OoO: Chato Haplidon from District Two :OoO (FIN)

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NoireRose
Merchant

254 POSTS

Pronouns: She/her
last seen Dec 27, 2013 1:42:16 GMT -5

I'm surprised how comfortable I feel coming back here...

OoO: Chato Haplidon from District Two :OoO (FIN) Jun 21, 2012 7:28:52 GMT -5

Post by NoireRose on Jun 21, 2012 7:28:52 GMT -5

Name: CSH
Age: Twelve
Gender: Male
District/Area: District 2
Appearance:

-skinny
-lanky
-asian
-black eyes
-brown brown
-fair complected
-numerous scars due to brother abusing him

((There's more pics of him just not as good xP His names is either _______Heechun or Heechun _____ I think it's the first what but I have no idea what his first name is.))

Personality:

-brave
-intelligent/ spurts random facts
-strong ( not really social)
-nerd (book nerd)
-imagination is wild
-poetic
-very friendly
-open-to-interpretation
-lisp(flaw)
-jumps to assumptions quickly(flaw)
-(too;flaw) honest
-sweet heart
-innocent (for the most part)
-crushes on other who are better than him xD/ tries to talk to Salt (she ignores him)
-amazing focus/ overthinks things at times
-horrible nightmares
-friendly “I'm not alive if I'm lonely”
-bit of a hopeless romantic
-since ending up in his cell he hasn’t had the opportunity to even look at a book.

History:

-mother left when he was 4 and bro was 10
-lived with his older bro and father after his mother left
-often trained with his bro/ ended up abusing him for not doing good enough ( brother didn't realize it)
-bro wanted Chato to be prepared in life for anything
-father died by with a bullet to the head when he was 11 and his bro was 16
-ended up getting kidnapped when he was running away from his bro

Codeword:
Comments/Other:

Cass's plottage

Last Edit: Aug 13, 2012 1:07:40 GMT -5 by NoireRose

NoireRose
Merchant

254 POSTS

Pronouns: She/her
last seen Dec 27, 2013 1:42:16 GMT -5

I'm surprised how comfortable I feel coming back here...

OoO: Chato Haplidon from District Two :OoO (FIN) Jun 21, 2012 8:01:02 GMT -5

Post by NoireRose on Jun 21, 2012 8:01:02 GMT -5

“If a dream is a wish your heart makes.

What does that make a nightmare?”

Oo0oOo0o.(I).(N).(T).(R).(O).(D).(U).(C).(T).(I).(O).(N).oOo0oOo0

[/color]

A solemn and peaceful place comes into view. Your place. The place where you know you will never be alone. The place with the tree out back and the porch in the front. The place where you remember drinking cold water with your brother after a hard day's work. This time however, you are returning back to that place. To the place that you called your home for the longest time. The place you can no longer return to, or call your home... The place that stands still and cold. The place where your brother mourns for you and your parents. The place where all the colors all have faded to a different shades of gray.

There is your brother on the front steps. Waiting. He's waiting for you. He's waiting for your parents. One step closer. That's all it would take for your brother to notice you. You can tell he's weeping. He's mourning. For you and your parents. This is the place where it all started. The place where you were brought into the picture. It's all too much like a dream though. A dream that could be so easily turned into a never ending nightmare. The place where you could end up dead.

A shallow breath is taken as your hand touches the white fence. You unlock the lock and push the gate door open. Your heart is racing. Racing like a horse. You don't want to be the one. You never wanted to be the one. Who is the one anyways? Your brother? Or the girl you hopelessly have a crush on? There's also her brother who is a maniac in the ring. The one who you dreadfully want to understand. Or even the people who helped kidnap you. There are tons of possible answers. But what if it's really you. All of those people who underestimated you. You wonder if they still underestimate you now. Or if they even care about you. Would they care after they found out you are the one? After all it was you who was meant to run away. To run away from all of your fears.

One step. That's all it takes for you brother turn to stone and solidify. No more tears come from his eyes. You can tell that he's angry. He's ticked off. You don't want to do this. To be tossed into the ring with him. He's your own brother. You can't do it. You won't do it. He's standing so tall and unafraid. Just like you dream to be. You can't remove your eyes from his broken face. It's been so long and you bet he hasn't missed you one bit. He's still the way you remember him. All hidden emotions. Nothing that will break. He's holding a sword. Much like the one he trained you with. It's all so much like a dream gone wrong.

[/size]

“So, Chato Sen Haplidon. My brother of 12 years. Living in District 2 since you where born...Trapped in this place for a little over a year. All I have is one question. Are you still the same Chato that I know as my little brother?”

You don't want to move. You can't really move. It's just you and him in the arena. Just like all those training sessions you've had with him. It's all so very similar in that sense. And yet, completely different. One of you will have to die. You know it as true. It's almost as simple as that. Altair knew you two were siblings. This is your punishment, and deep inside it breaks your heart.

After all this is your only brother, the one your father looked forwards to seeing as a grown up. Your brother who beat you up when your father wasn't looking. The one who you know doesn't regret it at all. All those times you messed up during training. You never made the same mistakes in the arena since then. But this time. It's completely different from the few times you've killed.

He's the one who taught you all that you know. And he's your brother. He shares the same blood flowing through his veins... He stares you down in the eyes. Your eyes that tell him everything you don't want him to know. About how you felt with him abandoning you. About how you feel towards others. About how you feel about fighting him. You're frozen there as he takes steps toward you. You watch his feet and count the steps. Trying to block out all of your thoughts. One, Two. Three, Four. Five, Six. Just like a dance. In sync with the lyrics. Just like a song. Keeping up with the beat. His blade moves up in a blurry whir and you scream.

Screaming bloody murder. Because you realize this is real, and he's actually killing you. No regret is shown in his face. The face that is stone. The face that belongs to your brother. You release the grip on your weapon and your teary eyed head comes clean off falling forward. Your wet eyes that once held compassion dies down into two big black holes of nothingness. Your body falls backwards, motionless. Your blood spurting everywhere. You're dead. It's all his fault. You see no remorse what so ever on his face.

Almost instantly you bolt up from where you're sleeping. Tears running from your eyes. You're drenched in sweat. Your hand moves up to your neck. Still intact. You move your hands to in front of your deep brown eyes, and realize that you're shaking endlessly like a leaf on a tree. The last leaf that is getting ready to fall from the tree. You sit up and try to regain control. Control of the shaking and shivering body that is your own. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. Your brother taught you everything you know, yet he took everything. [/left][/color][/size]

Oo0oOo0oOo0.(A).(P).(P).(E).(A).(R).(A).(N).(C).(E).oOo0oOo0oOo

Gently, you move hands to your sweat drenched shirt and practically peal it away from your sweat covered body. Not really caring if anybody is watching you. The numerous scars on your torso were caused by him. You silently trace your hands over some of them from your nipples down to your stomach. Your flat stomach isn't yet in a 6 pack like many girl would hope. Instead you have a nice layer of fat covering it. You figure you aren't too skinny to the point where your bones show but you would prefer to add more muscles onto your body too. Enough to get some people to notice you and pay attention to you instead of your father, or your brother. Both of which hope that your brother is the next victor. You on the other hand don't.

You don't want to lose your brother like so many people have. You disapproved of the idea of the Hunger Games and want it to stop, but you don't voice your opinion. Just in case you get beaten up even further. Your father doesn't even know about your opinion of the Hunger Games. You slightly shake your head and continue examining your body. Your arms are fairly skinnier than most, but they have a decent amount of muscle on them. Your hands are about average in length and size. They're not too stick like or even too fat. They're just average, and ordinary like you. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. Unlike your brother.

Your legs on the other hand, are built for long endurance runs. They have the thickest muscles on your body, and are your best method of escape. They are what allows you to escape so easily from all of those fights that you avoided when you were younger. And what allows you to escape from getting pinned in while fighting in the arena. It's one of your best attributes and you know it will take you far. However, you have this issue where if you push yourself so far, you can break so very easily. Luckily, when your life is in real danger the adrenaline kicks in and you make the best of of your situations. If you brother did teach you anything, it would be how to use your surroundings to your best attributes and survive.

Your mind continues to fade away and beg you to come back to your dreamland, but you simply shake your head and persevere while focusing on anything but your broken family. You end up picking yourself apart in the end by focusing on simple things about your body that you never really paid any attention to up until now. Such as how your nails are chipped and cracked, and all of the dirt, blood, and possible skin underneath your average sized nails. It really appalls to you, and your knuckles have become red, cut-up and swollen. Callous' have formed on the pads of your hands and you gently poke at the blisters that have formed. Several smaller scratches have formed on your body. Some from fighting and others from being beaten up or simple accidents that you happen to cause to yourself.

You stretch your entire body and yawn. You can't go to sleep no matter how much your body wants it. Even if you tried your hardest you wouldn't be able to. Instead you stand up, and attempt to move. Only to have your legs give out and fall to your knees and hands. You chuckle softly to yourself, because of how clumsy you are when tired. Along with the idea of how dry and cracked your elbows and knees have gotten. You realize that your feet are pretty dirty too, but that doesn't really matter. You don't really want to get up but you do anyways. This usually happens fairly often, but you still don't like the idea of it. Especially, when you know you could be up next for a fight.

Mostly everything depends on that factor alone. Will you go into a fight either today or tomorrow? Will you be alive tomorrow morning? Will your brother know your dead? Has he stopped searching? Has he been searching? Will you be able to join your father? Do you want to join you father? Will your mother know your dead? Does she care? No, you stop the questions right there before you get too involved. You shouldn't think about such things. You don't want to even begin thinking of anything relating to your family. Instead you drift off into the land of evaluating yourself.

Overall, your body is thin and lanky. With lots of wiry muscle underneath your layer of skin and another small later or fat. Your completion is fair and no acne has came up. You hope that it never will. The same goes for stubble. From what your father has told you, your side of the family are late bloomers in the department of area of maturity. Hardly any large amounts of hair grown on your chest, legs, or arms. You hope that you won't at least for a while. Same goes for the entire acne and pimple stuff. As long as you don't get any massive cases you are fine.

You focus on your face, despite there not really being much to focus on. You haven't seen your face in a while, but you still remember it so clearly. The way your hair was a mixture of browns, blacks, and even a bit of red mixed in. It was a nice mixture for you. But now, you figure that it's gone greasy and grown way out of proportion. For the style you always enjoyed having it parted at and angle and slant slightly over your face. As of lately though, you just slightly pat it down and hope that it looks alright. Not really caring which way the part goes. Just hoping that none of your hair sticks up too far.

The ears on your face are normally shaped and such. Except for that you have your left ear pierced. You slightly chuckle, because as of late you've been taking it out after watching some of the girls fight and realizing that if your earring was torn out during a fight, it would hurt like crazy. It really does amuse you how something so small like and earring could do so much damage. However, you should have known that from the plentiful amounts of paper cuts you have gotten because of books. Speaking of normal and average thing The same goes for your nose. It's fairly average and normal. You don't really mind it at all. It's just something that just happened to be.

Your lips are actually fairly average except for the fact that on your lower lip, it's puffy and a bit swollen. You know it's busted open and despite the pain that it gives you sometimes you don't mind. It's what hides behind your lips that really makes you stand out. Your teeth are straight and white. Hardly anything has really been done to alter your teeth. They're just naturally straight like that, and you take really care of your teeth. It's a blessing to you and your family. After all if you floss for at least 20 minutes per day you gain an extra 6.4 years onto your life.

The thing just that makes you really feel special and blessed is your eyes. They tell your stories in ways that not even the best story tellers could do. They take you into your life and show you what it was like in a day of your life. The life that you had before and after you were captured. Because your eyes show how much you want to live, and how you feel in the arena. How you felt when your brother started abusing you after a good hard training session. The ways that kids made fun of you in school. In how you remember your mother leaving, and seeing your father's head be shot into a million pieces. The entire life story that is known as you is hidden within your cool coal black eyes that shine and reflect the light that is shown in them. The receptive and ever informing eyes that only seem to show your life like a movie, and show glimpses into what you're thinking now. In life. While you're alive, and allow others to see what you think happens when you die. After all, your eyes tell the poetic life story of Chato Haplidon unlike anybody else can. Including yourself.

[/size]

Oo0oOo0oOo.(P).(E).(R).(S).(O).(N).(A).(L).(I).(T).(Y).oOo0oOo0oO

You smile a bit and decide to at least lay back down. You lay your head back down and close your eyes. So far, this whole analyzing yourself thing is actually going out fairly well on keeping your mind off of things. It allows you time to re-evaluate your life and see where you are so far. Considering your set backs. You never wanted to do anything so outrageous and unpredictable as fighting against another person. It contradicts the side of you that wants to return back to the old days and remain that little boy in the corner.

The side of you that is all precious moments and memories. That side that's hopeful for a new beginning. A new start. A freedom that you secretly know will never come. The side of you that yearns to hold a book in your hands once again. The side that will befriend anyone who comes near. The side that just screams sweet heart. The one that let your brother beat on you until you begged and pleaded until tears fell, and sobs stole the breath from your lungs. The side that would hold back, and let others beat you up. The side that brings a smile to others faces. The side that shows you're truly a coward.

The other side is the part of you where you hold all those painful memories and terrifying moments. It's really where you become more aware of your surroundings and end up over-analyzing everything, and trying to figure out everything that can possibly happen. Focusing yourself on that one person or object. You're much more brave in this state but you don't always jump straight into any interactions or action for that matter even. The side that is stronger and faster physically but not mentally or socially. You take a moment to consider everything. In all reality, you've always had these traits but they've been dormant underneath.

The real interesting thing is, you are a mix of both of those sides. You can't stop being the friendly person you are. You just want to make friends and live life to it's fullest. That's all you want to do; even in the position you are in. You can't just stop being the person you were before. You can't just end up lying to somebody without being completely guilty after wards. You even just think that Tiltoo and Bone are both really nice people on the inside, but they got stuck on the bad side of things. Despite it being hard to accept you know that maybe even Altair is a nice fella. He's helping train, and preparing you for the Hunger Games. Just like your brother did. Your brother was the one who ended up hurting you though. Altair pressures other teens to fighting against you, but you just know that it isn't like any of other of the other teens. They don't want to, and yet they do anyways. You've seen most of them fight once or twice and you just. You don't understand why they do.

You bite your lip and try to forget about the others. It's confusing enough when you think about it, but you're just over-analyzing things now. As you often do You just figure it's the logical side of your brain thinking. It tends to run wild and analyze things, such as people. You've read plenty of books about why people may do what they do, and such. Overall, in general you've read tons and tons of books. Mostly nonfiction but when you stumble across fiction you love it more so than getting lots of facts. It turns on the right side of your brain, and gets to create things. Things such as poetry. The way it flows so nicely, and the imagery. It's truly amazing. You're able to just let your imagination go wild, and do whatever it wants to do.

Another thing you find amazing is music. You're not every good at singing, playing instruments or dancing, but you love to write lyrics. At home you'll find notebooks and notebooks full of lyrics in all kinds of time signatures, tempos, meanings, feelings, and a wide variety of moods. You understand time signatures, names and values of notes, and such. You just don't really have any instruments to use. Including your voice.

The issue with your voice is that you have a speech impairment. You've had it really ever since you were born. It's actually quite horrible, because whenever you try to talk nobody really understands you, unless it's a person you've known long-time like your father. Or your brother for that matter. It's one of the main reasons that you never really went to school with others kids. Your father never really knew how to deal with you and often resorted to violence, despite raising up your brother without violence. You were the exception, and the special case. You knew that your mother left because of you, and you think that your brother and father, both, harbored their hatred in you.

Everything started acting up when your mother left. Your father just slowly fell apart. It wasn't all that simple. It wasn't really worth it at all. The only time you got attention was when it came to training. Your brother would toss you a random weapon and tell you to attack him. You often got beat up but you didn't care. All that really mattered was that he was spending time with you. It would have been worse only if he no longer payed attention to you. The only thing keeping you connected to your parents was a small little harmonica that was engraved and given to you on your 10th birthday. The year before your father died. The harmonica had your father's, mother's, and brother's signatures all engraved on it. It was your most prized possession, and yet it was taken away by Altair. It held a part of you; that would never be replaced.

You turn to face the wall closest to you and you sigh. You can't even talk to the girl you like without acting up like a complete and utter idiot. By girl you like, you mean Salt. She may only be 3 years older than you but she's fairly appealing to the eye. The way that she stands up for herself, and the hope that resides in her eyes. Sure, she ignores you and her brother sometimes but you know that maybe just maybe you'll be able to reach out and touch her heart one of these days. That's all you want to do. Just see who she really is when everything is said and done.
A fitting description for yourself could be a hopeless romantic. You enjoy reading fictional books about romances that just don't seem to work out, and yet they typically end up together. That's how you hope your life will end up. It's all just so invigorating to you. Knowing that the girl will meet the guy that she was meant to have. Her perfect match. The couple that deserves each other. It gives you hope that maybe if you do get to leave this place that you can start new, and create a new persona completely and entirely. It's just a little fantasy that you have.

It's a stupid dream that you have that you know will not ever come true at all. Unlike all of the nightmares you have been having as of late. The ones where you fight against your brother, or Salt or Pepper. They don't ever really stop coming and you really doubt they will. It's just something that started shortly after you arrived. There are some that freaks you out and makes you wish that you had never even left your house and ran away in the first place. Most of the time you're nightmares keep you up most of the time while everyone else is sleeping, and it really sucks. It sucks because, in that time all you can't help but do is think about your life, and contemplate what it will be. What life will be like after, when you're all alone.

For such an intelligent person as you are you're fairly stupid. You may be able to spurt out random facts and statistics and be curious about people and psychology, but you'll never be able to understand people. Not in the way that your brother understands them at least. Your brother has all the ladies swooning over him. Adding to his egotistical personality. You despise it and him. For all he's done to you it's just not fair. On top of it all you just can't really socialize with anybody without having your lisp get in the way. No matter how friendly and open you seem. You don't even judge others on what they look like. You keep yourself open to interpretation and make sure that you're open minded to other people's opinions.

Despite being open minded, there have been times where you jump to assumptions about people. Most of the times it's just about a specific situation though. Such as how you may misjudge and items capabilities. However, that is one thing your brother taught you not to do. Instead, he told you to always keep your eye open and observe your surroundings. Searching for weaknesses and other quick ways out. Sometimes you even go as far as to point out those weaknesses to another person to help them improve. You always are honest with others, and often times you come off as a little too honest. It all varies on the specific person. People like your brother are often offended by it and get flustered despite asking for an honest answer.

Most of the time, that's why you just keep to yourself and just watch others. It's that introverted side of your personality that sticks out. That side of you in which most of the days are better spent off alone waiting for the day you go into the arena and die. However, in some way or shape or form you still end up talking to the other people in the cells. Making sure that each individual one holds onto hope, and believes that maybe they will be able to make it out of there alive. Despite the way you may act there are occasional times when even you need some reminding that life isn't over yet.

When that happens, you usually end up not eating or you try to cut yourself with your fingernails. Small simple stuff like that. It's funny, because your brother attempted suicide at age 13 and here you are sitting in a dungeon at 12 years old and hoping to die in the next arena fight. In your eyes nothing really would matter anymore considering that you will never get out of this place alive. After all, wouldn't it be better then living in this hell. Being free, and able to wander where ever you want to go. That's so much more then a person could be considered as when living in the dungeon. All you have to do is survive, and stay alive.

Inhale. Exhale. Inhale Exhale. You close your eyes for a moment and reopen them again. You need to get some rest. Rest to stay alive. That's all that really matters when you're living in a place like this. Cold floor to sleep on. Which is occasionally wet due to a storm of some sort. No way to keep track of days or hours. The effort meaningless. After all, you never know when it could be your own turn to leave this place. It could be today, or it could be tomorrow. But for now, life will continue on and you simply need to focus on something other then yourself.[/size]

Oo0oOo0oOo0.(H).(I).(S).(T).(O).(R).(Y).oOo0oOo0oOo

At the current moment you're staring up at the stone ceiling. Following the cracks with your eyes. You've shifted positions a million times and you can't go to sleep. No matter how hard you try; you just can't. You've evaluated yourself a million times and never get results that stray too far away from the original answers. You figure that it's time to look into the past and relive those moments. The ones you loved. The ones you hated. The ones that your parents never mentioned but your brother did. The ones that your family had hid from you to keep you sane. The ones that nobody told others.

Your story starts at the beginning, with your parents. Both of them were likely lovers. They had their whole lives a head of them, and didn't want anything to start too soon or too late. They were planners. They planned everything from the daily schedule to the end of their lives. Eventually things when awry when they came across several bumps in the road like their parents. Your grandparents were never the ones to go according to plan. Two grandparents were left. Your grandfather on your mother's side and your grandmother on your father's side. Being the way they were. They were lost without their mates. Sadly, your parents had to briefly separate for a little bit to comfort your grandparents.

It was only when your father came up with a plan to hook them up. Both, grandparents were living in a home too big for them. They needed to come together and see that they no longer needed it. They should be free and roam and just understand that times change. After several months of being separated and away from each other your parents grew restless. Your grandparents soon agreed to the idea of living with another roommate in approximately the same size house as before. When the plan moved into action things began moving normally again. It ended up being that your grandparents enjoyed the comfort of another person living with them. As for your parents, well, they were glad they got rid of their parents and got to see one another again like a normal couple would.

This is where things get a little rockier. The plans that were set up, fell out of place and it was time to re-organize their lives. This is when, your mother decided it was time for a child. A child that your grandparents could take care of when they felt lonely or when the parents needed time away from the child. Your father knew that a child meant that life would be forever changing, but he agreed regardless. Despite being unprepared for inviting a son or daughter in the house of his own genetics.

There was always an empty void in their hearts until your brother came along. He was a perfect child in their eyes. Through his baby years he hardly cried, and as he grew into a toddle he never had temper tantrums or complicated things any more than they already were. He amused himself with toys and ran outside and played with other kids. Most of them enjoyed his company; plenty thought he was the best child he could ever be.

Their first born son came out better than expected, but deep inside your parents, they had always felt a deep regret for him not having anybody to play with at home. They first thought of a pet, but realized that a pet would simply be too much work and too hard to control. That's when the idea of having another child popped into their minds. It was a brilliant idea. Their first-born was a perfect child, and so would this one. It seemed to be a brilliant idea to the parents.(-5; 0)

Five years later, they instantly regretted it when you were born. Complications during birth occurred, and late nights staying up and fussing with you. Trying to get you to go back to sleep. You were nothing like your brother, and never would be. As a toddler, you were difficult to train. To teach you potty-training wasn't as bad as your brother, luckily. All your parents had to do with you was yell at you. Your brother soon followed suit, and yelled at you too. Your brother hated you, and you could tell. You never knew why, and you doubt you ever want to know, even now, in the current days of living in this cell. You're still quite accustomed to being yelled at by another person your age, or one of the members that walks around and feeds you like Tiltoo, Bone, or Altair. It was all just another step in reliving your past. A past that you didn't want to relive.(0,5)

Teething came and went. When speaking you developed a lisp due to something with your head. Your parents and your brother never tried to fix it. They never tried to fix anything you did wrong. They simply punished you for it instead. Everything was all your fault, and you knew it. You didn't really come to terms with it until you grew up into a child. Before then, however, you noticed your mother and father fighting a lot more then they used to. Something about a plan. Something about you and your brother. Something about life. Something about pain, and torture. Something being said through sobbing eyes. Being the three year old you were you never understood it. You knew it hurt your brother too. He was usually upset at you when it came time for bed. He yelled at you when you tried to sleep. You weren't old enough to understand, not at that time.(3,8)

Eventually, a two years later, your mother left without a word. Her face was cringed up in sadness, and anger, and sorrow, and any other emotion your brother could list off from his memories. She was leaving, and you didn't understand why. You were only five and your brother was ten. He knew your mother for five more years than you did. She kissed your brother on the cheek, and told him that she loved him, and to call whenever needed. She even kissed your father one last time on the lips. He held back tears in his eyes, yet no water was building up in his tear ducts. A lump of sorrow grew in his heart. A lump of pain and regret in his voice. Your brother held back a whimper as the door closed. Neither person chased after her, but you did. You ran out the door to see her getting into a black vehicle. You didn't know you broke your families' honor by running after her. Honestly, you didn't know at all. Not until it was too late.(5,10)

After that seconds dragged on. Minutes, hours, days, weeks, and months did too. Your family was ruined. Your father yelled at your brother who yelled at you. Sometimes, your father yelled at you too. It was horrible. You didn't want to step foot out into the world. You just wanted to stay inside and remain quiet while reading the books you owned. Most of the time, you wandered into the library and read books there until the librarian told you to leave or until your brother came in and got you for a training session. It was never your father that came and got you. You, and maybe your brother too, often wished that your father would come pick you up instead. It was your father who set up these training sessions instead. He put you and your brother up against each other more than was needed.

Training sessions lasted anywhere from one minute to an entire week or month. You had to constantly stay on your toes every where you went. Waiting for another surprise attack lurking around the corner. There was even one time when you went to the library to study techniques and special sword maneuvers. Your brother came in and attacked you. You never knew it was coming. When the librarian found out, she quickly gave you a glance of sympathy, and banned your brother for such an outbreak. You were bleeding from a large scratch on your arm. When the librarian ushered your brother out, he gave her an ear full about honor, fighting, and anything else about you that he could think of at age thirteen regarding training, you, and the things you did wrong. Your heart sank and you wanted all of this to be over with. (8,13)

The librarian came in when she was done and tended to your wounds. She mentioned that she could help you with whatever you needed, as long as you never came back to the library. She allowed you to keep and take numerous books back home with you. Mostly ones about fighting techniques, maces, swords, blunt-objects, throwing knives, bows and arrows, and your favorite hand-to-hand. Hand to hand maneuvers are your favorite, you were flexible enough to do some of the more advanced techniques. The reason why you love hand-to-hand so much is because of the pressure points. You loved the look on your brother's face when he couldn't move his arms and was open for an attack, but before you got to attack your father sighed and called it quits. He ended up yanking your brother away by the ear just to yell at him.

Next, he pulled you off to the side and called you names such as cheater, liar, crap, useless, irresponsible, mistake, and many more. He would beat you up too and sometimes he would lock you out of the house. You hated how every time you felt good about yourself, your brother and you would suffer. It was probably punishment for forcing your mother to leave like she did. Often times, you would just run away for a handful of days and nobody would bother looking for you. Many of those times you went to the outer edges of the forest or to the librarian's house. She would often give you books to rent from her own personal library. You always brought them back. There were times where you lost them entirely, or they got completely destroyed. Sometimes, you returned them in the lesser then desirable of conditions with some stains or rips and tears, but she still accepted them none the less. She said that it adds character. Just like scars. That was the thing that changed your mind about yourself. You were an individual with character.

Nearly 5 months later, something drastic happened. What happened was that you came home after walking to a small creek, only to find that your dad was past out on the couch. He didn't bother staying up to see that you made it home. He didn't really care at all. Not after your mother left. Not even after you were born. You knew it was only a week until your brother's fourteenth birthday. All you would have to give him is your money. He usually accepted it with a smile. He had gotten better at that. Your father hadn't on the other hand. He simply got worse. He was worse, and deep inside you knew he would never get better. Just like your mother would never come back. (8,13)

One quiet step at a time. Slowly and carefully, you cleared the living room and were heading upstairs to head to bed. Instead, your body turned on its own and started heading towards your brother's room. You figured that it was alright. You could check up on your brother, and then head to bed. The thing was that, when you came to his door. It was shut, which was usual, and unlocked, which was very unusual for him. Gently, you turned the knob and what you saw instantly broke your heart. There, your brother was. A gun aimed right into his head. Tears flowed from your eyes. He shook his head and removed the gun. Words sputtered out of your mouth, and he did the same. Words collided and attacked each other, trying to scratch at each other and gain dominance.

His face held that once innocent face. You hated that day. You still do. You wish that maybe. That just maybe, he didn't want to feel that way. That maybe he would have another way out besides the way he wanted to go. He simply sat there, and then you imagined it. The blood splattered every where. The simple idea of it made you want to hurl. Eventually, the words had calmed down and all you had left was one single question, ' why?' He still had his whole life to look forwards to. He never responded, and you decided that maybe he needed some time alone. Your eyes never left his sight though. He changed your perspective of him, and you decided that maybe you would be more cooperative from then on with your father and brother. They had good intentions, right?

Things eventually got smoother, and smoother. Your father stopped beating on your brother, and when he did you forced him to take it out on you instead. The relationship with you brother grew and grew. Everything was turning up for once. Life was working out for you, and your brother. It was finally working. You smiled more than you did when you were younger. Things were bright. You got better at fighting, and saw how it helped you and your brother bond together. You only wished things stayed that way.

Everything changed, a year and a month later, when you woke up in the middle of night due to some Peacekeepers banging at the front door. You had no idea why they were here, and yet you let them in. Not thinking of anything that would have happened. Once you opened up the door, and asked what they wanted was when things got freaky. They asked for your mother. You swallowed once and then a second time. Your mother wasn't here. You told them to wait there but they insisted on coming inside, and going against Peacekeeper orders resulted in death, or something along those lines. You looked around, and decided to go find your brother. You knocked on his door once and then twice. No answer, eventually Peacekeepers came by and knocked his door down, his window was open and he was gone. He had left just like your mother and father. He left you alone.(9, 15)

From that point on, all that you wanted to know was where your brother was at. You didn't really care about your father. Not until the Peacekeepers started questioning you about the poisons that were found in your brother's room. Your blood went cold, and tears stung your eyes. Was your brother planning on killing your father? Were you next? How many times has he tried to kill your father or you? Did he try to commit suicide again but with poisons? How many times did he try to kill himself? It was then that your brother and father came in. You simply stood there as the Peacekeepers battled your father and brother. All you did was stand there and watch, occasionally yelling out to tell both the Peacekeepers and your family to stop it. It never stopped despite however much you whined and begged.

The Peacekeepers were on the ground, some dead and others simply unconscious. None of them ever touched a hair on your head. Not like your father and brother had done. They simply wanted to see your father and brother, or so that's what you were praying and hoping. That's when you truly saw that your family was no longer your family. It had changed and you were too oblivious to notice that before. Your brother and father both ended up punishing you severely for even talking to the Peacekeepers, let alone letting them into the house. The only room that they didn't brutishly destroy being your mother's old room. The room that your father was most glad they didn't get into. The room where everything about your mother was kept. The place where everything before you lost your family was located.

The trust you had left in your family quickly diminished, and you had to move. You had to go incognito. That was the easiest way to stay alive. That was the only way to stay alive at the rate your father and brother were going. There even came a time when you ate nothing at all for days on end. Sometimes on purpose and other times not so much. The idea of death becoming more and more appealing you to. The days you knew before were lost to you. The days of your family were gone forever.

All those 11 years that you knew as Chato Haplidon were gone forever about as quickly as they could disappear. Your father and brother came up with the last name of Masten, and you became Rhen Masten. A boy who trained non-stop with an sword. Your brother and father both changed their names too but you never really payed too much attention. All you knew is that they would remain that way forever. At least until you or one of them died. Considering the rate at which things are going in this dungeon you assumed it was going to be you to croak first. (11,16)

Sadly, you never expected what happened next. About a week later, out in the forest you, your brother, and your father were all sitting down to eat some food. One moment you're leaning over and slurping up some soup that was prepared by your brother, and then bang. The sound ringing through your ears, and the air. The silent thump of your dad's dead body as he hit the ground. The tears wracking themselves out of your eyes, and the sounds of your brother yelling. The words mixed with an intoxicating aroma of iron and blood. The fire that was still standing there; dancing between you and your father. He was gone, and you had no reason not to celebrate. He was forever gone, and you were free finally, or so you hoped.

Silence was broken with the piercing sound of laughter. The poisonous air filling the space inside your lungs. The echoing laughter of your brother. Had he finally lost it? Did you lose it? You don't remember that smile creeping up on your face, yet deep inside you felt like rejoicing. No more pain was to come, right? Right. It would all be so much easier from now on. Nothing to hold your brother and you apart. Nothing to force you against each other. That was all that you really wanted. Right? To be able to spend time with your brother. No worries or fears.

For the rest of the night, the laughter bounced around in your head since the original laughter had disappeared and replaced by silent cries. The cries that you knew came from both you and your brother. Your father was the only thing really holding you and him back, and he was gone. You could start new in a different district, and for a while that was the plan. However, plans can change as quickly as they were created. They changed the next week when you decided to confront your brother about things. Things such as the poison, and your father. That's when he grew passive-aggressive. Throwing around verbal insults and mentioning how you didn't trust him. He never honestly answered the question. That day you knew that he was still touchy on the subject, or had finally lost it. You assumed the latter of the two.

Life continued in the forest for a little bit. Eating mostly small game animals, and plants. Once in a while eating large game like a deer or maybe a bear. Other then that food was scarce and you had to deal with whatever you had. Training in the forest, and learning what you could about different weapons your father brought along, and investigating the other plants out in the forest. During of which your brother would talk about techniques and normal stuff of that sort without the burden of your father hanging over your shoulders like a looming threat. One day, you and your brother even made a promise not to kill each other in a battle. No matter what was at stake.

Several months later, your life in disguise faded, and you returned back to Chato Haplidon. You and your brother moved back into your old house which in reality was still destroyed but not as bad as it could have been. Your brother and you fixed it up as best as you could, and life returned to normal for the longest time. Except for the fact that you and your brother never spoke to each other. Unless for something as simple as food or chores and cleaning. Even then however, the times were still rough. (12, 16)

Settling back in took some time adjusting to, but you and your brother worked mostly everything within a span of a week. Every other day you would alternate with your brother for cooking duties. Then things became worse then your expected. Peacekeepers came, and requested to search the entire house. Luckily your brother was there, and stood up for himself for once. He only had to be questioned and whipped publicly in the morning of the next day. Either way you never knew why and for what. All you knew was that the Peacekeepers weren't too content with your brother at all. The only clue you had was that it had something to do with your mother and father.

The week went by smoothly after the next day. Nobody, honestly seemed really too adamant to talk to you or your brother. Despite everything settling down. Both of you trained, like normal in silence, and ate food silently. It was all so very regular and in a routine. Your brother was much better then that or so you would think. The first idea that popped into your head was that you were a burden. A burden that need to be dealt with soon. After you got done eating, you excused yourself and set up a plan. A plan to run away. He wouldn't have to worry about you anymore. He would be able to wander and roam free. No more of you to worry about. You made sure to pack a decent amount of clothes, books, paper, writing utensils, weapons, food, and miscellaneous items that you wanted to take with. You planned to set out the next day.

The hot and humid breeze came and went. It was a hot summer day for sure. You hoped that you and your brother would stay inside and simply chat instead of going outside and training like normal. Luckily, the day went as you wanted, and so you stayed inside and talked it up with your brother, avoiding the harsh topics that neither of you or him wanted to bring up. You made dinner that day, and proceeded to behave like regular. Except for one little slip up that might have changed everything. You told your brother you loved him and wished him the best. And out of the clear blue sky, an argument arose. Endless bickering between you two. Two people created by the same blood. One with honor and one without. Maybe, he did know and didn't want you to go, or wanted a reason to be angry at you for leaving... There was also the possibility of him wanting you to feel no regrets for leaving or maybe it was his way of coping with the thought of you leaving. Either way he wouldn't change your mind one bit.

He went to sleep and you soon followed, irritated by the argument that you had earlier. You finished packing up your things, and left your room for the last time. Walking quietly down the hall you came to your Mother's room and looked at it all covered in dust and plastic. The photo frames still handing up on the walls that were a deep chocolate drown color. A warm color that warmed your heart, and cleared your head. You picked up pictures of your old family and put them in your pockets. A locket of hers and the wedding ring your father gave your mother. You quietly talked to her and said your final good-bye. She was gone, and so was your father. You would join them soon.

Later that night, you ran for as long as you could, and as far away from that house as you would be willing to go. With your harmonica in hand and sword ready to be drawn. Tonight, you left your brother there alone while he slept, or so you hoped. Leaving him with only a letter on the stand next to his bed, telling him of everything you couldn't say to his face, of your plans and how you felt toward him, your father, and your mother. Of how you were abandoning him and that you had every thing in a plan. Of how you were sorry, and wanted him to be free, and to never look for you. Because despite how much it hurt to know that you were abandoning him; you knew it was for the best. For his best and for yours. The tears streaked your eyes, and you knew that he would miss you, but he wouldn't ever go looking for you. If he didn't go looking for your mother than he wouldn't even let the chance of looking for you cross his mind.

What happened next is what changed your mind. A man, of some burly figure came up behind you and attacked you. A man you would later know as Bone. You quickly drew your sword, and slashed at him in a random, but before you knew it you were on the ground. He obviously had won the battle. Right before you were knocked unconscious, you decided to look up at the way you came, and through your blurred eye sight you saw a silhouette. The supposed silhouette of your brother. A woman like stance then blocked your view, and you blacked out.

When you came to, you found yourself in a prison cell. The place known as the Melnont house. A place where your nightmares would become reality. A place where you met the girl whom you now have a crush on. A place where everything that you learned from your father and brother would come into play. The place where you would now live. The place where you would die. The place that decided heaven or hell.

You open your eyes for a moment and decide that sleep is useless, and sit up. There's no way you will get to sleep in this hell-hole. Not with nightmares haunting over your dreams or where your next battle could be with the person sitting next to you. A year in this torture, and only one battle so far. The blood of another on your hands. The others sitting there, watching you, and you watching them, as close if not closer. Trying to find their weaknesses and faults. Lining up attacks that you knew. Keeping an eye on those you would rather die than fight.

Movements that re-occurred, and bodies that changed. People you once knew. People that were your family now. This is your family now. No mother, no father, and no brother. Only those ghosts of the people you once knew. The haunted spirits of those who once were. The bitter taste of sweat on your tongue mixed with salty tears. The words ever flowing in your mind. The scenes of your life continuously playing over and over again forever, until this machine that you call your body is shut down, and destroyed forever.

A smile slips onto your face, and you sit there quietly listening to the others breathing. You remember that day as clear as a crystal. It was a boy. He was larger in size than you and he never spoke at all unless uttering a line of cuss words about some one under his breath. His hands trembled and he stuttered like a maniac, but his fighting was good. His responses quick and sharp. Getting quite a few attacks in on you. You never wanted to fight, you went in there with an ax, and he held a dagger in his hands. He felt comfortable using it. That dirty grin on his face; several teeth missing. His stare never leaving your face. He could read your expressions, and held the upper advantage.

Never doubt the underdog. All you had to do was hit one of his pressure points and then it was all over. There was no chance at you landing a good enough hit on him at the rate he was going. Instead, you simply used your size to your advantage. Sneaking by him and hiding behind his back until you had recovered enough to attack. You dropped the ax and went in for the attack; hitting one pressure point right after the next. Until he fell to the ground, defenseless and hopeless. With the same technique that stopped your brother. The technique that you should have used on Bone and Tiltoo, but you didn't. You could have still been with your brother if you really wanted to. But instead you chose not to.

The boy in front of you starts begging and you realize that he's mentioning about how he has a family and such. He briefly mentions a brother, and you instantly become interested. Before you listen to him though you decide to pick up the ax. You head over to him, and single handedly pull him closer towards your face, and ask him about his brother. He's sweating like a pig and you take pity on the poor fool, but once he finishes talking about his brother you let go of him, and on his way to the floor you slop his head right clean off showing no expression what-so-ever. The blood on his face, and on your face. The echoes of the silence resonating on your ears. It's truly sickening, and yet you let into this joyous time. For you are still alive and your blood is still flowing.

A gentle shiver slides down your back. That day truly was the worst that you have had here so far. Making notice that your life with your brother and father could have been equally as horrifying. They simply never realized it like you did. The chance to kill somebody, so many teens thirsted for the blood of another or to be in the Games. It was so bizarre, insane, incomprehensible, and unthinkable. Yet now having killed a man, a mere boy. The blood drains dry from your face and you realize what you have done, and what you possibly could.

Stealing a glance over at a sleeping Pepper, you would love to wake him and converse with him but you know that he needs his sleep. He needs his rest about as much as you do or as anybody does if not more-so. You never really liked each other at first, but you've warmed up to him and he's warmed up to you. Despite your conversations are mostly him sneezing his brains out. Poor fella doesn't deserve to be here at all. With how much he sneezes you assume that he must be allergic to pretty much everything, or at least that's the way it seems. He's a nice fella and you think that outside of this place you and him would get along, but his sister is the one that really catches your attention.

Salt, the girl who you have the slightest crush on and Pepper's twin sister. She's not too bad on the eyes and fairly ignorant of you. Most of the time when you try talking to her, but she ignores you like others did when you were younger. Her personality though, she's a strong and independent woman. So much unlike her brother. It fires you up, and you just want to be near her. Hoping that maybe she will notice you sooner rather than later and finally see that you can stand up and hold your own in a fight. You know that she plans on an escape, and there are moments where you too wish to escape, but you know that if you do. There is no where you would be able to go.

You momentarily lose yourself in thought and glance over at a noise coming from the cell diagonal to yours. The cell where Fanta is sleeping. You feel bad for her and just wish that you could fix everything for her, and make it to the point where she wouldn't be tortured anymore. From Tiltoo, Bone or from any of the other kids. You winced whenever she would start screaming because of Mona. Eventually, the tears came too, and you just wanted to protect her from whoever hurt her.

Once in a while, Sonnet teased her, but not as often as Tiltoo or Bone. As far as you can tell, he's the best fighter here so far. He actually reminds you of your brother quite a bit with his out-going personality and cool attitude. The only thing that's different about them is the way you feel around them. Near Sonnet you feel comfortable, but with your brother; not so much. Sonnet is actually quite a joy to talk to when you get the chance to. He may be the kid that's been there the longest but he still is relate-able and just a nice-guy. You would really hate to see him go.

The person that sparks your curiosity most is Cosmo. He's the guy that you can talk to endlessly about fantasies and dreams. His personality is easy going and you can't help but love talking to him. He may be a bit of a space case, but you enjoy that about him. The way he describes his dreams and fantasies; it's almost like he was living in them for the longest time, and as far as you can tell only recently snapped out of it. It's the trait that keeps him childish and innocent. It's the trait that allows you to look up to him.

Maximus, or Max, is actually fairly opposite of Sonnet, only because he hasn't even been in one fight yet. You just secretly wish that he can withstand it. He's a bit like you in how he stays away from others, and all you really can do is just chuckle. He looks and seems like a nice enough guy, but then again so did all those kids who made fun of you because of your lisp. That is one memory that you won't really ever get rid of. Other then that you think he needs to ease up a bit and relax, if he ever wants to get out that is. On top of that, you're more than willing to give him some pointer tips on techniques to use in the arena.

Another person you haven't mentioned yet is Deltoy. He's spunky and his personality seems like that of which he is, a child. Despite him being only a year older than you; you feel as if he's more of a child than you would ever be. His heart lies within adventure, and he just wants a bit of fun. His personality is bright and bubbly, not to mention talkative. Similar to Cosmo in a way. Secretly, you're quite jealous of him, because he is so free spirited, and care-free. It's obvious he never had a past like yours.

Silently, you sigh and look around. There are others but you don't really know their name or what their personalities are like. You yawn and look at the door which leads up to the arena. The door that Tiltoo, Bone, Lear, and Altiar use. The door to freedom, and sanctuary. The door that half leave out of and the door that half come back from. You remember how there was one time that two teens left, and neither were seen after that. You don't know if they killed each other or if they were killed by another such as Altiar or Bone. There is the slight possibility of them escaping but you doubt it. You close your eyes and reopen them what seems like an eternity later.

You lick your lips and it finally hits you how hungry you are. Tiltoo usually brings in the food and ends up teasing you and the others. It's awful food, but at least it's food. You chuckle at the idea of this being Tiltoo's cooking. After all, usually women are the better chefs, or at least that's what your brother said. Other then that you don't really know what Tiltoo is like. There's the concept that she likes seeing the kids in pain, but she's pretty closed other then that. Secretly, you wonder if she likes Bone though. You vaguely remember your mother and father, but from what your brother says women have this look in their eye, and are fairly clingy to guys that they like or act really timid. Most of the time you wonder if that would apply to Salt or not. You chuckle at that thought of Salt acting timid.

The man that you know as Bone, on the other hand. He's much more brutal, he is the main men who captures children and teens. The person who has taken so many kids from their families. Your mind thinks back to that night you were captured. It was just Bone and Tiltoo. Bone, is the sort of guy who you feel has a horrible past similar to yours. He'll treat kids like crud, sometimes under the orders of Altiar or sometimes under his own choice. Either way you have a feeling that maybe he was in a similar position where he was severely hurt. The main thing you know about him is that he holds secrets behind his back. The occasional times that you can see into his eyes shows that he is surely hiding something.

The last of the staff is Lear, you don't know much about him besides the knowledge that he is there. He will pick out the weapons, and that's about it. He could be the person who cleans up the arena after a particularly blood fight. Besides that you think that Altiar uses him for more of a decoration than anything. He would be so easily disposed, but the same could go for Tiltoo. Bone is the main one that would be a necessity, and to be honest you would enjoy getting to know more about all of them despite the way they treat you. The way that they make you feel just uneases you, and secretly maybe they are all hiding something.[/center][/size]

Last Edit: Aug 13, 2012 1:05:56 GMT -5 by NoireRose

NoireRose
Merchant

254 POSTS

Pronouns: She/her
last seen Dec 27, 2013 1:42:16 GMT -5

I'm surprised how comfortable I feel coming back here...

OoO: Chato Haplidon from District Two :OoO (FIN) Aug 12, 2012 1:17:37 GMT -5

Post by NoireRose on Aug 12, 2012 1:17:37 GMT -5

The one that confuses you and makes you more uneasy then most is Altiar, the creator. Every time you think of him intensely, your mind wanders to your father and how he used to make your brother and you fight each other. Just like Altiar is doing with the other kids and you. In all actuality, if he and your father ever did meet. You think that they would be dear friends. Talking about the rate of the Games, and who seems most suitable to be trained or sold. You chuckle at your own thoughts. Maybe they did know each other. Maybe that is why your father tried training you so hard. To prepared you for this, but thinking like that is nonsense. However, it is plausible, with the amount of people that your father brought over, and such.

A slight smile returns to your lips, and they part. Your heart aches to be home with your mother, but you know that she will never return. The same goes for your brother and your father, just a lot less. You know that despite being with all these people you are truly alone. Alone with strangers and people who could kill you before you truly know it. While all you can do is try to get some sleep before it is your next turn in the arena. In all reality it's quite interesting to know that, within any moment you could die, or somebody new could come bursting through those doors. Each and every time the door opens. You hold your breath, and close your eyes. Waiting for somebody to say your name. Waiting for things to get worse before it can get better.

Oo0oOo0oOo0.(O).(T).(H).(E).(R).(O).(O).(C).oOo0oOo0oOo

Codeword: Odair
FC is Hee Chun
Created for Cass' This is What it Takes plottage
Colors are as follows:

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7DD1B5 for his speech ~~impairment~~
B59569 for other's speech
755528 for general actions
for his private thoughts
4F8C78 for specific into on the sidelines (lyrics/his name/quotes/poems)
[/li][li]Thank you/Danke/Merci/Denada for reading through his horrible ~~and terribly long~~ 2nd person bio
[/li][/ul][/size]

pika Retired Staff 586 POSTS Pronouns: she/her last seen May 7, 2022 18:36:48 GMT -5	OoO: Chato Haplidon from District Two :OoO (FIN) Aug 15, 2012 10:27:23 GMT -5 Select Post Deselect Post Link to Post Member Give Gift Back to Top Post by pika on Aug 15, 2012 10:27:23 GMT -5 Jesus, this was long! Such a beautiful work of art, though <3 [/colour][/size]
	arise and be all that you dreamed