Raven Covella -- District 10

Female.Sixteen.District Ten

Ask her about her sandy blonde hair, and she will unveil the truth behind the arts of witchcraft. It is not a spell designed for a novice, but I mastered it quite early. Within minutes I had underwent a physical metamorphosis. What she claimed were black hairs cropped short had flourished into blonde, wavy strands that glided past her shoulders. Her eyes - apparently green when she was born - faded to aqua, a color she preferred because it reminded her of her favorite flower: the light blue delphinium. Amongst all aspects of her appearance, though, it was her facial structure that was affected the most drastically. She was once lovely, she will say, with a visage worthy of surpassing the beauty of a fairytale princess. High cheek bones, rosy lips, a shining smile, a soft contour, and perfect symmetry were just a few components of fairness she favored most. There was not a single flaw upon that ancient face of the past, she will say. And that’s exactly why she had decided to change it.

But why would you want to make yourself uglier, Raven? It was a typical question that forced a smile upon her lips. She never considered herself below the standards of average. Sure, her facial features were rather masculine for a girl, what with the wide nose and skin that was perhaps too dry for someone who claimed to perform witchcraft, but Raven was not the type to dwell upon the surface. She would rather delve into the inner rings of the human mind and soul instead of examining the shell, where beauty possessed limits. Did it matter that her skin was too pasty for a girl residing in district ten - an area where most people were kissed by the sun? Was her lack of power in the upper and lower portions of the body too significant to mentally bear? Did she truly care whether or not her curves were not as defined as the typical female’s? The answer to all would forever be a gentle shake of the head. Of course not. It is the soul that matters most. That is where beauty lies.

While appearance wasn't such a major concern to her, she enjoyed fawning over lovely, frivolous garments that were costly but suitable to her nature. She preferred to wear colorful robes when she told fortunes and practiced her “magic”, claiming that it is what adorned true magicians when they were engrossed in their work. She even owned a few robes her mother used to wear, but chose to lock them away and cherish them rather than wear them, especially considering how lengthy the cloth was. Raven had never quite caught up with her mother’s height, she standing at an average height whilst her mother was a towering woman of about six foot - an intimidating advantage Raven secretly wished she had inherited. She didn't mind her body size too much, though. Most of the excessively vibrant clothes she purchased were sold specifically for girls her size; district ten residents were rarely too large or too small. Instead, the majority shared her frame and stature, thus allowing her to find her brightly colored outfits with ease. People often stared peculiarly at her when she presented herself to the public eye, seeing as how most of the garments she selected did not match and appeared too bright for sensitive eyes. Some claim it was like watching a human firecracker stroll across the district. She hardly noticed.

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Who am I?

You're conflicted. The difference between truth and lies, honesty and deception, reality and fantasy are blurs against the horizon dividing the darkness (her past) from the portrait of light (her present and future). Was she the sorceress she claimed to be, able to fabricate miracles from within the mystic blood that coursed through her veins, or was she just another false prophet destined for failure, rejection, and loneliness - the aspects of life worth fearing more than fear itself? You're a liar, Carolina. A liar No, she was confused. Hopelessly lost without her power. There was nothing to live for without it. No hope, no happiness. Nothing. Her only savior was herself, her own selfish desires to be superior to those unable to perform "magic" and separate herself from the drawling crowds brainwashed by Panem's constricting laws and demand for absolute conformity. I'm not like them. I can't be. I'm different, I'm special. Is that why she lied? Is that why she assumed the identity of a magical being rather than an average working citizen? I'm not lying, I'm not lying!