alexis hawkings|wip|district ten
Jul 26, 2011 23:23:21 GMT -5
Post by Cel on Jul 26, 2011 23:23:21 GMT -5
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{Nothing's further from the truth}---
{We all have our demons}--
{Mostly me}---
{But you do too.}--[/left]
Hi...
My name is...
You could say that I'm an odd one out, a bit of a black sheep in my District. It isn't that I'm different...Well, actually I am. Quite a bit different, that is. It might just be that I grew up before my District, Ten, became a center in Panem for livestock, or maybe it's just... well, my abnormal intelligence. Maybe I was set apart three years ago, when my sister died in the... ah... the Hunger Games. Well, I guess there are a good deal of things that set me apart from my peers. It definitely isn't my appearance, though. That's good. I prefer just staying away from the light, from those people. Those people that... no, I won't do this here... Agh. I'll try to focus on something else. Like my name. Mhhh... distraction. Good. Distraction.
Hawkings isn't really a name that fits me. I don't act like a hawk much... more of a mouse, really. It may have fitten my ancestors, but whatever resemblance to them I may have had has been washed away by generations of outbreeding. And I suppose it's really... presumptuous for my name to be Alexis. Or maybe it's just a sick joke on the part of fate. I mean, it isn't as if I was ever much of a helper, or a protector. My sister was, though...
Give me a minute. She... she's still on my mind. Even after all this time. It's sad, the way I dwell on her... It's really a horrible feeling, losing someone close. What happened to her is a good part of why I'm in this state I am. Well, I'll try not to dwell on her too much over the next couple sections. We can put that part of me off until the end. We can focus on my appearance, boring as it is, and my personality first. Well, after we get some basics down.
So I told you my name, Alexis. I probably failed to mention my age, which, if you can believe it, is sixteen. I suppose you wouldn't guess by my posture, or my height. I was born on February Twenty-first, in the year of the forty-second Hunger Games. I could have probably given you a better picture of what my District is, as well. My district industry is--was, basically, mathematics. And something about foreign relations. The important part for me was the math. I was born here for a reason, but then we became the livestock District. District Ten. We've outlived our usefulness as their equation-slaves, so now we're relegated to livestock. It's a joke, really. Taking the greatest minds in Panem, and setting them to work on farms. What a waste of resources. I suppose that's leaning a bit much into the history, though, so we'll leave discussing that for later. For now, I suppose you could content yourself with what I have to say on my appearance. History is last.
[/center][/color]{I'm not evil}--
{I'm not what they say I am}---
{I'm just a problem}--
{Just as you see me}---[/left]
I guess the best way to start this off could be at
The logical downward progression would lead to my face. Overall, it isn't that interesting. My nose hasn't been broken; it is still in its original shape. Slightly angled upwards, small. Nothing too abnormal. My face as a whole is rather... round-ish. Not that years of too little food haven't left their mark. Still, I suppose that's just naturally how my face looks. You can't change the givens. My face, I suppose, is one of my genetic givens. Around the rest of my head: my ears aren't pierced, as I've never had the inclination to do so, and it always struck me as being a bit... ah, painful. Needlessly so.
My mouth is rather... I actually don't know the best words to describe it. My lips aren't exactly thin lines, but at the same time, they aren't exaggerated. More a comfortable balance between the two. My cheeks are rather round, though not in a chubby sort of manner. They are prone to turning a rose-red when I feel embarrassed, which sometimes happens quite often. When this happens, I can typically feel it coming, and tend to avert my gaze to the ground, if I was even looking up in the first place.
I suppose another feature of my face that I completely skipped over were my eyes. Trust me when I say that they aren't that interesting. Wide and slightly ah... doe-ish? They're just a sort of grey-green. Slightly unusual for this District, but not many people get a chance to see my eyes. I don't like looking people in the eyes. Or even really the face. I suppose it just feels like they can see right through me. I don't like that very much. It's just... piercing. And I don't like feeling vulnerable. Well, if I can avoid it... Even when I do look at someone's face, I tend to look to the side of them, towards their ears or that general area.
I guess another thing to go into, since we're at my face, are my expressions. My palette in that area basically consists of looking dejected. Well, that's pretty much the range of my emotion in public. Dejectedly looking at the floor. Contrary to what the public might think, I am capable of expressing a full range of emotions. Then again, maybe my ability to smile may be slightly atrophied. Heh. Not like I would ever get much of a chance to smile. Other than that, you probably wouldn't see my expression, looking at me. I typically am not looking up, and my hair often obscures anybody looking down on me. That happens a lot, because I am rather short.
I think a good place to go from there might be my torso. I'm not really much of an... ah... looker in that department. I suppose you could say that I'm... small chested. In all the ways that implies. I have a fairly thin torso, not much in the ways of an "hourglass" figure. More just... small. And small fits me. Keeps me out of peoples' sights, out of their minds. Under the radar. My small frame lets me slip through the crowds. I suppose the same goes for my shoulders, which are rather narrow, even for a female. You could probably even classify them as looking rather delicate. Actually, that applies to most of me.
Maybe somewhere to go from there would be my arms. My arms are rather thin, really, and have the mandatory farmer's tan associated with long days in the fields. They aren't entirely weak, but I'm not by any measure strong either. Other than that, I have a couple of scars on my wrist from a... ah... dark time after my sister died... I don't think it would be prudent of me to discuss much more than that. Regardless, I also have a bracelet that I typically wear around my left wrist. I made it out of my sister's glasses. Heh. Did you know that they return the tribute's personal item to their family? Along with a thin wooden coffin that already smells of rot. But yeah, it's the melted down metal frame. The lenses broke on the ride back.
From there, it would probably be prudent to cover my hands. The follow, I suppose, the established pattern of my body, which is, as I said before, delicate. That isn't to say that my hands haven't taken their share of punishment, but rather that they are rather small, like the rest of my body. My nails, unlike most females of my age, are not decorated in any way, or even kept at any sort of length. This is primarily due to my proclivity for biting my nails, which, of course, keeps them short. I don't wear any rings or such items.
Moving downward, I suppose you would have a hard time saying anything positive about my legs. To but it bluntly, they're not made for running around for days on end, herding cattle and such. No, they are more suited for sitting cross-legged on the floor, quietly contemplating. The only really abnormal feature of my legs is a chunk of flesh missing from my right calf. That would be the result of an unfortunate accident involving me and a bull. It was a very painful... ah... experience. Not one I'd relive.
To cap off my physical description, we'll end up with my feet. Disappointing, I know. Well, it's this, and then a couple of additional things that are probably of slightly more interest. Basically, my feet are one of the more "heavily used" parts of my body. That's primarily because I never wear socks, and only rarely wear shoes. That has lead to the bottoms of my feet having been exposed to all kinds of things, from sharp rocks to cow manure. Consequentially, they are rather heavily calloused. Also, it would be prudent to mention that I'm flat-footed. Well, sort of pseudo-flat-footed. The grade of my arch is very slight, but it is there.
I think that another thing that would be relevant to my appearance would be my posture, so now I'll go into that. I'm sure you've gathered fairly well how I hold myself, but for reiteration and clarification, I'll try to add to your knowledge here. As you probably realized, I typically walk with my head angled to the ground, and away from the eyes of the people around me. I suppose it looks like I'm hunched over a bit, but that isn't the case. My posture is, in fact, impeccably straight. When you are short like I am, you can't waste inches on slouching. Typically when I walk, and I cannot confirm this, but am told by others, my hands often seem occupied doing some sort of motion that looks a bit like conducting. I can't really say that I have any idea why this would be, but it has been corroborated by multiple individuals.
An aspect that I've left out of this so far is my clothing. What, did you think I ran around naked all day? Well, my mode of dress is rather plain, in all respects. I probably come across as a typical, albeit slightly more kept person. I typically wear a dull brown fleece jacket, and jeans. The shirt underneath varies in color, but is typically on the lighter end of the spectrum. I'm not sure if that's masochism on my part of otherwise, but that is in spite of the constant abuse my clothing gets from working. Outside of that clothing, I tend to wear work-boots as footwear, on the rare occasions I wear footwear.
Ah... what else is there? I suppose you might be interested in some of the general statistics about me? Well... I'm about five feet tall, which I think is a little short for my District. Add to that my weight being only about ninety pounds, and you're looking at a fairly small person. I mean, especially considering that everybody in my District seems to be about a head taller than me, and most seem to be built like oxen. Me on the other hand... well, I've told you how I'm built.
Like a mouse.
[/center][/color]--{Fragmented}
--{You couldn't call me daughter}
---{I'm broken}
--{So you can't see me for what I am}
-{And neither can I}[/right]
My personality... where to start..? I guess that you've probably gathered that I'm a bit... shy. That comes from a variety of reasons. There's the obvious aspect that I have a slightly misanthropic leaning. But it mostly comes from my lack of trust in myself. You see, I suffer from a form of... well, they used to call it schizophrenia. This, above anything else, has colored my relationships with people, especially considering that one of my main symptoms is hallucinating people. You can see how I would try to avoid talking to other people, knowing that they might just be figments of my imagination, can't you? It's like being trapped, inside a cage of bars that you imagined into existence. You know they aren't really there, but you still can't pass through them. Being trapped by yourself... by your own faults... it's how I live every day.
Not that I don't have my distractions.
That's my main issue: self-control. No matter how bad the voices, the people-who-aren't, the odd visions, get, I still try to make my self believe that I might... still have... some control. Over myself, that is. Knowing that they might not be, that I can't even control what I can see, that what I see that doesn't exist is because of a defect in myself, that I can never trust my own judgement because of it. People who have lost limbs think they have it bad... at least they can still trust that the person that they just talked to actually exists, that that person you just heard in your ear is actually standing behind you. At least the person who was beaten and abused as a child can work through it and bring themselves to be better.
At least they can still trust themselves.
-Tortured Genius
-Hidden creativity
-trust issues
-?homosexual?
-number-map synesthesia
-crippling shyness
-no eye contact EVER
-mathematics are HUGE
-good at "interesting" subjects (for her)
-sometimes paranoid
-residual schizophrenia
-asocial
-reasonably anti-capitol (emphasis on IT MAKES SENSE)
-precise
-self controlled
-INTP
-athazagoraphobia
-tba
---{Endured it all just to be with you}---
--{But you couldn't see me}--
---{A ghost that was never meant to be}---
-sister in hunger games (died)
-parents are... distant (personality disorders)
-before change to livestock
-after change to livestock
Notes:
Theme:
(*Fin)|Anberlin
(thanks WT)
She's a redone version of my first charrie, after three years. I felt she had changed enough to warrant a new character.
Colors are:
15705e {alt text 1}
84aaa2 {main text}
25403b {background}
070707 {alt text 2}
--{I can't see anything now}--
---{Just a bleeding void where you used to be}---
--{Wishing you were here}--
---{But were you even here to begin with?}---
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