Trouble Gravamen - Wanderer [FINISHED]

TROUBLE GRAVAMEN



I was never meant for District life. It was why I left my home District of eight as soon as I turned fifteen. I'm not a citizen of Panem anymore, I've lived as a wanderer for two years now. Oh that's right, I'm seventeen.

Trouble, he will find you
No matter where you go oh, oh
No matter if you're fast
No matter if you're slow oh, oh

NEVER TROUBLE TROUBLE

So, you wanna know what I look like? Well, I'll tell you. Trouble, I look like trouble. Not good enough? Fine, I'll start describing, but just let me know if you get too nervous. Let's see, where to start? Well, how about from top down, make it easy.

My hair is a dark brown colour, so dark that it looks black for the most part. It's not very long, and I have to work hard to keep it short like this, but I prefer it that way. I've even managed to get a hold of some of that hair stuff they use in the Capitol, I think it's called "hair gel", something like that anyway. I like it because it allows me to make the front portion stand up in a bunch of spikes. I think it looks good, plus it keeps my bangs out of my face, double duty. Enough about my hair? Sure, then let's move on to my face. My eyebrows are slightly lighter than my hair, but not much. It's only because of my eyebrows that anyone realizes I'm brunette. Not that I mind, my hair would be the same colour either way. Alright, alright, I'll stop talking about my hair, sheesh.

My face is pointed, not overly so but a bit around the edges. My cheekbones stand out, but not as though they jut out, their just a little sharp. And my chin, it's sharp too, but again it's not like a bone ridge or anything. It makes my face look stronger, defiant, dangerous even; that's what I've been told anyway. I told you, I look like trouble. Okay, okay, I'll keep going. What next? My eyes? Sure, I'll tell you about my eyes. They're probably my favorite thing about my own appearance, well except maybe my hair- only joking! My eyes are a really nice blue-gray colour, and no I'm not just saying they're nice because their mine, if I saw them on anyone else I'd still like them. The blue shading to them is a rich almost deep-ocean colour, a deep blue that looks like it swirls at times. The gray that mixes in with it isn't quite as nice of a colour, but the result is great.

My mouth is alright, I guess. My lips are a light pink, a shade or two darker than my skin so they don't stand out overly much. They're pretty even in terms of fullness, not too much but not too little. They work with my face shape. Done with my face? But it's so good looking. Hey! Don't hit me I was only kidding! Give me a break, can't a man have a little fun? What, I'm not a man? Well, that shows what you know. But if you insist, I'll move on to my body.

The eye of the storm
Or the cry in the morn oh, oh
You're fine for a while
But you start
To lose control

UNTIL TROUBLE TROUBLES YOU;

My shoulders are a good width, broad enough to be sturdy but narrow enough to be maneuverable. They lead into long arms and long-fingered hands, and are pretty muscular if I do say so myself. They would have to be, with all of the gathering I have to do to make a shelter if I ever move anywhere, let me tell you that tree branches aren't as easy to break as they look. I'm off topic? Does it matter? Alright, fine, I'll go back to describing myself. My torso is muscled like my arms, and even if I don't have a six-pack like the Careers I'm still quite fit. I'm also tall, not some crazy seven foot giant, but a respectable 6'2".

My legs, like the rest of me, are muscular, but even more-so since I do a lot of walking. I've also had to do a lot of running and hiding, mainly from the Peacekeepers but some from Capitol-loyal district citizens, or even the Capitolites. It's easy to out run the Capitolites though, with their funky shoes and lack of real fitness. Off topic again? I thought I was done. Oh, you want to know what kind of clothes I wear too. What next, my life story? Uh oh, that glint in your eyes, you actually are going to ask me my life's story. Well, I'll get my appearance over with then.

The kind of clothes I usually wear are pretty plain. I've got a black leather jacket that used to be my father's, and it fits me quite well. I usually wear it when I'm in one of the Districts, or on my sparing visits to the Capitol, to try to hide my scar. Oh, that reminds me, I haven't told you about my scar. Actually, it's more of a permanent ridge on my arm than a scar. I'll explain how I got it later, for now you only need to know what it looks like. It's about three inches long, and stretches across the under part of my left arm, just a little down from the crook of my elbow. I've got another, smaller one on the base of my left palm.

Anyway, back to my clothing. Underneath my leather jacket, I wear a t-shirt. In fact, even when I don't wear my jacket I wear a t-shirt. I'd rather not have cloth around my arms unless it's my jacket. I've only got a few shirts, being that I have to travel a lot and don't exactly have room for a closet in my backpack. I only have two pairs of jeans, my usual wear, and a single pair of shorts. I told you, I have to travel light. I do laundry as often as I can, but there's only so many times I can show my face in the nearest District before I get caught. As for my shoes, they're sturdy boots I snatched from a District two mining facility. I needed them more than their previous owner did, besides they'd probably just give him a new pair. District two is the Capitol's pet, everyone knows that.

He's there in the dark
He's there in my heart
He waits in the wings
He's gotta play a part
Trouble is a friend, yeah
Trouble is a friend of mine
Ahh

FOR YOU ONLY MAKE YOUR TROUBLE

So, now it's onto my personality. Do you really need me to tell you what I'm like, I thought it would be easy for you to tell. No? Can you at least guess? Yeah, that's right. I'm trouble. But again, you want more detail than that. I suppose I can tell you.

I'm a generally funny guy, not the biggest fan of people but I manage. What, you're saying that's not true? How would you know if it's true or not, you were the one asking me. Alright, alright, I'll tell you the truth. I admit, I can be a bit of an asshole. It's not like I try to be, but my words just come out sharp at times. I can also be a little irritable, but can you blame me? I live on my own, the last thing I want is people swarming me and bugging me. And, fine, yes I can be a little arrogant. It's just part of the package though. If I didn't think as highly of myself I probably would have just let myself sink into District eight, and then I wouldn't be free like I am now. What, I'm not actually free? Sure I am.

Trouble is a friend
But trouble is a foe oh, oh
And no matter what I feed him
He always seems to grow oh, oh

DOUBLE-TROUBLE WHEN YOU DO;

I'm free of the never-ending routine that is life in a District, something that would have bored me to death by now. I'm not one for repetition, I prefer always experiencing something new. It's why I move around so much, along with the danger of being found that is. I know how to survive in the wild now, even if I haven't memorized every bit of forest. I would rather have the challenge of trying to find my way around, it keeps my skills sharp. The other thing I'm free of is the Capitol's influence. I no longer have to worry about being punished for the ridiculous, or about being reaped for that blasted Hunger Games.

I had seen enough of the "Games" during the first fifteen years of my life. I was lucky enough to have not been reaped, or personally have known any of the kids that were reaped. But now I'm free of it, though I do keep tabs on the Games when I'm in town. It's mainly to see if any of my old friends had been thrown into the arena or not, and to see who the most promising tribute was. I have no interest in the killing, the gore doesn't disturb me, but I don't really get a thrill from watching it. Not like those freaks in the Capitol who watch children kill each other for sport.

He sees what I see
And he knows what I know oh, oh
So don't forget
As you ease
On down my road

AND THE TROUBLE — LIKE A BUBBLE —

Enough about the Games though, this is supposed to be about me. No, I didn't mean that in a conceited way, not this time anyway. See, there, I admitted it, I can be conceited at times. You're learning about me, even if I have to tell you everything in order for you to understand. Okay, that may have been a little rude, but oh well. At least you're not like my mother was, she was the reason I left, that one last straw that was the end of it. As you can guess, I didn't have the greatest relationship with my mother. I'll explain that in a bit, though.

Oh, one last thing before I start the grueling process of explaining my life. Okay, I guess it's not that bad. Trying to describe myself was the hard part. No, not because I don't like to talk about my flaws, it's because I don't really like talking about myself. You're saying you never noticed, that you thought I liked to talk about myself? Listen, just because you made me tell you about myself doesn't mean I like doing it. But anyway, that last thing. Trouble- hey wait, let me finish it wasn't going to end like you think. As I was saying, trouble seems to follow me. No matter where I go or what I do, I find some way to get into trouble. Trust me, though, I'd rather I didn't, even if it does make life exciting.

He's there in the dark
He's there in my heart
He waits in the wings
He's gotta play a part
Trouble is a friend, yeah
Trouble is a friend of mine

THAT YOU'RE TROUBLING ABOUT,

Speaking of an exciting life, I suppose it's time I told you about my past. You may want to sit down somewhere though, it could be a while. As I had mentioned before, I was born into District eight. My parents had named me Ancil, which sounded a lot like Angel to me, ironic considering how much of a little terror I was. I was the son of Mr. and Mrs. Malak a weaver and a tanner. Like you would guess, it was my mother that did they weaving, my father worked over the stinking vats with cow hide. I have only the faintest memories of my father, since he hasn't been in my life for so long. We were a happy family when I was a baby, or so my mother told me. I'm not sure how much I believe her though, she was the one to destroy our happiness after all.

So, to explain. I lived with both parents in a little house with a tanning area at the back. Since I was always around the tanning vats, usually running from my parents and being a pain in the rear as little kids do, I got used to the smell. I was a bit of a brat when I was little, and it only got worse when my dad left. Well, my dad didn't leave, my mom drove him away. I was seven, old enough to get some sort of understanding of what happened, when I heard my parents fighting. Truthfully, it was my mom screaming at my dad as my dad tried to calm her down. I, too curious for my own good, peeked around the corner to watch them.

I could smell alcohol, and there was a shattered vase at my dad's feet. It didn't look as though she had thrown it at him, but as though it had been a warning. My dad just looked sad, and tired. Meanwhile, my mom was yelling at him, calling him a bunch of names and saying that she shouldn't have told that man good bye. I was so confused, until I saw the hurt on my dad's face. My mom had cheated on him with another man. I was feeling sick, and was wondering if I should run to the bathroom before I threw up, when my father caught my eye. At that moment I knew I couldn't leave, it would look like I was abandoning him. So, knotted stomach or no, I would stay.

My mother was oblivious to my presence, something I was partially used to from when she was absorbed in her work. It was part of the reason why I would act up, that was the only time I would get her attention. My dad would go on long trips to District ten to get more cow hides for his tannery, so I was stuck with just my mom for days on end. That meant I was without real attention for a while. She had gone quiet for a moment, as though it were the few seconds before a bomb went off. And then she exploded.

So don't be alarmed
If he takes you by the arm
I won't let him win
But I'm a sucker for his charm
Trouble is a friend, yeah
Trouble is a friend of mine
Ahh

MAY BE NOTHING BUT A ZERO

She screamed at my dad with a ferocity I had never seen in her. She yelled at him to get out, that she never wanted to see him again, that she had been wrong to marry him. That she hated him. The terror and pain in my dad's eyes was coursing through me. How could she say such things, how could she lie like that to him? My dad came back to his senses enough to ask her if I could go with him. He wanted to keep his son with him. I felt my heart in my throat, and hoped she would let me go. I wanted to leave her and her lies. She may hate my dad, but I hated her.

But she didn't, instead, she swore at him and told him that if he ever came near her or me again that she would bring in the Peacekeepers. I flinched, and watched as my dad nodded slowly. Then, he looked at me and told me it would be alright, that he would find a way to see me again. Only then did my mother realize I was there. Instantly, she became the mother I used to think she was; a little oblivious but loving all the same. I knew then that it was all an act, and just looked at my father, ignoring her. She stuttered a little, in protest, but I went over to my dad and hugged him. I didn't want him to leave, I wanted her to leave. Since I didn't have a choice in the matter, I would cause my mother as much pain as I could. Payback for what she did to our happiness.

For the next eight years I lived with just her, just her and whatever man she decided to bring home that week. I didn't want to have to go through this. I had a father, a real father, I didn't need a replacement. She always told everyone that my father had left us, but I knew the truth. I had seen the truth and I held it against her. As I got older, I became more devious. I even had the guts to tell one of the men she was dating what had happened with my dad. He didn't come back after that day.

When I was fourteen I began to think about running away. I didn't know why I hadn't done it earlier, but now that my did was on it I didn't want to give the idea up. I had been skipping school regularly by this point, so it wasn't like I had anything else to do. So I was able to put in a few hours a day, doing my best to collect things for my big escape. The first thing I got hold of was a large backpack. I stole money from my mother, another regular occurrence with me, to buy it. Then I began to carefully gather camping equipment; a sleeping bag, tarp, three medium sized water bottles. My mother, as oblivious as ever, never even noticed as her money disappeared, let alone when I came home with yet another piece of gear.

How I hate the way
He makes me feel
And how I try
To make him leave
I try
Oh, oh, I try

WITH ITS RIM RUBBED OUT.

A couple months before my fifteenth birthday, I was almost ready to leave. I had filled the pack most of the way, but left space for a few more pieces of clothing and any more money I could get from my mother. I would rather pay for as much as I could than have to steal it all, I may be trouble but I'm not a criminal. Usually. I had managed to take a few pieces of my mother's scant jewelry, leaving the gaudy plastic stuff and only filching the actual metal. Another thing she never noticed. I had wondered if she would even notice I was gone. Probably not.

I had decided to leave on my birthday, to celebrate the day I had come into the world with the start of a new life. My mother was working on some fancy weaving piece or other, making leaving the house with a giant pack all that much easier. I left the house early in the morning, around three or so. I wasn't worried about my mother noticing, but the other people that would have been out if I had left later might have been trouble. Heh, trouble. That word again, I just can't seem to get away from it. As it was though, I had to dodge a couple of Peacekeepers in order to leave the town. I slipped into the woods and walked for an hour in no particular direction, just not back.

I was free, I was done with District eight and my mother. I had escaped the Capitol's grip and no one could catch me now. The thought had elated me, as it does even now. I decided that, in order to truly be done with my old life, I would change my name. I would no longer be Ancil Malak, my old name, my old me, would be gone. I would rename myself to be better suited to what I was. My name would be Trouble, Trouble Gravamen.

This was how I've lived for the past two years. I've had to go into the Districts a few times to get supplies, but I never go back to District eight, there are to many people there who might recognize me. I've come too far now to get caught, not that it really matters because I would just find a way to get myself out. The thing about being Trouble, is I know what to do when there is trouble, because it's usually me causing it.

But he's there in the dark
He's there in my heart
He waits in the wings
He's gotta play a part
Trouble is a friend, yeah
Trouble is a friend of mine

OTHER

FC: Nick Bateman

Okay, weird, but I picked out his FC after writing his appearance, and half of his personality. He looks almost exactly like I described him. o.o

Lyrics: Trouble Is A Friend by Lenka

Words
44 - Introduction
986 - Appearance
677 - Personality
1459 - History
3166 - Total

So don't be alarmed
If he takes you by the arm
I won't let him win
But I'm a sucker for his charm
Trouble is a friend, yeah
Trouble is a friend of mine
Ahh

odair