Daemon Apache |District 3|

Daemon Apache |District 3| Oct 1, 2011 19:35:05 GMT -5

Post by lyss on Oct 1, 2011 19:35:05 GMT -5

Daemon Apache

The Basics

Name

Nothing is real

Full name······Daemon Apache
Pronounce it······Day·muhn Uh·pa·ch·e
Call him······Daemon
Meanings······Daemon Apache
Daemon Apache······Hiding in the background; just a catchy name

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Age

I know this, 'cause I made a deal with the devil

The number······16
The year······41st Hunger Games
Born on······the 31st of October
Born to······Debian and Byte Apache

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District

He told me that I was just wasting my time on the moon

Born and bred in······District 3, the technology zone
Living in a neighborhood near Victor's Village with······A technology-craved mother, a father who wastes his earnings on technology,

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The Things You Can See

Appearance

So I flew to the sun

You, you are indescribable. You are gorgeous, in every way. You will never admit that you are handsome though. You don't care. You could be an ugly nerd for all you care, and you would live your life the same. Why you don't care about your looks isn't a mystery. You are selfless, not shallow, perfectly nice in every way. Enough about that though, I'm here to describe you, paint a picture for all of District 3. When you look in a mirror, this is how you see yourself.

Your hair is a mystery. It's normally a shade of brown, but sometimes it can be blonde. Its shape is a mixture of waves and curls. Unlike most boys your age, you do not let your bangs hand flat, limply, lifelessly, against your forehead. They're flipped up, curled up, standing on end with the rest of your hair. Your hair flies in every which way when it's straight. Oops, I let the secret slip. Yes, you straighten your hair sometimes. Only occasionally though, no need to be embarrassed. It's not very long either. Your hair, I mean. It goes a little bit down your neck.

Your face is so ~~pretty~~ handsome. It has two cute little ears towards the middle. They are small and pointy ~~like an elf's~~. They fit perfectly on your head. Your head is... head shaped? ~~I don't know how to identify head shapes, so lets go with that.~~ Your eyes are small, small and brown, set perfectly under big bushy eyebrows. Under your eyes is a big nose, which fits awkwardly on your face. Your lips are small and thin, which draws away some attention from your nose.

You have abs, a six-pack to be exact. You have pecks too. Even though you sometimes rub off as the brainy type, you work out, a lot. In my opinion, you should go swimming, or at least take your shirt off. Your upper body is gorgeous. Your arms are muscled, too. They aren't long, but they aren't short, either.

You are five feet tall, with eight inches added on. You weigh 140 pounds, which is a surprise to some people. You, of course, know you should really weigh about 120 to 125 pounds and be underweight, but about fifteen pounds of your weight is muscle and about another five is your clothes.

Oh yes, your clothes. Well, lets start with your shirts. Tees. Tees. Tees. They are your favorite thing to wear, but you can rarely wear them. Sometimes you wear a dress shirt with a tie, but more often than not, you wear some nice turtle neck or a polo underneath a jacket. You have no choice over what you wear. Your parents keep your clothes locked in the basement, and they bring up an outfit each morning. Your pants are rarely as nice. You normally wear dark jeans, sometimes the occasional khakis. These, as well, are locked in the basement with your shirt. You wish you had at least one pair of the things some of your friends sometimes wear. They call them skinny jeans. You wish you owned a pair so that you could show that you didn't have chicken legs or thunder thighs. Your legs aren't muscled, but you don't particularly care.

Your shoes, though, are the only things you get to choose on. Your favorite pair that you constantly wear is your pair of black vans. Whenever your mother insists on trying to clean the bottoms you wear your only other pair of stylish shoes, a pair of grey Converse.

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Personality

Lost track of my soul on the run

You are so complex for a supposedly simple person.

You are laid back. You don't tend to care about what people say or do, nor do you care for all the drama that lingers in your school. You don't make rude comments about people, and you never spread rumors. This keeps you safe from hurtful words... mostly. You always hear people complaining about the fact that you are too nice, when in fact, you are just protecting yourself. You are quite emotional for a boy, a man, your age. If anything worse was said about you, somebody would find you curled up in a ball crying in the janitorial closet.

Like I just said, you are very e m o t i o n a l. You try to hold in tears until you get home, but sometimes they slip out when you're in public. You've been asked if you are pms ing before. You try not to show how offended you are. Nobody ever takes notice of how you never react to questions like that. You brush it off and walk away. This is how you treat anybody, anything like that. You pretend it never happened, until you get home. Home is the place where you cry, the place you dream.

Your dreams are such wonderful things. You love to dream. Dreaming is your passion, so to speak. You love both types of dreams, the ones you have when you doze off and the ones that are your goals. You are very ambitious considering your circumstances. You will not be able to choose your career, your house, or your wife. This only seems to fuel you, to keep your passions strong.

If only your passions and dreams were enough to make your life better. You're not popular; you hide in the crowd. You hang out with some semi-popular kids, but mostly you just stay by yourself. You don't mind the silence at all. You do enjoy the small company you have, though. Your company is all males with no girls in sight. You have never really talked to a girl your age before. You've had some girls friends when you were younger, when your parents hadn't decided they would plan out your whole life. If you ever talked to a girl your age, I can only assume you would be super nervous.

You are a loner mostly. You're whole family is really a pack of loners. The only adults who have ever been invited over to your house have been your grandparents. No children were ever and are never allowed to come in the house. Both of your parents were only children, just like you, so you have no cousins to come and keep you company. You don't mind the loneliness that fills your heart and consumes your soul. Isolation is when you do your best dreaming.

When you aren't dreaming, you are at track or at the gym. You like to run. You could run away from home easily if you desired. You talk about track a lot with you friends. They say you're athletic, but you refuse to admit it. Your only reason is because you are a genius, and you believe that geniuses can't be athletic.

You are very smart. You have always been smart, even when you were very young. You sometimes don't make smart decisions, but you have always been full of knowledge. You practically leak out knowledge. Many people find this annoying, but not enough to say things. They think complaining about your extreme niceness suits them better.

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The Things You Don't Know

History

Suffering 12th degree burns, I learned that the sun was no fun

Your happiest days are far in your past, in your young childhood.

When you were five, you went to school for the first time. You were so excited. Your parents were impressed with your enthusiasm; they were sure you would have a bright future. That's when the planning began. It was secret of course; you would not know that they were planning out your whole life for another six years. They wouldn't tell you until then either.

You excelled in elementary school, soaring high above all your other classmates. A sign that you would follow in your father's footsteps, your parents told you. You had many friends, and you were quite popular. Even at the young age of ten, your best friend stole your first kiss. Your best friend was a girl, of course. You were good at making conversation with the ladies back then. Her name was Aurora, such a beautiful name matching a beautiful girl. She was a girl you would never forget. You two stuck with each other through thick and thin; you went everywhere together.

It all fell apart when you were eleven. It was in the middle of you fifth and sixth grade year. Your parents told you their plans for you, down to every single last detail. They told you that it would be best if you isolated yourself from people, that it was good to not work with friends. They told you that they were planning on who your wife would be. They said it would be the first girl whose parents would agree to an arranged marriage. They had not found a girl yet, but they knew it wasn't going to be Aurora. You were told to slowly cut off your friendship with her, but you refused. You couldn't do it to her. You were only eleven, but you loved her.

She moved away a month after you received your unfortunate news. You were told she was moving to a lower district. They were going to a place where the could afford things. You cried when your parents said it was for the best. They told you that you could have a fling or two before your wife was chosen, but to keep from having many girl friends. You didn't care. All you wanted was Aurora, even though you knew you would never have her again.

Middle school was a living hell for you. You tried to keep up with your grades and popularity status while balancing it out with your parents wishes. You would soon learn that your parents wishes tipped the scale, causing you to loose both your grades and your popularity. When you entered sixth grade, you had all AP classes, but when you entered seventh, you had none. You tried to grab hold onto the few friends you had left, but they all slipped from your fingers. You barely passed seventh grade. You thought your parents would be proud that you did not fail, but they weren't, not one bit. They kept you locked in the house all summer, keeping you in private summer school. During your free hours after school in eighth grade, you were to study, and study hard. They only eased up on you when you had an eighty-five average or better in each class.

Entering high school, you had obtained your genius status once again, all AP classes, an A average in each. You were grabbing onto reality, slowly but surely. You began to make a few friends, which exerted happiness. You began to have vivid dreams in your sleep, so vivid that you could remember them when you woke up. In the small frame of time you had between waking up and your mother bringing up your outfit, you sketched out your dreams in a thin notebook you had. You wrote a brief description underneath it, enough to help you when you came back to it later. In the evenings, you would add more detail, give real shape to the bodies, and color every square inch of paper.

After having a whole month's full of dreams in your notebook, you decided to sculpt a story out of your pictures. Every picture was a new chapter, and soon enough, you had a full novel. You never even thought of trying to publish it. You simply buried it in your closet with a few of your full dream books. You gave up the idea of making books out of your dreams, for you didn't like trying to combine such different meanings in to one similar meaning. You still keep up with your dream books though.

Not too much has happened in your last year of high school. You've been told who you will work for, your hours, and your breaks. You've been told where you will live, for how long, and how much it will cost. You are in your second last year of high school, and you still have no information of your wife. You're trying to gain enough confidence to at least have a small fling, but I wouldn't count on it.

Oh, how could I have forgotten? You have recently taken up track. You like it, but not enough to consider your athletic. You work out at the gym whenever you can, but not for fun. You like to amp up your body, to pack it with muscle. It's not like anybody will see it, though. In your home, there's never any reason to be shirtless. ... Well, in public, is what I mean. You never have seen any swimming areas in your whole life, and you don't plan on walking around the square in just jeans and some shoes.

You hate your parents. It's very clear. You wish their roles in your life wasn't dictators. It's more your mother than your father, though. Your father just goes along with the act your mother puts on. Your father just likes wasting all his life savings on new technology while your mother uses it to find new ways to torture you. You don't care to learn about your parents lives, and you certainly don't care if they had crummy lives as children. If they did, then shouldn't they spoil you? Shouldn't they give you the life they never had? Shouldn't they try to create your life into what they wished theirs had been? What you don't know is, both your parents had a wonderful, carefree life. They had no discipline, no punishments, no nothing. They wish they had a strict life, just like yours.

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Other

So I ran back to Earth
Tripped and fell in the glorified dirt
Honestly gravity sees me as a liability
So I held my breath till my soul left my body for dead
I ripped through the clouds to talk to the man in the sky
I said "Take this for what it is"
Time Travel-nevershoutnever

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0D964D-Other's Speech
5AA10E-Thoughts and lyrics

Goodness, second person is just... D:
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