.}Akshara](the ot|her side)[Kehar{. [District 5
Apr 21, 2009 20:30:18 GMT -5
Post by WT on Apr 21, 2009 20:30:18 GMT -5
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[.}Those Basic Facts{.]
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Name (t)he(m/r) Akshara or Kehar
Pronounce it ahk-SHAHR-uh or keh-HAHR
It means unalterable[sic] or one who is dear [sic]
Nickname (t)he(m/r) Shar or Keri
See (t/s)he(y) is female
Know (t/s)he(y) has lived for nineteen years
~[.}The.S|p|i|i|t.Side {.]~
Appearance is the only thing- apart, perhaps, from history- that Akshara and Kehar share. After all, it’s the same body- how can it change?
Akshara and Kehar are not beautiful. Once, perhaps, they may have been, but the years have scarred their body as well as their outlook on life, rendering once-soft skin pocked and torn, once-velvety hair matted and patchy. Such is the way of their world; such they figure it shall always be. Who, after all, is going to judge them?
Their most striking feature, and the only one that has remained through the years as it always has bee, is their eyes, not because the colors are particularly pretty, but because they are just that- colors. Their right eye is a deep, emerald green, while the left is pale, icy blue. You can gather easily enough which prefers which eye; Akshara wishes they were both that warm, inviting green, while Kehar likewise favors the color that describes her cold and unfeeling personality best. Both of them are stuck with them split, however, and have come to accept it- even to like it, in Kehar’s case, for the girl enjoys the way her gaze can so easily unbalance another (though how much of that is the mis-matched colors and how much of that is Keri’s overdeveloped glaring skills is hard to say).
Their hair is another point of contention- each thinks it’s a different color. It may seem like a minor thing, but to them, unconsciously, it’s not; Akshara becomes uncomfortable when someone refers to her hair as light brown, while Kehar flies into a rage if anyone calls it dirty blonde. What neither can argue about, however, is that it’s cropped close (and extremely unevenly), and is patchy even after all this time- the missing chunks have simply never grown back, at least not to the way they used to be (their opinions on this are different, though; Kehar doesn’t care, while Shar mourns her inability to keep her hair tidy). Their skin, tanned by years of direct sun, is a similar color, but a little darker.
(A) tall girl(s), Akshara and Kehar had an abrupt growth spurt to six feet just before they stopped growing. Akshara is still confused by this, awkward (though not clumsy) with these longer limbs, but Kehar uses it to full advantage imposing strangers. When you can’t talk, you have to have something to convince people that you aren’t weak (without actively threatening, that is), and being able to look down on someone with an air of cold confidence and disdain tends to do that. Thin, though not morbidly so, they appear far less sturdy than they actually are- not to say they’re a powerhouse or something, but they aren’t helpless, either.
Speaking of not talking, one thing about Shar and Keri that isn’t obvious is their voice. You will never, even hear either or them sing, of course, but sometimes Akshara will hum quietly- and when she does, it becomes clear that her singing must have been something to be treasured. It’s a pity, really- the one thing of true beauty that remains about her, the one thing that no one and nothing could have changed, is unusable.
~[.}Hot.&&.Cold{.]~
These girls are not... completely... sane.
In fact, they’re not even girls.
They’re a girl.
Both Akshara and Kehar- after all, you can’t have one without the other- suffer from DID, or dissociative identity disorder. Otherwise known as split personality disorder, this means that the two are literally separate people in the same body. You can watch Akshara drift off to sleep one night, and find yourself facing a confused- and extremely irate- Kehar in the morning; or the transition can be less subtle, with one girl slipping into existence in a split second, leaving you reeling from the sudden change in (t)he(i)r disposition.
(What can I say? It’s just who I am...)
Most of the time, luckily for the world, Akshara is in control. Hers was the original personality, and remains the dominant one even today. In a way this is paradoxical, as Keri is the really type-A, put-me-in-control-before-I-kill-you sort of personality- but hey, nothing else about (t)he(r/m) makes sense, so why should this?
Even had she been able to talk, Akshara would have been the quiet type. She prefers to observe and think than to take action and direct the course of things; when put in a position of influence, she begins to panic. She has no authoritative instinct whatsoever; she’ll make her own decisions, but don’t rely on her to do the same for others. Especially lots of others. In fact, anything involving ‘lots of others’ is out; Akshara is scared of people, but terrified of crowds, and will freeze up if presented with more than about four people at once.
However, she is soft-hearted, unlike her double, and can rarely resist a person in need. Whether they’re a beggar on the street whom she gives a tomato from her garden, or a person about to fall from a tree, or simply someone who needs a sympathetic ear and a shoulder to cry on, she will always be there. Unbeknownst to her- she would be horrified, and probably would run away if she knew- she has become a somewhat well-loved (and I say somewhat, because Kehar tends to put people off of her) member of her community, which explains the disorienting number of people who show up at her door.
Gardening is Shar’s passion. Something about watching the tiny seeds sprout and grow into plants holds an almost magical charm for her, and she spends most of her free time in ‘her’ meadow, a small, well-lit clearing in the woods near the District which she claimed as hers and uses for the plants that don’t fit in her small backyard.
A note: Akshara, unlike her counterpart, is straight. This has led to some... interesting confusion, but since neither is that trusting of other people, it doesn’t come up much. When it does, however... prepare for things to get very, very awkward.
(My turn, baby. Get out of the way.)
Kehar is the marginally rarer of the two personalities, coming out at completely random intervals for no apparent reason other than that she can. To those around her, however, it’s extremely obvious. Gone are the sweet melodies and hesitant smiles; Akshara is as good as vanished, revealing Kehar, the much less amiable of the pair.
Kehar is... well, simply put, she’s a -----, and there’s no two ways about it. Life is to her but a game of power and survival, and she will do anything she must to make sure that she comes out on top.
Because Keri is in charge here, whether you realize it or not- and often, you won’t. She likes to manipulate people, and sometimes that means not showing them how cold and calculating she can be. The ultimate actress, Kehar can put on a face for any occasion- shy and helpless (particularly easy to pull off, thanks to the fact that she can’t talk), charismatic and charming, angry, klutzy, brilliant, frightened, seductive- anything is possible, and likely, even flirting with men, as much as she detests it. (Give her a good female any day- she may not be good at romantic attachment, but it’s fun to play with them- but really... hetero relationships...just, no. Even if she is pretending.) Whatever face will best further her ends is the one she uses, and few people ever see the same one twice in a row. An excellent judge of people, Kehar can decide in an instant, based on as little as a brief conversation and the way they carry themselves, what sort of person they are and what sort of scenario and person they will respond best to. To really manipulate them, she needs to know more about their strengths and weaknesses and desires- but that comes later, after she’s established her character.
Kehar has little respect for anyone, particularly males, whom she avoids even more than other people. Those she does respect- well, there really aren’t any. But if you were to gain her deference, you ought to be proud of yourself; it’s not an easy task. She immediately disregards anyone taken in by her acting- which is most people, so that narrows the list down considerably- and tends to be quite contemptuous of anyone she deems unimportant or stupid, which is also most of the world.
Friends are, for Kehar, nonexistent. They may think they’re her friends, sure, but she’s really just keeping them around in case they become useful at some point. If the opportunity comes along to betray them or kill them for her own personal gain, she will do it with no qualms. Pity, also, is a word she does not understand; as cold-hearted as a snake in Antarctica, she cares nothing for the plights of others, only her own.
Kehar's biggest flaw- and weakness- is her own arrogance. She is so secure in her skill as an actress and her own intelligence that she feels no need to worry about what other people might do. When- if- her downfall finally arrives, she won't see it coming until it hits her and she's in the dirt wondering what happened, because she simply believes that it can't happen.
(Who are you?)
The girls have no idea of each other’s existence or actions, which becomes very confusing sometimes. They remember their life up to the first time Kehar appeared; after that, each seems to black out when the other appears, remembering nothing of what happened. As far as either is concerned, they have a problem with fainting spells and/or memory loss, which embarrasses Shar and enrages Keri- but there’s nothing they can do about their “illness,” so each has learned to live with it as well as they can.
The difference between Keri and Shar is usually easy enough to tell. As good an actress as she is, Kehar generally doesn’t care to try for the genuinely warm that people like Akshara pull off, because she knows it’s the most likely of her faces to slip. They carry themselves differently, as well; in her ‘neutral’ position, Kehar stands straight, with a proud tilt to her head (along with a constant smirk), while Shar tends to slump and avoid eye contact with people, drawing her jacket tighter around her and hurrying on her way to avoid anyone. Also, Shar distinctly prefers to wear ‘cool’ colors- that is, blues, greens, and purples- while Keri likes reds, oranges, and neutral colors.
One thing that both will always, always have, however, is a slate and some chalk. A lack of a voice can be very inconvenient, and a way to communicate is often needed.
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[.}The Others{.]
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This solitary life is lonely
Keep them away- friends are worthless
I’d die for no one
I’d die for nothing
My heart is broken
Had I a heart, it would be my own
Out of Nefia (NPC)
By Ishan (NPC)
Born alone- but not entirely
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[.}Play It All Out{.]
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Akshara was a pet.
Really and truly- there is no getting around it. She wasn’t treated bad; indeed, she was a pampered little pet, never wanting for food or toys or someone to love on her and adore her.
But... well, she was still a pet.
Or maybe trophy would be more accurate. After all, her parents hadn’t had her because they were particularly interested in having a child; all those people who had been around to love her were hired to do so. She was born because all the other familes had a sweet little child, and her parents wanted one too.
And like any trophy, she had to be shown off.
Akshara’s earliest memories, even now, are of being trained in etiquette, in pretty smiles and gracious bows, social circles and dances. The parties she was taken to were no place for a young, restless girl, however, and slowly they began to take over, to smother her. She became no more than the pretty, delicate puppet that her parents wanted her to be- the trophy on the shelf, cooed over and then forgotten, but always expected to stand there, forever shining.
She forgot what she was really like, and it scared her.
So she did the only thing she could think of.
Her mother- an interesting twist of fate, since normally it would have been some hired babysitter who would have checked in on the girl- found Akshara lying on the floor of her room, a bottle of cyanide lying on the carpet beside her. Desperately Nefia rushed forward, screaming as she did so for someone to call a medic, and in the end the girl was saved.
But nothing was ever the same after that- though whether that’s a good thing or a bad one is hard to say. Akshara didn’t get sent to a therapist, because her parents wanted her “breakdown” kept quiet- but her mother, in particular, always looked at her funny. After all, she had attempted suicide, and she was only eight, with no reason to be unhappy; obviously something was wrong with her. What if she was crazy under the surface- what if insanity was just waiting to snap again, and this she would kill them all, instead of just herself?
Three months after the incident, Nefia talked Shar’s father into sending her away.
There were only two ways to get rid of her- kill her, or sell her and fake her death. Even as paranoid as she was becoming, Nefia wasn’t hard-hearted enough to kill her own daughter, and besides, Ishtan never would have allowed it. But selling her was a viable option. The family needed money- Nefia’s gambling was catching up with them again- and it would transfer the danger somewhere else.
Documents were typed, black market agents were contacted, money changed hands. Literally before she knew what was happening, Akshara was on her way to the Tribute Tower, to become an avox in time for that year’s set of tributes to roll in.
Akshara was only eight, and she was terrified. The loss of speech didn’t scare her- she had never been expected to talk, only to smile and nod and curtsy- nor the expectations of obedience- was she not used to molding herself into what she needed to be? But the people were rough, lacking in the detached politeness she was used to. The places were unfamiliar; the plants she took care of, in the garden on the roof, were just familiar enough to make her ache for her own small garden in her backyard, the place where she went to escape the endless smiles and dresses and makeup. And the tributes- the poor tributes seemed so lonely, and she knew what it was to be lonely...
But she got used to this life, too. It was easier, in fact; she didn’t have to leave herself behind this time, because she’d already done that. She became the picture- the photograph- of an avox. Unresisting, unquestioning, prompt, compliant.
She would have been so forever but for Kyrin.
She was fifteen by then, and had seen countless tributes come and go. The first time around it had bothered her, yes; but after that, the years and the Games passed by, and she ceased to care. She was good at that; she knew how to shut herself off, how to forget about emotion or lock it away. She stopped mourning for the lonely, desperate tributes- because if she didn't, she would mourn herself to death.
But then her name was drawn to serve Kyrin, and for the first time since that first year she found herself grieving. The male tribute from District 5 ignored the rules and spoke to her, and in his voice she found her first friend. She couldn't speak back, but he managed to find some paper and a pencil, and they began to converse- hesitantly at first, because he was wary of making Capitol-dwelling attachments and she had never talked to anyone outside of a classroom or high-end social party.
That they became friends- that, over the course of weeks, Shar fell in love with him- is little enough of a surprise. Humanity responds to kindness; Kyrin was the first person in a long time to give the poor girl a true smile and to honestly care about her thoughts, and Akshara was the only person at the Capitol, or at least the only one who had any sort of interaction with him, who saw Ky as anything other than income or a pawn.
She was terrified, the day he left. He broke something in his room on purpose, so he could see her one last time- he had been doing a lot of that lately, as the noose on his free time constricted further and further until there was none truly left- but they had only a few moments. Long enough for her to start to cry, and for him to hold her and give a promise that neither was sure he could keep- a promise to come back. To survive. To take her with him when he left.
She didn't watch the Games that year- she couldn't. The screens were always playing, but she ignored them; she went away in her head whenever she had no choice but to watch, returning only when she was sure she couldn't see him. She didn't want to watch his death, didn't want to know who had killed him. She didn't have it in her to face him.
So she was shocked when he came back to her.
The days that followed were, for him, a blur of photos and interviews and publicity stunts. She spent them watching him, staring at the screens with wide eyes, hardly daring to believe he was there.
But in a way, he wasn't. When she saw him in person next- he was different. He still smiled, still held her, but there was something in his eyes that worried her. He looked no different- the Capitol had made sure of that, made sure that no scars or bruises were left- but she knew him, and she could tell.
He kept his promise. He woke her one night, and together they ran- away from the Tower, from the Capitol. But there was always a catch in his voice when he spoke to her, a hesitancy in his steps as he ran. The Games- the killing he had seen and been forced to do, just to keep his promise- had changed him. He hadn't died, but he had still been taken.
The stress it all- the loss of him, the constant running- made something snap in her.
Kehar was not amused to wake up one morning curled in a sleeping bag with another person. She had a sudden flash of insight- what had she been thinking, trusting this moron? Sure, he had gotten her out of the Capitol, and she had no interest in staying there- but to stay with him, after they were free? How stupid was she?
Wakened by her restless stirring, Kyrin reached out to touch her hair, murmuring softly. She scrambled from the sleeping bag and kicked his hand away, hissing. Suddenly wide awake, the former tribute stood and started after her, looking puzzled.
"Akshara?"
Akshara? What the heck was he calling her? She shook her head and narrowed her eyes.
"What-"
She hissed again as he drew closing, aiming a kick at his shin. His pride more wounded, than his leg, he glared at her. "What's gotten into you, Shar? Why-"
She sidestepped his attempt to reach out to her, and he frowned. "Shar, what-" he stopped, suddenly blinking hard, trying to dispel tears. "Please, Shar. Don't- don't do this. I need you..."
His voice was desperate, but Kehar had no sympathy for desperation. If his problems were so bad, he should get out of them himself. Her eyes cold, she turned to walk away, and a hand closed around her wrist.
Keri whirled around to see that apparently she wasn't the only one who had snapped. Kyrin, usually so gentle, so sweet- even now, after the killing- had turned bitter and hard. "Not you too," he growled. "Not after the rest. You aren't going anywhere. Do you have any idea what I've done for you? Eight, Akshara. I killed eight people so I could come back to get you out of that hellhole. You're not paying me back like this."
Had she been able to, she would have screamed, "Don't touch me!" As it was, she could only yank her wrist away and reached up to kick him in the face. He grabbed her foot and pulled, sending her tumbling down to the ground; she grabbed his head as she fell, succeeding in wrenching his neck but also bringing him down on top of her, which was not what she had intended in the slightest. She tried to roll over; he held her pinned, forced her to face him, forced her to let him kiss her.
The violence was suddenly gone, and he lay sobbing. "Love me, Shar. I need you- I need you to love me..."
Kehar considered glaring, then decided it wouldn't do her any good. She was stuck underneath him; he obviously had no plans to let her up anytime soon; he was sobbing and probably half-blind; and she didn't want to make him mad again.
She did the only thing she could think of: she kissed him.
He didn't question the sudden change of heart, merely turning to her, melting into the kiss like his life depended on it.
It didn't.
Her freedom, however, did.
He relaxed just enough to allow her left arm movement; she drew it back and punched him in the face. Reeling from surprise and the pain of a broken nose, he rolled off of her, and she leaped to her feet. He reached out to grab her ankle, but she hadn't turned her back- she had learned that lesson- and she jumped aside, leaving him grasping at empty air, and proceeded to kick him solidly in the head until he went still. Not checked to see whether he was still alive, she turned and fled.
Akshara woke the next morning with no memory of the incident, and immediately panicked. Where was she? Where was Ky? What had happened? Confused, desperate, she began walking, not sure where she was going, calling out with a wordless voice in the vague hope that he might hear her, might recognize her voice- might find her.
Back and forth they went, each becoming increasingly confused- Shar had no idea that Kehar had appeared at all, let alone so suddenly, and while Kehar remembered what had happened in the years before, she no longer had any idea what happened when she wasn't in control.
They found the ruins of District Thirteen and stayed there, learning how to scrape by- learning how to survive, which is what Kehar did best and what Akshara felt compelled to do. But life there never suited them; even though they were there for two years, they never truly settled down. Shar was a city girl, scared to be alone in the wilderness (oh, if she only knew...), and Keri- well, Keri was bored. And then the runaways and wanderers came, filling the ruins, taking refuge in the remnants of a civilization. Even Kehar was scared of them, eventually; such a big group could become dangerous.
So, by unknown mutual agreement, they ran. Slowly they made it to District 12, then 11, then 10; and though it terrified Akshara to go nearer to the Capitol, nearer to the place where someone might recognize her, they kept moving, because Kehar wouldn't settle for a run-down dump like a lower District. They fell into a pattern; Akshara would stay, trying to find a place to live in and a job to take on, and Kehar would move on whenever she was given the chance.
Eventually they came to District 5- Kyrin's District. Shar latched onto it, wandering through the streets without sleep, listening for his name, searching for his face. Even when she finally collapsed into sleep, she still woke up the next morning instead of Kehar, the force of her desperate search keeping her in charge.
She found a small, empty house, and claimed it. The nearby residents let her; she wasn't any trouble, she was willing to work for them in exchange for pay, and she was sweet. Her eyes, disturbing though they could be, could also be captivating, and a few of the residents took pity on the desperation they found there, and helped her set up her new life. When Kehar was finally allowed to break through again, she found herself in a decent position- a nice if small house, people she didn't know who were nice to her anyway, and money. She didn't trust the nice people- she didn't, after all, trust anyone- but she used them happily, returning their smiles and taking what they gave her without reservation.
It was patchy, and confusing, but then it always would be. They found a life; Akshara became a horticulturist of sorts, growing her own food and selling seedlings when she ran out of room, and Kehar learned how to hunt- how to do it properly, rather than the rag-tag collection of mostly mediocre skills she had taught herself in the ruins- from one of her neighbors. To be honest, even though they've settled down, neither one really has a clue what they're doing, let alone what the other one is doing. Losing big patches of time and memory is extremely inconvenient, and tends to confuse those around you as well as you yourself.
But Kehar is a survivor, and Akshara has had enough of suicide and enough of running to last her a lifetime.
So they remain.
[.}Those Basic Facts{.]
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Name (t)he(m/r) Akshara or Kehar
Pronounce it ahk-SHAHR-uh or keh-HAHR
It means unalterable[sic] or one who is dear [sic]
Nickname (t)he(m/r) Shar or Keri
See (t/s)he(y) is female
Know (t/s)he(y) has lived for nineteen years
~[.}The.S|p|i|i|t.Side {.]~
Appearance is the only thing- apart, perhaps, from history- that Akshara and Kehar share. After all, it’s the same body- how can it change?
Akshara and Kehar are not beautiful. Once, perhaps, they may have been, but the years have scarred their body as well as their outlook on life, rendering once-soft skin pocked and torn, once-velvety hair matted and patchy. Such is the way of their world; such they figure it shall always be. Who, after all, is going to judge them?
Their most striking feature, and the only one that has remained through the years as it always has bee, is their eyes, not because the colors are particularly pretty, but because they are just that- colors. Their right eye is a deep, emerald green, while the left is pale, icy blue. You can gather easily enough which prefers which eye; Akshara wishes they were both that warm, inviting green, while Kehar likewise favors the color that describes her cold and unfeeling personality best. Both of them are stuck with them split, however, and have come to accept it- even to like it, in Kehar’s case, for the girl enjoys the way her gaze can so easily unbalance another (though how much of that is the mis-matched colors and how much of that is Keri’s overdeveloped glaring skills is hard to say).
Their hair is another point of contention- each thinks it’s a different color. It may seem like a minor thing, but to them, unconsciously, it’s not; Akshara becomes uncomfortable when someone refers to her hair as light brown, while Kehar flies into a rage if anyone calls it dirty blonde. What neither can argue about, however, is that it’s cropped close (and extremely unevenly), and is patchy even after all this time- the missing chunks have simply never grown back, at least not to the way they used to be (their opinions on this are different, though; Kehar doesn’t care, while Shar mourns her inability to keep her hair tidy). Their skin, tanned by years of direct sun, is a similar color, but a little darker.
(A) tall girl(s), Akshara and Kehar had an abrupt growth spurt to six feet just before they stopped growing. Akshara is still confused by this, awkward (though not clumsy) with these longer limbs, but Kehar uses it to full advantage imposing strangers. When you can’t talk, you have to have something to convince people that you aren’t weak (without actively threatening, that is), and being able to look down on someone with an air of cold confidence and disdain tends to do that. Thin, though not morbidly so, they appear far less sturdy than they actually are- not to say they’re a powerhouse or something, but they aren’t helpless, either.
Speaking of not talking, one thing about Shar and Keri that isn’t obvious is their voice. You will never, even hear either or them sing, of course, but sometimes Akshara will hum quietly- and when she does, it becomes clear that her singing must have been something to be treasured. It’s a pity, really- the one thing of true beauty that remains about her, the one thing that no one and nothing could have changed, is unusable.
~[.}Hot.&&.Cold{.]~
These girls are not... completely... sane.
In fact, they’re not even girls.
They’re a girl.
Both Akshara and Kehar- after all, you can’t have one without the other- suffer from DID, or dissociative identity disorder. Otherwise known as split personality disorder, this means that the two are literally separate people in the same body. You can watch Akshara drift off to sleep one night, and find yourself facing a confused- and extremely irate- Kehar in the morning; or the transition can be less subtle, with one girl slipping into existence in a split second, leaving you reeling from the sudden change in (t)he(i)r disposition.
(What can I say? It’s just who I am...)
Most of the time, luckily for the world, Akshara is in control. Hers was the original personality, and remains the dominant one even today. In a way this is paradoxical, as Keri is the really type-A, put-me-in-control-before-I-kill-you sort of personality- but hey, nothing else about (t)he(r/m) makes sense, so why should this?
Even had she been able to talk, Akshara would have been the quiet type. She prefers to observe and think than to take action and direct the course of things; when put in a position of influence, she begins to panic. She has no authoritative instinct whatsoever; she’ll make her own decisions, but don’t rely on her to do the same for others. Especially lots of others. In fact, anything involving ‘lots of others’ is out; Akshara is scared of people, but terrified of crowds, and will freeze up if presented with more than about four people at once.
However, she is soft-hearted, unlike her double, and can rarely resist a person in need. Whether they’re a beggar on the street whom she gives a tomato from her garden, or a person about to fall from a tree, or simply someone who needs a sympathetic ear and a shoulder to cry on, she will always be there. Unbeknownst to her- she would be horrified, and probably would run away if she knew- she has become a somewhat well-loved (and I say somewhat, because Kehar tends to put people off of her) member of her community, which explains the disorienting number of people who show up at her door.
Gardening is Shar’s passion. Something about watching the tiny seeds sprout and grow into plants holds an almost magical charm for her, and she spends most of her free time in ‘her’ meadow, a small, well-lit clearing in the woods near the District which she claimed as hers and uses for the plants that don’t fit in her small backyard.
A note: Akshara, unlike her counterpart, is straight. This has led to some... interesting confusion, but since neither is that trusting of other people, it doesn’t come up much. When it does, however... prepare for things to get very, very awkward.
(My turn, baby. Get out of the way.)
Kehar is the marginally rarer of the two personalities, coming out at completely random intervals for no apparent reason other than that she can. To those around her, however, it’s extremely obvious. Gone are the sweet melodies and hesitant smiles; Akshara is as good as vanished, revealing Kehar, the much less amiable of the pair.
Kehar is... well, simply put, she’s a -----, and there’s no two ways about it. Life is to her but a game of power and survival, and she will do anything she must to make sure that she comes out on top.
Because Keri is in charge here, whether you realize it or not- and often, you won’t. She likes to manipulate people, and sometimes that means not showing them how cold and calculating she can be. The ultimate actress, Kehar can put on a face for any occasion- shy and helpless (particularly easy to pull off, thanks to the fact that she can’t talk), charismatic and charming, angry, klutzy, brilliant, frightened, seductive- anything is possible, and likely, even flirting with men, as much as she detests it. (Give her a good female any day- she may not be good at romantic attachment, but it’s fun to play with them- but really... hetero relationships...just, no. Even if she is pretending.) Whatever face will best further her ends is the one she uses, and few people ever see the same one twice in a row. An excellent judge of people, Kehar can decide in an instant, based on as little as a brief conversation and the way they carry themselves, what sort of person they are and what sort of scenario and person they will respond best to. To really manipulate them, she needs to know more about their strengths and weaknesses and desires- but that comes later, after she’s established her character.
Kehar has little respect for anyone, particularly males, whom she avoids even more than other people. Those she does respect- well, there really aren’t any. But if you were to gain her deference, you ought to be proud of yourself; it’s not an easy task. She immediately disregards anyone taken in by her acting- which is most people, so that narrows the list down considerably- and tends to be quite contemptuous of anyone she deems unimportant or stupid, which is also most of the world.
Friends are, for Kehar, nonexistent. They may think they’re her friends, sure, but she’s really just keeping them around in case they become useful at some point. If the opportunity comes along to betray them or kill them for her own personal gain, she will do it with no qualms. Pity, also, is a word she does not understand; as cold-hearted as a snake in Antarctica, she cares nothing for the plights of others, only her own.
Kehar's biggest flaw- and weakness- is her own arrogance. She is so secure in her skill as an actress and her own intelligence that she feels no need to worry about what other people might do. When- if- her downfall finally arrives, she won't see it coming until it hits her and she's in the dirt wondering what happened, because she simply believes that it can't happen.
(Who are you?)
The girls have no idea of each other’s existence or actions, which becomes very confusing sometimes. They remember their life up to the first time Kehar appeared; after that, each seems to black out when the other appears, remembering nothing of what happened. As far as either is concerned, they have a problem with fainting spells and/or memory loss, which embarrasses Shar and enrages Keri- but there’s nothing they can do about their “illness,” so each has learned to live with it as well as they can.
The difference between Keri and Shar is usually easy enough to tell. As good an actress as she is, Kehar generally doesn’t care to try for the genuinely warm that people like Akshara pull off, because she knows it’s the most likely of her faces to slip. They carry themselves differently, as well; in her ‘neutral’ position, Kehar stands straight, with a proud tilt to her head (along with a constant smirk), while Shar tends to slump and avoid eye contact with people, drawing her jacket tighter around her and hurrying on her way to avoid anyone. Also, Shar distinctly prefers to wear ‘cool’ colors- that is, blues, greens, and purples- while Keri likes reds, oranges, and neutral colors.
One thing that both will always, always have, however, is a slate and some chalk. A lack of a voice can be very inconvenient, and a way to communicate is often needed.
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[.}The Others{.]
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This solitary life is lonely
Keep them away- friends are worthless
I’d die for no one
I’d die for nothing
My heart is broken
Had I a heart, it would be my own
Out of Nefia (NPC)
By Ishan (NPC)
Born alone- but not entirely
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[.}Play It All Out{.]
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Akshara was a pet.
Really and truly- there is no getting around it. She wasn’t treated bad; indeed, she was a pampered little pet, never wanting for food or toys or someone to love on her and adore her.
But... well, she was still a pet.
Or maybe trophy would be more accurate. After all, her parents hadn’t had her because they were particularly interested in having a child; all those people who had been around to love her were hired to do so. She was born because all the other familes had a sweet little child, and her parents wanted one too.
And like any trophy, she had to be shown off.
Akshara’s earliest memories, even now, are of being trained in etiquette, in pretty smiles and gracious bows, social circles and dances. The parties she was taken to were no place for a young, restless girl, however, and slowly they began to take over, to smother her. She became no more than the pretty, delicate puppet that her parents wanted her to be- the trophy on the shelf, cooed over and then forgotten, but always expected to stand there, forever shining.
She forgot what she was really like, and it scared her.
So she did the only thing she could think of.
Her mother- an interesting twist of fate, since normally it would have been some hired babysitter who would have checked in on the girl- found Akshara lying on the floor of her room, a bottle of cyanide lying on the carpet beside her. Desperately Nefia rushed forward, screaming as she did so for someone to call a medic, and in the end the girl was saved.
But nothing was ever the same after that- though whether that’s a good thing or a bad one is hard to say. Akshara didn’t get sent to a therapist, because her parents wanted her “breakdown” kept quiet- but her mother, in particular, always looked at her funny. After all, she had attempted suicide, and she was only eight, with no reason to be unhappy; obviously something was wrong with her. What if she was crazy under the surface- what if insanity was just waiting to snap again, and this she would kill them all, instead of just herself?
Three months after the incident, Nefia talked Shar’s father into sending her away.
There were only two ways to get rid of her- kill her, or sell her and fake her death. Even as paranoid as she was becoming, Nefia wasn’t hard-hearted enough to kill her own daughter, and besides, Ishtan never would have allowed it. But selling her was a viable option. The family needed money- Nefia’s gambling was catching up with them again- and it would transfer the danger somewhere else.
Documents were typed, black market agents were contacted, money changed hands. Literally before she knew what was happening, Akshara was on her way to the Tribute Tower, to become an avox in time for that year’s set of tributes to roll in.
Akshara was only eight, and she was terrified. The loss of speech didn’t scare her- she had never been expected to talk, only to smile and nod and curtsy- nor the expectations of obedience- was she not used to molding herself into what she needed to be? But the people were rough, lacking in the detached politeness she was used to. The places were unfamiliar; the plants she took care of, in the garden on the roof, were just familiar enough to make her ache for her own small garden in her backyard, the place where she went to escape the endless smiles and dresses and makeup. And the tributes- the poor tributes seemed so lonely, and she knew what it was to be lonely...
But she got used to this life, too. It was easier, in fact; she didn’t have to leave herself behind this time, because she’d already done that. She became the picture- the photograph- of an avox. Unresisting, unquestioning, prompt, compliant.
She would have been so forever but for Kyrin.
She was fifteen by then, and had seen countless tributes come and go. The first time around it had bothered her, yes; but after that, the years and the Games passed by, and she ceased to care. She was good at that; she knew how to shut herself off, how to forget about emotion or lock it away. She stopped mourning for the lonely, desperate tributes- because if she didn't, she would mourn herself to death.
But then her name was drawn to serve Kyrin, and for the first time since that first year she found herself grieving. The male tribute from District 5 ignored the rules and spoke to her, and in his voice she found her first friend. She couldn't speak back, but he managed to find some paper and a pencil, and they began to converse- hesitantly at first, because he was wary of making Capitol-dwelling attachments and she had never talked to anyone outside of a classroom or high-end social party.
That they became friends- that, over the course of weeks, Shar fell in love with him- is little enough of a surprise. Humanity responds to kindness; Kyrin was the first person in a long time to give the poor girl a true smile and to honestly care about her thoughts, and Akshara was the only person at the Capitol, or at least the only one who had any sort of interaction with him, who saw Ky as anything other than income or a pawn.
She was terrified, the day he left. He broke something in his room on purpose, so he could see her one last time- he had been doing a lot of that lately, as the noose on his free time constricted further and further until there was none truly left- but they had only a few moments. Long enough for her to start to cry, and for him to hold her and give a promise that neither was sure he could keep- a promise to come back. To survive. To take her with him when he left.
She didn't watch the Games that year- she couldn't. The screens were always playing, but she ignored them; she went away in her head whenever she had no choice but to watch, returning only when she was sure she couldn't see him. She didn't want to watch his death, didn't want to know who had killed him. She didn't have it in her to face him.
So she was shocked when he came back to her.
The days that followed were, for him, a blur of photos and interviews and publicity stunts. She spent them watching him, staring at the screens with wide eyes, hardly daring to believe he was there.
But in a way, he wasn't. When she saw him in person next- he was different. He still smiled, still held her, but there was something in his eyes that worried her. He looked no different- the Capitol had made sure of that, made sure that no scars or bruises were left- but she knew him, and she could tell.
He kept his promise. He woke her one night, and together they ran- away from the Tower, from the Capitol. But there was always a catch in his voice when he spoke to her, a hesitancy in his steps as he ran. The Games- the killing he had seen and been forced to do, just to keep his promise- had changed him. He hadn't died, but he had still been taken.
The stress it all- the loss of him, the constant running- made something snap in her.
Kehar was not amused to wake up one morning curled in a sleeping bag with another person. She had a sudden flash of insight- what had she been thinking, trusting this moron? Sure, he had gotten her out of the Capitol, and she had no interest in staying there- but to stay with him, after they were free? How stupid was she?
Wakened by her restless stirring, Kyrin reached out to touch her hair, murmuring softly. She scrambled from the sleeping bag and kicked his hand away, hissing. Suddenly wide awake, the former tribute stood and started after her, looking puzzled.
"Akshara?"
Akshara? What the heck was he calling her? She shook her head and narrowed her eyes.
"What-"
She hissed again as he drew closing, aiming a kick at his shin. His pride more wounded, than his leg, he glared at her. "What's gotten into you, Shar? Why-"
She sidestepped his attempt to reach out to her, and he frowned. "Shar, what-" he stopped, suddenly blinking hard, trying to dispel tears. "Please, Shar. Don't- don't do this. I need you..."
His voice was desperate, but Kehar had no sympathy for desperation. If his problems were so bad, he should get out of them himself. Her eyes cold, she turned to walk away, and a hand closed around her wrist.
Keri whirled around to see that apparently she wasn't the only one who had snapped. Kyrin, usually so gentle, so sweet- even now, after the killing- had turned bitter and hard. "Not you too," he growled. "Not after the rest. You aren't going anywhere. Do you have any idea what I've done for you? Eight, Akshara. I killed eight people so I could come back to get you out of that hellhole. You're not paying me back like this."
Had she been able to, she would have screamed, "Don't touch me!" As it was, she could only yank her wrist away and reached up to kick him in the face. He grabbed her foot and pulled, sending her tumbling down to the ground; she grabbed his head as she fell, succeeding in wrenching his neck but also bringing him down on top of her, which was not what she had intended in the slightest. She tried to roll over; he held her pinned, forced her to face him, forced her to let him kiss her.
The violence was suddenly gone, and he lay sobbing. "Love me, Shar. I need you- I need you to love me..."
Kehar considered glaring, then decided it wouldn't do her any good. She was stuck underneath him; he obviously had no plans to let her up anytime soon; he was sobbing and probably half-blind; and she didn't want to make him mad again.
She did the only thing she could think of: she kissed him.
He didn't question the sudden change of heart, merely turning to her, melting into the kiss like his life depended on it.
It didn't.
Her freedom, however, did.
He relaxed just enough to allow her left arm movement; she drew it back and punched him in the face. Reeling from surprise and the pain of a broken nose, he rolled off of her, and she leaped to her feet. He reached out to grab her ankle, but she hadn't turned her back- she had learned that lesson- and she jumped aside, leaving him grasping at empty air, and proceeded to kick him solidly in the head until he went still. Not checked to see whether he was still alive, she turned and fled.
Akshara woke the next morning with no memory of the incident, and immediately panicked. Where was she? Where was Ky? What had happened? Confused, desperate, she began walking, not sure where she was going, calling out with a wordless voice in the vague hope that he might hear her, might recognize her voice- might find her.
Back and forth they went, each becoming increasingly confused- Shar had no idea that Kehar had appeared at all, let alone so suddenly, and while Kehar remembered what had happened in the years before, she no longer had any idea what happened when she wasn't in control.
They found the ruins of District Thirteen and stayed there, learning how to scrape by- learning how to survive, which is what Kehar did best and what Akshara felt compelled to do. But life there never suited them; even though they were there for two years, they never truly settled down. Shar was a city girl, scared to be alone in the wilderness (oh, if she only knew...), and Keri- well, Keri was bored. And then the runaways and wanderers came, filling the ruins, taking refuge in the remnants of a civilization. Even Kehar was scared of them, eventually; such a big group could become dangerous.
So, by unknown mutual agreement, they ran. Slowly they made it to District 12, then 11, then 10; and though it terrified Akshara to go nearer to the Capitol, nearer to the place where someone might recognize her, they kept moving, because Kehar wouldn't settle for a run-down dump like a lower District. They fell into a pattern; Akshara would stay, trying to find a place to live in and a job to take on, and Kehar would move on whenever she was given the chance.
Eventually they came to District 5- Kyrin's District. Shar latched onto it, wandering through the streets without sleep, listening for his name, searching for his face. Even when she finally collapsed into sleep, she still woke up the next morning instead of Kehar, the force of her desperate search keeping her in charge.
She found a small, empty house, and claimed it. The nearby residents let her; she wasn't any trouble, she was willing to work for them in exchange for pay, and she was sweet. Her eyes, disturbing though they could be, could also be captivating, and a few of the residents took pity on the desperation they found there, and helped her set up her new life. When Kehar was finally allowed to break through again, she found herself in a decent position- a nice if small house, people she didn't know who were nice to her anyway, and money. She didn't trust the nice people- she didn't, after all, trust anyone- but she used them happily, returning their smiles and taking what they gave her without reservation.
It was patchy, and confusing, but then it always would be. They found a life; Akshara became a horticulturist of sorts, growing her own food and selling seedlings when she ran out of room, and Kehar learned how to hunt- how to do it properly, rather than the rag-tag collection of mostly mediocre skills she had taught herself in the ruins- from one of her neighbors. To be honest, even though they've settled down, neither one really has a clue what they're doing, let alone what the other one is doing. Losing big patches of time and memory is extremely inconvenient, and tends to confuse those around you as well as you yourself.
But Kehar is a survivor, and Akshara has had enough of suicide and enough of running to last her a lifetime.
So they remain.
