Prewitt Pierce - D3

Hello...
My name is Prewitt Pierce
I am eighteen years of age
I am of the male gender
I reside in District 3

--//First Impressions//--

Sometimes, when I reach for the pipe that hangs from my work station, my fingers brush against the cold metal, and I feel a rush of satisfaction that you get from accomplishing a seemingly impossible task. Other times, I can't quite touch it, proving that I am indeed just under 5'9". Being a somewhat average height is pretty good - I don't get noticed for good things nor bad. I'm just there in the background. And that's perfectly fine by me.

My weight? It's relatively average as well. Mid 150s or so. I'm just your average Joe I guess; average weight, average height, stuff like that. At least I'm not really bony or anything. I won't be dying of hunger anytime soon, so I'm not losing weight. In fact, I'm not gaining any weight either... Maybe I've just stopped growing entirely?

Since District 3 mainly involves working on building those electronic gadgets indoors, it's logical that I have paler skin. There's a few beauty marks on the surface, but they're in less-noticeable places, such as the bottom of a foot, or on the shoulder-blades. It's also a bit hard to take care of my skin, since I work a lot. So occasionally there will be a pimple or two on my face.

My facial structure would be put on the more "manly" side of the spectrum. My face is a bit like an upside down trapezoid - wider on the top, narrowing down on the bottom. There's a slight angle below the cheeks that helps transform my chin into a squarer and flatter chin. There's a visible cleft there as well. In a way, it's kind of cool.

My hair would be described as a dark brown color, closer to a black than to the color of chocolate. I tend to comb my hair into a neat side-part. I might as well look somewhat presentable. Looking good ensures the fact that you won't get harassed due to sloppiness. My hair is short, cut to make sure that it ends above my ears.

My eyes are a plain brown color, similar to the hue of my father's leather shoes. But my eyes are probably more of a brown-gray than a richer brown-orange shade. They're so desaturated that they could be mistaken for gray eyes, if someone's really not interested in paying attention.

My nose is just a normal nose. There are no odd bumps or curves in it. My nostrils aren't overly large, nor are my nose hairs easily visible. It's unnoticeable in the plain image that's designated as my face. It simply provides the air which I need to survive. It's just a nose. Really.

My mouth is a tad bit on the thin side. It doesn't really tend to show any emotion. There aren't any frowns nor smiles that escape across my face. At the very least they don't appear when I'm around other people. It just stays an indifferent line, a straight segment that extends from part of my face to the same spot on the other side.

I don't like my teeth, hence the fact that I don't smile much. They're crooked, giving it a rather odd look about them. In fact, one of my teeth on the bottom is slightly twisted. My teeth don't hurt or anything, but I think they just seem ugly.

I'm slightly muscular. I run a bit, lift a few weights every so often. It's not very noticeable, but I'm a bit stronger than I look. On the off chance that there is no shirt on my back, I have visible abdominal muscles.

Moving on to my clothes and such: I have to wear glasses due to work. I constantly have to quickly place small mechanical parts in place, causing my eyesight to go bad. They're narrow-rimmed, and are a dark blue color.

I tend to wear comfortable clothes. You know, a sweater here, a t-shirt there. I do tend to pick out neutral colors though. I guess the fact that I really don't want to be noticed just comes out in my clothes - Greys are a bit boring I guess. I wear jeans, slightly tight I guess.

--//The Animal inside of You//--
>(starts 3rd person)<

When somebody first meet this man, they assume that he almost... has no personality of any kind. His responses to questions are well-thought out. They're cold, unfeeling, robotic, almost as if he's merely answering you in order to not disrupt society. His face tends not to show much emotion of any kind, if he can help it. Sometimes he gets so worked up that the armor that he has built becomes cracked with pure anger, sadness, or any other extreme feelings.

Prewitt is passive; submissive. He'll pretty much follow whatever somebody else wants him to do, no matter what. Sure, he may feel qualms about completing certain tasks, but he just... feels like he has to do whatever somebody asks him (as long as it's legal of course). This trait stems from his childhood traumas, but we'll get to that in a bit.

In a similar sense, Prewitt is rather shy. A better word for this would just be "alone". It's hard to find this boy. He tends to lurk in the library, or a quiet café, reading or writing something. You see, Prewitt has secret ambitions to become a writer, but he doesn't think he has the talent to do so.

He's also a homosexual. He's attempted to "become straight", but it hasn't worked. So he just tries to go through life unnoticed, so nobody works up the courage to talk to him in a flirty manner. He feels like maybe if he ignores his sexuality, it'll go away. But deep down, he knows that it won't happen, he just is refusing to accept it.

Therefore, it's relatively easy to determine that Prewitt is secretive. His ambitions and secrets are all hidden under that stoic expression that he longs to maintain for as much time as possible. But if someone works at him for such a long time, he might just crack a little bit.

But when Prewitt does crack, it's not a pretty sight. His stone-cold expressions dissolve, leaving a scared, insecure teenager in its wake. While in this stage, he'll be relatively easy to mold into whatever form one wishes. You see, Prewitt thrives on stability, and when it breaks... well, he looks for something to latch onto. And he'll stick by that until he breaks down once again.

It's rare to catch this man in a somewhat good mood. It's more likely to see Prewitt in a fragile state than to see him smile. But if somebody just makes him feel stable and special and confident, he'll be grateful.

But this is just oh so hard to accomplish. This pessimist will speak in his robotic tone of voice until someone does something so drastic that he loses his act for a few minutes. And that's your chance to jump in and snatch him up as a friend, or maybe even more...

But who knows? The silent statue is very hard to break.

--//Sins of My Youth//--

Elmira and Louis met in the factory. It was your typical District 3 marriage. They were happy, had a kid, worked. They were simply a normal family. Except for the fact that well... They were a little violent. You see, his parents wanted him to be the best damn person in District 3. And that meant following direction, getting good grades, and growing up.

Each day Prewitt would be abused by his parents, beaten for not doing his work correctly, smacked for getting a math problem incorrect.

But the worst punishment he faced was not listening to directions. If he didn't do something right, he'd get hit in the face. If he wasn't paying attention, another punch, right between the eyes. It became somewhat of a game to him.

"Let's see how long I can last without being throttled within an inch of my life!"

He was never very good at this game. His parents even smacked him when he spoke incorrectly, or out of turn. You see, they were extremely strict, taught by their parents that "children should be seen and not heard."

And that's exactly what he did. Slowly, his vocabulary increased, but his usage of the words receded until he simply used polite phrases. He knows how to talk, he just doesn't want to. A similar even occurred with listening, causing him to automatically accomplish the command that was given.

And so, this is how Prewitt Pierce spent most of his days; barely talking or thinking his own true thoughts. But when his parents were at work, and he had long periods of inactivity, he decided to venture to the small library in the District.

It was amazing. He quickly gobbled up stories, wanting to know what happened after "The End". He knew that there was no "end" to a story. It just stopped after a point that seemed reasonable to pause at. He began to write his own endings.

And thus, a writer was born.

Writing became his haven; a little past-time that helped him survive the day-to-day turmoils of having such angry parents. He hoped that someday they would appreciate his dedication to this hobby. But to his dismay, it wasn't going to happen.

A fire was started. Paper was ripped. His dreams turned to ashes.

As time went on, the beatings occurred less and less frequently; he had learned well. But the empty shell in its wake was cold and unfeeling, walking through life as a robot; programmed thoughts and actions. Memorized speeches emitted from his mouth. His spirit was gone.

And he's lost.

Code: muttations
Other: FC = James Lafferty