fine. She barely scraped by school. Its not like they were going to make her the head peacekeeper or anything.
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"Rock that run that, this where we from
Indigo Itill and Raxx Svett knew eachother, yes, but barely. It was by more of "friend relations" Indigo's sister's best friends boyfriends brother was Raxx. Lets just say "someone" spiked Indigos drink.... and eh, theres nothing else I can say.
Nine months later and Verva Itill was born. Too be quite honest, her Mother was sedated the first forty eight hours Verva was born, probably due to the anger issues her Mother had worked up during the years. And especially since the last nine months. So, the first person to hold Verva was her aunt Gyra, on her Mothers side. Aunt Grya couldn’t have children, so she dearly appreciated the little girl...... if only for a second or so.
A bubbly little girl of an old world Egyptian looking face and stunning brown eyes soon emerged from the depths of the infantry. Her Mother awoken, not as angry, just more irritated at the responsibility she had to uphold than anything else. Oh, and Raxx. Stupid guy.
Her Father paid money to support her, but pretty much left the parenting responsibilities to her Mother, who honestly didn't have quote on quote "Parenting Responsibilities" built in. Well, of course her Mothers anger issues were part of the parenting thing, but honestly, Indigo didn't quite get it. She didn’t get that babies needed to be fed more than adults.
She didn’t get crying. Every time Verva would cry, Indigo would stick her head into the pillow, then slowly, oh so slowly, attempt to get out of bed without being freezing cold. She would put one furry slipper over another, dragging herself into the purple and silver nursery that she had set up in the small two-bedroom apartment in District 2. She would open the door, scream loudly and slam the door behind her, sending a vibration through the apartment, rattling the flooring near the door.
By the age of one, Indigo got tired of the tedious routine that leads her around the apartment. Oh, how much she craved sleep filled nights. Bags were forming under her eyes. She decided to do something about it.
She moved the crib into the farthest corner of the house. Which happened to be the hot water heaters corner, a small area in which the two bathrooms in the apartment were connected to it, creating an almost warming system throughout the house. It was not that innovative at the time, an old technique used during the days of the rebellion to keep houses warm.
For a few weeks, she got the silence she needed to sleep. Every day she would wake up more optimistic than the night before, hopping around. She went out and got a job, working as a stone quarry miner.
Life became simplistic.
Yet, the crib still sat by the heating system.
Two months after Indigo got the job working in the quarries, it was a cold day. Ice shielded the windows like a blanket and the day had been given off to the workers, probably because it was too cold to be down in the mines without fingers or toes falling off. Indigo was cold, since the water heater was at its normal tempeture, she decided to turn the tempeture up.
Now, this is ill advised for the apartment buildings heaters. They are inexpensive.
Indigo curled back onto the couch, her eyes observing the page in front of her, the paper she had bought from the front lobby that morning. She was skittering over its pages when she heard a small "Crackle" noise followed by a squalling fire alarm.
The water heater had blown up, igniting the blanket into a raging fire of flames. Indigo, who was too scared to do anything, tried to throw water on the flames. It uninvited them, just in time for Indigo to pull Verva out of the fire.
At age five, Verva was enrolled in a normal school. A normal one with no opportunities to lie ahead, basically. Unless she intended on being a stone quarry girl, it was a below average school that was intended.
Her schooling was decent, she learned how to read and write, she enjoyed her acting classes and such, but at age eighteen is where her story really starts.
The day she turned eighteen, she was released from school and her mother, who now was part time managing one of the mines that got a stone of some kind. Verva didn't care, not a lick.
Instead, she busted out of her Mothers apartment, bag in hand, red cherry lollipop in mouth. She paraded down the stairs, then left with a flourish of her hand, storming across the pavement, suddenly realizing she needed to do something with her life.
She was educated, yes, but she wasn't exactly good at school. A slightly qualified worker who didn’t want to do the work. She was the person who had potential but didn’t necessarily embrace the potential that came her way.
A rebel, maybe. But, more, perhaps, a person of great absolute confidence. She moved gracefully through the streets until she came across the first building she could find that had a "For Hire" sign hung in the window.
A shoe store, nothing fancy. For the richer members of the district, it held a wide selection of shoes at fairly ridiculous prices when you could just go to the quarries and get a pair for a quarter of the price. Yet, some people wanted petite suede boots.
Just because she wasn't one for it didn’t mean she didn’t steal the shoes. Because she did, sold them on the black market. She would slip a pair of boots into her handbag if she were alone at one point in the day.
Even if her manager were in the back room, she would grab a pair of display shoes and place them into her handbag, the big leather one with a buckle the size of her fist.
An item she had received from her Mother, for her thirteenth birthday so long ago. When she first got her promotion. She recalled the moment she saw it come to her, but it was a nice bag that held up well to its daily wear and tear of stealing and trading for rent.
Verva made out well. Each pair of shoes was a week rent, so she had some money left over every once in a while. She would go and buy a few things from stores, sell them for more money. She cheated the system, got something for two hours of work and suddenly became pretty wealthy over time.
She decided to gamble. Once, twice, three times, she went, draining herself of all the money she made by selling shoes. Oh, dear. She got fired sooner or later from the shoe store because she didn't write down the stock of shoes. And, she was drained of the gambling resources she needed so much.
Verva was as close to broke as you could ever be.
Yet, she noticed something. She could be broke, starving; the works or she could be a peacekeeper.
I bet we all know which she chose, or there wouldn’t be a story. Am I correct?
So, Verva went through Peacekeeper training, if anything grudgingly. She attempted to run hurdles, to shoot a weapon, to do anything, really. She didn't excel, but she stayed decently in the middle of it all, somehow managing to pass the testing.
A year later, her training was complete. She was sent a starched uniform, and she was scheduled to leave for her assignment the next day.
The next day finally came, and she took the train ride to the district 11.
She immediately hated the district, its strict nature and dry landscape surrounding it. Everyone was always so cheerful, even with the games.
It made her sick to her stomach how people of so little could tolerate so much, happily.
Ah, what was below the surface, she didn't know. Rebellion could strike the district at any time...
And make Vervas world come tumbling down.
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Woot woot: Odair
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