Nereida Marina Ricardo |District 4|

Nereida Marina Ricardo |District 4| Sept 5, 2011 19:22:33 GMT -5

Post by lyss on Sept 5, 2011 19:22:33 GMT -5

Nereida Marina Ricardo

The Basics

Name

Do you ever feel like a plastic bag?

Full name······Nereida Marina Ricardo
Pronounce it······N·(e)·rei·da M·uh·ree·n·uh Ri·car·doe
Call her······Marina
Meanings······Nereida[WATER LILY],Marina[OF THE SEA], Ricardo[POWER;BRAVERY]
Nereida Marina Ricardo······Water lily of the sea; power and bravery

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Age

Drifting through the wind, wanting to start again?

The number······15 Now 16
The year······41st Hunger Games
Born on······the 13th of July
Born to······Coral and Dylan Ricardo

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District

Do you ever feel, feel so paper thin?

Born and bred in······District 4, the home of the swimmers
Living in the suburbs with······A stayin'-at-home mother, a swim team coachin' father, and adrenaline lovin' turtles

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The Things You Can See

Appearance

Like a house of cards, one blow from caving in?

(Lyss tells me that you'll think I look Mexican because of my name. She says I'm not, though. Whatever that is.)

::My height and weight::
Well, I guess I am kinda tall for my age. Do you consider 5'8" tall? I do. Anyways, I guess I'm pretty normal weight also. Right now, I think I'm about 130 pounds. Not fat, not skinny. I'm well fed, obviously. Even if well fed means fish once a day.

::My hair::
I love my hair. Honestly, I do. It's long and silky and thick. Let me paint a picture for you. My hair reaches to about the middle of my ribs. It's a rich sandy blonde, but it has some darker shades underneath. My part's close to the middle, but it's shifted slightly to the left recently. I don't really have bangs, but I do have some strands of hair that float above my forehead.

::My skin and face::
My skin is quite pale for a D4er. I get outside a bunch, I mean I'm on the swim team. I just have sensitive skin, but my mom believes that I used to be albino. Whatever. It's still smooth and silky, just like my hair. Most people in four don't have blemishes, or if they do, they can easily buy medicine to remove them. I've never had to waste a penny on the stuff.

My head's in the shape of a heart, I believe. I'm not so sure; nobody here is really good at determining face and eyes shapes. My mom tells me my eyes are close set. I don't really care for the shape or size, it's the color that it's all about. The color is blue. More specific? Of course, of course. They're a mixture of ocean blue and flecks of grey. They're quite beautiful, I tell you. I'm not trying to be shallow or anything, but they are pretty.

::My arms and shirts::
I guess my arms are a little long for my height. When I stand straight, my fingertips fall at the top of my kneecap. My shoulder's are the only part of my arm that is super pale. It's because I normally wear a tank top. My arms aren't skin and bones like most of the girls you'll see hanging around me. I have muscles, and they aren't the kind that are unnoticeable. You can see them, and they look awkward on me.

It's D4, for Pete's sake. We live on the coast; it's always warm. My closet consists of various tank tops, tees, and dress. I also have a rainbow of camisoles. I only have one jacket, and it's a very light one. I've only worn it once or twice, because, like I said, it's hot here.

::My middle area::
There's only one thing I can say about this. I have abs. Only a two pack, though. ...Don't judge me.

::My legs and pants::
My legs are unnaturally long. I'm made of mostly leg. It's a good thing that they're muscled. At least my calves are. My thighs are mostly... flab, so my oddly shaped knees look odd stuck between these two different parts.

Unlike my shirts, my pants are mostly long. I have at least twice as many pairs of skinny jeans than I do shorts. I only wear my shorts outside of school, considering most of them aren't "school approved." They aren't super short, but they are still not long enough for our daily brainwashing.

::My shoes::
I'm not the kind of girl who buys pairs and pairs and pairs of shoes one after the other. I have about six pairs of shoes. Most of them are strappy sandals, but I do have a pair of "Chuck Taylor's."

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Personality

Do you ever feel already buried deep?

::It sometimes gets the best of me::
Sarcasm is my best friend and my worst enemy. I mean, who isn't just a tad bit sarcastic? I guess you could say I'm a little bit more than just a tad bit sarcastic. ...Okay, I admit it. I'm super sarcastic. Gosh, it's so obvious, stupid. ...I have a problem. I admit it. I use sarcasm way too much. It's just a part of me, though.

::Pretty as a picture::
I have another problem. Flirting. I flirt with many guys, but not in the way most girls do. I don't use words. I can't, but you'll know about that later. I've probably flirted with almost every single guy in four. Not because I'm a slut or anything, but most girls can't "stand me" because of my condition. There is one guy I refuse to flirt with, though. That hot-shot jerk, Fleet Seine is the only guy Iwill never show any interest in. He probably hates me, too, but it's okay. He has girls all over him, one little girl not liking him can't affect him at all. Even if he did like me, I wouldn't like him back. He's too much of a hot-head. Who goes to school shirtless?

::Sweeter than a swisher::
If you took the time to really know me, you would find out that I'm really sweet. I try to be nice to most people, but it's hard to be nice to somebody who calls you a freak. If you talk to my best friends, they would prove this point. I'm very nice to them because I'm afraid of losing them.

::I get a little bit stronger::
Imagine that every day of your life, you cannot speak. Yeah, that's me. I have to write things on sticky notes or paper. My parents are saving up to buy me a "cure." What they're planning to buy is a little device that doctors will plant in my throat. It's a small electronic circle that will help me speak again. It won't sound robotic or raspy or anything. I have to say, I'm pretty stoked about it. ~~I'm so lame.~~

::But I have my weak days::
When you have few [girl] friends, you get lonely. People won't talk to me because I can't talk to them. The few that do bother to strike up a conversation with me become instantaneously close to me. It hurts when I see people look at me like I'm some mentally retarded kid. I cry myself to sleep at night sometimes, but I only have to wait 100 more days until I have my surgery. I know it'll end up making my dad have a second job, but I think we'll all live better if I can talk. What if my dad was about to get attacked? I couldn't scream for him to get to safety. Every day I worry that my dad will have a heart attack and I won't be able to get help.

Being an only child makes it worse. On the weekends, all I can do is either walk on the beach or sit in the house alone. My parents are considering adopting a three-year-old, maybe two. They said they found two super cute ones, so they'll probably end up bringing both home. Having little siblings would make my days better. I'd be so much more happy, even if it meant postponing my surgery.

::Not the best upside::
I'm pretty smart, I guess. I get all A's on most report cards. Too bad nobody likes the smart kids, especially the ones who can't speak. At least it makes my parents proud..

::I don't care as much as I should::
Most teens in four would love to train to be a career. Every year there are so many boys bouncing on their feet, ready to volunteer for a wimpy twelve or thirteen year-old. Girls are a little less enthusiastic, but they still find it an honor to be reaped. Me? I hate the idea of training to kill people. If I was ever shipped into the games, I would be hopeless. My attitude towards the games is about as sour as it gets.

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The Things You Don't Know

History

Six feet under screams, but no one seems to hear a thing

::Not much to say::
I can't remember much from when I was a baby. All I know is that my mother would strap me in a stroller and walk me around the shore, and then people would tell her what a beautiful baby she had. I also know that I could speak, say a few words when I was older. Simple things, of course. Mama. Dada.

::I fell down, but I got up::
When I was a toddler, I raced all around the house. You can imagine how quickly we went through a box of band-aids. My mother would take me to the beach, and she said I would run all around too. I would fall down in tidal pools, scrape my knees on rocks, and get handfuls of sand in my eyes. I must've been a tough little girl, since I always got right back up. My mom tells me I could speak just fine, so I can assume I had some good times.

::The dog days are over::
I'm going to sum up pretty much the rest of my life. When I turned ten, I started losing my voice gradually. We all thought I was just getting sick, so I stayed at home for weeks. When a doctor finally declaared I wouldn't be able to speak on my own again, I cried and cried for nights. My mother got a job almost instantly, and I would hide behind my house until she would leave. I would crawl back into bed and cry and cry. I began to lose my friends; my life became a living hell.

It was worse when I turned thirteen. Teens are harsh, you know. I was made fun of so much. I barely had any friends left, and soon, I refused to eat. I remember one night, when I had finish crying, I coulis hear my mother crying. "Why does she hate us?" is the only string of words I heard before going back to my crying state. I can't believe that my mother thought I was always crying and never eating because I hated her and my father.

Also, when I was available for my first reaping, I was so frightened. I was afraid that me, a puny twelve-year-old without a voice would be thrown into the arena. I was luckily not reaped, of course, but since then I've always hated the games. I hate dressing up for my possible death. I can't stand the idea of people training to kill others.

::My family::

-Mother-
My mother, Coral, is forty-five. She looks quite young, actually. Maybe her early thirties. I don't see why she married my father. She had such a great liffe when she was younger. She belonged to the richest family in Four. She was so beautiful; she had many, many handsome men who were almost equally rich waiting to marry her. Maybe my father was a rebel. I've been told my mother always went for the bad boy type.

-Father-
My father, Dylan, is also forty-five. He looks his age, I suppose. He has grey hairs sprouting all around his golden head. He lived pretty close to Victor's Village when he was young. I've been told my dad's friends with many of the victors about his age. I doubt it. If he was, then maybe we would have a little more money.

He was reaped when he was twelve, but an older boy graciously volunteered for him. I wish the guy was still alive. If we was, I would thank him often.

-Siblings-
It's official; my parents will be adopting both of the three-year-olds. I went to see them the other day, and they are both so cute. We're getting a boy and a girl. I think they will brighten up my life. I can already see me taking them to the beach on bright days.

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Other

Do you know that there's still a chance for you
Cause there's a spark in you
You just gotta ignite the light
And let it shine
Just own the night
Like the Fourth of July

Future siblings-

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34D1B2-Main text
65E8CE-Speech
FF8B3F-Other's Speech
118871-Thoughts and lyrics

ooc:First first person bio. I hope it's decent. D:[/center]

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